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bathroombreaks · 3 years

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masterpost of all my edits and fanfics pt.2

everything i’ve created can be found here. all good girls edits can be found here. all good girls fanfics can be found here. all anne with an e edits can be found here. all shadow and bone edits can be found here. my collection of gifsets of random tv shows and movies can be found here. my rainbow edits can be found here. things that i like the most/am proudest of, for whatever reason, can be found here.

this masterpost is divided into:

1. anne with an e

a. anne x gilbert edits

b. other edits

2. shadow and bone

a. alina edits

b. other edits

3. good girls

a. gifset collections

b. quote edits

c. parallel edits

d. specific scene/episode edits

e. other beth x rio edits

f. other edits

g. fanfics

3.a. good girls - gifset collections

good girls episode titles

countdown to s3 premiere

good girls underrated moments

top 15 good girls moments

good girls appreciation week 2020

our favourite good girls in every episode

christmas gif(t)sets

countdown to season 4

girls in season 4

good girls meme

3.b. good girls - quote edits

beth - now is the time of monsters

annie, beth and ruby - friendships between women

beth and rio - i should go

beth and rio - how to write a tragedy in three acts

beth - everything i wanted

beth and rio - the next time i smile

beth and rio - from eden

beth and rio - steadier with you by my side

beth and dean - one of you is lying

rio - rang each syllable: e-liz-a-beth

beth and rio - nothing’s fair in love and war

beth and rio - entertainer

beth and rio - my love will never die

annie - the human heart

beth and rio - the (greater) fear

beth - the mask and the wearer

beth and rio - 11pm

beth and rio - you know me too well

beth and dean - positions

beth and rio - pov

beth - #girlboss

beth and rio - let it be hell

annie and ben - slipping through my fingers all the time

beth, dean, fitzpatrick and rio - my wife is a bitch and i like her so much

beth and rio - pumped up kicks

beth and rio - we wanna be with each other but we hate each other

beth and dean - a dress like that

beth - it’s not easy for me

3.c. good girls - parallel edits

beth - baking pastries vs cooking cash [2x13]

beth and ruby - hearteyes [1x01, 1x02, 2x02, 2x09]

annie, beth and ruby - robberies [1x01, 1x08, 1x10, 2x09]

annie - throwing cash into a fireplace [season 3 promo, 3x01]

annie and beth - without kids [1x05, 1x07, 2x08, 2x09, 3x01]

beth - drinking slushies [2x05 vs 3x02]

boomer - injured [1x01, 2x02, 2x03]

beth - asking kenny to watch tv/youtube [1x02, 3x02]

rio - realising he can’t/deciding he won’t kill beth [1x02, 2x02, 2x06, 3x03]

rio - saying he needs/doesn’t need beth [1x09, 2x06, 3x04]

annie and beth - loss of vision [3x04]

annie - running [2x12, 3x04]

annie - stuffing bills on her person [2x04, 3x01]

beth, lucy and rio - rio calling someone his girl [3x03, 3x05]

beth - sarcastically using important titles to refer to rio [2x12, 3x06]

beth and rio - hitting it vs making love [1x05, 2x04, 2x09]

beth and rio - facing off [2x04, 2x06, 2x11, 3x04]

beth and rio - standing close enough to kiss [2x04, 2x09, 2x11]

rio - heavy-lidded look [2x06, 3x04]

beth and rio - rio touching beth’s shoulder [1x08, 2x09]

max and turner - boards [1x04, 3x07]

beth, danny and jane - beth not knowing how to answer [2x12, 3x07]

beth, dean and rio - trust [2x05, 3x08]

beth and rio - beth making rio laugh at the bar [2x09, 3x08]

annie - captain can do t-shirt [3x07]

beth and rio - negotiating cuts [1x04, 2x04, 2x06, 3x08]

rio - walking [3x01, 3x08]

rio - expressions [3x01, 3x08]

rio - expressions [2x05, 2x07, 3x01, 3x08]

annie, beth and rio - my girl/your boy [3x03, 3x09]

beth - lying to rio during their meetings in season 3 [3x06, 3x09]

beth - beth finding out about dean’s cheating [1x01, 2x05, 3x09]

beth and rio - standing back to back while talking [2x10, 3x06]

beth and rio - smashing things [1x02, 3x08]

beth and rio - beth being bored with normal life [1x08, 2x10, 3x10]

beth and rio - rio surprising beth in her kitchen [1x01, 3x10]

beth and rio - rio smiling after beth is awkward [2x05, 3x10]

beth and rio - beth rejecting rio’s advances [2x06, 3x11]

rio - reiterating that beth is stuck with him [2x04, 2x11, 3x11]

rio - looking at beth with a lot of emotion in his eyes [3x03, 3x11]

beth and rio - looking at each other and smiling [2x09, 2x11]

beth and rio - kissing with sunlight streaming through the window [2x09, merlin 2x02]

beth, dean, kenny and rio - how dean’s speech applies to what he thinks is happening and what’s really happening [3x10, 3x11]

beth and rio - almost up and running, walk me through it [3x11]

beth - destruction [1x01, 1x09, 2x02, 2x05, 2x10, 3x09]

beth and rio - beth realising rio is alive [3x02, 3x10]

annie, cohen and mick - annie being protective of beth [3x03, 4x01]

beth - wearing apron with lemon print [2x13, 4x01]

beth and rio - eating weirdly [3x09, 4x02]

beth - reacting to seeing boomer’s and mick’s penises [1x02, 4x02]

beth - the state of that woman’s marriage was written all over her face [1x01, 1x05, 1x06, 2x02, 2x04, 2x05, 3x09, 3x11, 4x02]

beth and rio - touching hands [2x05, 3x04, 4x03]

beth and rio - beth bending over [2x04, 4x03]

beth and dean - ignoring “i love you” [1x01, 4x03]

beth - celebrating [1x02, 4x03]

beth - pta activities [2x02, 2x10, 4x04]

rio - looking at beth [2x09, 4x04]

beth and rio - beth looking surprised when rio agrees with her [4x01, 4x04]

beth, phoebe - wire [1x05, 4x05]

beth and rio - fall guy [2x12, 4x02, 4x05]

beth and rio - beth channeling rio [3x09, 4x05]

dean - misunderstanding tattoos [3x01, 4x05]

beth and rio - hooking up [2x04, 4x06]

rio - throwing his head back laughing [2x08, 4x06]

beth and rio - business [2x12, 3x06, 4x06]

beth and rio - rio’s family pictures [2x11, 4x06]

beth, dean, nick and rio - beth being called “elizabeth“ [2x09, 4x03, 4x06]

beth and rio - #bethany, why? [2x09, 4x06]

beth - panicking [3x02, 4x01, 4x06]

rio - beth imagining rio [2x05, 3x03, 4x06]

beth, fitzpatrick, rio - beth going to unbuckle a man and being rejected [4x04, 4x06]

annie and ben - annie taking the ged test [3x10, 4x06]

beth and rio - glovebox [3x10, 4x07]

beth and rio - hook-ups and callbacks [2x04, 2x05, 2x09, 3x03, 4x06, 4x07]

beth and rio - rio touching beths’ back and shoulders [1x08, 2x02, 2x04, 2x06, 2x09, 3x07, 4x04, 4x06]

beth and rio - a dress like that [1x08, 2x04, 2x06, 3x08, 4x06]

fitzpatrick and rio - saying “i can’t talk shop on an empty stomach” [3x09, 4x07]

3.d. good girls - specific scene/episode edits

annie, beth and ruby - flashbacks in 2x08

annie, beth and ruby - ruby saying she shot a guy in 3x01

beth - smiling as lucy leaves in 3x01

annie, beth and ruby - montage of them making counterfeit cash in 3x01

annie, beth and ruby - annie looking for coffee in ruby’s kitchen in 1x08

annie, beth and ruby - deciding to rob nancy’s spas in 1x08

ruby - getting high with stan in 1x09

beth and turner - parking lot at night in 2x05

beth - sitting on the couch in 3x01

ruby - talking on the phone with gwen in 3x01

annie, beth, nancy, rhea and ruby - looking pretty in 3x02

annie, beth, judy and ruby - talking about rouge in 3x02

rio - looking at the ultrasound in 3x03

ruby and stan - together in 3x03

beth and rio - fighting in her backyard in 2x06

beth and rio - drinking and talking at the bar in 2x09

beth - destroying her thanksgiving-themed baked goods in 2x10

beth - walking home in 2x13

beth and rio - bar in 2x05

annie, beth and ruby - talking about when they’ll reopen in 1x08

beth and rio - blue and pink gifs of them in 2x09

beth - wearing the red polka dot dress in 2x04

beth and rio - kissing in her bedroom in 2x09

annie and dean - talking in the bolands’ kitchen in 1x05

annie, beth, boomer and ruby - talking in beth’s car about marion in 3x08

beth - pretending to freak out about her husband in 3x11

annie and ruby - fight in 2x10

beth and pta moms - beth finds out that lucy’s body was found in 4x01

beth - alley in 2x03

beth and rio - bar in 4x01

dean and eric - boland bubbles showroom in 4x01

beth - wearing the strawberry dress in 4x02

beth and rio - rio checking beth out during the 4x03 pool scene

beth and annie - young beth and annie in 4x03

beth and rio - talking at the bar in 4x04

beth and rio - in the bedroom in grandma’s house in 4x06

beth and rio - hands in 4x06

rosa - barbecue in 4x06

beth - thigh shots in 4x06

beth - strip club scene in 4x08

3.e. good girls - other beth x rio edits

rio touching beth

looking at each other in season 1

looking at each other in season 2

looking at each other in season 3

in every episode of season 3

rio looking at beth’s cleavage

softly smiling at each other

playlist

favourite lines of dialogue between them

faceless

tv tropes

text posts

incorrect quotes

3.f. good girls - other edits

annie, beth and ruby - icons

annie, beth, lucy, rio, ruby and stan - season 3 first look and official trailer

beth - looking pretty in season 2

annie, beth and ruby - making funny faces [1x02, 2x05, 3x05]

beth - coping mechanisms

beth - hands

annie, beth, dean, rio, ruby and stan - colours

annie, ben, beth, dean, rio, ruby and stan - onion headlines

beth - black and white

beth - drawing

ruby - drawing

annie - drawing

rio’s golden gun, book club, paper porcupine - drawings

annie, beth, dean, rio, ruby and stan - planets

annie, beth, marcus, rio, ruby - seasons in the park

season 4 promo

good girls + rainbow

stan and diane

beth and mick in s4 trailer

annie, beth and ruby in s4 trailer

blue and yellow

annie, beth and ruby in pink, blue and purple

beth and turner

3.g. good girls - fanfics

bleed me a river - my take on how rio could’ve popped back into beth’s life after 2x13

little league (never felt so sweet) - beth and rio meet when beth picks up jane from little league practice

the bittersweet salt cracks my heart - pg-13 hate sex post-s3

a heart’s a heavy burden - howl’s moving castle au

everything you love will burn up in the light - rio is a vampire au

my heart burns there, too - beth and rio get married

aita for wanting to stop paying my wife’s “business partner” and yelling at her? - dean posts on reddit post s3

you think that by now i’d know - beth inadvertently asks out rio

“you’re being too loud, ma” prompt

“the lasagna here isn’t nearly as good as she remembered” prompt

“i told you: no dungarees” prompt

#txt #stfu #mine #masterpost #nav

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dreamcatcherfication · 4 years

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The Girl Who Cried Wolf

Another requested fic! Anon asked “Anne loves her fun/carefree/’gremlin’ reputation - but what happens when people just stop taking her seriously?” I feel like this is awfully accurate for a April Fools Post... I’m not sure what happened with this one, but I hope it has a coherent plot, my brain feels like scrambled eggs right now. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors my brain feels like - well - scrambled eggs right now.

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas (now featuring random asks). If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Random Asks

Trigger Warnings: Blood, vomit, hospitals, stomach sicknesses

“AGH! Help me!” Anne called, clutching her stomach in pain. “I’m - I’m -”

Kat was immediately at Anne’s side, holding the prone girl in her arms. “Annie, Annie what’s wrong!” she cried, clearly in distress by Anne’s pain.

Anne wailed and rolled into a ball. The other queens circled her, all of them silent and terrified of whatever was hurting Anne. “You have to help me,” Anne gasped, grabbing Kat’s hand.

“I will Annie!” Kat promised her cousin, pulling her closer.

Mumbling, Anne motioned for Kat to come closer. When she was close enough, Anne whispered, “My stomach.”

Frantically moving her attention down to Anne’s stomach, Kat bit her lip. Anne had her hands covering her stomach, making it impossible for Kat to see what was wrong. Leaning forward, she noticed a tinge of red around Anne’s hand. Gasping, Kat lifted Anne’s hands to see the wound.

Squeaking in surprise, Kat jerked back when Anne threw her hands forward and splashed blood all over Kat. The blood went everywhere and Anne started laughing at Kat’s shocked face. Sitting up, Anne wiped her bloody hands on her shirt, perfectly fine. “Oh, you should’ve seen your face,” she continued to laugh.

Kat’s head was down as she tried to hide tears in her eyes. “Annie?”

“What the hell was that, Anne?” Aragon demanded from behind the girl.

“Paint!” Anne held up her red hands. “Totally worth it too.”

Frowning, Jane disappointingly shook her head. “That was uncalled for, Anne.”

“Whaddya mean?” Anne smirked, standing up and going to the kitchen sink to wash off the paint.

“You scared Kat half to death,” Anna accused, kneeling down next to her best friend.

Anne didn’t quite grasp why they were all so upset. To her it was just a prank, not a big deal. “You guys aren’t actually mad, are you?” Anne gestured about incredulously.

“Yes, Anne.” The beheaded queen could almost swear Cathy looked disgusted with her. “I would think you of all people would know not to go too far, especially with blood.”

There was a moment of silence before Anne realized what she had done. “Oh, KitKat, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s fine Anne,” the girl mumbled, still staring at the floor.

Part of Anne wanted to continue and try to apologize to her cousin, but the unimpressed glares of all the other queens kept her from it. “Alright. I’ll um, I’ll be in my room.” Bolting away from the scene, Anne ran up to her room in the attic. Shutting the door, she flopped onto her bed. God, had she ruined another good thing? Would the others ever forgive her? Sure, they had forgiven her in the past, but what if she’d pushed it too far?

Unable to find the courage to reconcile with them, Anne stayed in her room for the rest of the night and the following day. She snuck down at midnight to eat some dinner (frozen cookie dough is fine, right?) before returning to her room silently. That’s the way it continued for the next few days, none of the queens willing to talk to Anne after her poorly planned prank.

It seemed to be working pretty well until Anne woke up with a serious pain in her stomach. There was a churning that made her feel absolutely terrible and nauseous. She knew period and gas cramps, but this was neither. She felt like irons were stabbing into her stomach at every movement. Laying in bed, Anne stared at the ceiling, trying to distract herself. But the pain was so overwhelming that there was no way to even fathom thinking of anything else.

Debating her options, Anne decided it was best to go and get help. Even if the other queens were mad at her, they had always been caring, sometimes overly so. Stumbling down the stairs, Anne had a hand on the railing and another clutching her stomach. “Anne?” Jane called, seeing the pale girl. Then her eyes fell upon the hand covering Anne’s stomach, and her expression dropped. “Really? Again so soon? Didn’t you learn your lesson last time.”

Aragon looked up from her newspaper and glared at Anne. “No, it’s for real this time,” Anne grunted.

“Sure, like it was real last time,” Aragon spit and turned back to her paper.

Shocked, Anne stopped on her way down the stairs. They didn’t believe her? Why wouldn’t they believe her? Couldn’t they see she was in pain? “What?” Anne groaned out.

Neither Jane nor Aragon were convinced, and they refused to pay Anne any attention. Feeling someone pass her on the stairs, Anne turned and made eye contact with Cathy. “Cathy, you’ll help me, right?”

Raising an eyebrow, Cathy glanced down at Anne’s hand cautiously. “And get what, fake vomit all over me? I think I’ll pass, Anne.”

Reaching a hand out, the beheaded queen tried to stop Cathy before she joined the other two queens downstairs. Apparently, Anne was out of luck, and she was ignored by her fellow queens. Grunting, Anne turned around and made her way back up the stairs. If they wouldn’t help her, she would help herself. Starting with some rest. Anne was feeling very, very tired.

So very tired, now that she thought about it. Barely making it to her room, Anne fumbled with the doorknob. She pushed her body weight against the door and collapsed on the ground. Slowly, everything around her started to fade to black as the world spun and spun and spun. The last thing she heard was her door clicking closed behind her.

Downstairs, Kat had just come out of the bathroom and was surprised to see the disgruntled faces of all the other queens. Anna was laying on the couch, mindlessly flipping through television channels, but Aragon, Jane, and Cathy kept sharing annoyed faces with each other. “What’s wrong?” Kat asked, making her way over to the kitchen table.

“Nothing to worry about, dear,” Jane covered up, pretending as if she had been smiling.

Unconvinced, Kat turned to Cathy. “What’s wrong?” she asked again.

“Anne came down asking for help while holding her stomach,” Cathy deadpanned.

Kat bit her lip and anxiously scuffed her foot on the ground. “We should check up on her.”

“And risk what happened last time?” Aragon scoffed. “No way.”

Anna called from over on the couch, “It’s not worth it liebling. She’ll realize sooner or later that her pranks aren’t funny.”

Still, Kat couldn’t help but worry that maybe, just maybe her cousin wasn’t lying this time. Even if she was constantly the target of Anne’s pranks, Kat knew it was because she was the easiest to trick. But her conscience wouldn’t let her rest until she knew Anne was safe, even if it meant getting pranked again. Kat ignored the calls of the other queens as she made her way up to Anne’s room.

Knocking on the door, Kat received no response. Of course she knew this was the start to every horror movie, and she was the ditzy cheerleader about to get murdered, but Kat pushed open Anne’s door anyway. Yelping when she almost tripped over something, Kat screamed for help when she saw what it was.

Unconscious on the floor was Anne, bloody vomit dribbling out of her mouth. Kat dropped down next to her, checking to see if Anne was breathing. A nagging in the back of her mind that sounded vaguely like the other queens told her it was an elaborate prank, but Kat’s own mind didn’t agree. Anne looked terribly pale and sick, her skin sweaty and her body shivering.

Anna burst through the door first, expecting to find more blood on Kat, but was instead surprised to see Anne actually sick. “I’ll call an ambulance,” Anna mumbled out, embarrassed that she had allowed Anne’s pain to be dismissed.

The last three queens came up together, standing at the door in guilty shock. “What did we do?” Jane asked quietly, her eyes wide as saucers.

“Anne will be okay,” Aragon assured her, putting a hand on her back. She held out her other arm and pulled Cathy into her hug, the final queen unable to speak as she watched Kat huddle with her cousin.

Rushing back into the room with a phone in her hand, Anna nodded at the others. “Ambulance is outside. They’re gonna take care of her.”

The ride to the hospital was grueling for Kat who had to watch her cousin fade in and out of consciousness. Anne seemed to have no coherent sense of what was happening, her fever running high and her mind delirious. As soon as they reached the hospital, Anne was carted off to some doctor while Kat met up with the other queens who had driven behind the ambulance. “Do you have any idea what’s wrong with her?” Jane asked as soon as Kat was within earshot.

Shrugging, Kat crossed her arms around her chest. “They said it was probably a stomach illness. Something she ate.”

The queens all shared knowing looks. “Of course if she’s left alone to eat, Anne’s going to choose something that’ll get her sick,” Aragon rolled her eyes, covering up the panic she felt when thinking about Anne’s safety.

In one big huddle, they sat together in the waiting area, hoping to get any news on Anne soon. It didn’t take long, and one of the white-jacket doctors came out. “Family of Anne Boleyn?”

“That’s us!” Cathy claimed, sticking her hand in the air.

The doctor frowned but made his way over to them. “You’re all related to her?” he asked in disbelief.

“I’m her cousin,” Kat explained.

“But we’re all her family,” Anna insisted.

The doctor shrugged but didn’t push any further. “Well she’s right down the hall if you want to visit her. One at a time,” he made sure they were clear. “She’ll be fine. Just a really bad cause of the stomach flu it seems. Miss Boleyn will be released within the next couple days.” Almost in unison, all the queens let out a sigh of relief. Anne was okay.

Anne was going to be okay.

Silently, it was agreed upon that Kat would be the one to visit Anne first. She followed the doctor to Anne’s room and thanked him when he left her alone with her cousin. “Hey Anne,” Kat greeted quietly from the doorway. “Can I come in?”

Anne was still a little bit woozy, but she nodded, wanting Kat with her. “Yeah, you can come in. Although I hear the chairs are really uncomfortable.”

Standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, Kat fiddled with her hands. “I’m sorry we didn’t believe you,” she blurted out. “You needed help and we didn’t help you.”

Chuckling humorlessly, Anne did her best to ease her cousin’s worries. “It’s fine. It’s my fault you didn’t believe me, and it’s my fault I got sick. Besides, you found me and called for help.”

Still unsure, Kat took a step closer to Anne’s bed. “I was so worried. I almost didn’t check on you because I thought it was another prank -”

“I don’t blame you,” Anne sighed. She patted her bed, urging Kat to sit with her. The younger girl complied, sitting at Anne’s feet. “I pulled a really insensitive prank, and I took it too far. Believe it or not, but I get it. If I were you, I wouldn’t take me seriously either. So don’t even think about blaming yourself for any of this.”

There was hesitation on Kat’s face, but she nodded. “If I don’t blame myself, then you have to promise me one thing.”

“Sure, Kat.”

“You can’t blame yourself either.” Kat grabbed Anne’s hand and pleaded with her. “It’s no one’s fault but that stupid virus.”

Laughing, Anne agreed. “Things must really suck for us then, huh KitKat?”

“Yeah, we do have a pretty bad history with luck.” The two cousins shared a grin. “But are you going to pull another prank like that?”

Mulling it over, Anne let out a noncommittal noise. “I can’t make promises for future Anne,” she offered cheekily.

“Fair, fair,” Kat put her hands up in surrender.

The two cousins shared a look and smiled softly, just glad they could be in each others’ company. “It’s no one’s fault,” Anne repeated, squeezing Kat’s hand. “And that goes for you too!” She shouted, peeking around Kat. “I know you’re listening.”

Shamefully, the other four queens revealed themselves in the doorway after their failed attempt at spying. “We’re glad you’re okay Anne,” Jane smiled, worry draining from her features.

“I’m glad I’m okay too.” And they all laughed together.

-----------------------------

@annabanana2401

@boleynhowards

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fic #six fanfiction #six fanfic #sixfic #anon request #anne boleyn centric #katherine howard is pretty big too #beheaded cousins #the others are there too #tw: blood #but not that much #tw: vomit #tw: stomach sickness #anne goes too far #i am so sleep deprived it's not even funny #the bags under my eyes are the size of my eyes

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slippinmickeys · 5 years

Text

Release Valve (10/10): TechGnosis

(To read this in its entirety, go here)

Scully awoke suddenly to the sound of pounding at her door. Mulder came awake next to her a second later with a sharp intake of breath. Mulder reached for his service weapon on the bedside table, paranoia running deep. “Want me to get it?” He asked. Scully shook her head, and quickly donned her robe. When she got to the door, she checked for Mulder behind her- he was clad in only jeans with the button and belt still undone. He had his weapon in his hand, though lowered to his thigh. He nodded at her. She opened the door. Isaacs stood there with Stone hanging limply off her shoulder, his face pale and sweating. Isaacs didn’t look much better. She’d obviously struggled getting him to Scully’s door, and looked on the edge of exhaustion. She had a small black backpack hanging off her other elbow. “Jesus!” Scully said, and swung the door wide, “bring him in!” They stumbled in, and Mulder was at their side in an instant, grabbing Stone around his other shoulder. “Into the bed!” Scully ordered. Scully stripped the duvet off the top and they deposited Stone in the bed. He gave a weak groan. Scully immediately went to the bedside, and pried his hand away from his side. “He’s been shot!” She said, turning an accusing eye toward Isaacs, who was bent over, hands on her knees, breathing heavily. Isaacs nodded at her.

