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forms-cat-in-a-bottle · 1 year

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¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Autumn was now ending, December was upon them and with it great changes for the classes of reaper dispatch.

All the students scrambled to find a place for some sort of internship that could start shortly thereafter.

Alan, Anne and Heather went to Ronald and Sutcliff's department.

Mika and Nikei had found themselves catapulted into the department of the current best senior, Mr. Spears, aware that they were dealing with a difficult and tiring teaching. Others had yet to decide where to go, but everyone was somewhat excited to feel almost real reapers.

Konfi turned out to be a bossy kid who joined the class during the first few days of the first year, for reference.

Although initially his shyness and the fact that he had been "added" had prevented him from socializing, after almost a year he could say that he had integrated into a group. He later on opened up and showed his extroverted side.

Alan, Mika and Nikei were the ones he preferred to talk to (or argue with in Alan's case).

Outside of their group and class, Konfi was particularly attached to a man he had met in the reaper realm, William, or Mr. Spears formally. He had short dark hair and just the right abilities for someone who was in the management department and occasionally even a retrieval reaper, she too already sure of her internship, he was going to be one of the seniors who would mentor this year's juniors. Today Konfi and Mika had to watch some of the seniors spar and konfi had his eyes clearly fixed on him

<The only thing that you miss is a signal that says "Strong crush for my superior beware"> Mika commented chuckling in between words while standing next to him.

<Hey! No need to turn your finger in the sore bitch.> Konfi said hitting her in the head and hiding his face even more behind his hair.

Mika was right, that situation had been going on for years now, but he could not do anything about it also because there was no talk of just any reaper, William, the senior who had choose him, looking back, at the first memories he had after he died, William was there.

He had always been there.

———

— little time skip —

Konfi had always been a not so thoughtful guy, but definitely not too laid back to get worried about how he would tell Mr. Spears the news. Of course he knew he would take it professionally, but still.

There was a knock on the door.

<Yes?> asked Konfi too lazy to get out of bed.

<Konfi, I took the teacher for homework> Mika's voice pushed through from behind the door.

<EH!? You're the ones who don't understand shit. Not me.> Alan replied.

<But Alan, you need to help us> Nikei managed to stutter out

<Shut up you both!> Konfi laughed, got out of bed and opened the door, in the company of Mika there were Alan and Nikei, which he had already imagined from what he had heard before opening.

<Just come in, I was admiring the ceiling until a minute ago> he commented jokingly while he placed his textbooks on the desk.

<Yeah, yeah. Let's just get this over with.> Alan said in an irritated tone of voice

The tension was palpable, not only from Alan's difficult rehearsals, but from the fact that everyone had a lit of other things on their mind, barely days had passed since the whole class had obtained their license, after the practical exam. In an instant it seemed that their biggest problem was no longer finishing their homework or studying for tests, but finding their department.

<It's wrong here can't you see it? You have to change the process otherwise it makes no sense!> Alan yelled every now and then, checking everyone else's notebooks and endlessly fixing his glasses.

In what seemed like a short time, two hours passed and from exhaustion Mika closed the book and sprawled on the chair

<Heather told me that Anne is organizing some sort of party for obtaining the license> commented looking at the others.

<Really?> Konfi and Nikei almost jumped

<Tsk, bullshit.> Alan spat out.

<Ah Alan you and Konfi will have to celebrate! Senior Sutcliff picked you specifically, aren't you happy?> remembered Mika

<Who cares! It's always work and I'm not too happy 'bout it.> Alan reminded her as Konfi remained silent

<Don't be so antisocial> Heather commented.

<I'm not antisocial, I don't want worthless annoyances.>

<For the ranking it is also important to know how to get along with juniors and colleagues..> Nikei spoke quietly, making Alan, who had suddenly felt called out, raise his head angrily.

He sighed almost exhausted from what had started running through his head and no, he wasn't going to allow anything or anyone to ruin his rise as the best of his class.

<I will come, but I won't do anything else that isn't strictly needed.> He concluded the conversation by crossing his arms and lowering his head again to show pure indifference.

Shortly after the end of that speech, the others cleared Konfi's room and he was able to go back to mulling over whatever.

—time skip—

It all started to fall apart when Konfi started having serious problems with using his modified schyte, once he even destroyed a window on training grounds.

drinking, from there his contacts with the world had been reduced to zero, for his safety and that of others, but he had never had the opportunity to tell Akio and the first time he had seen him again had been during the USJ accident.

<Well hand over the forms.> A senior began while he sighed, in a mixture of utter indifference and impatience.

<So you're going to Sutcliff's?> Heather asked Konfi after the end of the lessons.

<If she doesn't change her mind in the meantime, yes, we'll probably see eachother around at work> he smiled.

<Probably, yeah> It was known that the period of the start of the internships was both the best and the worst

#adrian out of context #adrian writez #adrian randomized #fan fic stuff #goofy ahh wip

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mothicalspoken · 2 years

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The first time Marcy had wanted to hug Anne after everything, she was still blinking the bleariness and water out of her eyes.

She could have sworn the blurry shapes in front of her were Anne and Sasha. Why wouldn’t they be there? They were just... they were just here, a moment ago. And she had missed them so much while she was asleep. Surely, she’d wake up and they’d still be there.

“Sashy?... Anne?”

She had reached out, using whatever strength she had left. Her arms were weirdly weak as they searched for nothing. That head of blonde hair. That was Sasha, right?

Apparently not.

Reality crashed in with a sharp pain to the side of her face.

It had taken some getting used to, at first.

The first time Anne hugged her, after... who knows how long, she was on her knees and quivering so badly she could hardly move her limbs. She barely remembers it. She was barely even able to feel it through the thick armor, but Anne’s head was lodged in the crook of her neck just like it should be, and she was... whispering something, over and over and over, like the repetition would bring her to her senses.

She wasn’t exactly listening. She wishes she had been... conscious enough. But the only thought that came into her mind when Anne wrapped her arms around her midsection and begged her to stay was to push her away, however she could.

Even if she wasn’t her right mind, she still had the instinct to keep her best friend safe.

The second time that Anne had hugged her, it was awkward.

It wasn’t one of those bone-crushing hugs- it was more just a desperate attempt to latch onto whatever parts of Marcy’s body that she could in the position she was in.

Marcy doesn’t remember much of this either. She knows there was someone stroking her hair, and that Anne had bent in on herself, and simply crumpled onto her.

Her face had been tickled by Anne’s hair, she thinks. The curls were more... blue, than usual. And it there was warmth at least. Everything was warmer now. Even with the tears that dripped onto her face.

She might have had a massive headache, but at least it was warm.

The third time Anne had hugged her, it was in the hospital.

She remembers this clearly now. She remembers waking up in the middle of the night, back against the cold thin sheets, listening to the monitors beep. And hearing the gentle snores of her best friends in the chairs next to her bed, all disheveled and curled in on each other. It was a heartwarming sight to be honest- Anne with her head tucked into Sasha’s neck, her legs haphazardly sprawled over the blonde’s. Sasha with her face to the wall, one hand weakly clutching the fabric of Anne’s t-shirt.