“We need to call an ambulance,” Scully said. “No!” Isaacs said quickly, “We can’t! Can you treat him?” Scully cut her eyes to Mulder, who gave her an imperceptible nod. “After I do, I want to know exactly what the hell you guys have been up to,” Scully said, not amused. Scully’s bedside manner with Stone was much more gentle, though she began quietly barking orders to Mulder and Isaacs, who hopped-to. Mulder retrieved her doctor’s bag from her closet. After a thorough triage, it looked like the bullet that hit Stone went through cleanly, and the bleeding had slowed. Scully got some liquids into him and sewed him up, wishing she’d had some anesthetic. She got him resting comfortably and headed for her living room, closing the door halfway so she could still hear if something went wrong. She found Mulder, now fully dressed, and Isaacs sitting on her couch, deep in discussion. She interrupted them. She was fuming. “Agent Stone lost a lot of blood,” she said, “he should be in a hospital.” “Scully,” Mulder started to say. “Don’t,” she said, swinging her eyes to Isaacs. “What happened tonight?” “We were following a lead,” Isaacs said, “at a Department of Defense offsite location.” “Of course,” Scully said bitterly, looking at Mulder, “I guess you did train them up your way.”

He had the good sense to look contrite.

“Agent Scully, are you aware of some of the cyber security countermeasures Stone has enacted on behalf of the X-Files unit?” Isaacs asked her. It was Scully’s turn to look abashed. She’d not invested much time following up on how the newer agents were settling in to the unit or what they were up to. She’d relied on Mulder doing that, having been taken up with her own concerns, having been taken up with him. She shook her head. “Agent Stone wrote a program,” Isaacs went on, “when he first started with the unit. I can’t claim to understand exactly how it all works, but in essence, it monitored our computers for interference.” “He found someone interfering?” Scully asked. “Today,” Isaacs nodded. “The Department of Defense?” Scully asked. She’d been around the basement office long enough to not sound too skeptical. “It was an offsite location,” Isaacs said, “I’m not sure how ‘official’ it is.” Scully nodded, all of this sounding familiar. “Stone convinced me we should check it out before we brought it you and Agent Mulder.” “Why?” Asked Scully. “Because of what we found,” came Stone’s voice from behind her. Stone stood weakly in the bedroom doorway, his hand on the door handle. “Let me explain,” he said, as Scully rushed to his side. “You need to be resting,” she said gently but insistently, and helped him back into bed. Mulder and Isaacs came to stand in the doorway. “Come in, please,” Stone said, his voice quiet. Scully started to protest, but he held up a hand. “I need to tell you,” he said, “in case something happens.” Once again Scully tried to object.

“This can’t wait,” he said. He cut his eyes to Isaacs. “Jasmine, will you grab my backpack?” She brought it to his side. He looked up at her gratefully. “The program Isaacs is talking about is kind of a ‘hack-back’ program. A computer at the DOD site tried to hack us today, and I backdoored into their system.” He took a breath, and Scully nodded, giving him a moment. “I designed it to be quick, in-and-out so I could remain undetected, but I set it up to search the invading system for keywords related to the X-Files. I picked a few names and references scattered throughout the files, old and new. Threat assessment. Trying to figure out what they were after.” He reached into the small pack and pulled out a sheet of paper, crumpled from being in the bag. He handed it to Scully. It read: <<<Vincent, Marcie Lynn#>>> <<< Scully, Dana Katherine#>>> <<<MUFON>>> <<< Hagopian, Elizabeth Marie#>>> <<<Spender, Cassandra Ann#>>> <<<Spender, (?)(***)#>>> <<<Northern, Penny# >>> <<<Kevin Scanlon, MD>>>

Scully felt her stomach drop. She sat on the bed and handed the sheet to Mulder. He stared at it. “After we got in,” Stone said, adjusting himself on the bed with a grimace and then pointing to the paper in Mulder’s hand, “I got a look at everything. I know what it means.” XxXxXxXxX Mulder couldn’t take his eyes off the paper. The implications of all the names on it were legion. Finally he looked up, connected eyes with Scully and then turned to Stone. “What does it mean?” He asked. “Of the pinged keywords that my computer picked up,” he said, “The names with the pound sign have a chip implanted in the back of their neck.” Scully looked like she was going to be sick. “The DOD, or whoever is running the off-site we went to,” he went on, “has a computer and a program that controls the chips.” He pulled a small black cube and a sleek looking computer out of the pack and held them up. “I’m calling it the God Module,” he said. Mulder felt suddenly galvanized. “That’s it?” Mulder said, taking a step toward the bed, “That’s the computer that controls the chips?” “The one and only,” Stone said in all seriousness. “And that’s not all I found.” He pulled a smaller device out of his backpack. It was Isaacs turn to take step closer to him. “Is that what you pulled off the PC?” She asked him. He nodded. “What is it?” “It’s the Master List,” he said. “It’s the names of everyone with a chip, and what current program each chip is running.” Mulder connected eyes with Scully, electric. XxXxXxXxX

The excitement of relaying the information he’d found had only momentarily energized Stone. He lost steam and was now fitfully asleep. Isaacs was passed out on Scully’s couch, an afghan thrown over her. Mulder and Scully were in Scully’s kitchen, heads bent together, talking quietly. They would not be sleeping that night. “We can’t keep them here,” Scully said, “they’re going to figure out who broke into the DOD building, and it’s not going to take a lot of algebra to figure out were they went next.” Mulder nodded, agreeing. “If that God Module really is what Stone thinks it is,” Mulder said, “we might have some leverage.” “If that God Module really is what Stone thinks it is…” Scully said, not needing to finish the thought. Mulder pulled her to him in a tight embrace. They stood like that for a while, breathing each other in. “The agents in this unit have a really terrible habit of breaking the law,” Scully said, her voice muffled in his shirt. Mulder chuffed out a breathy chuckle. Laws, he thought, were easy to break. For her he would have broken laws of physics, of time. For her he would create matter, destroy it, push an immovable object through an impenetrable force. “Comes with the territory,” was all he said, his nose in her hair, his heart in his throat. XxXxXxXxX

It was before dawn, and Mulder had gingerly loaded Stone into the back of his car. Scully got into the back as well, keeping an eye on her patient. Stone reached for the seatbelt with a grimace and Scully stopped him. “Skip it,” she said, and Stone looked relieved. He slowly sunk down until he was lying across the seat, his head on Scully’s leg. “We’re both going to pretend this isn’t awkward, okay?” He said. Isaacs jumped in front and they drove to Crystal City. Light traffic at a dark hour, Mulder was pretty sure they hadn’t been followed. Mulder pulled up to the curb in front of a high rise and made a quick call. Ten minutes later, Deputy Director Skinner came out of the front of the building in a tee shirt and jeans and leaned down to the open passenger window. “Sir?” Mulder said, bending down to look over, “I’m afraid we’re going to need some help.” Skinner took a look around the inside of the car, stood, and pinching the bridge of his nose, begrudgingly nodded. XxXxXxXxX The safe house was off Fort Hunt Road in a suburb near Mount Vernon, a small ranch house tucked into the woods with a long driveway, the prying eyes of neighbors kept at bay. Stone was set up in a small bedroom, hooked up to an IV drip, pouring over the computer in front of him. Mulder was perched on his bedside, intently looking at the screen. They’d been in deep quiet discussion for the better part of the day when Scully leaned in the doorway. “Everything okay in here?” She asked. She’d taken to one of the other bedrooms when they arrived and managed to get a couple of hours of sleep. Mulder had been too jacked on adrenaline. Stone and Mulder looked up simultaneously, with eager expressions on their faces, then Mulder looked to Stone, who nodded. Mulder rose and came to the door. “I think we’ve got this figured out,” Mulder said to her quietly, and closed the door halfway, leading Scully through the small living room. Isaacs was in the corner talking on the phone with her boyfriend in hushed tones. There was an agent on guard duty leaning on the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee. He nodded to them as they made their way through and out onto the small deck in the back. The day was sunny, and the woods surrounding the property were a sparkling jade. Birdsong filled the air. “So,” said Scully, leaning against the short railing of the deck, “what says the computer? Do I get to take this thing out?” She vaguely gestured to the back of her neck. Mulder turned so his backside was resting on the railing next to her, their bodies facing different directions. “Maybe,” he said. Mulder looked out at the blazing green woods and was reminded of the Emerald City. Once more into the breach of the great and powerful Oz. He already had courage, he thought, looking at Scully. He already had heart. XxXxXxXxX They were all gathered in the living room when Skinner came in the front door, the front door agent with him. He nodded at Mulder. “Murphy, Taylor, can you wait for us outside for a bit?” Skinner said. The agents on guard duty mumbled affirmatives and trooped out the door. Once they were out, Skinner looked to Mulder. “I’ve got the place,” Skinner said. Mulder nodded. “What place?” Scully asked him, confused. “A location for a meeting with the Smoking Man,” Mulder said. Scully felt her stomach turn. “Mulder,” she said. “No,” he replied before she could go on. “This time it’s on our fucking terms.” He turned to Stone. “Let’s show them,” he said. Stone flipped his laptop around on the coffee table and they all huddled in to see the small screen. “The Master List,” Stone said, pushing a few buttons. “It seems to be categorized by, let’s just call them ‘patients,’” he said, giving a deferential look to Scully. “This is the group of patients Agent Scully is a part of,” he brought up a subset of names. Scully leaned further in. Amongst the names in her group were Cassandra Spender, Betsy Hagopian, Penny Northern. “Penny…” Scully said, feeling a pang of emotion. “Agent Scully and the other patients on this list have their chip set to program ‘A.’” “Abductee?” Isaacs asked quietly. “Maybe,” said Stone, “we know from our files that many of the people on this list were abducted for a period of time. All returned. Many are now deceased.” “The ones who removed the chip,” Scully said with certainty. “It appears that way,” Stone said. He went on. “There’s another group of patients set to program ‘C’,” he said, pointing to the screen. “There are some names here, and some code names. Those I haven’t been able to decipher.”

Marcie Vincent. Names of other people. Other kids, thought Scully. “We don’t yet know the function of program ‘C’,” Stone went on. The information I downloaded only refers to these patients within the context of a ‘Project Ramet.’” “Are they…” Scully took a second, “are the Program C kids’ chips controlled by the God Module?” “Yes,” said Stone. “I’m almost certain.” “This group,” he said then, looking to Skinner, “have chips set to program ‘H’.” Mulder looked at the list, running his finger down the screen through the names. He stopped on one. “CGB Spender,” Mulder said, looking at Skinner, then at Scully. “From what I can glean,” said Stone, nodding, “the chips for the members of this group are set to a program functioning in accordance with the immune system.” “With what objective?” Isaacs asked. “To fight bacteria,” Stone said, “to fight viruses.” “So much for vaccines,” Mulder said. “That’s not possible,” Scully said, “the science… This kind of technology is decades away, if it’s even possible.” Stone looked meaningfully at Mulder. Mulder cut his eyes to Scully and she began to wonder if there was something they weren’t telling her. “Here’s the thing,” Mulder said, “with Stone’s God Module, we can take all program ‘A’ patients and deprogram the chip. Or change it to run program ‘H.’” “And vice versa,” Isaacs said, starting to understand what Mulder was saying. “You can turn the tables on this Smoking Man, or CGB Spender, or whatever his name is, and then we’re in charge of his chip.” “If he removes it, he gets cancer,” Scully added quietly. Mulder nodded. “And I suspect some of the other names on this list are other men we know. Men we know to be working with the Smoking Man.” “The Syndicate,” Skinner said. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a little leverage?” Mulder asked, leaning back. “There’s leverage,” said Stone, “and then there’s leverage.” XxXxXxXxX

“So,” Stone began. He had the God Module up and ‘running,’ had played with it for a while, getting a feel for the technology. “What’s the location for the meeting with CGB Spender?” Skinner told him. “I think I need to convert that to coordinates,” he said. “Latitude and longitude.” While Isaacs, Stone and Skinner were trying to figure that out, Scully put a hand on Mulder’s arm. “You’re going to program his chip to send him to this location?” She asked him, her voice low. Mulder squeezed her hand. “Let’s see how he likes it this time,” he said. “I’m coming with you,” she said. “Scully—“ He started. “No,” she said, “I want to see the look on his face.” Mulder gave her a small smile. “Atta girl,” he said, quietly. XxXxXxXxX The location Skinner had picked had been an old quarry in Maryland. There were two FBI snipers on either side of the cliffs, and several teams handpicked by Skinner located at the entrance. There was no other exit. Mulder and Scully waited in a car in the middle of the open quarry, Isaacs and Skinner in another about 50 yards away. Stone was still at the safe house with the God Module, in constant contact with Isaacs. If the Cancer Man showed up as he was ‘programmed’ to do, they would know the device was working and Stone would immediately reprogram all of the patients. Scully wondered if she would feel anything. At the hour appointed by the God Module, a large dark sedan pulled into the quarry, tires crunching as it slowly pulled up to the car Mulder and Scully were waiting in. When the car’s ignition was cut, Mulder and Scully got out. CGB Spender got out of the car slowly and came to stand in front of them. He said nothing, his eyes were unblinking. Mulder and Scully exchanged a look. With a sniff of awareness, he came to himself, blinked and looked around. Scully took in the flash of surprise on his face with some satisfaction. “Wondering how you got here?” Scully asked. “I can relate.” The man took a moment before responding. “You have it, then?” He asked. “We have it,” said Mulder. “Then you’d better keep it safe,” he said. “You’re not calling the shots anymore,” Mulder said. Scully could see the muscles flex in his jaw. “I never was,” the man said. Scully saw a flash of something in the man’s face, but couldn’t put a name to it. “We want Marcie Vincent returned to her family,” Mulder said. The man nodded. He didn’t even attempt to put up a fight. “And I want to know about Project Ramet,” Mulder said. For the first time the smug smile returned to the man’s face. “I’ll just bet you do,” he said, reaching into his pocket to pull out a pack of Morleys. Mulder pulled a small knife out of his pocket and took a step forward. “Your chip is running program A now,” Mulder said, “and there’s nothing I’d like more than to cut that thing out of your neck right here, right now.” “Killing me won’t stop Project Ramet, Agent Mulder,” the man said, “and there are some things even I don’t know.” He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and lit his cigarette. “You’ve ensured Agent Scully’s enduring health, you hold the technology to exercise great power, and you have me and other members of my cabal over a barrel, as it were.” The man went on, “You’re closer now than you ever were to finding what you seek.” XxXxXxXxX “We should have arrested him,” Scully said. She and Mulder were in their car, on their way back to the safe house. They needed to figure out where to keep the God Module, how to keep it safe. There would be a never ending line of parlous adversaries out to get it. “We need him to release Marcie Vincent,” Mulder said, pulling into a scenic overlook off the Parkway. “And we’ll probably need him in the future. You could say he works for us, now.” Scully nodded. He was right. “What are we doing?” Scully asked. Mulder didn’t answer, just walked over to the passenger seat and opened it up for her, gave her a hand out. It was another beautiful day, the sky a piercing blue. The overlook was perched over the Potomac, and there were few people pulled in. A young couple was sitting on top of the small neat stone wall, sharing a sandwich. Their dog, a yellow lab, was sitting at their feet hoping for a dropped morsel. Mulder grabbed Scully’s hand and walked with her toward a wooded picnic area. The dog rose as they passed, his tail wagging gently. He gave one short woof once they were past. “Everyone’s a critic,” said Mulder. They sat down at a picnic table, turned toward the river. “So it’s done,” Scully said, knowing that the minute the Smoking Man showed up to the quarry Stone had reset her chip. “It’s done,” Mulder said. XxXxXxXxX He hadn’t realized that the ever-looming threat of her illness coming back had weighed so heavily on him. A world without Scully was not a world he wanted to live in. It was like a release valve had been flipped open, the pressure on his heart hissing out into the ether. He took one deep breath and let it flow out of him, feeling lighter, feeling free. They sat for a moment in comfortable silence. “How soon do you think I can takethis thing the hell out of my neck?” She asked, leaning companionably into his shoulder. He took a breath. “There’s one thing Stone and I discovered while we were in the safe house that he didn’t share,” Mulder said. “Something you need to know.” Mulder saw Scully tense, and he reached out and took her hand. “If you leave the chip in,” Mulder said, his voice steady, his gaze locked on hers, “the God Module can restore your fertility.”

Scully’s eyes slid closed, and with a slight upturn of her lips, she canted her face to the sun.

“I get it now,” she finally said.

“Get what?” Mulder asked gently.

“You,” she said, simply.

He cocked his head to the side, a question.

“Mulder, I want to believe,” she said. He knew then what love was. It was the gunmetal slide of a pistol, a snow cat prowling at 40 below. The whorls of her fingerprints pressed into his skin. It was purpose and frustration, illumination and regret. It was her smile in profile, composed against the sky.

#the x-files #fanfic #fanfiction #msr #Release Valve #Chapter 10 #my fic

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rainbowsntears · 5 years

Text

eros *au*

summary ↳ with you being sad and just pleading for comfort throughout the middle of the night, one of your friends secretly calls up someone who definitely tries his best to look after you.

warnings ↳ profanity, but all else is fluff

words ↳ 3093

note ↳ okay so i worked three hours on this, originally i wrote it third person instead of second because i dedicated this short story to my best friend. but anyway, this will be set in 2018 and not the late 1800s sorryyy. honestly i could’ve used finn in this but i felt that with gilbert being the sweetheart that he is, would fit the role better. btw you don’t know gilbert in this imagine. also i had to do a huge amount of research about greek gods and shit so sksksksk. but get comfy and enjoy! love y’all xx

The clock struck 2am, and only more of the silence had consumed your thoughts, breathing hitched as you dug your knees up to your chest with your head laying on top, and wet drops of sadness trickled down your ever so beautiful face. This hadn't been the first time you were like this, nor was it going to be your last. You were just having one of those days where you felt so hopeless and upset at your perspective of life. And no one blamed you, you had been through so much shit, but no one wanted you to stay like this. Mostly every single day did your best friends - Anne, Diana, Cole, Ruby and Jerry - try cheering you up, reminding you that you were loved and cared for because honestly, they did care for you.

You always appreciated it, but with a stubborn person like yourself, there was hardly any way that those words of comfort and love would stay there.

2:06am.

There's no way you were going to bed. You couldn't. You were so sleep deprived that you hadn't even felt your own exhaustion screaming for a long night's sleep.

You were sitting in the lounge in the middle of the semi-circle white couch in your house. You are all alone tonight, seeing as your parents were out on a small weekend holiday together and left you by yourself. With a normal blush pink blanket trying to warm your body up throughout the cold night as you cried. Well, it wasn't the only thing you did. You tried to watch your favourite tv shows, but your gut hadn't been edging for that kind of comfort. But then food came to thought, and although it was a success by the looks of the once container of chocolate chip cookies now being half gone, you still didn't feel the comfort in it, even if cookies were your go-to comfort food.

There was something else that you couldn't quite place your finger on that you needed.

Nothing was able to distract you and your thoughts, you were so in depth with it that the black layer of abyss took over your mind.

That was, until, you heard a loud thump ring through your covered ears, and you alarmingly whipped your head up to see what it had been. But nothing seemed to be out of place, shockingly.

Only if you forget about the part in which you heard a squeak of an, "ow!" follow after the thud, and that's when your heart started to race.

With such delicacy, you stood up straight and tiptoed to where a baseball bat rested against the front door. (Yes, you have a baseball bat to use as a self-defence weapon for times like this.) Gently taking hold of the bat, you started to move to where the thud had been heard - which was the guest room, what a surprise its window was right next to the front door so the intruder must have found it the easiest way - and with one inhale, you unlocked the door and swung it open.

There, a boy dressed in a loose long sleeve white shirt and black jeans with black boots stood in front of the open window. His hair a dark brown but his gentle hazel eyes were right on yours.

And they widened once they caught onto the bat that you had prepared to hit.

"W-What the fuck?!” You exclaimed at the stranger, lips pursed as you stared down the boy standing right in front of you. "I have no problem hitting you with this bat if you don't tell me what you're fucking doing here!"

The unfamiliar brunette opened his mouth, immediately raising his hands up in defence even though he looked incredibly scared with the sight of a human trying to hurt him, "Okay, okay! I'm sorry! I'm not an intruder, I can promise you that," He pleaded, gulping loudly, "look, I was told to come here."

You didn't move your angle on the bat, but you did feel your eyebrows knit together in confusion, "Who told you? Which psychopath told you to fucking come here?!” You shouted, tightening your grip on the bat more and the boy inhaled sharply.

"I-I can't say, but please listen to me," He tried to softly say, one hand resting on his chest as he looked at you with such begging eyes. And he sighed in relief when he saw you roll your eyes, nodding your head away to say that you were listening. "I was told by one of your utmost friends to come here and look after you, for tonight."

You blinked your eyes rapidly, but you weren't going to question him as you saw that he hadn't finished speaking.

"I came from Mount Olympus, I'm one of the Greek Gods...uh Eros that is. Ya know? The God of love. But you can call me Gilbert."

Then, your exhausted self let out a bitter laugh, tilting your head back at what ridiculous words he had been saying. You even had to clutch your chest at some point, "Dressed and acting like that, no you aren't. There's no way you are a Greek God, Gilbert."

Gilbert was now confused, how could you say such a possible thing about him when he was being honest? "I-I'm not lying, I swear! I'll even prove it to you!" He replied in defence, chewing the insides of his cheeks as he allowed his arms to drop on either side of his body. And to his luck, you had yet again nodded your head, with an iconic eye roll added to it.

So he did prove it to you.

He clenched his fists, closing his eyes as he focused on one thing and only one thing. He felt them moved around through his shoulder blades, and he only hissed just the slightest as Gilbert finally came to the edge of his added part to his body.

It hurt like hell, but the look of awe you had on your face was purely Heaven.

And Gilbert sighed in relief as he watched the bat slip out of your hands and drop to the ground.

"Bloody hell, are those real?!" You exclaimed as you raced over to get a better look at the white angelic wings that shone right before your dancing eyes, and you let your jaw drop when Gilbert nodded his head. "Can I touch them?"

Gilbert had never been asked this question before and he squinted his eyes, it's not like he'd been given this call before, considering only one human knew about his role in life.

Well...now two.

He shrugged his shoulders, "If the idea to do it will bring happiness to you, then it is my pleasure." Gilbert smiled assuringly at you as you darted you eyes between him and his own pair of wings. And so you walked around him so you had been facing his back, looking at the wings with so much desire and awe, raising your still shaky hand up to the top of the right one and gently dragged your fingers down. They felt so gracious and like feathers, except stronger and literally built with love.

You were only half way, but quickly pulled your hand away in fear and squeaking out an apology when you saw and felt Gilbert flinch and the wings move inner together rather than out and free.

"Sorry, I didn't know I was so ticklish there," He replied, and he heard you chuckle from behind him before you walked back so you were facing him again. You gave him a judgemental look, and Gilbert gasped, "don't give me that look, young lady/man! I haven't had someone touch my wings before." He added in defence, crossing his arms as you laughed even more.

Oh, your laugh was so beautiful; the voice of an angel. Gilbert adored it.

Then, you let out a sigh, "Look, you've proved me enough now. And we can talk about whatever the hell you're doing here," You finally stated, looking up at Gilbert’s facial expressions. He had been smiling widely, and he nodded his head frantically before you took hold of one of his hands softly and dragged him out of the guest bedroom and to the lounge room.

You didn't know what it was, but the moment you grasped your hand into his, it felt too amazing to be real. They fit perfectly into yours, and they were soft like silk. Not only that, but the sudden comfort you felt in them had you feeling better already and you liked that bubbly and sparkly feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"So, you're here to look after me, right?" You started up again once you sat right back in the same spot that you'd been in for the past late hours. Gilbert sat right next to you, sitting mainly at one of the ends of the lounge, with his wings resting up on the armrest as he sat crossed legs.

Gilbert shuffled around so he was comfortable enough, "Yeah, a lil' birdie told me life has been hitting you rough and were in desperate need for some company because they felt like you weren't getting the right comfort." He said, tilting his head to the side only just the tiniest bit to listen on for what you would say about it.

You so wanted to know who this anonymous person was that Gilbert kept talking about, but you sucked in a deep breath either way, "I mean, yeah life is shit for me. With the death of someone really close to me, and just basically everything...I-I don't know. I feel so useless, like-like I'm not that important. And I hate the feeling but I can't help but let it consume me, you know? I have my family, and friends with me by my side and looking after me but..." You paused sadly, letting your head drop as you fiddled with your fingers in your lap. "I still just feel so god damn lonely."

Gilbert’s face softened at the sight of such a sad person with an empty heart, "You aren't lonely, sweetheart. It's the fact that your heart is empty because the love that you need is missing. I mean, I'm not human, but living in the human world I've tried so hard to understand what it must be to lose someone like that." He genuinely spoke, leaning forward so he could place his hand on your shoulder, tracing his thumb in circles as his gaze never left your face. "But, this is what I'm here for. To make sure you feel better, and feel comforted, and to give you the love that you need."

You sniffled quietly, rubbing your face as you looked up at Gilbert, "H-How many other people have you done this to?" You asked curiously, "Has it always ended up a success to make them happy?"

"Oh, Y/n, aren't we both in for a surprise considering you're the first person I've ever done this to. And probably my only person." Gilbert answered, "It's too dangerous for me to become some kind of magical therapist as the Greek Gods are only to be known as Myths. I fear that humans may try and do something dangerous if more enough find out. That's why this is our secret."

"And what about the person who told you to come here?" You questioned gently.

Gilbert smiled, "They've sworn their life on me to never tell a soul, and they've done such a great job for such a long time."

It was weird, at first you had been smiling back at him - only a small and fragile one that truly showed off your delicacy - but you were looking too long into his mesmerising eyes that suddenly, tears started to well up in your eyes and your smile dropped, lips trembling as you looked away from him. "Why the fuck am I crying?" You spoke between sobs, tears uncontrollably cascading down your cheeks as you sniffled here and there. "I-I wasn't even doing anything, I was just-"

"-That's because it's working," Gilbert cut your shaky words off, feeling sorry for how much of a mess he had made but thankful enough to know that he was making you do this. "It's all for a good cause, love."

You frowned as you rubbed your face even though tears only came more and more, "How is making me cry such a good thing?"

"Well, if I'm going to be giving you all of my love and care, we'll need to get rid of all the negative and bad feelings first, don't we? Because they'll stay there and continue to hurt you, and we don't want a precious girl/boy like you to keep feelings those." Gilbert responded, now putting his arm around your first shoulder and resting upon the one furthest from him and rubbing it gently.

You felt like you had been crying for ages now, allowing the Greek God to get rid of all of the negativity that tortured your heart to be thrown away far far away for you to know that it was gone.

But, now, with a heart full of completely nothing, you were confused as to what to express at this moment. "What happens now?" You asked, your voice low and strained from the sobs that ruined your voice even though Gilbert still thought it was beautiful.

This is the part that had him worried though, he didn't know if the next step to the magic would work, "Now, you are to be kissed with the lips from a God of love." He spoke formally, remembering his father Ouranos and mother Aphrodite once telling them that when telling him his powers to give love to someone. It was quite a cliche thing, but being in a family in which love was such a normal but powerful thing that they took care of, it was understandable. "A-Are you okay with that?" He now spoke modernly, still getting used to the slang in the English vocabulary.

You weren't able to feel anything at that moment, with your heart being empty you really weren't able to express any emotions. But to be kissed by a Greek God sounded so romantic and beautiful, and if you were going to get better, you didn't mind kissing a handsome and perfect man like him. "Yes,"

So Gilbert sent you an assuring smile before he cupped your jaw with his free hand as he now kept his other arm on the first shoulder like previously. And there, he caught your wet red lips - from the tears - with his, only kissing you softly.

You didn't know how, but you could feel it.

You could feel the transaction of Gilbert literally giving your empty heart the love that it was aching for. It was a blissful kiss first of all, but it really did feel so magical and unbelievable. You loved it.

You loved it.

Oh, it was the first emotion that you felt out of all the positive ones that made your body whole once again.

So when Gilbert pulled away with short breaths leaving his lips, he watched your lips dance up into a wide smile, and that was the moment that Gilbert knew it had worked. The Greek God felt accomplishment, and he even felt that in his heart.

2:48am.

You finally let a yawn slip through your mouth, and Gilbert breathlessly chuckled at your small gesture, "Someone is tired,"

"Thanks for pointing that out, Captian Obvious.” You sarcastically remarked back, only hearing Gilbert laugh more as you rubbed your face, exhausted from tonight's events. You went to grab the pink blanket beside you as you cuddled it around yourself, shivering slightly from the cold temperatures around the room, but Gilbert hummed as he took hold of the blanket and off of you, earning a confused yet irritated look, but he only placed it on the coffee table, "Sleep with me instead, I promise you that you won't be needing the blanket. I'm like a walking heater," He suggested.

Now, you couldn't say no to Gilbert, especially for all that he had done for you tonight and so you softly smiled at him before nodding your head, "I like the sound of it." You said, looking at the brunette boy's smile turn even wider as he then took hold of two cushions - to use as pillows - on the lounge and placed them at the edge of it before the armrest, only to lay himself down on the lounge and he opened up his arms for you to cuddle into.

And you did exactly that, cuddling in with him and already loving the warm and comforting feeling of his presence. You started to close your eyes with your smile still lingering on your face, "Thank you, Gilbert. You have no idea how much better I feel." You whispered into his neck, nuzzling your head into it more.

Gilbert had one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders like he was doing when you two were sitting up, the other one intertwined with your hand on his chest. "That's what I'm here for," He whispered back.

You were just getting to sleep, but then your eyes immediately opened up when Gilbert quickly apologised as he lifted his upper body up a little bit and you wondered what he had done, seeing as though you were tilted up a bit as well.

Only did you answer your own question as you watched two white wings lay on top of the two bodies, suddenly becoming a blanket for the two of you, and it only made you sleepier and warmer and cozier with the delicate sensation resting on top of you.

Gilbert looked down at your expressions, hearing a satisfied hum leave your lips and he knew he had done his job. So he closed his eyes himself, knowing that he'd pretend to sleep because he would have to leave once you fell asleep. "Goodnight, love." He said one last time, pressing his lips onto your forehead and you murmured back a "g'night", and Gilbert wished he could have been like Chronus and controlled time; stopping the perfect scene right then and there.

So as you and Gilbert laid there, another awoke girl watched you two from the top of the stairs.

And Anne sighed in relief, knowing that she could trust Gilbert to do his magic and look after you.

#anne with an e #Lucas Jade Zumann #Gilbert #gilbert blythe #anne of green gables #anne of avonlea #anne of the island #anne of cleves #gilbert x reader #gilbert blythe imagine #anne shirly cuthbert #lucas jade zumann imagine

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naturalistprincess · 6 years

Text

all hail the underdogs chapter eight

Wolf Spring

Seven days. Seven days since Katharine had first arrived at Wolf Spring, and all she had done in that time was cry. The carriage ride here? She spent crying. Walking to the Milone’s home? Crying. Greeting the members of the household? Well, she had actually managed to bite out a soft “hello” before her bottom lip began to tremble and the waterworks reappeared. An older gentleman, who insisted upon being called Grandad Ellis, had looked startled at the noise, while his partner, Cait, immediately scooped up the frail queen in her arms. Pulling away, her vision blurry, Katharine mistook her for Willa for a moment before she was hit with the potent smell of fish wafting from the pier which invaded every space in the town. That only sent her off more before Caragh took her up in her arms and up to the room she would now be sharing with Juillenne. She spent three days lying around in bed before Cait stomped up the creaking stairs, mud caked boots squishing against the wooden floorboards, and dragged her out of bed, insisting, “So long as you are staying with us, everyone under this roof will be carrying their own weight.” She’d fixed her stern gaze on Katharine, “Including Queens.” Four days passed before the man, Matthew Sandrin, who’d accompanied Caragh and Juillenne to Black Cottage, sauntered in through the door, loudly proclaiming his arrival, “Honey, I’m home!” A bright smile stretched over his face before he turned his head and he saw the small queen standing by the sink which dwarfed her, drying a plate. His smile faltered momentarily, reappearing as soon as she blinked. “Hello, my Queen. How are you doing today, beautiful?” Beautiful. Katharine wiggled her toes in the grass, letting out a content sigh as the sun warmed every inch of her skin exposed from the loose cotton pants and tank top she adorned. Someone laid down next to her. Her sisters’ giggles sounded out from the side of the house. Willa’s velvety fingers brushed against her cheek as she pushed loose strands of hair from Kat’s face. The little queen nuzzled into the touch, turning her head and opening up her eyes. “‘You are so beautiful, my Queen. Small features, delicate bone structure, no one on the island will be able to take their eyes off of you in sixteen years.’”

Willa always called them beautiful. Always commented on their beauty, their brains, with a new compliment to tell them and make them blush every day, hearts swelling with happiness and pride.

Her eyes went glassy, lips wobbling as a fresh wave of tears began to form. Her hands shook, the dish towel and plate nearly falling from her grip. That was when Caragh swept back into the room, swatting Matthew Sandrin’s shoulder with a dish towel she held when she saw the distraught queen, whisking her back upstairs to the confines of her new room in her supposed new home. The next two days had passed by, uneventful, with Caragh keeping that Matthew out of the house as she tried to coax any words from the queen. She hadn’t uttered more than three words since she had first stepped into the house. Joseph Sandrin, the brother of Matthew Sandrin, made frequent appearances in the adventures Juillenne prattled on about at dinner time. He has caught fish with his bare hands - or so he claims, Julienne would laugh, rolling her eyes - and scared off all the bluebirds swarming the town when the two made a bet to see who could catch the most. He was Juillenne’s best friend. To say they didn’t make a good first impression on one another would be an understatement. Cait and Katharine sat in the living room, the graying woman knitting whilst the young queen, who’d attached herself to the woman rather quickly, watched from the other end of the small blue sofa. She was beginning to fall asleep, the gentle sounds of the raindrops hitting the cerulean shutters lulling her to sleep, when the door was thrown open in the kitchen, Juillenne’s voice ringing out, “Grandma Cait!” “I’m in here. Shush, Jules. The Queen is asleep,” The rough rumble of Cait’s voice answered, hushed, as two pairs of feet trampled against the wooden floor and into the room.

Katharine’s eyes reluctantly open, blinking as a pair of soaked children her age appear in the doorway. “Sorry, Grandma Cait,” Juillenne didn’t sound very sorry. Katharine sworn she saw peculiar colored eyes glance her way through the wet strands of hair covering Juillenne’s face. “What is it, Jules?” “It’s raining out! And Anne said we couldn’t go sailing in this weather.”

“Well, then you two best find something to do around here until the weather clears up.” Jules’ shoes scuff against the wood as she turned towards her partner in crime, silently asking what he would like to do. Joseph wasn’t paying her any mind, eyes on the young Queen curled up at the end of the couch. “Is that her?” He spoke up, pointing his finger right at Katharine. Jules slapped his hand down, “Don’t do that! And yes, now let’s go upstairs.” “She looks like the scrawny chicken Matthew and I put down last week.” Beneath her curtain of hair, Katharine’s cheeks flare, the back of her eyes stinging. A scrawny chicken? She drew her legs in closer to her body. Her flat palms pressed harder against her midsection until she could feel their warmth through the light fabric of her shirt.

“Joseph!” “By the Goddess, Joseph Sandrin, you best take that back right now before I feed you to the dogs,” Cait snapped from somewhere above Katharine’s head. “I just don’t see how— she looks nothing like Queen Bernadine did.” “Queens aren’t identical.” “I know, but...,” there was a pause.

The couch shifted as Cait stood up. “Joseph Sandrin,” she warned, back towards Katharine, blocking the girl from seeing the look she shot the boy.

“Sorry, Cait.”

There was another moment of tense silence before a squawking sound from upstairs rang throughout the house. Cait sighed, “I best go see what that is. Be good, Jules,” she laid a hand on her granddaughter’s shoulder before briskly hurrying out of the room.

Katharine bit back the urge to bolt up, insisting she go with Cait and not be left with Juillenne and her rude friend, but Cait had already disappeared out of the room.

Juillenne glared at Joseph when Grandma Cait was out of ear shot, hissing, “This is our queen. What on Fennbirn were you thinking, comparing her to a chicken?!”

Joseph shrugged, shaking his hair out of his eyes. He looked almost bored, not at all sorry for his earlier commentary. “Look at her, Jules. Have you ever seen her use her gift before? She’s just another forgettable naturalist queen. The poisoners will sit on the throne forever at this rate.”

The brunette’s face was starting to turn red, hands balled into tight fists at her side. “You don’t know that! She’s strong! She is.”

“You are the one who said she bawls like a child every night,” he counters. “Not very queen-like if you ask me. Do you think Queen Bernadine did that?”

“She has been taken from her sisters! Wouldn’t you cry too if Matthew was taken from you?”

“Jules, she looks like the a heavy wind can carry her away. You don’t seriously expect her to outlast the poisoner or the elemental, do you?”

Katharine shut her burning eyes, burying her face further into the couch cushion as if that could help her escape this conversation. Weak. Weak.

She wanted to cut in. She wanted them to startle, Joseph blushing scarlet when he realized that she overheard it all. Katharine wanted to stand, mimicking the shoulders-back, head-held-high, proud, regal pose Willa taught them during one of their lessons. The one Mirabella and Arsinoe pulled off flawlessly, naturally, Mira bearing a stark resemblance to the Queens of Old from their pictures in their history books, and Arsinoe looking almost.. scary. Her resting glare and straight back sewing together the image of an intimidating and unapologetic queen.

“‘A Queen does not have to feel strong always. But if she can look it, and instill a confidence into her people, she is strong, even when she feels her weakest.’”

She is a Daughter of the Goddess. She is the sister of Queens Mirabella and Arsinoe. She is of queenblood, a naturalist, capable of making the prettiest flowers grow and the scariest animals cower at her feet!

But she couldn’t swallow the lump in her throat, she couldn’t blink the tears away, nor swing her legs onto the floor and will herself to stand. All she could do was lie there, face burning under tangled hair, and pale chicken legs present for anyone who walked into the room to see.

Weak.

“Joseph Sandrin, you bumbling fool. You’re a traitor! How could you think that of your own queen?!” A furious voice snapped out, loud before falling back into an angry hush, as if the speaker reminded herself that the person she defended was sleeping just steps away. “She will put an end to the poisoner reign, and I know it!”

“Goddess, Jules! Why are you getting so pissed about this?! You know it’s true! No one in Wolf Spring has seen her once! They’re already whispering about her.”

“Becau—! You know what? Let’s just go upstairs. I’m surprised she hasn’t woken up already from your idiocy.”

Joseph let out an angry breath of air, crossing his arms. His eyebrows were drawn down, a large crease between his brows. “Fine,” he bit out, turning and stomping out of the room. There was a small pause, and Katharine began to stir. She flipped over onto her back, letting out a shaky breath, eyes glued to the ceiling. It was covered in old water stains and dirt around the edges. The bags under her eyes felt sore, her eyes heavy as she blinked back tears. She felt weak. Beaten, and battered, and out of breath. Her own people. Her own people didn’t have any faith in her. They didn’t believe she’d be a good queen. That she’d… outlast her sisters, whatever that means. She reached up, rubbing her chest before moving to sit up, determined to find Cait, or Caragh, for some comforting words and a cup of chamomile tea with honey. Lots and lots of honey.

The Queen sat up, head turning towards the door to guarantee Juillenne and her friend were gone before standing.

Sharp blue-and-green watched her silently from the doorway.

“Jules!” The boy’s voice cried, from far up, as she startled that the brunette had been watching her all this time, “Hurry up!”

Without a word, the girl merely blinked at Katharine, before turning and running off wordlessly. Her footsteps clomped heavily against the squeaky old steps. “I’m coming!”

——

It was later that night, long after dinner in which a bewildered Cait had recounted Aria’s odd behavior — squawking and flying around in wild circles, dive bombing towards Cait’s and the other familiars’ heads in a frenzy, that Katharine finally got time alone with Juillenne.

The little queen had already settled into bed, teeth brushed and soft night shorts and shirt on, watching curiously as Juillenne bustled around the room. One moment, she’d be throwing on her worn pajamas, the next her attention would be caught on the flowers on the sill. Katharine would watch, captivated, as the girl would brush her fingers against the yellowing leaves, the calla lilies bursting up into full bloom, the vibrant green and white standing out against the faded walls and dirty windows.

Finally, finally, when Caragh came upstairs to scold Juillenne to get into bed and stop lollygagging, did Katharine get her chance. She took in a deep breath, fingers curling around the cool sheets, eyes locked on a random inky spot of darkness above them. She could make out the faint outline of the rafters above.

“Juillenne?” She called out, timidly.

“Jules.”

“Huh?”

“Jules. Not Juillenne. Remember?”

“‘I’m Jules Milone.’”

“R-Right. Sorry.”

“‘S alright.”

There was a beat of silence, Katharine took another breath to steel herself before she began again.

“Jules?”

“Yeah?”

“Um, I-I’m sorry.”

She could hear the bed creaking, and the rustling of covers before Jules’ confused voice reached her. “What for?”

“I… I eavesdropped. Before. During your conversation with that.. that boy. Joseph.”

“Are you kidding?! I should be apologizing to you. No. I should be whacking that dimwit upside the head for saying such, uh, blas— blaz— blasp— mean things! Don’t listen to him, Kat, he doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about. It’s all his dad, filling his head with dumb thoughts.”

Katharine blinked, too taken aback by the angry rant from the other bed to take into account the new, well, not new, but the new use of the nickname from anyone other than her sisters. “Oh,” she managed, flushing red. She didn’t.. she didn’t know it made Jules so mad. She didn’t understand why it did, but it made the little girl feel a bit better that Jules was being so kind to her, defending her against that Joseph Sandrin, her best friend, warm swelling in the bottom of her full belly.

Jules quieted down for a moment, “We… We never had a powerful queen before. Not from here. Not since Queen Bernadine and Queen Yasmin.”

“I know.”

“But you'll change that. I know you will.”

“How can you sound so confident that I will? All I’ve ever done is cry since my arrival… like a… like a child,” her voice lowered, Katharine shifting around in her sheets, ashamed. Her fingers fiddled with a loose string in the knitted quilt Caragh had gifted her during her first night at the Milone’s home. It was pale green, with petals and flowers sewn all over the edges and a big rose smack in the middle.

“Because,” she insisted, voice firm, “I’m going to help you, of course. We’ll show Joseph, and his dad, and everyone who doubts you. We’ll show them how wrong they are. And I’ll protect you from all of them until you can shut them up yourself, okay?”

Kat bit her bottom lip, high cheeks flushing pink as she listened to Jules’ squeaky, confident voice.

“Okay,” she agreed.

Jules yawned, “First thing tomorrow, I’m gonna show you around town. You need to know all the best places to go.”

“Go?”

“Go to hide in! Madge always give chase whenever we try and steal her clams,” Kat giggled at the girl’s disgruntled tone, and agreed.

“G’night, Kat.”

“Goodnight, Jules.”

Seven days. It took seven days before Katharine finally managed to sleep through the night, chest light, eager for what awaited her the next day. Mirabella and Arsinoe’s cries and yells didn’t shape her dreams that night, but rather the memories of them running around outside, laughing and trying to push each other into the riverbed. Arsinoe putting up quite a fuss when Katharine managed to trip her, falling face first into the cold water.

She couldn’t recall the exact time it reshaped itself into her and Jules laughing as they ran through the woods to the right of the Milone’s home.

——

Rolanth

A wet sob vibrates through her chest. The young girl’s arms cling tightly around her knees, face buried in them. Her head is pounding, drying tear tracks clung to her cheeks.

“‘“Queen Arsinoe and Queen Katharine . . . They are weak. Mirabella will kill them easily. Quickly. Certainly faster than any of these poisoner queens have managed to kill their sisters.’”

“No.”

“You want me to kill my sisters?” “Why worry about such dull, grown-up business? And now we have frightened you and ruined this sweet surprise.” “A queen is to kill her sisters?” “No.”

Rain pelts against the roof and sides of the house. It gets harder and harder, turning into hail. Thunder booms against the cliffs of Blackway. Bree, crying, covers her ears in fear.

Sara, reaching out for her. Screams, her screams, and then the flames flare from the candles, scorching the walls. Sara yells, “Put them out!”

Miles, teeth clenched, snuffing out the candles. The storm grows. They can’t stop it. They can’t stop her.

They want her to kill them. They want her to kill them. Her Katharine. Her Arsinoe. Her loving sisters, who begged her to braid their hair and play. Her sisters, who screamed for her when she was taken away from them.

The shutters are torn from the house, windows rattle. They threaten to shatter. The foundation shakes as lightning strikes. The electricity shoots through her feet, her gift swelling through her bloodstream.

“I will not!”

“I will not!” Heat coils dangerously in the pit of her stomach, a blinding white beating back the pain that rockets through her head. She struggles to her feet, body straining and limbs trembling, protesting against her movements.

“I will never, I will never, I will n—,” her screams are cut off as a blinding pain shoots through the back of her head. Mirabella’s vision darkens as she crumples to the ground like a limp doll.

I will never. I will never.

“I will never,” she screeches, Mirabella’s hand shot out. The flames jump from her fingers, slicing through the air and slamming into the wooden furniture stacked neatly together across the blackened room. The room has a musty smell, cement floor cold and wet. Mirabella lays in the middle of shelves and boxes stacked with expensive furniture, clothing, toys, decorations. Her breaths come out ragged, though the queen is unsure if that is due to the heavy, wet air or from her own crying fit when she awoke, Miles’ and Sara’s words slamming into her full force.