It didn’t feel real. And Marcy didn’t know how to go back to sleep, or whether she was truly awake. She had thought that maybe it was another simulation, a liminal space to put her in for the time being where she couldn’t get in the way.

But then Anne twitched, and awoke with a gasp, breathing heavily. Her sudden movement woke up Sasha as well almost immediately, and she was there in an instant, holding onto Anne’s shoulders, reassuring her with everything she had.

“Hey hey hey hey, it’s okay- it was just a dream- did you have a nightmare? Look at me, I’m right here.”And Anne looked at her, and continued to desperately gasp for breath like a fish out of water, and maybe it was just the shadows, but Marcy could have sworn her eyebags were deeper than anything she’s ever seen. “Breathe. Breathe. It’s okay. We’re all okay. See?”

And then she gestured to the bed, Marcy’s bed, and as soon as the both of them saw her, they both froze.

Marcy wondered for a moment whether it was time to move on to yet another dream.

And then Anne got up, and Sasha’s hands flew up to her mouth, and Anne practically half-crawled into the hospital bed just to wrap her arms around her.

“Oh my frog. Oh my frog. Marcy,” She whispered hoarsely, already beginning to shake. “You’re awake. I thought- I thought that-”

Marcy’s entire body felt like it was made of lead. So she couldn’t really help with the fact that Anne was probably crushing her internal organs on the guardrail, but she could... maybe lean into her a little.

She remembers Anne managing to pull her into a sitting position, albeit carefully. Hands on either side of her shoulders. Shaky hands. Strong hands. All avoiding the one spot on her back that still burned, but gentle nonetheless. She thinks Sasha might have got up to stand beside them.

“Anne,” she whispered, because it felt like it was the only thing she could say. Just one word. Everything focused on the arms pressed around her. “Anne. “

“Yeah I’m here,” Anne had mumbled close to her ear. She was just as bony and sharp as Marcy had known, maybe even more so. It didn’t affect the way Marcy sunk into her touch, however. “I’m here. I’m sorry for not being here earlier.”

“It’s... okay.”

The most she could do was be here now.

#I had more to write but I am falling asleep as we speak #amphibia #marcanne #unedited #sashannarcy #marcy wu #HUGS. thinking #might add onto this later #my writing #anne boonchuy #sasha waybright #sry for not including you #hhhhhhhhh gonna go to bed have this don't take it too seriously #wheneevr i write fanfics i need to get them done in one sitting lmao #this is what you're getting

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kaseyskat · 2 years

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i started this a couple days ago after being struck with the world's worst migraine and decided spontaneously to finish it as a way of Procrastinating on other fics so anyways take this projection fic <3

~~~

while sasha’s headaches are predictable - she can usually feel them coming from a mile away - marcy’s are sporadic and intense, and it’s not very frequently that they’re both knocked out with one at the same time.

not frequently is not never, though, so when sasha wakes from a bad dream to find marcy snuggled into her side and a throbbing pain in her temples, she knows today is going to be a bad day.

anne must already be awake, sasha thinks, as she lifts the blankets to her face, pressing them against her eyes. the pressure relieves some of the pain, but not all of it, and she really should drag herself out of bed to get painkillers- except marcy has all but wrapped herself around sasha like the world’s clingliest octopus. her breathing is pained and she releases little whimpers and whines as she sleeps, and sasha absent-mindedly runs hands through her hair, careful not to disturb her.

the door opens and closes, and then anne is peering at them. between the darkness of the room and the way her sight blurs, sasha can hardly make her out, but there’s only one other person living with them.

“migraine?” anne asks quietly, her voice a mere whisper. “should i bring you the usual?”

“marcy too,” sasha whispers back. “she doesn’t usually cling to me this much.”

anne, sasha knows, enjoys these types of mornings more than she’d like to admit. of course she’s upset that her partners are in pain, but she loves taking care of them, proving her love for them over and over again through every sleepless night and agonizing day. she only lingers to press the lightest of kisses against sasha’s forehead, give marcy’s hair a little ruffle, and then she leaves again.

marcy makes another whimpering sound, and sasha closes her eyes against the throbbing in her temples. she, on the other hand, hates these mornings more than anything. it’s not that she doesn’t love it when her beloveds take care of her, but she doesn’t like the feeling of being useless any more than she did when she was younger. coupled with the way the headaches leave her cooped up in bed unable to do anything… no, she doesn’t like this, and she makes that frustration known with the way she shifts restlessly in bed, digging one hand into her eye while the other continues to pet marcy’s hair.

“...sashy?” marcy croaks, her voice raspy. she’s awake then, sasha realizes. “you ‘kay?”

“just peachy,” sasha whispers, though the way her voice shakes and the way she winces at even the sound of her own voice betrays the true pain she’s in. “what ‘bout you, marsh? you okay?”

marcy makes a bleary sound in the back of her throat, and she curls further into sasha’s chest. “no,” she admits, startlingly sincere. “my everything hurts.”

“i’ll tell your everything to shove off, will that help?” sasha tries to joke, but it falls flat when she winces again. “fuck. ow.”

“you should-” marcy cuts herself off, and she makes a frustrated noise as her voice fails her. “-you, you should take it easy, kay? is anne…?”

“she’s coming back in a bit,” sasha nods, and she shivers when marcy reaches upwards to gently caress her cheek. the action obviously hurts her, though, so after allowing it for a few seconds, sasha bats her hand away.

sure enough, anne slips back into the room a few minutes later. she sits on the edge of the bed, staring down at them with a fond look even as she gently nudges both sasha and marcy into a seated position. only sasha obeys her- marcy looks like she’d rather die than move her body out of a flat position, so she stays firmly rooted to sasha’s lap, laying on her stomach sprawled across sasha’s lower torso and legs as sasha sits upright enough to take the glass of water anne’s offered her.

“what’s the scale?” anne asks, as she hands sasha painkillers. she has a couple of other things in her lap, but sasha can’t make them out with how blurry her eyesight has become.

“four,” sasha answers with a wince. “i can manage it, it’s not that bad yet.”

anne nods very seriously, before she worriedly looks down at marcy. “what about you, marbles?”

marcy lifts herself up on shaky arms before she groans and flops back into sasha's lap. "six, but only if i move around a lot," she says, sniffling. "anna-banana, can I have the bye bye pain stuff?"

"only if you sit up- i don't want you to choke," anne chides, and she carefully drapes a heat pad over sasha's face. sasha makes a muffled noise of surprise, but she reaches up to readjust the pad, sighing in relief.

marcy whimpers, but she drags herself upright. there's a haunted look in her eyes, and she clutches at her chest with a grimace. "okay, o-okay, i'm up, annie-"

anne hands her a glass of water and her own prescribed painkillers, and marcy takes them dutifully. sasha watches her through half-lidded eyes, fighting through the pain to do so- it hurts behind her eyes so badly she can hardly keep them open, but she refuses to give in.

as soon as marcy's finished her water, she's flopping back down into sasha's lap, a sickly dazed look in her eyes. anne carefully places a cold pack on her back, and then pulls the covers up over them both.

“text me when you’re feeling okay enough for food, okay?” she says, so quietly, and she’s brushing over marcy’s hair again. she still looks so worried, but sasha gives her a big thumbs up, and she finally stands, leaving them in peace.

well, relative peace. sasha’s head still hurts, and marcy’s still making little pained noises in the back of her throat even as she seemingly falls into a restless sleep, and it’s going to be a long day.

she doesn’t know how much time has passed in darkness and complete silence, but eventually, the pain ebbs away. there’s a dull pressure in sasha’s head, but it’s not overbearing and she’s able to peel away the now-cool heat pack from her forehead, groaning in exhaustion and frustration. she has a hand threaded through marcy’s hair again, and she gently scratches at her partner’s scalp.

her headaches, after all, go away easily most of the time. marcy’s pain tends to last much longer, stretching for the waking hours even with the use of painkillers.

“hey, marshmallow,” sasha whispers, and the sound of her own voice isn’t grating to her ears anymore, which is a plus. “how are you feeling?”

there’s silence for a few moments, and sasha very nearly assumes that her beloved is asleep– except that marcy shifts a bit, curls her arms a little bit tighter from where they’re now tucked around sasha’s middle, and she buries her nose a bit further into sasha’s chest. “...still hurts,” she admits, her voice nearly breaking on each syllable, “too much to sleep. i’m bored.”

“my headache’s all but gone,” sasha says, raising her voice a little to test that. sure enough, she doesn’t feel the ache as heavy, and she can keep her eyes open for longer without throbbing pain behind them. “wanna turn the tv on? i can text anne for food, it might help.”

“okay,” marcy whispers, and her voice dips into a whine. “but i gotta get up and do homework soon.”

“you do your work so quickly, it won’t hurt to take a day off for once and just relax, marce,” sasha says, and she carefully readjusts them so she can reach for the tv remote. marcy snuggled into her side is a bliss, and once the remote is in her grasp, she settles back down, loosely wrapping an arm around her. “now, what should we watch?”

“something silly,” marcy mumbles, “and animated.”

“wow, so descriptive,” sasha teases, and yet she scrolls through netflix anyways, settling on some animated movie she’s sure they’ve both seen at least five times now. neither one of them are really watching it, but it captures marcy’s attention enough so that she’s not super bored anymore, and as the last of the pain ebbs away, sasha’s breathing much easier now.

she doesn’t text anne, but anne must hear the sounds of the tv, because she’s peeking her head in after a little while, her hair tied back in a messy bun and eyes wide with concern. “feeling better?” she asks amusedly, glancing between sasha and the tv.

“my head doesn’t hurt so bad anymore,” sasha explains, “and marcy’s bored. care to join us, sugar cube?”

anne huffs, but she’s slipping inside the bedroom anyways, hesitantly taking a seat in the bed next to sasha. marcy immediately reaches one arm out to her - despite the way her face screws up in pain at the motion - and anne takes it, bringing it up to her cheek in an intimately sweet gesture.

“how’s my darling marmalade doing?” anne asks, nuzzling marcy’s hand still. it’s enough to make marcy giggle a little, and sasha would be jealous if she weren’t so happy seeing marcy perk up finally.

“better now that you’re both here,” marcy answers, shyly, and she yawns, her hand flopping bonelessly out of anne’s grip. “i’ll-i’ll be okay. you know me.”

“that’s our princess,” sasha nods, and she curls her own arm around marcy almost protectively, “always bouncing back. get some rest, sweetheart- anne and i will still be here later.”