She feels numb, words rotating and tumbling over each other in her head, feeling sick. A queen is expected to kill her sisters. The elemental feels her eyes prick once more with tears, recalling the Westwood’s words, the townspeople’s words, with startling clarity.

“What chance does a docile queen have, even with a gift as strong as hers?” Her fingers grip tightly to the velvety skirt of her dress, an even farther memory pushing itself into the forefront of her mind.

“Willa?”

The caretaker turned towards the soft voice, mouth open from where she was cut off mid sentence to face the small queen, frowning down at her book.

“Arsinoe!” Mirabella hissed, eyes narrowed on her impolite sister. Her eyes snake back towards Willa, who doesn’t look upset as she eyed Mirabella’s younger sister.

Arsinoe didn’t look like she heard Mira, ignoring her sister’s admonishment to meet Willa’s eyes. “Why don’t we ever learn about these queens’ sisters?”

Mirabella blinked, annoyance forgotten as she slid back in her seat, turning back over to Willa as curiosity filled her. Arsinoe was right, why didn’t they ever read about the queens’ sisters?

“Yeah,” Katharine piped up, so quiet the others had almost forgotten she was even there. The fact that she actually sat through a whole lesson without getting admonished at least once was a major accomplishment the others could help but feel a swell of pride towards her for. Normally the naturalist couldn’t stand sitting still, much less indoors, for lessons. “I wanna know what type of familiars the naturalist queens had! I’m so bored reading about Bernadine’s dumb wolf, and Yasmin’s doe.”

“Want to,” Willa corrected her instinctively. Mirabella’s eyebrows draw together, there was something off about their caretaker but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It was a minuscule change, a change the queen couldn’t pinpoint or see.

“Willa!” Arsinoe whined, pressing herself up against the side of the polished dark brown table and turning her head up towards Willa with big, pleading eyes. Willa could never deny Katharine when she pleaded with her to spend just a little more time outside, large eyes wobbling, the poisoner picked up on. It never failed for her either. Then again, none of them could deny Willa spoiled Arsinoe the most, letting her have the occasional sip of her may wine and choose what they baked for dessert.

The midwife’s lips pursed. Her girls were persistent. They wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Well, there is no reason to. These are the queens that take the throne, the other queens end up moving to the mainland, living out the rest of their days happily until their sister comes to join them at the end of her reign.”

“But how do they pick who becomes queen?”

“Oh, it’s a trivial little thing. A little contest of gifts they perform at Beltane after their sixteenth birthday.”

No. No, it wasn’t.

It is a fight to the death. Queen pitted against Queen pitted against Queen. There is no happy ending for queens, Willa lied to them. Tears blur Mirabella’s vision as another anguished sob rips through her. Flames whip out from her fingertips, smoke coiling upwards towards the unseeable ceiling. Sparks crackle in the air, wood creaking as the furniture burns in the corner of the room.

Another outraged scream passes through her.

She won’t. She won’t.

She won’t.

The elemental sinks down to her knees, skirt pooled out around her. The wet concrete presses uncomfortably against her burning skin.

Upstairs, the servants are deathly quiet as Sara Westwood instructs them to clean up the mess the queen made.

No one acknowledges the screams and cries coming from the basement door.

#three dark crowns #one dark throne #two dark reigns #the young queens #the oracle queen #queen arsinoe #queen mirabella #queen katharine #tdc #tdc fic #tdc au #all hail the underdogs #chapter eight #kendare blake

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jamieisjoshing · 6 years

Text

13 March 1992

“I spy with my little eye something beginning with N” “Nose?” “How could I see my nose, it’s pitch black” I didn’t answer. “…” “I don’t know.” “The answer’s nothing. I can see nothing, you idiot.” We had been held up in the back seat on what felt like the thousandth hour of a cross country road trip to hell. It was the start of Spring Break and dad had thought that instead of spending the long holiday at home, it would be better for us to go and visit our gramma in New Jersey. I’ve never been much of a fan, especially as the other option was us going to Epcot like everyone else had. “Get a couple of hotdogs in you and you’ll forget all about Florida.” Dad promised on multiple occasions. I wouldn’t. As previously stated, my best friend Duncan had already gloated about his family having already gotten their tickets and how they would be staying for the entire week, kicking around Horizons and World of Motion. “I’ll take pictures for you.” He said as we waited for the bus. “Why?” I asked, “you know I’ll be there.” I replied. And that was the beginning of having to keep up with a lie. “Where are you staying?” He asked “The Yacht Club.” I said coolly. “We should meet up then.” He said “Actually, we’re going to go drive to see my aunt Carol first. She lives out in Port Charlotte” He didn’t believe me, which was understandable as I was lying. Not about aunt Carol, but about going to see her. When I attempted to convince my parents that going to Epcot would be educational, I was met with all of the ways that it would not only not be educational, but exactly how it would be far too expensive. I sulked up to the point that we started packing the car and then that sulking became pure anger for the situation. Outside, the sky had gone from burnt orange to inky black. The only thing visible for miles was whatever was in the range of the headlights. 10:32 glared back at me in dull green light from the dashboard. Was it only ten? No longer on a road, we were on a tunnel of pure, inescapable darkness. We hadn’t even seen any other cars in what felt like ages. The miles and miles of road went from the familiar stand-alone stores like Kmart to the altogether alien of an Al’s Grocers or Mica’s Pizzas. London Calling warbled meekly through the speakers as we sped through the wind whipped darkness. Dad considered himself a rebel, but I’ve never seen a punk who couldn’t make it through Cujo without flinching. “Where are we?” I asked, peering through the window. It had only gotten darker out and the once visible outline of the trees began to blend into the background, making it seem more and more like something from a storybook. “We’re nearly there.” Dad answered, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. “Just…sit back.” Part of me felt on edge, the endless hours of being cooped up in the backseat had finally started eating into me. “I need batteries” I replied, only to have it come out as more of a whine than anything else. “Why do you need batteries?” Dad asked, his voice rising slightly. “These are dead” I replied, flicking the switch from on to off and back again. Mom sighed. “I thought we told you to pack extra” Mom shot “Where’s your bag?” She turned her head to look at me or the void space where a dark green JanSport might be, had I bothered to place it into the car. Racking my brain, I was only able to come to one conclusion. “I…forgot it.” I muttered. I knew where it was, clear as day. It was still on the living room couch, stuffed with batteries, comics, and a flashlight for reading. I had snuck a roll of Oreo’s in one of the side pockets, stuffing them neatly in a roll of socks. I knew what was coming next “You have to be more careful, bud.” Dad said, “you’re nearly a teenager.” Technically, I had packed it. I had just forgotten to bring it. I wouldn’t say that though. She answered with her usual, emphatic “hmpf” and that was that. She turned around to face the abyss in front of her. The car fell silent again as some song about a stalker hit its peak. We drove, no longer playing the kinds of games that were meant to pass time, but actually just wasted it, the shadowy outline of everything slowly becoming hypnotically metronomic. “That was Rockwell’s ‘Somebody’s Watching Me’, and if you’re hearing this, you are officially up past your bedtime.” The voice on the radio spoke. It was another hour or so before I was jostled awake by the car coming to an abrupt stop. Outside, large plastic letters advertised “Gas and Sip” on which the G-I-P seemed to have long gone out, so the place was literally called the asS diner. The parking lot was dotted with 18-wheelers and cargo trucks, all of whose decals had faded away, so all that was really distinguishable about them were the bottom portion of what could’ve been a diamond or a triangle or…maybe it was an M. “Go get you and your brother something to eat.” Dad said. He handed Maya a handful of wadded up ones “And put ten on pump three.” “Can I keep the change?” Maya asked Dad gave her a wary look before turning back to the car and starting to take the gas cap off. “Come on, loser.” Maya grabbed me by the sleeve of my shirt and we walked quietly towards the diner. Inside, the halogen lights flickered and dimmed at every turn. The tic-tac linoleum floors held the same stickiness as every movie theatre floor I had ever seen, pulling at my shoes with every step. Wh-uick Wh-uick Wh-uick We made it to the counter, where a lady in a grease splattered apron stood watching the matchbox tv that hung in the corner. David Letterman was talking to Bruce Willis and Demi Moore about their dogs and the lady at the counter found it to be the most hilarious thing “What’ll it be?” She asked, not turning to look at us. “Do you have chicken nuggets?” I asked “We are not getting chicken nuggets.” Maya said, her voice firm. “I want chicken nuggets.” I replied Annoyed, the waitress, who’s name tag read “Ann” tapped the counter with the edge of her pen where a scrap of paper had been tapped down at its edges. Ass only served three things. Hamburgers, cheeseburgers, and fries. “We’ll have four cheese burgers…with four Cokes” Maya said, “and can you put ten on pump three?” She slid the money across the counter. The waitress, who’s name tag read “Ann,” looked harshly at us both as if we were being interrogated before taking the money and giving Maya her change. “Four burgers with cheese.” She shouted through a pass-through in the wall. The face of a man wedged itself into view before letting out what I assume was a grunt of understanding before it disappeared again. “Find a table.” Maya said before tossing the placard to me. “Where’re you going?” I questioned “The restroom.” She replied, “just go and wait for the food.” With that, she turned and disappeared down the hall. I found a space near one of the oversized windows and pulled my Gameboy out of my jacket pocket in the hopes that it might have magically recharged itself in the time I left it to sit. It hadn’t. A clock hung on the wall, its occasional tick drowning out Letterman. 12:03 shown in eerily slanted letters that looked like they had been painted on. The line-up of the Late-Night show in the diner consisted of an elderly couple eating pie, a younger couple, also eating pie, two truckers who looked comically like what you might expect a trucker to look like, and a guy who looked like he’d been pulled out of an episode of COPS; large, bulging eyes, weird hair, covered in dirt. He kept fidgeting for no reason, his feet tapping against the bottom of the stool like a rabbit’s foot. He wore the puffiest, heaviest coat I’ve ever seen, even though it was crazy hot outside, even for summer. I tried to not think about it, focusing solely on the space where someone had carved their initials on the diner wall, above a jukebox that looked like it hadn’t been used in decades. ZK Wuz Here The waitress, whose name tag read “Ann” slid a tray of burgers onto the table before setting the drinks out. I hadn’t realised how hungry I was until right up to this point. The burgers at asS tasted like burgers. Nothing made them one way or another the best thing that I have ever eaten. The bread was great, but the ketchup was watery. The cheese was melty, but the meat was dry. At 12:03 in the morning, food is food. Hastily, before Maya had come back, I started to devour the burger I claimed, tearing clean through the wrapper and scarfing greedily at it. I didn’t look up until I heard someone slide into the booth across from me. Half expecting Maya to be looking at me, disappointment clear on her face, I was surprised to find the guy who looked like he was from an episode of COPS sitting across from me. It wasn’t until he was this close that I could fully appreciate just how uncomical and awkward his appearance was. His eyes didn’t just bulge out of his head, they hung from it. They looked like those googly eyes you’d be forced to put on something like a clothes pin or a cotton ball to give it human-like features so that someone might say in passing, “this isn’t a cotton ball, this is a goddamn snowman. You get an A in art class, Kandinsky.” His hair was a mop of blond that had been streaked with blues and greens and barrettes and clips of every colour. His face was covered in literal, not figurative, sharpie drawings. “How’re you?” He asked, his voice a snake-like whisper. I didn’t answer, choosing to stare at him, mouth open, food half chewed. “What you playin’?” He asked “Listen,” I said with a start, “I don’t know you, but please leave me alone.” He stared at me for a moment, his creepy eyes looking as if they’d tilt out of his head and smash on the table, sending bits of creepy eye goo everywhere. It’d probably smell like bubble-gum and ass and for good measure, it’d be acidic enough to burn straight through the table, straight down to the basement. “I’m just asking a simple question.” He said, “no need to freak out.” “I’m playing Batman” I said. “Sweet,” He hissed, “can I play?” “Batteries are dead.” I answered resignedly He extended his hand as if to say, “let me see,” before sliding it away from me. “What I always find,” he said, removing the battery cover, “is that patience is a virtue.” He fiddled around with the batteries, moving them into different places. He took a paperclip from his pocket and wedge it in for good measure, before turning the entire thing over and staring at it like a proud father might look at their kid riding a bike and flipped the switch to ON. With that, the game sprung to life. “Good as new.” He said, smiling as if he’d just pulled off the greatest magic trick before returning the game, “So, where are you from?” “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” I said “But, I’m not a stranger,” he said, “we were just talking. I fixed your game.” “That was more of a nicety.” “A nicety?” He asked another chuckle finding its way out of his mouth, “how old are you.” I looked around, hoping that Maya might be walking out of the restroom, her usual surly big sister face on. She’d see the creeper, cross the room, and stab him in the side of the head with one of her bony ass fingers, say something bad ass and then he’d leave. What I did find was that on the outside of what I’m assuming is the only restroom’s door, a notice to “wash your damn hands” had been taped. I could feel a little piece of me die. “Listen, I just want to be left alone, yeah?” “I just wanted to tal-” He started. My armpits started to tingle, and I could tell that on some level I was close to vomiting or crying or both and then I felt the part of me that wanted nothing more than to walk back to the car, climb into the backseat, and go back home. And so, I started to cry. He stared at me for a moment before laughing to himself. He raised his hands in defeat and slowly stood before walking out of the diner. Even though I couldn’t see him, part of me could feel him staring in through the windows, his eerily large eyes boring into me. “Why are you crying?” A voice asked I looked up to see Maya standing next to me, her glasses in her hands. “Just tired.” I said She whispered something that sounded exactly like, “you a fucking bitch” “Where are mom and dad?” She asked without taking her eyes off the space directly behind me. “They haven’t come in yet.” I said, my mouth still full of burger. “Ellie, where’s the car?” She asked I turned to find the space by the gas pumps void of anyone, especially not a station wagon with a bunch of luggage strapped to the roof. “Shit.” I muttered as I pushed past Maya. We ran through the double doors and into the night. The air was sharp and musty, the taste of dirt and the moments just before rain caked itself thick on everything. “What the hell.” Maya asked as she too looked around, confused. I could feel my heart in my throat, goosebumps crept across my arm and neck and I immediately felt as if I was going to be sick. We stood outside, looking up and down the road for any sign of anything, but there was nothing. No cars. No lights. No sound of something far off in the distance. Nothing.

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20xbetterthanu · 4 years

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Another Something I Wrote

okay so i wrote this last year for a prompt at school. I got a 100, but I like to believe that my writing has gotten better since then. Anyways, i just wanted to show you guys.

Lucas was not surprised when he woke to darkness. He was disappointed, of course, because along with the termination of electricity, many of his favorite things would cease to exist: YouTube, Twitter rants, his internet friends would never talk to him again. Ice cream would be impossible to come by, and he would have to leave his house in order to complain to his friends about his adolescent troubles. So yes, Lucas was disappointed when he woke to the eerie darkness that always came with a power outage. But no, he was not surprised. Unfortunately, this one would not be temporary. The sense of finality was closing in on him, suffocating him slowly.

With a shuddering breath, Lucas stepped onto the floor, his bare feet pressing into the carpet. The room was warm, warmer than it had been the night before, when the AC unit still worked. He shuffled through the dark, eventually making his way to a window. He threw the curtains open, grateful for the sun. He slipped out of his pajamas, which weren’t even proper pajamas. He was clothed in a black t-shirt and basketball shorts, his standard spring through summer sleeping clothes. Abandoning his previous outfit on the floor, he changed into a pair of jeans and baby blue button down. He looked in his small mirror, running a lazy hand through his chestnut hair, making a pointless attempt to style it. He sighed at his reflection, staring into his own blue eyes.

“You are a mess. You are a mess, your room is a mess, and your entire life is a mess of respective disorders within themselves,” he whispered to himself. He repeated the words over and over again, as he did every morning. He didn’t know whether he believed them or not, but he said them. His reasons were revealed when he walked into the living room, his mother on the couch, unconscious.

“Anne Louise Freeman,” he said. No response. “Mother,” he repeated. He grabbed a pillow that was lying on the floor and smacked her with it. She groaned. He rolled his eyes. “You know the lights are out, I mean, you should have. They sort of warned everyone before it happened, but you may have been too intoxicated to actually comprehend what they were saying.”

Anne Louis Freeman didn’t miss a beat. “I couldn’t hear over your constant nagging. You sound like a parent.” She took the pillow she’d been attacked with and hugged it to her chest.

“One of us has to be the parent, Anne, or we’d both be screwed,” Lucas replied, screwing the lid back on her vodka bottle. He thought to put it in the freezer, and then realized that it’d be pointless. The freezer would soon melt away, and Anne Louise Freeman would have to drink her Vodka warm. The thought made Lucas smile.

“Go away, boy. Don’t you have a girlfriend or something?” Lucas shook his head. “Boyfriend?” Another shake of the head. “Well, I wouldn’t care. You never seemed completely straight, maybe that’s why your father left. He thought you were gay. He told me.” And while Lucas knew her words weren’t true, that even if his father did think that, he wouldn’t have said it out loud. But she still made him angry. And no, he wasn’t straight, but she couldn’t blame his father’s leaving on him. He was eight. What could he have done that made his father leave? Nothing. She was the reason Shawn Timothy Freeman had left. Not him.

Lucas exhaled heavily through his nose. “No, he left because you’re a drunk lunatic.” His words came out harsh and mean, and his mother’s face fell slightly at his comment. “I didn’t—” he began, but she cut him off with the raise of her hand.

“You did. Don’t apologize. You meant it, Lucas. Anyway, go out and explore the world without electricity. See if it’s the equivalent of hades.”

In a way, their small town without electricity looked the same from the outside. Nothing had really changed on the outside. Just the inside. The veins of the city had stopped flowing blood, and soon the heart and the brain would become under-oxygenated, and the body would collapse. The city would fall apart, as would the country, and the thought kind of made Lucas smile. He liked to watch things fall apart.

Metaphorically, he was a cell. His town was a tissue, made up of all the other people and jobs. His state was an organ, made up of all the counties and cities and people that helped it function. His region was an organ system, made up of surrounding states and cities and counties and water and electricity and gas. And the country was an organism. The death of a single cell would not take the organism out. The organism lost cells every day, thousands of them. Nothing would happen when those cells died. Except a new one would replace it, and eventually that cell would no longer be remembered, and it would be as if it was never there. A tissue was harder to replace, but even still, the body can live without it, unless it’s a vital tissue, one that lives in the heart or the brain. An organ was much more difficult to lose, and the body would take a great amount of time recuperating, if it could. Unless it was an organ like the brain. One could not replace the brain. Every organ can be replaced, except for the brain. And an organ system is irreplaceable. The body would deteriorate rapidly, or slowly, until there was nothing left. And then the organism would die. An organ system died that day. Lucas wondered how long it would take for the organism to die. Rapidly? Slowly? Somewhere in between?

He kept walking through the streets, his eyes low, examining the cracked sidewalk beneath his beaten up Adidas. He eventually found himself at his friend’s house. Alex Laura Tillerson was sitting on the porch, her hair falling into her face.

“You know, I had a following. And now it’s all gone. I had fifteen thousand subscribers. And they’re all gone. My purpose in life has vanished into the wind,” she said. Lucas could barely hear her. She was shaking her head, over and over again.

“Alex.” He sat next to her, their knees touching. “Alex, look at me. Look at me. Your purpose in life wasn’t to make weird Glee edits and post them online. Trust me, that wasn’t it. You have a greater purpose, and it doesn’t need the internet to be fulfilled.”

“You say that to me, but you wouldn’t dare say it to yourself. Your entire life revolved around the internet,”she groaned. He put a hand on her shoulder.

“Well, I have no talent outside of posting weird comments in the forums,” he said.

“That’s not true, you can draw. Like—amazingly. All my viewers loved that picture of Kurt.” To be honest, Lucas didn’t know who Kurt was, he just drew the picture that Alex had texted him. He was bored, so he drew it.

“Well, how useful is that going to be when there’s no one to look at it now?”

“You’re right. All you’d have is your mom and me and Harry—hey, Harry.”

Harold Faulkner-Fords was walking up Alex’s driveway, his perfect hands in his perfect pockets that were attached to his perfect jeans that hugged everything perfectly and Harry was perfect and sweet baby Jesus, Harry was perfect. Alex nudged Lucas.

“Hello dearest, pleasure to be in your company today,” Lucas mused. Harry smiled, sitting next to Lucas. Alex smirked at the two of them.

“Lucas, I am sad to inform you that the electricity has gone out, therefore there will be no more late night texting sessions. Nor will we be able to drive at night without some form of light. Nor will I walk with my boyfriend at night, because it’s not safe in the daytime with electricity. I’m not going to survive the Real-Life-Purge with you. I love you but I’m running,” Harry said in a faux British accent.

“Yeah, yeah. All your saying is that you’d be willing to come over tonight?” Lucas looked at Harry. Alex practically squealed.

“Not like that you pervert,” Harry said, reaching over Lucas’s lap to push her knee.

“Well, two romantically involved humans in the dark with nothing but each other to keep warm…” Her voice trailed off.

“We’re leaving. Enjoy your power outage.” Lucas stood up to leave, holding his hand out for Harry to take it.

“Yeah. Whatever. Bye.”

His house was exactly the same as he left it. His mother was on the couch, her vodka bottle reopened. Lucas tried to ignore her, even as she stared at him and Harry.

“Harry, so nice to see you, darling,” she slurred. Lucas rolled his eyes. Harry elbowed him.

“Nice to see you too, Ms.Freeman.”

“You know why the lights are out? I’d ask my son but he doesn't really like me.”

“I don’t know why, exactly. I just know that they are.”

“Yeah, well. Enjoy your time together. I knew you were lying when you said you didn’t have a boyfriend, Lucas.” She took a swig, not even bothering to mix her drink.

Lucas groaned, pulling Harry to his dimly lit room. They sat on the bed, for a moment, quiet. Then Lucas said “You know, the lights being out is really depressing. How am I supposed to survive without the internet?”

“You’ll live. Don’t Alex this situation. She’s in the midst of a mental breakdown.”

“Yeah, but eventually everything is going to fall apart. Everything is going to fall apart and everything is going to die. Everyone is going to die. We’re all going to die because we’re all going to rob each other blind and beat each other up and the world is going to fall apart and for some reason that idea makes me happy. But I’m really going to miss the internet. There will be complete anarchy, but the internet is my priority. I sound really dumb.”

“You sound completely accurate, and stupid all at once,” Harry said, taking his hand. He turned to face him. “The internet is something you’ve grown dependent on. But now, you don’t have it. You’re going to miss it. But on the bright side, you have me.”

“I do have you. You’re right,” Lucas smiled.

“I’m always right,” Harry said, and then he kissed Lucas.

Lucas really liked kissing Harry. He liked the way Harry’s lips felt. He liked that Harry always put his hand on the side of Lucas’s face. He liked the way Harry always managed to push him backwards, just a little bit. He liked Harry. No, like was an understatement. He loved Harry. He loved Harry, he loved Harry, he loved Harry.

So he decided not to think about the impending demise of them and their society, and he decided to think about his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s lips and how he let Harry push him all the way back this time.

When Lucas woke up his room was black. Harry’s arm was draped across his bare chest, protective and secure. Lucas quietly slipped out of his embrace, trying his best not to wake him. He succeeded, Harry slept like the dead.