anne is giving sasha the most incredulous of looks - probably due to sasha’s own migraine and suffering - but sasha ignores her to comb through marcy’s hair, guiding her back into a more restful slumber. the movie they’ve put on is now rendered pointless, but as anne sighs and scoots closer so that she can cuddle with them both, sasha figures it might not be so bad to have something to watch while she’s stuck in bed.

“you sure you’re okay?” anne asks, quietly.

“i’m good, promise- the pain’s pretty much gone now,” sasha smiles, and she nudges anne very carefully. “what- you worried about me?”

“always,” anne murmurs, and it’s painfully sincere, enough to have sasha’s chest ache. she swallows past it, and extends her free hand outwards to curl around anne, tucking her into her side.

“we’ll be okay,” sasha promises, and she means it. “we always will.”

#kasey writes stuff #sashannarcy #sasha waybright #marcy wu #anne boonchuy #sasha has chronic migraines and marcy has bad chronic pain days #this is canon you cant tell me otherwise #anyways i feel like the quality of this one decreased but im posting it anyways because what ELSE am i gonna do with it #your honor they are in love

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suchalonelysunflower · 3 years

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I gave you my heart (h.s)

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: Harry is trying to propose to you, but his family is getting in the way.

Warnings: Fluff. Angst if you really pay attention. Language. Mentions of alcohol (barely) Some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, sorry!)

Word count: 4.1 K

Author’s Note: Oh how I missed writing for Harry! And a fluffy piece nonetheless! Who am I? Well, this is a Holiday fic (non specific) and I’m also planning to do a 5SOS holiday fic by the end of the year, so stay tuned! 🌻 Reblogs, comments, feedbacks and likes are welcomed and encouraged! Please, I love to hear from you guys 💕 Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋✨

My materialist // wanna be on my tag list?

Picture form Pinterest. Title from the song “last Christmas”

Ok i know this is cheesy but hear me out, Harry proposing on Christmas with his family around.

Harry kneeled in front of you. His hands were intertwined with yours as he spoke of all the grand adventures you had and how much he adores you while your eyes filled with glossy cold tears. He couldn’t see his mum from where he was, but he could already tell she started crying as well while Gemma held her in a side hug, watching the scene they never thought would happen being displayed in front of them.

Words of praise left his mouth like a symphony, knowing that he will never get tired of praising you as the angel you were. Tears started forming in his eyes as he promised you a lifetime of love and adventure, hoping with all his heart you would say yes.

They all knew the question that was going to pop out of his lips any time now.

“So, Y/N L/N” He said, as the fireworks started to go off behind them “Will you marry me?”

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and with a smile you answered:

“You better wake up before I leave you in the car”

Harry opened his eyes in shock, cursing under his breath as he realized he had fallen asleep without realizing.

You were on your way to Anne’s house for the Holidays, just like you promised a few months ago when Harry finalized all his tour arrangements. You were very excited to see Harry’s family again, it has been a while since you got to spend any time with them as you accompanied Harry across the world for the most part of the past year. You love them with all your heart and it comforts you to know that the feeling is completely mutual - Anne practically adopting you the minute you came through the door as Harry’s partner a few years ago and Gemma quickly becoming your best friend over the span of a few minutes, bonding over clothes, movies and embarassing Harry stories.

Harry loved how much you and his family love each other, for that is all he asked. For him there are only three things that matter most: His music and his fans; His family and, of course, you. He felt really blessed to have you in his life during all these years, knowing that you love him just as much as he loves you (although he would always fight that he loves you more) You were his rock, his best friend, his world… and he cannot wait to put a rock on that hand to prove that to you.

He got the ring a few months prior, but he knew he wanted to marry you from the first moment he saw you interact with his family. He still remembers that cold December night when he came downstairs looking for you and you were sleeping on the couch next to Gemma. You have been talking all night and were exhausted by the time you both finished that bottle of wine. He stood on the entrance of the living room watching the cozy scene with a smile plastered across his face. He knew he loved you back then, but his happiness at that moment was unmatched.

He was so entranced by the picture that he didn’t notice Anne standing beside him.

“This one’s a keeper” She said in a low voice as she watched you both with tenderness in her eyes. But Harry already knew that.

And now, as you were driving the cold snowy roads of Cheshire, Harry drifted back from his fantasy waiting to come true. Thinking back and forward of the little velvet box that is hidden in his suitcase.

“Sorry,” He said with a yawn “Didn’t notice I fell asleep”

You smiled at him but kept your eyes on the road “It’s okay, love. I know you must be tired of the trip. That is why I asked you to switch seats and let me drive in the first place”

Harry stared at you for a moment, completely enamored by your thoughtfulness. He really was lucky to have you.

“Besides,” You joke “With your driving skills, we might get to Homes Chapel the day after the Holidays if we are lucky”

Harry rolled his eyes “Oh, bug off!” He said as he mocked annoyance, but his laugher soon joined yours as you continued your way towards his childhood home.

You let out a happy squeal once you noticed Anne standing in front of her house from a distance, wasting no time on parking the car so you could run up to her and hug her.

“Aww I’m so glad you’re finally here!” Said the matriarch of the Styles’ family as she crushed your body in a tight hug “I’m never letting you go a year without visiting us again!”

“It will not happen again! I promise” You answered with a laugh.

She let you go just enough so she could place her palm on your cheek, caressing it in a motherly way “You better! And in any case you could always run away from my son and come stay here for as long as you want!”

This is when Harry decided to interject. He was standing behind you, smiling at the exchange that was happening in front of him.

“Oi! No need for that now, mum”

Anne laughed as she went to hug her son, murmuring about how if he doesn’t keep an eye on you she would steal you from him without a second thought.

After a few more greetings, Anne ushered you into the house. The warm environment and the smell of a homemade meal made you feel at home.

You always loved to come and visit Harry’s childhood home. It reminded you of him, the real Harry you got to know on a more personal and deep level. The Harry that let all his walls down and let you in, welcoming you to his house, his family and friends and into his heart. The Harry you love with all your being.

“‘m gonna head and help mum with dinner” Your boyfriend said as he hung his coat by the door “You’ve been driving all day, love. You should rest”

He pressed his chest to your back and rounded his arms around your waist to hold you closer before placing a kiss to the shell of your ear. You hummed “‘m not tired. I don’t think I could rest till much later.”

“Still,” Harry said “At least try to rest? Don’t want you to feel sick and I know you’ll hate to miss all the traditions”

You sighed “At least that way I’ll get you to take care of me, right?” You smiled at him and he smiled back.

“Always, darling”

You placed a couple little chaste kisses to his lips, pulling away from his grasp before he started to try and deepend them as he always does “‘m gonna go unpack my suitcase then. Want me to unpack yours?”

Harry was about to answer when the alarms in his head went off, reminding him of the little box you should definitely not find “Uh, n-no. I have to show something to my mum” He lied “I’ll unpack my stuff later. Thank you, though”

His response got you a little confused, but you just shrug your shoulders and turned around towards the guest room, aka: Harry’s old room. Letting Harry let out a relief breath once you went out of sight. This was going to be a long holiday.

Gemma arrived later that night. She didn’t even put her luggage on the ground before she caught your eye and ran to hug you.

“Oh my god” She said, hugging you tighter “I have so much to tell you!”

“Oh sure,” Harry said, walking towards her as she almost left you out of breath “I’m just your brother who you haven’t seen in a long time… Why should I get a hug?”

The older Styles rolled her eyes “Because I see you in every social media post there is you dork! Besides, I have had Y/N in my life rather recently compared to living with you under the same roof for almost seventeen years”

Harry placed his hand over his heart and mocked a hurt expression, making his sister laugh before she moved on to wrap him into a hug.

“I missed you, you wanker” She said, hiding some love in the insult.

“Me too, jerk”

“But I missed Y/N more” She said with a grin, pulling away from Harry and turning back to you. Intertwining your arms so you’d walk together into the living room “So, I was telling you…”

Hours flew by and before you’d realized it was almost 2 am when you and Gemma made your ways to your respected rooms. You noticed that Harry went to bed a little earlier and you guessed he would be asleep by now.

You found your boyfriend safe and tucked away in dreams once you opened the door. You smiled to yourself as you admired his sleeping figure sprawled all over the bed with one arm spread over your side, waiting for you to cuddle up against it.

A yawn flew through you as the exhaustion of the day settled in. You quickly changed into your cozy pajamas, did your nighttime routine and layed in bed next to Harry, who, as soon as he felt you by his side, pulled your body closer to him.

“Hi” He said in a whisper, kissing the shell of your ear.

“I thought you were sleeping, H” You giggled as you felt his hand caress your side.

“Couldn’t sleep well without you, you know that”

And indeed you did. Harry always complained whenever he was on tour that he missed you too much and that he needed you even more “I just feel better when I’m with you, love. I do better. It’s like you are my lucky charm or something” He’d always said before he convinced you to travel the world with him. And, to be honest, you did not need that much convincing. If you could spend all your living days with Harry, you would.

“Wha’ time is it anyways?” He asked.

“Late” You shrugged, turning your body so you were facing him “I’m sorry. We didn’t realize we spent all night talking”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows “Why are you apologizing for? I love when you spend time with my family”

“But I almost didn’t spend time with you!”

Harry chuckled “It’s okay, love. I know how my mum and sister can get whenever you are around. They love you almost as much as I do”

“Well, Gemma did say she loved me more....” You teased, making Harry scoff.

“Not possible” He pressed his lips to yours, trying to make your worry disappear “‘m serious, though. Don’t be sorry for spending too much time with them. I swear it 's fine. We could have time for ourselves at any point of the Holiday”

You murmured a soft ‘okay’ before drifting into a peaceful sleep. Harry watched you sleep for a few minutes, taking in the joyful peace that your presence gifted to him whenever you were around. Thinking about how he cannot wait to make you an official Styles.

However, that was not going to be an easy job.

As the day passed, you and Harry had less and less time for yourselves as Anne and Gemma got you two completely busy with different activities. From getting the groceries, to help one of them decorate the house or even to just take a walk. You were never not doing something.

And it wasn’t like a bad thing either. On the contrary, you were having the time of your life sharing all of these amazing traditions with Harry’s family. They made you feel welcome and cared for, something that was fairly new to you since you met Harry.

You loved decorating the House and baking cookies with Anne, and it felt so great to have a friend like Gemma around to take the seriousness out of a serious situation and just let you have your fun. But you would be lying if you’d say that you don’t miss your boyfriend.

Even though Harry was always just mere feet from you, he was also caught up in various activities and could barely spend any time with you and that was making him frustrated.

The Holidays were stressful enough, but for Harry this took a whole other level when he thought about the proposal and how many times he failed at getting you two alone so he could do it.

The first miss opportunity came when it started snowing the day after your arrival. He knew how much you loved snow because, in your own words, it made it all seem magical. So when he woke up early that day, he decided that now was the time and that he was ready to pop up the big question. He was going to ask you to play in the snow - just like you usually do - and make a snowman. But the surprise would come with the ring that would be on the snowman’s finger, ready to be placed on your hand if you said yes. Sadly, when you two got ready to go and play, Anne solicited yours and Harry’s help to go and take some food to the shelter that was not so far away from here, a tradition the Styles’ family have been doing since Harry was a baby. When you came back, most of the snow had melted and you were too tired to even think of going outside again.

The second time Harry’s plan got held up was on a frosty night. He had prepared a cozy inside picnic in front of the fireplace for only you and him. He knew that Anne would be out with some of her friends and that Gemma had plans to meet up with someone on a date, so they wouldn’t be able to interrupt in any way. He got a bottle of wine, a charcuterie board, some chocolate covered strawberries, a fluffy blanket and some candles to light up the dark room. He also made you change in your pajamas so you’ll be even more comfortable during the date. Everything went according to plan, his hand almost reaching for the velvet box he hid under one of the couch’s cushions when Gemma came early from her date, completely ruining the moment as she came into the room fuming because she got stood up. Needless to say he did not propose that night.

Harry was convinced that the third time was the charm. Since it was obvious he couldn’t propose in the house without being rudely interrupted every time, he was going to take you out for lunch and then go ice skating, one of your favorite winter activities. Yes, he was aware that it wasn’t his most elaborated plans, but he didn’t know what to do. Plus, he had talked to the owner of the ice skating pit beforehand, asking him to please let them have at least one hour of privacy so he could propose in peace. The owner even promised him to play the playlist Harry made for you and to add some special lightning to make the moment more romantic.

Feeling excited, Harry ran down the stairs to give you the news of your date. But his face fell when he saw you getting ready to go out with Gemma and his mum.

“Are you going out?” He asked as he saw you put on your coat.

“Yes,” You answered with a smile, but that smile soon felt when you saw the disappointment in Harry’s eyes “Your mum asked me and Gemma to go for a last minute shopping run… Harry are you okay, love?”

Your boyfriend closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he acquired whenever he was frustrated “‘m perfect” He mumbled, turning around to go back to your shared room.

But you were quicker as you grabbed him softly by the arm to make him stop in his tracks. Slowly making him turn around so he was face to face with you “Don’t lie, H. What is going on?”

“‘m just,” He started, but he couldn’t even look you in the eyes as he tried to find the right words to say to you, almost feeling like he is failing you somehow “We never got the chance to spend some time together, Y/N. You are always busy or I am always busy with my mum or with Gemma that I almost didn’t see you this whole trip and I-I just miss you”

Your eyes softened and your heart fluttered with his words. You missed him too, much more than you could say. Everytime you find some time for yourselves you get interrupted and by the end of the day you are both too tired to do anything else besides sleeping. You could tell Harry was frustrated by this whole ordeal, you just didn’t imagine it would affect him this much.

You cupped his cheek and brought him into a sweet kiss “I miss you too, love. Very much” You watched how Harry’s green eyes softened, but they still held an unspoken sadness “If you want me to stay with you, then I’ll stay with you. I don’t need to go with them, you know?”

Harry sighed, placing his hand over yours and caressing it with his thumb “I know” He said as he gave a kiss to your palm “You know how much I love seeing you hanging out with them and I know how much you enjoy it. You should go”

“But Harry-”

“Go, have fun!” He said in a cheerful tone as he brought you closer to give you a hug “I’ll be fine, love. I just want you to remember this Holiday and to enjoy it as much as you can”

“Are you sure? Because I can stay if you-”

“‘m sure,” He smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead, “Go, darling. They must be waitin’”

You smiled back at him and pecked his lips before turning around and closing the front door. Missing for just a second the way Harry’s smile dropped as he saw his plan being shut down once again.