He found the shorts from the night before, when the lights were still on, and slipped them on. He didn’t bother with a shirt. He could see a dim light in the living room from the hallway. Anne Louise Freeman was sitting on the couch, in the same spot she had been in that morning. Lucas wondered if she had moved since that morning. Hopefully.

“I see you looking at me. Come here,” she said. Lucas groaned inwardly, but obeyed, shuffling into the dark living room and sitting in the chair on the side of the couch.

“Yes, Anne?”

“I know what you guys did in there,” she muttered. Lucas was thankful for the lack of lights. His blush wasn’t evident. He could try and deny it.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, not looking at her.

“You ever done it before?”

Did she think she was going to get a response?

“Okay, don’t tell me. Anyway, I don’t know why you think it’s okay to do that in my house but—”

“Okay—hold on—you—I DON’T UNDERSTAND YOU! You drink yourself to sleep every night, moping around about a man that left ten years ago. Neither one of us has seen him since. You know, other kids have normal parents. Even the single moms, they care, you know? They care and they don’t drink them selves to sleep and if they do, they drink in their bedrooms, not on the couch where their kid can see them and be emotionally scarred for the rest of their life. You know, the first time I saw you there like that I thought you were dead. And I was so scared. I was so scared. I thought you were dead, mom. I screamed and I shook you and I did everything I could to wake you up because you couldn’t have been dead. You couldn’t die, because you were my mom and I NEEDED YOU. I NEEDED YOU AND I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD,” he took a shaky breath. He was crying. “And sometimes…it’s like you are. You are dead. You’re dead inside and there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s nothing I can do about it and I might as well stop trying to wake you up because there’s no use. Why should I even care? It’s not like you care about me.”

Anne Louise Freeman looked at her son for a long moment. Finally she spoke. “I do care about you, Lucas. You just—you’re so—I don’t know. I love you, Lucas. I love you. I love you so much I just—I don’t know how to—you remind me so much of him, you know? You’re actually really mean—don’t look at me like that—he was mean, too. You’re smart, like him. You can draw and you can do all these things and you just really remind me of him and I know it’s not an excuse. But for the love of God, please don’t think I don’t love you.”

Lucas looked at her. Her response was weak. But so was she. “Okay,” he whispered. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you.”

“Okay. I understand that. But keep your fondling to yourself. The lights are out. I haven’t gone deaf.”

“Yeah yeah. Whatever,” he said. He started to stand.

“Lucas?”

“Yeah?”

“You know, things are going to change. People are going to get crazy, and I don’t know what’s going to happen, but whatever happens, I love you.”

Lucas deliberated on his response for a moment. “I know. I love you too, Mom.” He smiled, and went back to his room. Harry was sitting up in the bed. “You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Lucas said.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t miss that sweet bonding moment.”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

In the days to come, the country would devolve into chaos. Alex would move away, seeking refuge at her grandmother’s farm. Harry would lose his mother and his little brother, two days apart. They were all he had. The buildings would all be looted, and the cities would be dark. The organism was collapsing. Too many cells were dying. Tissues were deteriorating. Organs were malfunctioning. Organ systems were breaking down. The Organism was dead. Lucas and his mother would survive, along with Harry. Harry would live with them in their new home. They settled, abandoning the violent city for simple country life.

Lucas sat on the porch with his mother and his boyfriend. He turned and looked at them. They were all quietly looking out into the night. The stars were bright, brighter than they’d ever been when the lights were on.

“You know, something good came out of the lights blacking out,” he said.

“What?” Harry said.

“You can see the stars,” Lucas replied, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

#mine #Original Work #lol #i based lucas off carson philips low key

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kissme-hs · 7 years

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Black Butterflies - 3

Here it is, much awaited part 3. Don’t forget to give me feedback. Plus re-blog and recommend others my blog if you liked it so far :) And the base of flashback has been borrowed from @secret-rendezvous1d I did some editing here and there. Thanks to her !

*Minor SMUT WARNING*

Part - 1

Part - 2

Word count :: 2507

Harry thew his head back in pleasure as he rolled his hips against Kristine. They still were at Disneyland with kids and didn’t get time to catch up with each other. So after putting his kids to bed, he started it all by kissing her. His lips trailing kisses down her neck, leaving purple marks on her neck.

‘fuck Harry do something.” Kristine whimpered beneath her. Her chest rising with every breath she took pressing it against his. His silver chain hanging from his neck as he hovered her and slowly pushed himself inside her. Her wetness making it easy for harry to slide his thick shaft inside her in a one swift motion. Her hands coming in contact with his muscular back as she dragged her nails along it.

The next hour was spent making love fucking.

Harry rolled off her after reaching his heights and laid beside her. She smiled and rested her head on his chest.

He didn’t felt right. The feeling was foreign for him. She felt unfamiliar. Soon her soft snores filled the room. and Harry found himself awake in bed staring blankly at the ceiling. His mind was going crazy with a chaos of thoughts. Why was he feeling like this? He himself din’t know. The feeling was making him sick making him questioning himself what was going on.

He started question, did he actually loved Kristine or was it just a illusion. Shaking his head, brushing the thoughts away he pulled her sleeping figure close to his chest.

“Of course I love her” he mumbled and closed his eyes.

You hissed to self as blood gushed out of your finger that you cut while chopping the veggies. You opened the tap and put it under the cool running water. The cool sensation giving relief to you as you padded to the front door to open it where Anne stood carrying a bag with her.

“Elo darling” She said cheerfully pulling you in a tight hug. Her warm affection warming your cold body up. You smiled at her cheerful spirit before pulling away.

“Come inside mum.” You said.

Mum. The very first time you met her and called Mrs. Twist she asked you to call her mum instead. She said that you too were like Gemma to her and calling her Mrs. Twist would embarrass her hearing it from her daughter.

Anne was much of a best friend to you than a mother-in-law. She was always there when you needed her. Whenever you and Harry fought, you’d always ask her for help and knowing his son well, she’d help you. You told her everything. And having her as a mother made you feel lucky

“So, how’re yeh doin’?” She asked rubbing th back of your hand with her thumb sitting on the couch with you as you both sipped on your tea.

“Very well. Thank you. What about you?” You asked putting your cup down on the coffee table.

“I’m good. How’re yeh ?” She asked again.

“i uh i said I’m good”

“I asked you how’re yeh?” She asked once again and there was no backing up from it now. Tears welled up in your eyes and you looked down and sniffed.

“Not good mum. I’m breaking inside. God I feel dead “ You sobbed and were pulled inside the arms of that lovely lady.

“There it is baby. Let it out sweet. Cry all yeh want” she cooed. Her soft voice made weep as you wrapped your arms around her crying your heart out.

“I feel yeh “ She said and after a few minutes of good crying, you pulled away. You noticed her navy blue tee had a damp spot from your tears. You wiped your tears and nose with the back of your hand. And it did helped you. Crying out did help you made feel better.

“I am disgusted with my son right now. Never expected him to do this. I’m sorry he caused you so much pain” she said sympathetically cupping your right cheek.

“He just chose to leave instead of fighting. That’s all mum” You cried softly.

“I feel yeh love. I’ve been at your place before” She said. And she wasn’t lying. The only difference was that their decision of separation was mutual unlike you guys.

“I can’t believe he’d do something like that. He always told me how much he loved you”

“It’s okay mum. Love fades away”

“You really love her, don’t you?”

He looks across to his mother as she nurses her cup of tea, cosied up into Robin’s side, with a smile on her face. The lamps around the room giving her face a gentle glow, shadows forming from her features as Harry’s fingers drag up his your arm softly.

“I really do,” he whispers, nodding softly, “absolutely smitten with her, I am.”

“I think the feeling is very much mutual,” she smiles, leaning forward and setting her mug on a coaster on the coffee table, reaching over to grab his free hand and perching on the armrest beside her son, “she’s wonderful. She really is. I’ve never seen you with such a huge smile on your face before. She’s what you need. Someone to keep you grounded and to stop you from swimming off and getting too crazy.”

“dropping her coffee over my shoes that day was what got us here today. I love her. I really do. She’s changed my life over the last 8 months, mum, and I realised that I’ve never been so crazy for someone before. I love her. It makes me so happy that you like her, as well,” he smiles, looking down at you and pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I think I’m going to take her to bed. I’m going to take her off into Holmes Chapel tomorrow and show her everything I used to get up to. You’re welcome to join us if you want to come.”

“Oh, no. No, you have some time together. We’ve spent all day with you,” Anne smiles, cupping his face in her hand and pressing a kiss to his forehead, “I’ll have a nice breakfast set out for you both tomorrow. Be up for 8, okay?”

He nods, adjusting his arms around you lifting you to his chest, standing to his feet and bidding a goodnight before he’s making his way up the stairs.

Anne felt her heart aching as she remembered the memories of Harry bringing you to their house for the first time. His lips were spread in a wide grin. She loved how happy he looked and knew you were the one. But now she felt broken. She never expected any of her kid to have divorce in future as she taught them that single thing can destroy many lives.

Thinking of her daughter-in-law brought tears to her eyes. She knew how hard the situation was for her and she felt vulnerable because there’s nothing she could do ease the pain of the poor girl. Nothing but pray to god.

“Eat” Kristine ordered bringing the spoon full of porridge to Noah’s mouth. Harry was in the bathroom and asked Kristine to feed Noah. And without denying she nodded and sat little toddler on baby chair and started feeding her. But he didn’t seem to like her attitude.Since the say Harry brought kids along with Kristine, she felt that Harry payed more attention to kids than her. Once she even wore short exposing clothes to arouse Harry, but instead of getting turned on, Harry grabbed her by her elbow gently and took inside the room only to scold her not to wear such clothes around kids It only flamed the fire inside Kristine more for his kids.

She tried feeding Noah forcefully when he suddenly pushed her away, spilling porridge all over her t-shirt and some on her hair.

“What’ve you done?!?!” she roared scaring Noah. Hearing his cries, Rose came running from the other room and started calming down his brother. But when her eyes fell on Kristine, he couldn’t help but let out a laugh seeing porridge sticking to her hair. Kristine’s eyes flared up with anger as she stood up and hovered Rose. Her hand rising up in the air.

Poor girl’s eyes filled with fear sensing what

“you little piece of s-” she spat when suddenly rose ran and stuck to fer father’s leg crying.

“Daddy!!!” she cried as harry picked her up.

“Wha’s wrong poppet?” Harry asked rubbing her back.

“Kr-Kristine was going to hit me” she sobbed in his neck. Harry pulled away, his eyebrows furrowed as he set her down.

“What? I could never do that to you” Kristine cooed changing herself like a chameleon crouching beside Harry, in front of Rose. She pushed her hand away when Kristine tried to touch her.

“You lie!” Rose cried.

“Sh-she even was saying the S word” Rose cried.

“Oh god. “ Kristine said covering her mouth as tears fell down her eyes. Harry instantly wrapped his arms around her pulling her to him.

“Apologize to kris” Harry old rose rubbing the small back of Kristine.

“No” Rose refused shaking her head showing Harry attitude.

“Don’ Rose. I said apologize” Harry warned and once again Rose denied. It set Harry off the verge. Harry stood up and took a breath trying not to explode on her daughter but he was helpless.

“GO TO YOUR ROOM NOW!” He shouted, making everyone in the room flinch. His loud voice making Noah to burst in tear once again. Rose’s breath hitched in as tears flooded her eyes.

“I hate you” she mumbled ever so softly before helping his brother down the chair and running to her room with him.

After coming back to his senses. He felt hurt. He felt disgusted for scaring his little girl like that. His own eyes getting wet as he sat on the ground with his head in his hands sobbing quietly. Kristine took the chance and brought him to her chest rubbing his back.

“Shhh baby. It’s okay”

As soon as Rose finished up telling you what happened to them on vacation, Y/n stomped out of her house and drove to their Harry’s house. Unfortunately, he wasn’t their and you were greeted by none other than his girlfriend, who was dressed in nothing but a pair of panties and his t-shirt.

“Oh hi. Come inside” she said stepping aside for y/n to come in and she gladly did. Seeing Kristine was making his blood boil. Especially when she was wearing the ring in her necklace that you gifted Harry. You felt sick thinking about how stupid you were to fall for a guys like that.

“Stop” Y/n said trying to be calm. She didn’t wanted any foreplay.

“What?” Kristine asked innocently clearly aware as to why y/n was there.

“Stop being so two faced.And how dare you talk to my kids like that?!” Y/n shouted.

“Oh really? But you husband, oops i mean my boyfriend doesn’t seems to be bothered about it. And about your kids, it’ll be better f you keep them to yourself.” she said standing with her hands on her hips.

“Harry is their father! They have the whole right to be with him! And oh my god I cannot believe he actually likes a bitch like you!”

“Oh please darling he loves me. Probably because I’m not ugly,fat and emotional mess like you. When he spent that night with me, he told me how much he regretted marrying you and voila I helped him every night. All the time he said he was out, he was with me, inside me actually” she laughed

“and you know what? He’s smitten over me” She said. You let out a sob as her words hit you like a knife but you had to be strong, for your kids.

“God. He’s an Idiot. Never knew he fuck buddy would turn out to be someone like you” You spat hatefully.

“Wha’ do ya mean” Said a heavy voice. You turned around and saw Harry standing at the porch, Kristine wasted no time running to him and crying fake tears.

“shh baby. “ Harry said kissing her head before making his way to you. Your heart beat fastened as you took in to his face. He looked mesmerizing. So pure and gentle. He looked so good and it was clear that the divorce wasn’t affecting him where you looked completed opposite but he was too blinded to see how much you were hurting.

“I-I can’t believe you yelled at Rose” you stammered as he hovered you.

“Had to do that t’ teach her some manners. And wha’ did yeh by fuck buddy huh? I love her! Ge’ this fucking thing in your brain.” he said. He was getting red with every word he said.

“It’s alright Haz. I’m okay” Kristine said clutching to his arm sounding so poor and petite. All you wanted to do was to punch her straight in the face.

“No Kris! Nobody talks to m’love like that” He said eyeing you. His eyes dug in you were burning you. You felt naked and wrapped your arms around yourself but the time wasn’t to be. It was to fight.

“I didn’t said anything wrong Harry styles! She’s nothing but a slut, a fuck buddy whom you fucked every night, you spent every night with her moaning where I sat at home, awake the whole night wondering if you’re okay! While you’re kids kept asking for you!”

“And did you ever asked meh why was I? Let me tell yeh because you never were enough! Seeing your face disgusted me!” He yelled. His voice echoed in the house while every word he said.

Your heart clenched. Your chest felt heavy again as a tear rolled down your cheek. Never in a million years you thought he’d say something like this, but he did.

“You are the biggest regret of my life” You whispered.

“If you’re done, I’d like you to leave” He said looking away.

“didn’t you hear him Y/n?” Kristine said her tears all gone now replaced by happiness of you crying. You knew she was trying to evoke you and damn it did work.

“Shut up you bit-” And before you could finish the whole sentence, Harry grabbed you my your elbow harshly and dragged to the porch.

“Get the fuck outta my house!”

_______________

Oh well well. I’ve started hating Harry while writing this. Feedback please!

#harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles love #harry styles blurbs #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfcitions #hs #hs1 #hs imagines #kiss me hs #one direction #one direction imagines #one direction one shots #dad harry #since you've been gone #Miss me when I'm gone

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maylovexhs · 7 years

Text

Guilty(H.S) - Chapter 7

Author’s Note: None at all. Enjoy the long chapter loves! May xxx

Previous chapters can be found here

Buzz. Buzz.

“Mhm” I mumbled under my breath.

Buzzz.

I rolled over in bed. I stretched my hand out, trying to reach the vibrating phone set on the right white nightstand next to my bed. I managed to grab the phone, becoming almost blind when the bright screen flashed in my face. I quickly tapped on my phone, silencing the alarm. I threw my phone on the blanket. Why did I set an alarm again?

I looked under the bed sheets. Someone changed me. I was in Dex’s t-shirt. Not the white shirt and jeans from yesterday. The last thing I remember was Harry carrying me in. Oh God, I hope he didn’t chan-

‘There’s a loving in your eyes all the way’

Dex. Singing. I didn’t hear him sing in months.

‘If I listen to your lies, would you say I’m a man without conviction’

I stood up from bed, walking out of the bedroom to the kitchen where Dex’s voice originated from. He continued to sing the next lines of the song. I peeked through the kitchen’s door, trying to hide from Dex and the dogs.

‘I’m a man who doesn’t know how to all a contradiction?’

I stepped closer behind Dex, faintly whispering the next line with him. Whispering low enough for him not to notice.

‘You come and go, you come and go’

I sang louder as the chorus hit.

‘Karma, karma, karma, karma, karma chameleon’

Dex screamed, jumping. I laughed at his girly scream. The dogs ran up to me.

“MEL!” Dex yelled at me. “I could have burned my hand”

From my sight, his body blocked the image of the sizzling frying pan. Scrambled eggs. Loved them. Hate them now. I blame the pregnancy.

“Sorry. I just couldn’t resist” I said petting the dogs.

I remember now why I set that stupid alarm in the first place. I wanted to catch Dex before he went for work. Anne gave me the idea last night.

“Please don’t tell me you have work today” I said hugging Dex from behind.

“Is that the reason why you’re clinging onto me? You know, that will only make me want to go more” Dex joked as he flipped the eggs.

“I’m not being clingy. I just miss you. You’re never here”

I nuzzled my head into his warm arm.

“I am here. You not here when I am”

Dex shut off the fire and transferred his eggs to a plate.

“Yeah, Yeah. You get my point” I said moving to the edge of the marble counter.

“Do you really have to go?” I asked with puppy eyes and a pout.

Dex looked up and down at me, chuckling at my attempt to get him to stay.

“Well . . How can I refuse?”

I smiled before running up to kiss him. My arms were around his neck as his hands traveled down to my ass. He pinched it, signaling that he wanted to pick me up. I jumped up, with him picking me up and setting me on the counter next to the eggs.

“We’re gonna spill the eggs” I said in the middle of our kisses.

“Oh, fuck the eggs” Dex said.

I chuckled, being a bit turned on by Dex’s cursing. We continued to make out. I wrapped my legs around Dex’s lower half as my hands ran through his bleach blond hair. Dex was slowly pulling his shirt up my thigh.

“Dex . .Wait”

I heard footsteps. The sound of boots hitting against the hard cold tiles of the floor. Strange, I thought. I hadn’t even heard the elevator ding.

“‘Melia!”

Oh, shit. It’s Harry. Dex and I separated instantly. I hopped off the counter and ran to the bedroom. Dex looked at me, confused to why I was running away.I grabbed my breasts, pointing out that I wasn’t wearing a bra.I got to the bedroom in time for Harry not to see me. I left the door open a little bit just enough to hear the conversation between Harry and Dex occur.

“Dexter! How are yeh?” I heard Harry say in his Cheshire accent.

“Flustered” I heard Dex answer back.

Harry better not ask why. I don’t need him to be involved in my sex life either. I quietly started to rummage for clothes in my drawers.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know. Is that for-?”

“Yeah! I got it for yeh and ‘Melia” Harry said.

Got what? It better not be tickets for some hockey game. I pulled out a bra and a matching blue shirt and leggings.

“Non-caffeine one for her and black for yeh”

Coffee? Non-caffeine? God, I may be pregnant but I still can have a little caffeine every once in a while.

“Well, she’s not here” Dex said, obviously lying.

“Just left”

“Oh, I swear I heard her a minute ago”

“FaceTime” Dex said quickly. “Asked if I wanted a bagel”

Nice coverup, I thought as I pulled off Dex shirt and put on my bra. Maybe his lying is good for something.

“Do yeh’ know when she’ll be back? It’s like a tradition for us to do something touristy each time we meet up”

That was true. Occasionally I would take him to bars and museums.

“I doubt it man. We’re busy today” Dex said as I pulled up my leggings.

“Oh, with what?”

Give it a rest, H.

“Pick up my sister from the airport”

We are?

“Also we have a checkup at the doctor in an hour”

Now that part he’s lying.

“Can yeh tell her to call me when she’s free then?”

I didn’t hear anything when I put my blue shirt.

“Sure” I finally heard Dex say. “Thanks for the coffee again”

I waited a minute before exiting the bedroom, tip toeing to the kitchen. Dex was sitting at the kitchen table.

“He’s gone?” I asked, peeking around the kitchen.

“Yup. Took forever too” Dex commented as he ate his eggs.

I took a seat across from him.

“I heard” I pulled my hair behind my ear. I started laughing thinking about the awkward their conversation was.

“What?” Dex asked me.“We don’t have the doctor today” I said.

“I know that” Dex said before taking another bite.

“Dahila is not coming right?” I asked.“Nope” Dex said with annoyance in his voice.

“So, you lied. You know Harry will find out. That’s his speciality.”

Dex rolled his eyes.

“No, he won’t”

“Why? Are you going to spin another one of your lies?”

“Why do you care? You wanted to get rid of him” Dex said in a harsh tone.

“Hey! I care because every time he’s here you become different. You act different”

Dex stopped eating, putting down his fork.“I act different?” He asked, mocking me.

“What about you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked in confusion.

“You know what it means. Whenever he’s here you act like nothing happened between you two”

He looked down at his plate. I crossed my arms.

“Because nothing did happen. It’s not important”

Dex looked up at me.

“Well how do I know that’s it not? You never told me anything about it”

“Yes, I did!” I threw my hands in the air. “I told you everything you needed to know. Don’t you trust me?”

“No. How can I when the only thing you told me was that you two dated and that you hated him after your breakup?”

“I did hate him. That changed when I talked to him. If you don’t like him that much, why did you start hanging out with him?”

“Because at least I get some of the truth”

“Oh don’t you dare turn the table on me. You’re not so innocent too with all your lies and jealousy” I ran my hands through my hair out of frustration. “I swear anything else you do will make me happier than this”

“Like what, honey?” Dex asked crossing his arms.

“I don’t know . . . But leaving sounds like a good idea” I muttered under my breath.

He must had heard me. He stood up from the table, looking disappointed.

“Well then . . . Send Harry my best. Enjoy your fake relationship with him” Dex started walking away.

I got up from the table.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

Dex walked faster. He grabbed his shoes and the keys to the car. He quickly pressed the elevator button.

“Leaving. Anything where else is better than being here” He answered.

“Dex!” I called him walking to him.

It was too late. By the time I got to the elevator, the doors closed in front of me with Dex in it.

“Fuck” I said. “Fuck!”

What have I done?

“He was right. They were right. All of them were. Dex. Victoria. My parents. Even Taylor Swift was right. All you do is dig a hole when you hide the truth and when the hole gets too big . . . People get hurt. Dex, being the first. To be honest, the Harry situation wasn’t completely my fault. Yeah, I may had started and might had drove Dex to be friends with Harry out of curiosity, but Dex did that. And it’s not like he’s honest with me. He practically hid the news of Harry being our neighbor. Wait . . . Where am I going with this? Oh yeah, it’s not my fault”

I sighed before speaking again.

“I have to admit, as ashamed as I am, I wasn’t really over Harry when I first dated Dex. I’m horrible, right? Getting into a relationship when you’re not fully committed? I swear I’m over him now and it’s not like I’m ever going back. This baby blocks that whole idea-“

I stopped. I exhaled loud.

“I guess I was in denial of not being over Harry. I guess I was too scared to say it to Dex in our relationship and what would happen. It would just eat him up. That’s why I stayed away from Harry or anything related to him. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Dex. Would you forgive me?” I asked, turning to Max who laid on the couch next to me.