He wasn’t proud of his last resort. He knew you deserved an epic proposal, something that could come out from an Oscar winning movie. Something that was as special as you are. And he was beating himself for ruining every chance he’s got to do this properly, but he promised himself that he would not let you - nor him - return home without a shiny rock on your hand. And a Styles never backs down from a promise.

So, with his heart almost beating out of his chest, he placed the gift bag with the other gifts that adorned the living room. Everything will be done tomorrow and there is no turning back now. It was now or never.

The next morning, you found yourself caught up in another Styles’ tradition. You were all sitting in the living room wearing your coziest pajamas as you drank hot cocoa and ate some gingerbread cookies with a pinch of peppermint. It was almost time to open the presents and you could tell Harry was feeling rather anxious.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked as you curreled up to him on the couch that was facing Anne and Gemma, who were already starting to distribute the presents among you.

Harry hummed as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, turning his face so he was looking at you. He could swear in that moment that he has never seen someone as beautiful as you right now as you watched him with doe eyes, your hair a little bit messy and a thin layer of chocolate decorating your upper lip. He was completely and utterly in love with you.

“Yeah, why’d you ask?”

You shrugged “You were tossing and turning a lot last night, almost like you were nervous or something. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Harry smiled “I got you, don’t I? How could anything not be alright?”

You rolled your eyes at his cheesy remark, but quickly gave him a kiss on the cheek. Harry didn’t miss the way your cheeks blushed.

“I asked Anne and Gemma to give us a day for ourselves” You said after a moment. Harry looked at you surprised. You couldn't know..? “I told them I felt guilty that I haven’t spent any time with you since we arrived and they understood” You smiled at him “I got you all for myself today, mr. Styles”

Harry’s eyes filled with glee as he brought your lips to him, kissing you with all the love he could pour at the moment.

“Uh, mum?” Gemma’s voice interrupted the scene “I don’t think this is mine” She said as she opened a gift bag.

“No? It’s a jewelry bag so I thought-”

Gemma shook her head “No! This is definitely not for me” She said as she took the little velvet box from inside, making the room go completely quiet. In that moment, all eyes went to Harry as he watched the scene with horror.

“Oh shit” He said, untangling himself form you so he could grab the box from his sister’s hand “Actually, this is mine”

All three of you stayed quiet as he grabbed your hand and kneeled in front of your sitting figure on the sofa.

“Oh my god” You said, covering your mouth that almost fell to the ground because of the shock.

“Oh my god” Gemma and Anne said in unison as they realized what was happening in front of them.

“Y/N,” Harry said looking into your eyes “Let me start by saying that this is not how things were supposed to go. And I’m not just talking about my sister opening your gift. I’ve been trying to propose for as long as this Holiday lasted. Waiting for the perfect moment because you are my perfect half, my soulmate and you deserve nothing less than pure and utter perfection, my love. And I’m sorry I can’t give that to you now”

You could feel the tears pouring down your face since the moment he kneeled in front of you, but hearing Harry say that he wanted to propose all along made you cry harder, how did you get so lucky?

“I knew I had to do this here, for this is the place where I knew I wanted to marry you the first time we came to visit. I have loved you from the very first moment you said hello, and I knew from that instant that you were going to become my favorite hello and my most painful goodbye. Y/N you are magic, my love. My lucky charm. Everything I do, everything I say or think or sing is for and because of you. You are my muse and my best friend. My anchor and my wings. I cannot live without you nor do I ever want to. You have bewitched me body and soul and I love you. I love you. I love you”

You could hear the distant sobs of Anne in the background, but all you could see was Harry. Harry, your best friend and lover. Harry, the person who filled your life with love and light. Harry, who was now on one knee, with tears in his eyes and a ring on his hand. Harry. Harry. Harry.

“You don’t have to say yes, but I really hope that you do. Y/N, my love. I love you more than life itself, you have made me a better man by loving me the way that you do. Let me love you the same now and forever. Will you marry me?”

You nodded through the tears “Yes, Harry. A million times yes!”

You swore Harry’s smile could light up the world in that moment as he slid the ring down your finger. But you didn’t even look as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him like his mum and sister weren’t watching, throwing the both of you to the floor.

Anne and Gemma started clapping, celebrating the new beginning of the young couple. Because these holidays had a new meaning now, since now and forever they will be remembered as the day you said “yes” to the love of your life.

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @multistann @mystic-232

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doodlesnchaos · 3 years

Text

Saturday Mornings

Background: Request from ao3, Sashannarcy morning fluff

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Saturday mornings were by far the best mornings. No schoolwork, no shifts needing to fill in. Nope, just the bliss of an unproductive morning.

Surprisingly, Anne was the first to awake, though it was more so due to the sunlight hitting her in the eyes and the tingling numb feeling in her arm.

Tiredly blinking away the fuzziness in her line of sight, before turning her head just enough to see what was numb feeling.

Right beside her laid Marcy, cheek smushed against Anne’s arm (explained the feeling), dead asleep. It was really quite bizzare how someone smaller was able to sprawl out so far all over the place. Then again, her love language seemed to be touch so her positioning was fitting, combined with her favorite spot was being in the middle.

Thus placed Sasha on Marcy’s opposite side. Lying on her side, chin a bit higher than Marcy’s head, one arm stretched out across to able to touch Anne, hand entangled within her shirt. Rather endearing really, even in her sleep she was protective.

Anne sighed quietly, pulling her gaze away from the girlfriend duo. Carefully she tried to shift her arm, while attempting to not wake the other. It was proven unsuccessful, given the dead weight on it.

Instead she watched the ceiling, using her free hand to rub at her face. Was it a bit annoying to be woken up at basically nothing? Yes, but at the same time it was rather nice to be able to just enjoy a bit of peace and quiet. Somewhat quiet, if Marcy’s gibberish mumbling was included.

It lasted a good chunk of time, and the serenity caused Anne to just start to doze off again.

That was till she felt the bed and blankets shift, followed by an unhappy sounding grumble from the opposite, que the blonde was unwillingly waking up. Anne shifted just enough to see her, holding back a snicker at the sight of Sasha’s bedhead. The short-cut blonde hair was ruffled and completely astray, and her sleepy-eyed look towards her made it even better.

Said bedhead blonde saw her expression, and the faintest look of unamusement appeared within her features. As quick as it came, it vanished, accompanied by a shifting position. Burying her head within the pillows, the grip with Anne’s shirt briefly tightening and then loosening.

Anne watched as it didn’t take long for the other to doze back off once darkness had been within her sight once more.

Shifting once again, turning her back to the direction of the light, she smiled at the sight before her. The peace, and chance for doing absolutely nothing was the greatest feeling. Between that and just being with the both of them made it better. Just like that, soon Anne started to doze off once more. It was confirmed, Saturday mornings were the best.

#amphibia #sasha waybright #anne boonchuy #marcy wu #sashannarcy #send me anything #oneshot

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aknosde · 3 years

Text

Amicus Certus in re Incerta Cernitur

The first installment of my Reyna Swap AU, Alea Iacta Est // Percy Jackson & Reyna Avilla Ramírez Arellano // Hurt - Comfort // roughly two or three days post-Tartarus // tw vomiting & tw implied/referenced past child sexual assault // light swearing // 3.4k

(hey, @specific-dreamer, i started writing it :))

ao3

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Reyna exits her bed smoothly, flicking on the lamp as she goes. At night, when her cabin feels too dark and too small, the light is one of her only wards against her stiff spine and the shake of her shoulders. She ghosts her hands through her closet, searching for something thick and substantial, like the light and the reassuring click of the lock as she opens her door.