He raised his fluffy head to me.

“I sound stupid talking to you, don’t I?”

In fact, I was for the past hour. What else was I supposed to do? Clean the apartment? Done that earlier. Organize my closet? Done that too.

“I wouldn’t forgive me either. I have to tell him. I need to. If not for him, for her” I said circling my bump.

“The question is how? It’s not like he’s going to believe me after our fight. He would think it’s bullshit lies”

Who can help me?; I thought to myself. Certainly not Dex’s family. They would take his side. I hadn’t talked to my family in weeks after my ‘little’ fight with my parents. Don’t ask about it. It’s a whole another thing I don’t have time to explain. I needed someone. Someone neutral. Like Victoria. She’s neutral, I think?

I picked up my phone off the living room table and dialed Victoria. No answer. Dammit. Why when I need her she never picks up? Hmm. . I have an idea. I looked at the twitter app on my screen. This is a way to get Victoria’s attention. After all, she has notifications on my tweets. I opened the app, immediately noticing the over 20 sign on my notification bell. I pressed on the tweet button instead.

‘I have something to tell you’ I typed, tweeting it.

I scrolled up my homepage as blue notifications appeared on the bottom. I stopped when I saw a tweet with a picture of Harry attached. I tapped on the tweet, taking a closer look.‘Harry tonight in NYC’ The tweet said.Harry. He can help me. He was the reason Dex and I started fighting. Maybe he can also end it. Besides, Dex would believe me more if Harry explained our past to him. Is he even home?I exited out of the twitter app and called Harry. At least, he answers me.

“‘Melia! I wondered if Dex told yeh to call me’h” Harry said with a somewhat excitable tone.

“Oh he did” I lied. “Are you here?”

“Yeah, yeh broke our tradition!” Harry exclaimed through the phone.

“I had other things to worry about H. I can’t be running around the city with you always” I explained.

“Figured. So . . . Where should we watch netflix tonight? Down or up?” He asked.

“Up” I said. “And it’s not Netflix”

“If you were in Dex’s place, would you really be mad?” I asked him.

I told Harry. Everything. What happened when I met Dex. Why I stayed away from him. Why I grown to hate him over the past two years.

“I can’t really speak for him“

I laid my head down on the kitchen table, my arms being a pillow for my head.This is the end, I thought. Harry, the most forgiving person I know, is struggling to forgive me. How can I expect Dex to either? I’m going to end up as a single mother. I know I said to Dex I could leave him and be one but I never imagined it would happen. I felt tears coming on. I sniffled, burying myself in my arms to hide the tears. I felt Harry’s hands caress my arms from across the table.

“Hey” Harry said calling me. “Don’t cry”

“Its no use, H” I managed to say. “Its over”

I heard the sound of a chair move and Harry’s boots tapping against the floor. I felt Harry’s hands caress down my back.

“Look at me” He said, whispering next to my ear.

“I can’t” I said, sobbing.

Suddenly, I felt my arms being pulled away from me and towards Harry. Harry tried to make me look at him. I looked down at my feet, attempting not to look at him.

“‘Melia, please” Harry begged.

“It’s . . all my . .fault” I choked out. “All”

“No, no,no” Harry said while bringing me into a hug.

“It is” I said.

“Don’t talk like that” Harry whispered into my ear. “It’s not yeh fault”

“How can you say that? You don’t what you’re talking about”

“Its no one’s fault. Yeh can’t change what happened love”

“I could have done something” I said. “He’ll never forgive me”

“He will. I forgive yeh. Everything will be a’lright”

I sniffled, trying to hold back more tears. My breathing slowed down. Harry continued to caress my back.

“Thank you Harry” I said with sincerity.

“Yeh don’t have to apologize” Harry said.

We sat in silence, engraved in each other arms. We separated when we heard Dex enter the room. He seemed confused as to why we were hugging.

“Mel . . Harry” Dex said, trying to process what was going on.

I stood up from the chair and ran up to hug him. Dex wrapped his arms around me, holding me in a tight hold. When we let go, Harry spoke.

“We been waiting for yeh’” Harry said.

I wiped the tears off my face with my hands.“I see. Why?” Dex looked back at me. “Were you crying?”

“Yes and over you. We need to talk”

“About what?” Dex asked looking at us both.

I held Dex’s hands in mine.

“This morning you said you couldn’t trust me because you didn’t know the entire truth so . . .”

My eyes looked to Harry.

“She wanted yeh to hear what happened between us” Harry said, finishing my sentence.

Dex looked hesitant. Probably wondering if he could trust the both of us. He looked at Harry before speaking up.

“Harry you don’t have-“

“He’s not going anywhere” I cut Dex off. “I dragged him here for a reason”

“She almost handcuffed me” Harry said, of course joking.

I blushed. I knew he was trying to make me feel better after I cried.

“For the sake of all of us, listen”

Dex was hesitant, finally accepting our offer.

“Fine” Dex said in defeat.

I took Dex’s hand and pulled him to the table. We all sat down at the table.

“You wanna start? Or should I?” I asked Harry.

“Ladies first” Harry answered, lightly smirking.

I turned to Dex as I started to explain.

“We met at the Brit awards. 2013. I had a performance”

“So did I” Harry added.

“And we became friends but not close friends. Our schedules made that impossible until the year after. We hung out whenever he was in town. I was with Klaus for the most part of the year”

“Oh yeah I forgot yeh dated him”

“I didn’t date him. It was more like a fling” I corrected Harry.

“A fling isn’t that long” Harry pointed out.

Dex crossed his arms, obviously showing annoyance over our conversation.

“This is about us, H. Not him.” I said, clearly irritated.

“It’s important to the timeline” Harry said.

I turned to Dex before speaking up again.

“Fine I ‘dated’ him. He’s out of my life, unlike this one” I said, referring to Harry.

“Aye! I’m still here”

“I know that, captain obvious” I said, joking.

“What happened next?” Dex asked.

“We finished our tours and became really close. Not dating yet. He dated a model called Nadine and I was in a secret relationship with Tom”

“Both ended quickly” Harry indicated.

“Just in time for your 21 birthday” I smiled. “We knew about each other’s relationship”

“It was obvious” Harry included.

“Not to everyone” I said.

“My mother knew” Harry specified.

“Close people knew. Can you stop interrupting with me?” I asked him, crossing my arms.

“Fine then” Harry mocked me, crossing his arms as well.

“Anyways . . .we leaned on each other during the breakup and some feelings got involved. Well I started feeling something for him”

Harry looked at me. He was intrigued. Never hearing this before - because, well, I never did tell him.

“So I kept away from him. Trying to avoid the truth. I couldn’t. So I reached out back to him in the middle of his tour and . .”

“We dated” Harry stated.

“Wasn’t as bad I thought it was going to be”

“Hey” I said, nudging him.

We both laughed, remembering that what I said at the end of our relationship.

“I’m just kidding. It was great. I enjoyed it” Harry said, making me blush.

“Aww, same to you. You were quite romantic in the beginning” I complimented him.

“But you broke up?” Dex asked, interrupted our moment. “Why?”

“Let us finish first. I promise I’ll answer that after” I said.

“Go on” Dex said.

“Then we broke up. I still wanted to be friends. He didn’t. I tried calling but of course-“

“I avoided her” Harry finished my sentence.

“I kept calling until the pictures of him and Kendall came out. Thank god, though. Finally put me out of my misery of waiting”

“This was 2016. Right?” Dex asked, concerned.

I knew what he was thinking. He was coming into the picture.

“Yeah” Harry answered. “I tried calling her after”

“It was no use” I cut him off. “I didn’t answer him. I hated him and I began to move on”

I held Dex’s hands in mine, looking into his eyes.

“That’s when I got back in touch with you. Well - the movie we worked on together made me get in touch with you” I explained.

“So that’s it?” Dex asked, unsure.

“Yeah” Harry and I said at the same time.

“Then Harry moved in and now we’re here” I mentioned.

“Okay . . . Why did you two break up?” Dex asked.

Harry and I looked at each other.

“Well we both had different reasons” I said.

“What was it?” Dex questioned.

I was about to speak up until Harry took that chance.

“I put to much pressure on her” He said.

He admitted it. He never admits anything he does wrong.

“I was being intensive with her” Harry elongated.

“What about you?” Dex asked, turning to me.

“What he said” I agreed.

He didn’t say why he broke up with me. Doesn’t matter. Dex only needs to know my reason.

“One more question” Dex indicated.

“What?” I asked.

“Did you - did you two ever have sex?”

We burst out in laughter. Sex? Between us? It’s impossible. Was before and was now.

“No, no, no. We didn’t get to that serious part of the relationship” I said.

“We almost didn’t we?” Harry asked me.

“Well we got interrupted by Victoria but thank god it didn’t happen. That would haunt me” I exaggerated.

“So that’s it? Everything?” Dex spoke.

“Everything to me” I said. “I did have a few suspicions about Harry though”

“What? About what?” Harry asked, turning to me. He looked a bit offended.

“About all the stunts you had over the years” I answered.

“What stunts?” Harry asked, oblivious to his past rumored relationships.

“Paige. Then Kendall. Nadine was a bit weird” I admitted.

“Excuse me?” Harry said, completely offended.

“Just saying. It would explain all the Larry theories if they were” I said, shrugging while buying my bottom lip.

Harry was surprised, he even couldn’t form a sentence.

“How- how did we?”

“I’m just saying. If you were in a relationship with him, I would be completely fine. I love gay and bisexual peo-“

“Isn’t this About Dex?” Harry asked, trying to shut me up.

“Nope, I’m done now. This has been uncomfortable” Dex said.

“You wanted to hear it before” I reminded him.

“I wasn’t!” Harry joked.

“Oh shut up” I said, in a joking manner.

“Ouch” Harry pretended to be hurt.

“Come on” I stood up from table. “I’ll walk you out”

Harry stood up. We walked to the elevator. He pressed the button.

“You forget to explain why you broke up with me” I pointed out as I watched the elevator floors changed on the screen on top.

“Yeh didn’t tell Dex what yeh told me before”

“Step by step H. I’m gonna let him process today first”

The elevator dinged, signaling the elevator was here. The doors opened.

“Yeh didn’t tell me’h how yeh felt for me’h before we-“ He stepped in the elevator.

“Dated?” I cut him off. “Not that important now. Enjoy your boyfriend Jeffery” I joked with him.

“Oh shut up” Harry smirked at me, with the elevator door closing a second later.

Progress. . . Progress.

#harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #hs fanfiction #hs imagine #hs writing #hs imagines #guilty by m #guilty chapter 7

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whatdoyouthinkmyjobis · 7 years

Text

Hunters on the Hellmouth

masterlist

first chapter

previous chapter

AN: More gory than typical canon. Torture. Takes place a week after chapter 30 and GND 11.

Chapter 31: Christmas on the Hellmouth

Dean pushed the cracked door open and caught Sam lying in bed reading A History of Slayers, Volume I. How the Slayer came to be and what fueled her was his latest obsession ever since he learned she was a vessel.

Dean didn’t like this track at all. They’d argued about it weeks before. “God dammit, Sammy! Why won’t you let me be happy for once?”

“I’m just curious, Dean! This has nothing to do with you and Buffy.”

“And if something stinks, what then?”

But it was Christmas Eve, and Dean didn’t want to have that fight again. He pulled the bedroom door closed and knocked so Sam could pretend he was reading something else.

“Come in.” Now Sam held one of the battered Goodwill paperbacks he kept stacked on his dresser.

“Can I grab one of your extra blankets? Dawn’s cold.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Sam’s girlfriend, Jada, was always freezing, and had filled his bedroom with what Dean estimated to be a hundred different blankets, each for a very specific temperature.

Dawn, who had been livid when her sister said she was spending Christmas Eve at their apartment, was nested on the Winchester’s couch staring at the small Christmas tree on the coffee table. “I still can’t believe you decorated,” she said, adding the purple fuzzy blanket to her pile.

Dean leaned against the arm of the couch, shifting his weight off his broken ankle. The tree, small and squat with little red balls and enough light to speckle the walls with stars, was very pretty. “Jada decorated before she headed north. She thought it would cheer us up.”

“I’m glad. I didn’t think I’d get a tree this year.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. Santa ain’t leavin’ any goodies under there.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. Buffy, an expert-level eye-roller herself, found this annoying and disrespectful, but he delighted in getting a rise out of the girl. “Dean, I’m sixteen. I don’t believe in Santa.”

“Got everything you need?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Dean hobbled back to his room, already fantasizing about finding a naughty Mrs. Claus in his bed. Not that he was in any condition for sex. Moving from his bed to the bathroom meant the agonizing choice of putting pressure on his foot or his ribs. Moving his arms hurt. Laying flat hurt. Broken bones on top of Buffy’s busyness with the Potentials meant their sizzling sex life had started to fizzle.

Dawn called after him, “Hey, thanks for letting me come! Buffy was just a big wall of no.”

“You’re family, kid. Why wouldn’t you be here for Christmas?”

A flush rose to her cheeks, and she pulled the blankets up to her shocked eyes.

Waiting on his bed was something better than a vixen in red lingerie. Buffy, with a smile on her lips and sleep creeping into her eyes, had made herself comfortable in his red plaid shirt and nothing else. By her side, was a green box topped with a white bow.

“That took longer than I thought,” she said.

“Your sister wanted another blanket.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “You have a broken ankle! I could have gotten it for her.”

Crawling into bed beside her, he planted a quick kiss on her cheek. “You said no presents.” The phrase boyfriend test flashed in his mind, but she didn’t look at him like he’d failed.

“No presents. Not really. This isn’t for you to keep. I just thought bows were festive, and I sort of need the distraction.”

His lingerie dream revived, he unwrapped his not-present. “A book?” It was burgundy with a stamped gold trim.

Buffy removed it from the box as he leaned against his pillow pile. “I ask you to tell me stories all the time, so I thought I’d tell you some of mine.”

It was a photo album. On the first page, an orange-tinged Polaroid of a young woman with large, deep set eyes and blonde, deflated Farrah hair in a hospital holding a baby. Beneath it Baby Girl Jan 19, ‘81. “My parents fought over what to name me, but the hospital wouldn’t let them leave until they decided. Dad wanted Jennifer, but mom said I was too special to have the same name as every girl on the block. Mom got Buffy on my birth certificate while Dad was out celebrating.”

“Smart woman.”

“She was.” Buffy grinned. “She would have liked you.”

Dean had been caught off guard when Buffy said she loved him, but the idea that her mother would have liked him was shocking. With his heavy drinking, gambling, scars and tattoos, he didn’t think of himself as the take-home-to-mom type; but then, he’d never been a there-in-the-morning guy before Buffy either.

The next few pages were a blur of a blonde baby, usually smiling, often in ruffle-butted tights. Dean secretly loved babies. They were innocent and joyful. The end of the world meant being hungry or needing a change. Suit their needs, and they’re laughing again. He tried to suppress the now familiar blonde-haired, green-eyed girl who met him in his dreams.

The baby gave way to a toddler. In every picture, she gazed at her father with complete adoration. Soon, little Buffy was ice skating and dancing. Blowing out birthday candles, heading off to school, and holding a baby sister. The Summers family went to Disneyland, had barbeques, and stuffed presents under the Christmas tree until it overflowed. Once the round-cheeked, homecoming queen version of the Buffy he knew appeared, the album ended.

“We, uh, moved to Sunnydale a little after that.” That’s when monsters became real.

“What do you think Buffy Anne Summers would be doing if she hadn’t moved to Sunnydale?” he asked.

“I don’t know. She’d be entering her last semester of college. Probably would have spent too much time partying. Sorority for sure. She’d probably be dating some popular guy because he was popular and everyone said they were cute together.”

“Doesn’t sound like you,” he said, knowing how much brushes with the supernatural changed a person.

“Popularity is a strong drug,” she said.

Burning down her high school’s gym had no doubt ousted her from her typical social circles. Much as Dean hated Buffy being tied to the Slayer until it killed her, he was grateful it had put her in his path.

“And what would Dean Winchester be doing out of Sunnydale?”

He rubbed her leg, not wanting to confess that had Cas never brought him here, he’d be drunk and scared in a no-tell motel trying to plan a Hail Mary against Heaven and Hell. “You know me, darlin’. I’m gonna be hunting evil sons a bitches wherever I am.”

“I guess you didn’t have a lot of time before...” Her voice trailed off.

“I remember a few things,” Dean said. “I played t-ball. Dad coached. We lost every game. I was pretty obsessed with rocket ships and war games. Dad always made me the general and he was a sergeant.”

“Sounds tough,” she said through a smile.

“Tough as nails. I mean, I fell down, didn’t even cry until I got home.”

He opened his nightstand and pulled out a brown, leather book. Tucked under the journal’s jacket was Dean’s entire collection of family photos, creased and foxed from being touched so often.

“This is before the fire. I think Sammy was only a month old,” he said, holding up a small picture of four happy Winchesters in front of their blue house in Lawrence.

Buffy stared at the picture, hovering her fingers over Mary. “Your mom was very pretty.”

“Yeah, she was. Sweet woman. Total badass.”

“That’s your dad?” John smiled in the picture, his arms encircling Mary and Dean, nothing on his mind but family. “I think you take after your mom.”

He only had a few pictures from his childhood. Some with his mother. Some with his father. A couple with Bobby. All of them with Sam.

“Whatever happened to those pictures we took in San Francisco?” Buffy asked.

“They’re still on my phone.”

She blushed. “Not the sexy pictures. The other ones.”

The disposable camera was in his dresser, images of the two of them enjoying themselves still trapped inside. “I haven’t gotten them developed yet. It’s been a few years since that was a thing.”

“You should. We need more happy pictures.”

Christmas evening, most of the Potentials were piled among their pillows and blankets, watching It’s a Wonderful Life on a small television while self-appointed snack-fetcher Andrew popped a third batch of popcorn.

Dani leaned against the kitchen counter and tapped Willow’s foot with hers. “Wanna join us? It’s a Christmas tradition, and what’s more traditional than a couple of lesbians heckling Jimmy Stewart?”

“Rain check,” Willow said, taking another wet cup from Buffy. “We officially have more people in the house than dishes.”

“Your loss,” she said, biting her lip and walking away.

“She’s friendly,” Buffy teased.

“Yeah, she is. But this has already been my most Christmasy Christmas. Don’t feel like topping it off with more festive,” said Willow as she refilled the cabinet with cups.

“Sorry!” Buffy cringed. The madness from The First had started in the middle of Hanukkah.

“It’s okay. My parents went out of town to visit old college buddies anyway, and Xander even lit the candles for me while my eyes were covered. I just tell myself everything’s closed because it’s Anti-Capitalism Day, not the celebration of Santa’s birth.”

“That’s festive?”

But the look on Willow’s face as she stared at water droplets on the tumblers was anything but celebratory. Last year for Winter Solstice, she and Tara had celebrated by holding hands in the pitch black house and willing the hundreds of tealights they’d spread around to spring into dancing flames. It was beautiful, like the floor was covered in stars. This December, she’d been in and out of the hospital with her own injuries and those of friends, close to losing her best friend less than a year after losing her girlfriend.

“How are you doing, non-holiday wise?” Buffy asked.

Willow rested her head on Buffy’s shoulder. “The other day, I caught myself longing for a simple vampire patrol, like how we used to with just you, me and Xander. It seemed downright quaint, and vampire patrol quaint? I’ve gotten so nostalgic for not-now that you could sprinkle a little snow on a fresh corpse and I’d find it all Norman Rockwell.”

“Picturesque. Why aren’t you making the decisions about holiday stamps?”

“I know!”

Squabbling rose in the living room.

“They can’t stay here forever,” sighed Buffy. “Either we all die horribly, or we save the day and have a dance party at The Bronze, the three of us, like old times, less the high school drama.”

“I’ll take high school drama. Getting shoved in locker is majorly preferable to nearly being blinded by an ancient evil.”

Buffy dried her hands and drew her friend in for an embrace. Willow wasn’t alone in wishing for simpler days, and time with friends -- the close friends a person could be quiet with for hours -- was sorely needed.

They released each other as a clamor of footsteps filled the house. Molly, Andrew, and Vi, a spacey redhead in a perpetual beanie who’d arrived the prior morning, searched the kitchen for snacks. “Why are all the good Christmas movies so depressing?” Vi asked. “Jimmy Stewart’s trying to kill himself. Then there’s the one with the mountain goblin invading everyone’s homes and robbing them blind. Don’t get me started on Rudolph--”

Buffy’s cell phone rang. Since everyone but the Winchesters was at her house, she headed toward her room, hoping to hear Dean’s deep voice on the other end asking what she was wearing.

Instead Dean screamed, “Buffy! Sam! They took Sam!”

Giles sped toward the Winchesters’ apartment, as Buffy called out directions. “Turn left!” she cried, causing him to squeal around a corner.

They took Sam. Dean had said nothing else before disappearing from the phone. She had no idea who took Sam or if they’d taken Dean too. He’d just stopped talking. Buffy’s heart was trying to climb out her throat.

“Stop!” she screamed, opening the door before Giles could slam on the breaks a few blocks from the apartment. On the sidewalk, a bloody, nearly naked Dean stumbled away from them.

“Dean, I’m here!”

Not seeming to see or hear her, he pressed on.

Buffy stood in front of him and shook him by his blood-slick arms. He was sweating yet cold to the touch. The gashes on his arms looked painful, but survivable. The gushing stab wounds on his shoulder and stomach made her dizzy with worry. “Dean, stop!”

He kept walking. Staring at something on the ground, he muttered, “Took him. They took him. Gotta get him back.”

“Leave that to me, okay? You’re going to freeze to death!”

He kept walking, his gait uneven with his cast foot. Losing Sam was Dean’s biggest nightmare. As with other times when he couldn’t shake his nightmares, Buffy drew back and slapped him.

Dean looked at her with tear-filled, frightened eyes. “They took him, Buffy. The Bringers broke in and took Sammy.”

He didn’t resist as Giles placed his jacket over his shoulders and directed Dean to the idling car.

“I was in my room, and I heard this big bang. Before I could even get up, Bringers were crashing through my door and window. I could hear Sam screaming. Oh God, Buffy, he was screaming and fighting, and I couldn’t get to him. I could-I couldn’t--”

“Shh! I will get Sam back. Let’s get you stitched up first.”

They retraced Dean’s bloody footsteps to find his apartment door in splinters. A dead Bringer lay nearby, a broken bookcase on top of him. By Sam’s bedroom door, another Bringer, pieces of its head blasted against the wall. As she escorted Dean to the bathroom to sew up his wounds, she glimpsed two more bodies in his bedroom.

“How many of them were there?” she asked as she wiped the blood off his chest.

“Seven? Eight? I think Sam was sleeping. Hard to stay awake on all those drugs.”

“What would they want with him?”

Dean shook his head.

“Babe, I think we need to take you to the hospital. These stab woun--”

“No! Fuck! We have to get Sam!”

Buffy had seen people in the throes of loss, but this was the first time she’d seen someone out of his mind with grief.

“One of them is alive!” Giles called.

Dean bolted from the bathroom. The Bringer under the bookcase was still twitching. Dean yanked him from under the rubble and slammed him against the wall. “Listen up you filthy fuck, you’re gonna tell me where my brother is, or I’m gonna cut it out of you.”

The Bringer coughed, spraying Dean with blood. It smiled a twisted red grin.

Scooping a dagger off the floor, Dean dug it into the Bringer’s shoulder, letting its weight hang on the blade. As it opened its mouth to scream, they saw its tongue had been cut out.

The wound in Dean’s own shoulder gushed. His eyes were dark with hate, a snarl on his lips. He looked like a stranger.

Buffy tugged on Dean’s arm. “We’re not going to get anything out of him,” she said softly.

With one swipe across the neck, Dean finished the Bringer. He stumbled back, slipped in a smear of blood, and crashed to the floor with a cry. Pale and sweaty, he began to shiver.

“Call 911,” Buffy barked at Giles.

“God dammit, Cas! Where the fuck are you?” Dean muttered.

“He’s stuck at the wrong airport. Travel’s a bitch.” A handsome middle aged man with black hair just starting to grey stood by the kitchen, a know-it-all smirk on his face. “Hell, I don’t think I could have snuck over to this fun new playground if it wasn’t for you two, always leading the blind, doomed charge.”

“Who--?” Giles didn’t need to finish his question.

Though she knew it was pointless, Buffy scanned the room for weapons. The man in front of her was dead, memorialized in Dean’s tattoos, which meant the man was The First, who they still didn’t know how to hurt.

Dean’s breathing turned short and sharp. “Dad?”

The apparition scowled. “Don’t blame me for your existence. I wanted all you muck-monkeys wiped out.”

Dean’s eyes went wide with fear. “You!”

“Finally!” The First said with a clap as Dean tried to crawl away. “You know, I’m surprised little Sammy hadn’t figured it out yet. You? Well, everyone knows you’re an idiot skating by on good looks and charm.”

Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out. She couldn’t do anything about The First, but Buffy wasn’t going to lose the man she loved. Wrapping Dean in a purple blanket from the couch, she picked him up and started to head downstairs.

“This is adorable, by the way,” said The First. “Never thought I’d see Dean Winchester in puppy love. So cute. I’d root for you two kids if I wasn’t planning on torturing and killing you. For his sake, it would be kinder to let him die now.”

“No one’s dying today, asshole.”

“Dirty mouth! I see why he likes you. Well, I have go try on my new suit. You keep vainly trying to save everyone,” He raised his hands in a mock gun and fired at her with a smile, “and I’ll keep knocking them down.”

After finishing his interview with the police, Giles rubbed his temples and joined Willow, Xander, and Dawn in the hospital waiting room. He opened his eyes at a rattling sound. Willow handed him a bottle of aspirin. “Can I use the entire bottle?”

“Save some for the rest of us,” said Xander.

They looked about the room blankly, needing to focus on something other than the reality of being in the hospital again, of nearly losing Dean again, of being attacked again.

The faint sounds of Buffy arguing with a nurse drifted down the hall. Despite her insistence, the doctor wasn’t going to let anyone see Dean for a few more hours. He had a collapsed lung, and had nearly bled to death. As soon as those pressing concerns were attended to, the doctors wanted more x-rays to determine if they would need to put pins in his ankle.

“Merry Christmas,” said Dawn.

Pouring himself a cup of spoon-eroding tar from the waiting room coffee stand, Giles downed four aspirin and mulled over the situation. First Spike, now Sam. The former had been The First’s pawn. Abducting him may have been a simple matter of keeping him quiet, though he didn’t doubt Spike was being used for more nefarious purposes. But Sam? Other than their fight over a week ago, he should have been unknown to The First. And why would the Bringers take only one brother, when It had left a bloody message about both? Judging from his desire to flee, Dean recognized The First as something beyond the image of his father. How did It know their father?

“What does The First want with Sam Winchester?” Giles asked.

They turned their tired stares to him.

“I’ve not been around them enough to earn their confidence, but there is something about the Winchesters they aren’t telling us. Have they disclosed anything about their more bizarre interactions with the supernatural?”

Xander, his unsure eyes darting to the girls, started, “One time there was this cursed rabbit’s foot--”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Okay, another time a ghost just wanted someone to come to his birthday party-- ”

“Dear God, what have they been filling your head with?” Giles asked.

“In defense of all the guy-folk, we were usually pretty tipsy when these stories came out, so I may be hazy on the details.”

Buffy, her coat still smeared with blood, stormed into the waiting room. “Give someone a medical degree, and they think they know everything.”

The pounding of her pacing punished Giles’ throbbing head. “Please, sit down.”

“I can’t! I hate waiting like this! I need to either be with Dean or out saving Sam, but I don’t even know where to start!”

They didn’t know how to save Sam either, so they surrounded their friend with hugs. The edge in Buffy’s countenance softened as she drew strength from her friends.

Unfortunately, Giles could not spare her the moment of relaxation. “Would you like some coffee?”

She shook her head and slumped into a chair beside Willow.

“We were just sharing stories about the Winchesters,” Xander explained.

“Like how they’re wonderful and have made my life a thousand times easier?” Buffy pouted.

“Heaven sent, you could say,” Giles encouraged.

“Well, yeah, an angel brought them here,” said Dawn.

“And an angel brought Dean back from the brink of death.” He took another sip of his coffee. “Does no one find it odd that angels are so interested in them, and yet offered no protection against this attack?”

“Mysterious ways sure are gosh darn mysterious,” Xander said, clueless as to what Giles was driving at.

“It’s not just angels.” Willow’s eyes darted between Buffy and Giles. “I, um, I had a spell go wrong a few months back. It let me see in people, and there was something weird in Sam. Inside, he looked almost like Spike, a soul wrestling a demon. When I confronted him about it, he said the demon that killed their mom was, uh, it was feeding Sam demon blood.”

This was news. This was progress. Giles leaned forward. “Feeding demon blood to a baby. That could only be for a ritual of some kind.”

“That’s what I said, but he didn’t know anything else.”

“He doesn’t have voices tell him to do bad things, does he?” Xander asked. All three of the girls glared at him.

A chess board formed in Giles’ mind. On opposite sides, Sam and Dean, one moved by the forces of Hell, the other the forces of Heaven. Whatever the game was, it was still in play. “Buffy, I need to know the circumstances surrounding Dean and Sam’s deaths.”

“I told you: it’s private.”

“Dammit, Buffy! This isn’t about betraying privacy. It’s about saving Sam,” Giles snapped.

“How could anything that happened over there matter over here?”

“Because I think whatever was after them, followed them.”

Buffy fixated on Giles, her loyalties wrestling inside her. Finally, she whispered, “Sam was murdered right in front of Dean. Stabbed. He died in his arms...”

Dean kept his eyes closed and took stock of his body. A dull throbbing in his ankle. A stronger pain in his side. It didn’t feel like his body. It was distant, like it was floating slightly to his left. Someone was rubbing small circles on the back of his hand with their thumb. He squeezed the hand and tried to open his eyes, only catching a flash of blonde before closing them again.

Sam. Sam surrounded by men in robes. Sam screaming, the bandage on his stomach blooming red.

A far away voice. “Hey Dean, your Girly’s here.”

The Bringers. A flurry of knives. He still slept with his .45. Shot the one who broke through the window.

The voice again. It was sweet, familiar. “I’m going to fix everything.”

Another one burst through the door. Took two bullets to the chest before going down. Sam was screaming. A crash. Sam was fighting back.

“Baby, I need your help. What’s after you?”

In the living room, he saw them carrying his brother out. Couldn’t shoot or he’d hit Sammy. White hot pain. He threw a Bringer off his back. More pain ripping through his body. Head shot. Quiet. Sam was gone.

Dean could barely keep his eyes open, but he knew he was in a bed. He couldn’t save Sam from bed. He tried to get up, but something pulled at his chest. Two hands pushed his shoulders back into the mattress.

“Dean, you can’t get up, okay? You need to rest.”

“Gotta get Sammy.”

“I know.”

He tried to get up again. Buffy shoved him back into the bed. He glared at her.

“Saving Sam is my number one priority right now, or don’t you think I can do it?” Buffy asked.

He knew she couldn’t. She could kill any beast Hell threw at her, but this wasn’t a hellbeast.

“You recognized The First, didn’t you? I need you to tell me how to kill it.”

They’d broken up, in part, because of lying. Since getting back together, they’d tried to be as upfront as two monster hunters could, but there were parts of his world too crazy to share. Rather than lie, he avoided them. Steered her away whenever she got close. The questions now sat under a glaring spotlight, and he couldn’t get away. “You think I’m keeping secrets.”

She looked away, biting her lip until it turned white. “It’s what you do.”

Buffy’s eyes usually sparkled with curiosity and fire when asking him questions. Not now.

“Go get Giles,” Dean said. “I only want to say this once.”

As Dean sipped his water, Giles examined him, looking as annoyed as Buffy did concerned. “Just say it,” Dean said.

“Who are you, and how do you know The First?” Giles demanded.

All of Dean’s anti-authority snark rose up. Were Giles a cop, he’d delight in giving him the run around. But he wasn’t. He was someone who also cared about Buffy, and they were both in harm’s way because of him. “Back home, we’re going through the Apocalypse. Not one of your generic baddies trying to end the world apocalypses, a bonafide four horsemen, seal-breaking war against Heaven and Hell.”

“Revelation?” said Giles in shock.

“Bingo. It’s just skirmishes now. But when the players are big enough, skirmishes wipe out cities. The angels ain’t doin’ so hot. I think they bit off more than they could chew when they triggered the whole thing.”

“The angels started the Apocalypse? I thought they were supposed to be on our side.” Buffy so wanted allies. After his miraculous healing, she’d asked Dean daily questions about Castiel.

“With a few exceptions, angels only care about angels. Right now, Heaven’s biggest concern is bringing God back.”

Everyone’s eyes went wide. “God?”

“Story is, he went awol after Lucifer tricked Eve. Left the archangel Michael in charge.”

Giles removed his glasses and slipped into a nearby chair, his face buried in his hands.

“Thing is, they can’t really settle the fight until Michael and his brother Lucifer have a brawl.”

“Lucifer, like, the devil?” Buffy asked. “We’re talking about a red, horned guy with bad facial hair?”

“Lucifer, as in the fallen archangel with a grudge against humanity,” Dean grumbled.

Giles took a deep breath. Part of Dean thrilled at seeing the Watcher so spun by the news. “What happens if this ‘brawl,’ as you call it, takes place?”

“If Michael wins, the angels are guessing half the planet dies. If Lucifer wins…” Dean shrugged, confident they could imagine that outcome.

“What’s stopping them? They’re archangels. Can’t they do whatever they want?”

Dean set his cup back on the side table and tapped his fingers before continuing. “Remember what I told you about demon possession where we’re from? To carry out any work on Earth, angels need to possess someone, but angels are different than demons. I mean, these are beings you can’t even see without losing your eyes, and that’s just the bottom rung. They can’t possess just anyone or they’ll blow their vessel.”

“Vessel?”

“The person they’re possessing. So only a few people fit, and those people have to give the angel permission.

“Archangels have an even rougher time finding someone who’ll fit. Essentially, they have to use the Cupids--”

“Cu-cupids?” sputtered Giles. “You mean with the,” he mimed a bow and arrow.

“I mean fat naked guys who trick people into falling in love, yeah. See, they get two people who can be possessed by angels to have a baby, then make their kid fall in love with other possible angel vessels until they breed an ultra strong, dishwasher-safe, microwavable kid to keep on standby in case they want to sully their holy feet with Earth muck.

“Heaven was patting itself on the back, ‘cause they got two vessels for Michael.”

Buffy, her eyes unfocused, silently dropped into the other chair.

“Dear God,” muttered Giles.

“Only Hell wanted a vessel for Lucifer.” Unable to bear Buffy’s response, Dean stared at his hands. “They snuck into Sam’s nursery. Fed him demon blood. Claimed him and several dozen other kids for Hell. But they took a special interest in Sam. Couldn't resist the whole brother versus brother angle.

“Whatever Cas did to get us here left enough room for the Devil to squeeze through. So I gotta save Sam as soon as possible. Who knows what hell they’ll put him through to get him to say yes.”

“Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP, SAMMY!” Cold and stiff, Sam opened his eyes to see Dean standing over him. Sam was lying on the stone floor of a fire-lit chapel, his feet and hands in shackles.

“Dean, where are we?” he whispered as he tugged at his bonds.

Unbound, Dean crouched beside him, a satisfied grin on his face. “We’re in my playroom, little brother.” Then Dean shoved his hand into Sam’s chest, setting of a small, painful series of shocks to his heart.

Trembling, Sam pushed himself away, but his irons prevented him from a comfortable distance.

Dean’s warm, familiar face -- the face that had calmed Sam’s fears his entire life -- morphed into a man with deep set eyes and blistered skin.

“Lucifer!”

“I would say, ‘In the flesh,’ but I’m having a teensy problem there, Sammy. See, this world, whatever it is, is short of even inadequate vessels. All I can do is appear as the dead, which ironically includes you and your brother. I’ve had to recruit minions.”

Lucifer whistled, and two Bringers dragged in a barely conscious Spike leaving a trail of dark blood from the stump at his knee. Following close behind, was a Turok-Han. The Bringers dropped Spike at his feet and bowed before leaving.

“It’s nice to find people who share your vision for ending the world. This one,” he said as the Turok-Han kicked Spike in the ribs, “was the first creature I found here. He was stumbling through the street whining about his soul. I offered him purpose. I offered him his heart’s desires, and he didn’t deliver. He is the only creature I’ve found here that I could use, and he refused to be my vessel. Couldn’t kill your brother or the little souped-up whore he’s fucking. Spike’s still useful though.” One by one, the Turok-Han bit off Spike’s fingers while his screams filled the cave.

“Either of you say ‘yes’ and it stops.” Lucifer grinned.

Spike laughed, spending a spray of blood from his lips. “My exes are better at torture.”

“Isn’t it hilarious?” Lucifer said. “As long as we keep his head attached, the parts just grow back. He’s like an etch-a-sketch of pain. Get comfy and soak in the show, Sammy, because when my pet is finished learning the vampire’s limits, it’s your turn.”

Yes, Amends. Addressed in a future chapter.

Read Giles’ dossiers on: Dani Molly Vi

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dahlialittlejames · 7 years

Text

Wake Up Call

It’s been a few since I threw some prose at you folks, huh?

Nick can’t sleep. Not for lack of trying, because he’s definitely tired and even manages to close his eyes even if he hasn’t needed to blink, but each time he jolts himself awake. Heavy all over like he’s about to crash, then he feels something tingling along his back and shudders. A taste in his… everywhere. Like he’s stuck a dusty cotton ball in his mouth and it’s spread all over his body.

He lifts off the mattress after enough times and looks underneath him. The mattress is wet, as he expects, but dipped into a little. Eaten away about an inch deep in the spot where he was laying.

“Huh,” he mumbles, and dims to a soft yellow to keep Alan from stirring.

The next few hours go by with him tossing and turning on the mattress with that dusty cottonball feeling rippling over him and more and more mattress disappearing. Then thin springs begin to show and soon he’s noticing a metallic taste like he’s sucking on a dime. He stares at the ceiling and tries not to think about it. It doesn’t hurt, even if it reminds him of all his cells being eaten away. He hopes he tasted better than a mattress.

He’s on his belly when the mattress is finally eaten to the bottom and his face ends up on the linoleum. He thinks about trying something else but his body doesn’t taste the floor aside for some dust and dirt. It’s kinda nice instead of gross and old like the mattress. Like laying in a warm field.

His goo melts into it, filling the crevices of the half-eaten mattress and gouges in the plastic until he’s just sort of gone right as the cracks in the paper blinds are brightening.

There’s light coming in through the papers on the windows, and knuckles rapping the glass of the doors. The puddle forming flinches into Nick Cervos again, sitting in the middle of the hole in the mattress.

He gets up and fumbles the door handle. It’s locked, but it gets him to remember himself. A sharp but concerned voice shouts through, tapping the glass with her palm. Nick catches a peek of her in the top window he hadn’t been able to reach before last night, so it’s uncovered. Mary-Anne Mortimer is knocking on his doors.

“Al?” she calls.

Nick floats backward a few feet, like he’s pulled by a string on his back. “Oh jeez. Mo?”

Alan’s still sacked out on the couch. Still in a stained-up shirt and barely conscious of the sounds echoing into the old store. Nick floats over to him and jostles his arm, gentle as he can.

“Mo?”

“No,” Alan says, eyes still shut.

“Mo, you have to get up,” Nick says. “Your wife, she’s-”

“Nooooo. Wait.” Alan sits up with a start, blinks the sleep from his eyes. Catches sight of Nick and his eyes go wide and mouth moves like he might scream. He doesn’t but he’s no less nervous to hear Mary-Anne tapping again.

“Al? I’m breaking down this door if you don’t tell me what’s going on. I can still hear you, you know.”

“Shit,” Nick says. “Sorry, Annie!”

“Nicky?”

Alan slaps a hand to his forehead. “Nick! Why did you-”

“She can hear us, Mo!” Really, there’s no use staving off the inevitable. He trusts Mary-Anne, and definitely doesn’t want her to kick down his glass doors. He fumbles at the handle again but remembers they’d left the backdoor unlocked. “Go around the back, Annie! This one isn’t open.”

Alan’s up and on his feet. Only to promptly trip on the mattress. “She can’t come in!” he cries, pulling himself back up. “Nick! Lock the door! What are we even going to tell her? We were in a freak highlighter accident?”

“I don’t know,” Nick says. He’s a little unsteady in his hover. Yawns even if there’s no air going in and out of him, though he’s dripping a lot more than he was before he got a few hours of maybe-sleep. “We gotta let her in.”

“No, we don’t,” Alan says, and is halfway to the back when the door’s open. Mary-Anne staring at him with a dubious look, arms crossed. She’s in casual jeans and a big purple sweater, big hair confined to a ponytail like she’s just rolled out of bed and drove over. She takes a sniff and frowns a little.

“Thought I’d had the wrong place, I won’t lie. Why’s it so lemony in here?”

Nick floats over, waves. “Hey, Annie,” he yawns. “Sleep good?”

“I, uh- I can explain this.”

Nick stretches. More gunk comes off of him, splats to the floor and makes Alan twitch. Mary-Anne just stares.

“This is what happened?” she asks, her voice up an octave for a sec. “I thought hungover or high, but-”

“I haven’t been either of those things since college!” Alan cries. Like that’s the most relevant factor to be pointing out, though it does remind Nick of the contents of one of his boxes. Man, they could’ve gotten high last night but he’s pretty sure it’s unopened. Nick squints to see if the packing tape is broken or not.

Still sealed. “I think we’re sober. I think,” he manages. Jeez, he’s still sleepy. If he could sleep, he must not have done it right. Stiff and brittle all over like he’s too cold, but heavy like he wants to melt again, too.

“Mary-Anne, I can explain,” Alan begins, but she just shuts the door and steps forward.

“How?” Mary-Anne asks, hands on her hips.

Nick sits on the floor, legs crossed. He’s barely keeping his head up, but he wants to help. “Fell into a vat of toxic waste, Annie. I think I’m either a superhero or a ghost now. So. Yeah.”

She flips the light switch on and comes closer, Alan hovering over her like he’s afraid of, what? Nick hurting his wife? “Damn. That’s… bad luck,” she says. “This is what you were busy with last night? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry!”

She twists her mouth at his panic, then smiles. “Al, I’m a doctor. It’s my job to worry. Help me get him up onto the counter.”

“I can do it,” Nick says, floating up even if it’s a little slow. He’s just so sluggish now, goo thickening like it’s prepping for… something. He sits up on the counter by a few of his notebooks and puts his hands between his thighs, a sleepy kid waiting for a shot.

Mary-Anne notes the look and comes to check him over. Her look of fascination is a little much for Alan at the moment, even if Nick is too tired to think much of it. His ‘hair’ melts against his neck, shoulders caving a little.

“Are you alright?” she asks. “Do you need to eat anything?”

“No,” Nick mumbles. “I ate the mattress.”

“What?”

“I think that was eating,” he says. He’s feeling different after eating it, not full exactly but less empty. “I’m not hungry, though.”

“Good. We don’t have a The Blob situation on our hands,” Mary-Anne laughs. “You can eat anything?”

Nick shrugs. “Would have to eat more to know.”

“You look… out of it.”

“Tired.”

“You need sleep, then.”

“Tried. Melted.”

“Hmm. Maybe that’s how you sleep,” she suggests. Alan comes more to her side. Nick smiles. They look so nice together. So calm and collected and ready to handle anything, even with Alan fretting about Mary-Anne’s reaction.

Alan fills her in on more of the situation and what they’d learned last night. Mary-Anne’s disbelief doesn’t even reappear. She takes all of it with such severity, like Nick’s just another patient. Nick just smiles and nods and tries not to melt again while they’re talking.

Though she does insist he demonstrate his ‘eating’. It’s like how he put a hole in the door now that he’s doing so intentionally, pressing his fingers through the springs and mixing the tastes again. Mary-Anne takes studious mental notes on it, and by the time she’s done insisting she see more there’s only about a third of the mattress left.

Nick doesn’t feel less tired, but he’s feeling a little overloaded at the end of it. “Maybe, uh- maybe I’m done eating.” It’s not like having his gut full, and he doesn’t gain any mass from absorbing the mattress.

He can see gunk pooling all over him, though. Thick layers of it oozing from the goo until he’s pretty sure he knows what it is but doesn’t really want to admit it.

Mary-Anne and Alan talk a while and Nick curls up on what’s left of the mattress, sinking through it slower now. Every few seconds he gets that mothball taste all over the side of his face and jolts back up.

Then there’s a knock on the door when he does it again. Daintier than the pounding of Mary-Anne’s fists, like someone’s just lightly tapping the door with their knuckles. He’s floating and going to answer before there’s arms around his elbows and he freezes in the air.

The Mortimers let go. “Nick, you can’t let anyone see you,” Alan hisses.

“Why not?” he mumbles. Not disagreeing but just so, so sleepy. He wants to be… inside something. Contained. He’s leaning into the Mortimers’ arms and has to pull himself together. The knocking gets louder.

Mary-Anne and Alan get arguing about what to do and Nick bolts for the ‘kitchen’. Quick solution would be to hide in the storage room, with the door being mostly blacked out, but that’s the logic of a person who’d think that far ahead.

His eyes catch on the yellow stockpot. Yeah, that’ll do.

The handles almost slip through his hands, but he manages to get the pot onto a burner, cranks the heat, and floats inside. It’s barely taller than his knees when he stands in it. He tries crouching down but he’s still a pretty big guy.

Think, think, think. Nick pats at his face. He’s too tired to think. All he wants to do is to melt the way he did on the floor, when he was sort-of sleeping. So he does.

To his surprise, he doesn’t end up spilling over onto the floor. His vision goes hazy and it’s like- like lying on the surface of a lukewarm pool on a hot day. Or like a snake sunning itself on a rock, or his regular human self bundled in quilts on his couch but so much better.

The warmth on the bottom of the pot makes it so good, the convection churning his goo in circles until he’s more relaxed than he’s ever been. “Yes,” his voice hums out of it. He’s at a simmer but a hand forms from him to dial the heat higher. “YES.”

#obnoxious #writing #body horror #been writing but also this blue hellsite is exhausting entonce lo siento por no story stuff

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little-ball-of-fear · 7 years

Text

Story of a boy

I have no idea why I’m posting it here. Pairnig: Prinxiety (Thomas Sanders Sides) Warnings: a lot of bad language, rape (mention), Anxiety behaving like teenage girl, probably bad English, kinda angst but happy ending Based on this song but I have changed the text a bit. Tagging @remmythepegasis ‘cause she’s probably the only person who will read it

„This is a story of a boy who cried a river and drowned my whole World.”