The floor of the quarter deck is cold under her bare feet, but the polished wood is soothing in its smoothness. She tugs on her sweatshirt against the cool temperature that accompanies flying far above the warm Mediterranean. Someone must have screwed with the thermostat last night–tonight–otherwise it would be compensating for the chill in the air.

It doesn’t affect the rest of the ship. The wood doesn’t contract or expand under the temperature, the boat doesn’t creak. It’s immune to the cold air and warm water in that way. She can’t quite decide if the silence that accompanies it is comforting or not as she descends to the main deck.

All of the lights are on down here, the rooms devoid of people. She knows that the lights of the lower deck will be off, because Leo sleeps down in the engine room, but the main deck is no man's land at this time of night. Someone has swept the floors, and with the lights on and undisturbed by organic shadow, this level seems more like a model of a ship than somewhere where people live. When the feeling turns from interesting to uncanny she finishes her route to the galley.

Though the galley is less of a galley, straight and narrow, than an actual kitchen you would find in a home. It’s large, even though Leo claims it’s unnecessary given his plate technology, and rather comfortable. A counter winds around the room, a large refrigerator with people’s personal food labeled, an oven and stove, and lastly, the sink: her destination.

She’s almost to the kitchen island before she sees Percy, sitting on the counter, looking for all the world as if he is a fixture of the kitchen itself. She doesn’t freeze when she sees him–she’s better than that–but she does let herself take stock of him, one leg hanging off the counter and his other knee propped under his chin, holding his head up.

His eyes look irritated, bags underneath that more closely resemble bruises, and a few pieces of hair are falling into his eyes, but he doesn’t do more than glance her way as she crosses to the sink next to him, so she leaves him be. Percy’s always been… observant. She could tell by the way he looked at her as she dropped from the Argo’s rope ladder. But since Tartarus he’s gotten quieter. Before, it used to just be a thing about him, not speaking unless he had something to say. Now it’s more obvious, like something or someone is keeping him.

She fills her glass of water and leans against the island, staring at the fridge.

She and Jason had had their own kitchen, as praetors. It was in the Principa, tucked out of the way, cold blue-greys and aggressively modern appliances. It reminded her of her childhood kitchen in that way. Cleanly impersonal–it more closely resembled an office break room. She and Jason barely used it, but still, they tucked their s’more supplies into a corner cupboard, and occasionally they would find each other there, making tea during late nights and early mornings.

The Argo kitchen is nicer, filled with warm colors and the smell of cinnamon. Percy cooks in here, she knows, though she has never seen him at it. When she had woken up that first morning after the disaster in New Rome there had been conchas on the counter. Leo, for all his initial grumbling, took to cooking in here while Percy and Annabeth were gone. His own little way of grieving, she thinks, taking a sip of water.

Percy lurches as if the ship has, uncharacteristically uncoordinated in his urgency. She straightens immediately as he twists off the counter and onto his feet. His forearms come down hard on the ledge of the counter, bracketing himself, and then he retches into the sink.

Strings of hair hang in his face as he does, she can now see that they are separated by sweat, and before she knows what she’s doing she’s across the aisle and holding his hair back and gives him the privacy of looking away, tucking away loose strands of hair. It’s deceptively soft, even with charred and patchy places here and there, and curlier than Leo’s. Memories of Hylla rage strong as she twists it around her finger, leaving no chance of it falling in the way again, the grey streak resembling a swirl.

Reyna can practically feel Hylla’s hands in her hair, her body sprawled against the wall of their cabin, head in a bucket. Hylla’s body, pressed against one side of her back, not overbearing, just a reminder that she was there now. On good nights they would end up in their bed before Reyna fell asleep, talking until Reyna’s brain could come back home. Hylla would twist Reyna’s hair into braids more beautiful and pure than Reyna could ever imagine being, and Reyna would complain about the smell of the bucket until Hylla got up to throw the contents overboard.

“Better your lunch than yourself,” Hylla sometimes joked upon her return, in that way people do when they are living through horrible things, doing horrible things, having horrible things thrust upon them. The memory burns now that Reyna isn’t there. She can’t find the humor in the joke now, only the threat of the first mate holding Reyna by the hair and threatening to make her walk the plank if she didn’t stop crying.

She couldn’t stop, but he didn’t seem to understand that, he just held her wrists until Hylla was there, in his cabin, talking with her voice smooth in a way it had never been before the Queen Anne’s Revenge. She talked until Reyna was allowed to leave, until the door shut with her still inside.

That was the night Blackbeard and his crew decided Reyna wasn’t worth it, a night she would forever be thankful for. Reyna couldn’t recover as fast as Hylla, she couldn’t put up with as much, she was wrecked after each encounter, and that night she would be thankful for it, and the day after, and the next, until she and Hylla were running the ship and she never had to think about it again.

Percy pants against the sink, signaling that he is done, and she takes a step back, suddenly uncomfortable and anxious for something to do.

She decides on giving him her glass of water–gods know he needs it more than she does–and watches him down the whole thing greedily. An air of clarity seems to blow through him, clearing his eyes and fixing his posture. Maybe that is the magic of a child of Poseidon. Water: an instant cure to all ailments.

“Thank you,” he says with a gasp as he finishes drinking. He wipes some vomit off a corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, frowning before he rinses it off in the sink. Reyna nods serenely in response, no judgement.

It’s a wrestle with herself, to decide if she wants to ask what has him puking his guts out. The fine line she always walks is taunting her, telling her not to alienate people, telling her that knowledge is power. The voice sounds suspiciously like Michelle, which only makes her prickle further. It’s a moot point, regardless. She can remember sitting with Thalia, legs swinging over the edge of a bridge, “I loved him to pieces, Reyna, but that asshole wouldn’t tell me he was hurt unless I pinned him down and threatened to zap his eyebrows off.” She’s going to ask.

“Are you okay?” They are hollow words, because none of them are, and she knows his answer.

“I’m fine,” And then a second later he is over the sink again, all of the water coming right back up.

She takes a place behind him, Hylla’s place, holding his hair back and drawing on his back with her other hand. She can feel his muscles clench each time more of his stomach empties, takes in his breathy swears, traces the letters on the back of his New Rome hoodie. She thinks it might have been hers at one point. It swallows him.

He pulls back, eventually, putting space between them. She lets him have it, but sticks to her spot, crossing her arms.

“Want to try that again?”

He breathes raggedly, head hung. “I can’t–” he lifts a hand to gesture to himself vaguely, but rests it swiftly, looking like he regrets the action. “I haven’t been able to keep food down. Since we got back. It’s too rich. Too much. I was stupid, forgetting how that worked,” he explains, reading the pull of her brow. “Forgot how it felt, too,” he adds, quietly.

She flicks the sink on, letting his remnants wash down the drain, and looks at him thoughtfully. He’s too tired to notice, or maybe to care. His knuckles white out on the edge of the counter, pulsing no doubt in tandem with his stomach. One of his legs begins to quake and she nudges it with her knee. He shifts.

“Is there a reason you’re camped out in here and not the bathroom?”

His breathing, slow and steady, a trained pattern, is interrupted by a faint chuckle. “Thought I wouldn’t run into no one. It’s not working out, clearly.”

He sits back on the counter gently, already clutching his stomach again. “I’ll get over it soon. Just a couple more days. I just–need to make sure I don’t tear my stomach lining.” His words come spaced out and slow, working between his breaths.

“Annabeth?” she asks, unable to mask concern, or maybe uninterested in doing so.

“Got over it,” he answers swiftly. It almost sounds like he is going to say more, but he doesn’t, and she lets it drop in favor of watching him. When he gulps she’s already by his side.