The four traits were watching “Hunchback of Notre Dame” when the scene of Quasimodo watching Esmeralda and Phoebus kissing has been interrupted by some quiet sobs.

“Are you crying?” Prince looked down at the boy sitting on the carpet next to his armchair. “Fuck you!” Anxiety groaned hiding his face with hood. “Ann, language!” Morality’s scream would probably sound more respectable if it wasn’t shaking because of his own cry. “And remember that it’s okay to cry, you shouldn’t be ashamed of it.” “I’m not ashamed, I’m just not crying!” he pulled strings of his hoodie closing it on his face, leaving just a small hole so he can see the screen. “Hey, it’s nothing bad.” Prince was whispering quiet so only Anxiety could hear him. He lied on the armchair so he could stroke his hand. “Everybody are moved by lost love scenes.” “Oh, shut up, Princey...” Anx mumbled but there was something in this mumble that made Roman smile. And despite dramatic plot, smile stayed on his face until the end of the movie just as his hand stayed on Anxiety’s.

“How many days in a year he woke up with hope but he only found tears. He thinks I’m so insincere making my promises never for real. He just keeps waiting here with holes in his soul and in his socks, not knowing what he really wants.”

“You shouldn’t walk like that, you’ll get cold.” Prince pointed at Anxiety’s toe picking out of a hole in his sock. They were both standing in the kitchen which floor was made of cold, grey tiles. “Wow, Princey, watch out or I’ll think that you care about me.” Anx rolled his eyes with a smirk and opened the fridge to get some energetic drink. “Why wouldn’t I? I do care.” Roman took the can from him and raised it above his head “And I also care about you drinking too much of this. How long were you sleeping tonight?” “What the Hell do you want?! You’ve turned into Morality or what?” Anxiety was trying to take his drink back. “I just care about you, is it that bad?” “Ow yeah, of course you care! Like always! Like everybody!” Prince was so confused that he lowered his hand. Ann immediately got the can off his hand and turned to walk away. “Whatever, forget it...” Princey wanted to shut out for him but left this idea when he heard steps on the stairs and slam of the door from upstairs.

“And the clothes that he wears looks well the next day. And his hair never falls in quite the same way.” And he never seems to run out of things to say.”

Prince woke up earlier than usual. Walking through the living room to the kitchen he heard some snoring from the couch. Anxiety was sleeping with his one hand hanging above the carpet and his one leg on the couch support. His cell phone was lying on the floor and Roman thought that he was probably scrolling Tumblr whole night again. He wanted to wake him up but instead he just stood next to him staring. How is it possible that even in this stupid position with his hair messed, his mouth open and clothes dirty, he still look so cute and good!? Prince couldn’t help but smile and he gently stroked his cheek. Anxiety opened his eyes suddenly.

“Your Princess is in another castle.” Sarcastic smile appeared on his face “Raping sleeping people works only in fairytales, Philip. “I didn’t rape you, are you crazy?!” “Me? I’m not the one who stare and touch sleeping people perversely.” “Perversely?! I barely touched your cheek!” “Everyone says that...” “You’re mad.” “And you’re pervert.” “It’s not me dreaming about rapes in my sleep, Captain Panic.” “Oh, so now it’s victim’s fault? You’re not only a pervert but a sadistic pervert!” “You’re fucking crazy. I swear on my sword that you’re fucking crazy.” “Keep your sword in your pants, retarded stallion.” “Who’s being pervert now?!” “Still you, idiot.” “Jerk.” “Crowned fool.” “Makeup freak.” “Cunt with prom queen sash.” “At least, I’d have a pair for prom and won’t go alone like you, asshole!” “Screw you, Princass Snotfucked!” “Don’t involve Disney in that, you emo...” “IF YOU DON’T STOP RIGHT NOW, YOU’LL BE EATING CARROTS FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR!” Morality’s yell meant that it’s the end of the argue (and also the end of television for those two for the next week)

“How many lovers would stay just to put up with this shit day after day? How is it possible that I’m still here and not mad at you?”

“Ann, please...” Prince was knocking at black door for a few minutes. “I know you’re in there. Morality’s asking, where you’ve been. They say “courage” and...” “I will let you in but shut up please.” Anxiety opened the door with irritated face and his makeup ruined by wetness. “Were you crying again?”Roman went into the room “Is that what you came for? To ask me about it?” Anx lied on his starry bedding and covered his face with a pillow. “To be honest... Yes.” He sat next to him “What’s with you lately? You’re really mean, especially for me.” “I am Anxiety. That’s just me. Don’t think you’re special of something.” The pillow has been threw back and shocked Anx was looking at Prince’s frowned eyebrows. “I do feel special. Especially hated. Can you tell me what’s going on? I’m trying my best for your good and you just keep being meaner and meaner to me.” “That’s just it. Why the Hell are you trying so hard? Why are you doing that whole show with “I do care about you” and “You’re important to me” bullshit...” “Why can’t you understand that it is not a show?! “Because it always is!” Anxiety sat straight and now they were looking angrily at each-other almost touching with their noses. “Everyone says that! Everyone says that they care and they are for me only but when I need them, they just disappear somehow. And even if I don’t want to, I keep killing all my feelings because I know how it will end. I always end up alone like fucking Quasimodo looking from the background at a lovely couple which all audience loves. My only destiny is to be alone or to have a shitty sequel which nobody will accept! “So just stop being Quasimodo. Just accept that you’re the only one who sees you that way. I see you as Esmeralda!” “I’m not sure if you’re trying to offend me or not...” “No, you dolt! I’m just trying to... Ugh, you suck in reading subtlety!” he catch his face in his hands, looked him imploringly and whispered. “Be my Esmeralda.”

And then he kissed him. And that kiss was full of beg, love, desire and all the feelings that Roman had to Anxiety. He pressed his lips so desperately as if he was dying and wanted to taste true love before death. He felt Anx’s tears on his palms and wanted to step back but he has been stopped by fists holding fabric of his shirt. Ann was kissing him too but his kiss was filled with fear, distrust and... hope. Hope that maybe this time he won’t be only lonely character in a tragedy movie.

“Be my Esmeralda.” Prince whispered again when the kiss ended. He leaned back at the wall holding Ann closely. “I’ll be your Phoebus.” “Are you kidding me?” he said it ironically but hugged him lying his head on Roman’s shoulder. “No! I’m deadly serious! I can even grow a beard for you! Or we can fight with candlesticks if you want.”

Anxiety laughed and Prince realised that it was the first time when he heard him laughing honestly. With no sarcasm, no irony, no malice. It was just honest and... happy. And even if he was deeply in love with Anxiety, he fell in love again in his smile.

“This is a story of a boy who cried a river and drowned my whole World. And while he looks so sad in photographs, I absolutely love him when he smiles.”

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #prinxiety #prince sanders #anxiety sanders #story of a girl #song fanfiction

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unrequitedmime · 7 years

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He swings his duffel bag over his shoulder, and i swallow. I stare intently at a teenage boy waiting in the long line for a coffee. I study his black hair and his green eyes, trying to ignore the strings of muscles in Wyatt's tan arms. As Wyatt grabs his other bags, the boy catches my eye. I suppose he's attractive; fit body, spiky hair, beanie. I try to imagine what it would be like to go over and chat him up. How hard it would be. What's holding me back? The answer comes as a boy that shoves my bags roughly into my arms. I grunt and shoot him a glare as i fix the bags on my shoulder. Wyatt ignores me and walks ahead. I stare at his muscled back as he walks past the boy at the cafe line, still staring at me, and silently curse my damned heart. The plane ride was the worst thing that's ever happened to me. There were 3 feet between Wyatt and I, and we sat in silence for 5 hours. Every time he reached across me to gratefully accept something from the flirty flight attendant i felt like my body would explode. I don't know how I'm going to do this. How I'm going to last a month living with him. Acting as if we are together. It's a challenge from Broc. It's to test me. See how long i can last with Wyatt. To see how long i can handle the pain. He thinks i won't make it. I don't think i will, either. I hoist the bags over my shoulder and begin to follow Wyatt through the airport terminal. As i walk past beanie boy, he silently slips something into my hand, and winks before walking away. I frown, and glance down into my hand at the sticky note. 10 digits have been scribbled on it with the name "Bryan" under it. I search for him in the crowd, but he's gone. I slip the note into my pocket and try to find Wyatt. I fight my way through the sea of rushing people, and finally break through to a clearance. People stand 20 metres away, holding cards with names on them. They scan the crowd for loved ones. A woman with hazel brown hair and a warm face stands next to Wyatt, chatting to him. She holds a card with our names on it, and i frown before making my way over. Wyatt sees me first, and his eyes harden. My stomach drops, and i hate it for being so weak. "Oh, Diana!" the woman beams, offering her hand. She seems to be in her early 40's, with kind brown eyes and soft curves. Her yellow shirt settles nicely with her sun tanned skin and her light blue jeans. I immediately like her. "Anne," i correct with a smile. "I'm Hanna," she winks, "I'll be your fake biological mother for the next month. It's lovely to meet you two!" she smiles at Wyatt, "I've been retired for about 7 years now, but I was very excited to be back in a mission again, especially with the two best agents of the newest generation." Wyatt flinches, and i feel warmth dance its way up to my cheeks. Hanna thankfully ignores our reactions, and takes one of my bags from me. "Shall we go? That must have been a horrible plane trip. I hate the airline that Frederick put you two on-" she freezes mid sentence, and we gape at her. She called him Frederick. She called Broc by his first name. No one has ever called Broc by his first name. Ever. Hardly anyone even knows his first name. The only reason Wyatt and I know it is because we sneaked into the archives when we were 13 and read his file. We got caught of course, by Broc himself. We got given 5 hours of extra training with him every single day for a month. Broc had somehow formed a soft spot for us after that, and eventually a mutual bond had formed. We were like his kids, and he was the closest thing i had ever had to a dad. But Wyatt and I still called him Broc. It's Hanna's turn to blush, and she hurries to finish her sentence, tripping over her words, "That airline is so over priced don't you think?" I mercifully let her Frederick comment slide, and laugh and nod. When she turns to pick up her handbag, i let my smile drop. We make our way to the car park, and she finds her car. It's a seven seater. A people mover. Fan-freaking-tastic. I climb into the passenger seat, forcing Wyatt to squish his way into the back. Hanna hops into the drivers seat and in a few moments we're on the highway. The drive is full of awkward small talk for the first ten minutes. Until Hanna asks for details on the mission. Wyatt gratefully answers her questions swiftly and efficiently. I can tell by the breathy smile in his voice that he's relieved to finally talk about something solid. Something that he knows. We arrive at her house just as the sun is setting, and Hanna breathes a sigh of relief. It's a modern Victorian house with white paint that has seen generations of owners. A loved garden blooms in the front yard. Hanna smiles at it proudly. She gives us the quick tour, guiding us through the wide lounge room full of antiques and modern leather couches, the open plan kitchen with polished wooden floors and the back deck that leads from it to the backyard. The whole entire house shouts the word home. Surely she's not the only one that lives here. I ask her so as we head up the stairs to the rooms, and she smiles sadly at me before nodding, "Yes, darl, it's just me." The sadness entwined into her words surprise me, and out of instinct i look to Wyatt. He's already looking at me, and we share a curious look before realising that we don't do that anymore. We're not a team anymore. We quickly glance away. My heart hurts. Hanna leads us to our rooms, and we thank her for the courteous tour before hiding ourselves behind the solitude of the walls. Wyatt's room is right across from mine, and i try not to look at him as i close my door. I study the room Hanna decorated for me. I frown to myself as my eyes dance across all of the furniture. There's no way Hanna did this. Broc totally told her how to decorate it. It looks exactly like my room back at the centre. I smile at Broc's thoughtfulness and make a mental note to thank him as i drag my fingers across the walls. The queen sized bed has been decorated with a white blanket and pillows, the only colour on it the pink and red tie-dyed mandala cushion that sits peacefully between the white. White shelves have been randomly drilled to the walls, and on them sit peacefully vibrant plants and books. I run my fingers along the spine of the books, and a small smile caresses my lips. They're all my favourites. A large white sheet hangs in front of the window at the head of my bed, and it flows in the breeze. I love this room. The door quietly opens. I ignore it as i continue around the room. After a few moments, Hanna speaks softly. "Agent Broc got one of the designers to catalogue all of the things in your room back at the centre, and we replicated it exactly. We did the same for Wyatt. He said he knew how hard this particular mission would be for you two, and he wanted to make it as easy as possible." Tears gather in my eyes, and i smile. God, I love that man. "I love it so much," i say quietly, "Thank you, Hanna." She smiles kindly, and takes a step back. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, tell Wyatt on your way down." I nod, and she closes the door as she leaves. I wait a few moments, whispering to my heart, asking it to stop racing. I wait a few moments and beg my blood to start pumping again. I try to calm my stomach. Try to swallow back down the vomit as i stare at the back of my door. At the collage of photos pinned to it. At the collage of Wyatt and I. This was not in my old room. I tore down these photos the day i broke my own heart. The day I had told him i didn't love him. I had broken his heart, and my own. He had argued with my calm words, claimed that i was lying, begged me to admit that i was lying. Something inside of me had died that day, but i had stayed strong. I had not swayed amongst his whispered pleas, had not cried when his eyes watered, had not collapsed when his own knees buckled. I had kept my voice firm, and quiet, and calm. He had not bothered to quieten the shattering of his heart. The sounds had echoed off the walls with every crack of his strained voice, blurred by the tears in the back of his throat. Eventually he had stopped arguing, and something inside of him faltered to nothingness. I had seen it in his brown eyes. The beautiful caramel brown that had been alive with light and love only an hour before, had suddenly washed over with blankness. With defeat. With a drowning pain. That was when i had decided that life was not worth living. And he had believed it. Everyone had. Everyone had one day realised that 'Wyatt and Diana' were no more. That they never would be again. Everyone had realised that the love they thought was between them - the sort of love that shook the earth and made flowers grow and created new stars - was all a lie. That Diana had lied about loving him. Everyone had realised that Diana had never loved her Wyatt, even though Wyatt had loved his Diana with every fibre of his essence. I thought i had done such a good job at hiding it; at hiding my love, my pain. I thought i had perfected the guilty lip-bite and the exasperated sigh. I thought i had fooled everyone into thinking i didn't love him anymore, that i never had. But I hadn't fooled Broc. His acknowledgement of my love for Wyatt is in in every picture on that door, on every pin sticking them to it. Every single photo shouts the word love, and Broc knows it. My body begins to tremble. He knows. He knows he knows he knows he knows. I sit down on the bed, and close my eyes. I focus on calming my breaths and my heart. Everything is on fire. Of course i couldn't hide it from Broc. He knows Wyatt and I better than we know ourselves. But not better than we know each other. Out of everyone on this Earth, Wyatt knows me the best. And vice versa. He knows everything within me, and i him. But somehow he believed me when i lied. Once i calm myself down, i stand up on shaky legs. I avoid staring at the wall. I refuse to look at us happy together, at our love, at our memories. I wrench open my door and swiftly stride across the hall to his room. I don't knock. I twist the knob and push with all of my strength, all of my anger and my pain and my heartbreak. "Dinner is ready-" Everything stops. The world stops spinning. His room is the same as it is back at the centre. Dark blue and black. Dark blue bed duvet, black pillows. Dark blue walls, black desk and bedside table. His bed is to the right of me, the bedhead centimetres from my hand resting against the door frame. He sits hunched over on the bed, his head in his arms. As soon as he hears my voice, he shoots up and stares at me. I don't stare back. I stare at the walls. My heart stops beating. Photos have been pinned to the dark blue of the ocean in perfect lines falling down the walls. On every wall. Every single photo is of us. They're everywhere. He moves to stand in front of me, to block me from seeing them, but i zip out of his shadow, shrugging off his grip. I walk to the furthest wall in front of me, and my eyes trail along the memories. It's of us over the last 7 years. Every single photo of us that exists is on these walls. There are photos of us as ten year old's; best friends. In one of them it is one of our birthdays, and we both wear shiny party hats. Wyatt's arm is hooked around my neck, and our cheeks are squished together as we beam at the camera. Despite my broken heart, a laugh escapes my throat. Wyatt sucks in a sharp breath from the door. There's another one of us as 12 year old's. We must've just finished training, because Wyatt's tan skin shines with sweat and my long hair sticks to my cheeks. We both wear black, and each of us stand on the other end of the training mats. Wyatt is sitting on the ground rubbing his thighs and I stand above him with my hand on my hip. He grins up at me and i smile triumphantly down at him. I must've won the match. I had no idea that photo existed. As i scan the wall i don't recognise many of the photos, but i remember the moments. Someone had been taking these without us knowing. I look back to Wyatt, where he stands at the door, staring heavily at me. "Cassie?" i whisper. He nods. Cassie was our carer when we first arrived in the centre. Everyone is given a carer, and they take care of you until you are 16. Cassie took care of Wyatt and I, and she loved us like we were her own. I slowly walk around the room, studying the pictures. Wyatt stands silently by his bed, watching me. I see another one of us when we were 15. I had fallen in love with him when i was 15. In the photo we are close, touching. It was taken just after we came back from out first mission together. I had been injured badly in that mission; shot in the leg. Wyatt had carried me back to the centre and screamed the place down, yelling for help. I had lost enough blood that i had begun to slowly lose consciousness, and they had rushed me off to surgery. When i had woken up in the recovery unit of the Centre, Wyatt had been holding my hand, still wearing the same clothes from the mission. He had stayed with me all night while i had slept, and the night after that, only leaving once to shower. In the photo i sit on the bed in my gown, and he sits opposite me, holding my hand. My head is thrown back in a laugh, and the smile on Wyatt's face as he watches me takes my breath away. It's love. Clear, bright, love. I try to calm my gasping breaths as i study the photos. My eyes settle on one. My heart shatters all over again. It was taken this year. After we broke up. It's in the training room. When Wyatt and I broke up, we didn't stop training together straight away. That wasn't allowed. Wyatt and i had been partners for 7 years, and we worked best together. So they made us train together. The only reason we had eventually gotten separated was because i had gone to Broc and claimed that i was going to retire if he kept pairing Wyatt and I together. He had known i was bluffing, but he also knew how much pain i was in. So he had given me my way. My new partner is a girl called Fifi. I hate her. This photo was taken when we were still training partners, and we had obviously just finished sparring. We stand a few feet away, sweaty and drained. Wyatt's entire body is tense as he stares at me, and my body is slumped in exhaustion as i meet his gaze. The pain in our eyes shine bright. The unspoken words and regret buzz in the air around us as we stare heavily at each other. It's so obvious that we're still in love. I don't know how he still thinks I'm not drowning in him. I slowly face Wyatt, and when he sees the tears running down my cheeks something inside of him falters. I see it in the break of his expression as he takes in my body and my face for the first time since Broc's office. His eyes run over the bruises on my skin from Fifi's ruthless hits, and they harden. Before he can stop himself he speaks, "What the hell did Fifi do to you?" His voice is rough and full of anger. I feel his protectiveness spike through me like electricity, and my knees nearly buckle. "She's a pretty harsh fighter," i whisper, "She doesn't like me, so she doesn't care if she hurts me." He frowns, still caught up in his anger, "Do you hurt her back?" he asks quietly. Despite my trembling limbs, i force a smile onto my face, "Sometimes she cries." Without warning, his face breaks out into a proud smile. He realises, and wipes it off with a scowl. My chest heaves with unspoken sobs. I stare at him for a few moments, and he stares back. Something is thrown into the air between us, and it sparks with emotion. He sees it, and he searches my eyes with an intensity so deep i can't feel my blood pounding through my body anymore. He takes a tentative step forward, and i hold my breath. Every cell in my body screams his name. Begs him to hold me in his arms. He hears them. He crosses the room within three strides, and is suddenly right in front of me. He fills up my vision as he stares down at me, chest heaving. I don't take my eyes away from his caramel swirls. He doesn't take his eyes off my face. He's telling me something. He's telling me that this is it. If i touch him; if my skin brushes against his at all, then he will kiss me. If he kisses me, then everything inside of me will explode. All of my walls will gloriously crash down and welcome him back into my soul, where he belongs. He will be welcomed home. I want to brush my skin against his. I want him to welcome me home. He sees it in my eyes, and suddenly his own clear. They shine with his love for me. The air is knocked out of my body. It's still there. He still loves me. After all i put him through, he still loves me. I close my eyes as he leans down. As his lips brush against mine, the world explodes. I grab the back of his neck and push myself up into the kiss just as his arms encircle my waist. I kiss him with all of me. I send all of my love and my pain and my regret into the kiss, and he responds back just as fiercely. He picks me up as if i weigh nothing, and walks me over to the bed. My whole entire being shakes with love as his hands re-explore his territory, and my heart won't stop singing. I am his, and he is mine. Our kisses say the words we can't form, telling each other how much we love each other and how much it hurt to be away. Mine apologise. His forgive. Hanna's voice breaks us out of our moment, and we jump apart as she yelps in surprise. She stands in the doorway with her hand over her heart, staring at my bra and his bare chest. I look down. When did we take our shirts off? "Oh, Jesus!" her voice echoes off the walls,"Sorry! I didn't know that-" "It's fine, Hanna," Wyatt's smile apologetically. My stomach drops at the strain in his voice. He looks away and swallows, trying to gather his calm again. I bit my swollen lips, "I'm so sorry, Hanna. We should be more thoughtful-" "Oh, it's okay darl," she waves empathetically, "I get it, teenagers in love. Broc told me about you two," Wyatt and i stare up at her as she shrugs, "Just maybe make sure the door is closed next time." I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath before looking up at her, "There won't be a next time." Wyatt's head whips around to look at me, but i don't meet his eyes. Hanna looks from Wyatt to me, and raises an eyebrow. "Mhm," she says, bored, "Broc also told me about your insistence on not loving him." I swallow. Wyatt stands up. Hanna sighs, "Oh well, dinner is ready. I'll leave you two to have your argument in peace." She leaves. I stare after her. Traitor. I grab my shirt and pull it on. Wyatt doesn't. He stands in the middle of the room and stares at me. I stare back. "There won't be a next time, huh?" he asks. My gaze drops to the carpet, "I meant what I said, Wyatt." He snorts, "When? When you told me you didn't love me back? That you never really had?" I flinch, and he takes a step forward. I take a step back. I calm myself before i speak. "I meant what I said, Wyatt. I got carried away just then. It won't happen again." He stares at me, the pain and confusion shining bright in his eyes, hitting me like a bullet. "What are you doing, Di?" My knees tremble. He hasn't called me Di in 6 weeks. He studies me as if I'm a maths problem he needs to solve. As if I'm a puzzle. I force myself to shrug. "I'm doing what's right." "Stop lying, Diana!" he snaps, "I am not blind! I saw the way you looked at me just before. That was love. The way you kissed me; that was love. You cannot tell me that it wasn't love, Diana." I watch him for a few moments before taking a step back. "It wasn't love, Wyatt. It was lust. I was physically vulnerable. Not emotionally. That's all it was. That's all you are to me," he flinches, and my soul dims, "It won't happen again." I slip silently from his room before he can see my tears. I've broken our hearts all over again.

unrequited

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