This time bile is the only thing that comes up. He hacks, searching for more, but all that's left is acid. She’s supporting almost his entire weight with one arm. A twitch of worry makes her muscles tense, alien to any type of worry she experienced while he and Annabeth were in the pits of hell. This is immediate, intimate, not abstract. Like seeing Jason’s face dripping gold.

Percy’s whole body shudders, head so deep in the sink she thinks he might be able to touch the sick and the porcelain with his nose if he were to go any further, but the spell seems to have stopped. His arms shake against the counter, and before he can follow through with getting his own vomit plastered across his face she uses her hold on his hair to gently tilt his head towards her.

His eyes are almost completely unfocused, squinting against the kitchen lighting behind her. His water lines have released their tears, finally surmounting the amount of control he had been maintaining. He looks utterly wrecked, and not in the deranged and semi-wild way he had been fresh out of the Doors of Death.

She switches her arm from propping him up to wrapping it around him, keeping him from falling back against the sink and grunting between his weight and his condition. His limbs are loose with relief, now. Almost limp. She orients him until he’s pressed against her hip, utterly malleable under her hands. An odd sense of warmth seems to travel up her arms and into her heart as he slots against her. From what she’s seen, from what she knows, Percy is not one to be controlled. He rebels against it, particularly resistant to anyone who is not a peer, or better yet, a friend. Yet here he is, letting her move his body for him.

It’s something she could never imagine herself doing; willingly handing herself over like this. But with the warmth is a new desire, a spark of hope that one day she will grow with people until she can let them take care of her like this.

“Let’s get you to the med bay,” she says.

“No.” It comes quiet and breathy, and then again with urgency, “No. Annabeth likes to take inventory there when she can’t sleep. Not the med bay.”

Avoiding the med bay on account of Annabeth is a stupid decision, but she reminds herself that Percy cares more about other people than he does himself. He doesn’t want Annabeth to be worried, Reyna thinks, to keep his problems to himself, and though that is not always the best plan, it’s not the worst. Reyna recognizes the necessity of keeping your shit to yourself. Percy might be one of the only people she knows that understands that and deserves it, so she just sighs.

“Okay.” She hooks her other arm under his, making sure he’s steady, and lowers him to the floor. “We’ll just set up camp here.”

He presses the back of his head against the cabinets, hands groping the cool stone floor, and then lets himself tip fully onto it. No complaints. Apparently he likes the change in location. She grabs a dish towel, folding it up and sliding it under his head, and a bowl, if he needs to give up his internal organs while she’s gone and can’t quite make it to the sink. With a shove of his shoulder he turns on his side, loosely grabbing his stomach and making her feel safe in the fact that he can’t choke on his own vomit.

She feels funny when she stands again, brushing her hands against her pant legs. She’s never taken care of someone like this before, never had to. She and Jason were there for each other during their fair share of unfortunate situations, but she never had to watch him like this; curled up on the ground, shaking, weak. She wonders if he was ever caught like this, in the bathroom across the hall. If he had ever wanted to ask her for help.

Annabeth isn’t in the med bay when Reyna goes to scrounge up some anti-nausea medication, and she isn’t coming down the stairs when Reyna makes her way back to the kitchen. Percy’s in the same spot, though. She supposes that counts for something as she sits next to his head, reading the directions on the back of the box.

It’s generic, a syrupy red that reminds her of fake blood in old horror movies. Percy coughs as it goes down, making a face and muttering something about cherry flavoring and scented markers.

When she’s sure he’s not going to up chuck the medicine, which would be a type of irony she is not ready for, she goes searching for something he can eat. The stores on the Argo II are significantly better than that of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, and greatly aided by the presence of a fridge, but she ends up with a packet of pedialyte powder she remembers seeing Percy use during their first week on the Argo. It’s orange, which she can respect as it’s the best artificial flavor.

Percy groans while she’s stirring it, and before she knows it she’s sitting by his side, letting him press his face into her leg. Her body seems to know what to do, even if she doesn’t, and she’s grateful for it.

“Would you rather rehydrate or take more medication?”

He groans again, nose brushing her thigh, and says, “Both.”

“Disregard the instructions?”

He hums against her leg, whispering her resolve into the ground, because she doesn’t argue. It doesn’t hurt that she couldn’t decide either, or that she has always been good at knowing when to break the rules.

“Whatever repercussions there are to this, it’s your fault,” she says instead, already measuring another dose.

He downs it like a shot and with a grimace, even though he is still laying on the floor. It manages to wring a snort out of her, as does the way he remarks that the straw she put in the pedialyte looks like a worm: “Which I’ll allow only because you chose blue; the best color.”

He fumbles in and out of consciousness, mind half addled, and she thinks she’s found a cheat code to becoming his friend. With his sharp eyes half closed and his height stolen by his horizontal position on the floor, too tired to keep his body wired and slurping through a straw because the energy to sit up seems like a far flung concept, he’s easy to see and even easier to like.

“You made the good shit,” he half slurs as he takes another sip.

“Yeah?”

“Grew up on this stuff,” he says by way of explanation. “It was free at my first school, low income and what not. Wanted to make sure we had enough calories to suffer through the school day. Picked it up at food banks, too.”

She hums, pretending he hasn’t just revealed something that she doubts he’s told anyone else. “Kept it around for the taste?”

“Malnourished after Lupa, just a bit,” he says arching his neck in discomfort before taking another sip. “I made sure to pick some up while we were still in the states. ‘Beth knows I like it though. I think she already bought some.”

“Yeah.” Reyna can vaguely remember something along those lines, sitting with Annabeth and going over supply lists for the ship. She’d been rambling and scatterbrained, which Reyna now knew was her default state.

He switches subjects after that, nothing sticking for long. It’s an interesting contrast to the Percy that she’s met. She wonders if he was like ths as a kid, or maybe it was longer than that. Maybe it was until they were swapped, maybe it was until Tartarus and she just never got the chance to see.

“You’re talkative when half your guts are down the drain,” she tells him, after listening to him ramble about the Knicks for a couple minutes.

“Blame my state.”

“I am, dumbass.”

“So rude,” he says in Spanish, sounding like her neighbors in Puerto Rico, getting together under the shade during the heat of the day, complaining about their daughters. “What’re you doing here anyway,” he asks, “Why aren’t you nice and cozy in your bed.”

“Obviously sitting on the floor with you is superior.”

He coughs out a laugh, there. Weak, but she can feel his amusement from the crinkle of his eyes before he sobers. “Really, why?”

“Nightmare.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Want to talk about Tartarus?” she snaps, because no, she does not want to talk about her historical issues with boats, or how she’s thinking of Jason, out there escorting a forty foot statue in an attempt to stop yet another war.

“Sorry,” Percy whispers, pulling his head back a bit.

“No, I’m sorry.” She’s supposed to be better than this. She’s supposed to be a leader, which does not include letting her frustrations out on others, no matter the time of day–or night. “That was unprofessional of me.”

He snorts. “We’re lying on the kitchen floor and I’m wearing Black panther pajama pants. Trust me, you don’t have to be professional here… And I’m sorry–for asking.”

“It’s alright,” she ends up saying, mostly thinking that he’s right. She’s about to tell him so when she notices that his eyes have slipped closed. “Let's get you to bed.”

“I’m not gonna sleep,” he grumbles.

“Well if I get you some more magic potion can you lie to me?”

He smiles at that, one side of his mouth going up farther than the other, like in almost every photo she saw of him during her months at Camp Half-Blood. “If you, Reyna Ramírez Allreano, get me more orange pedialyte, I will absolutely fall asleep as soon as I’m in my bed.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

#percy jackson #reyna avila ramirez arellano #reyna ramirez arellano #its been a while since i posted something for pjo #pjo #pjo fanfic #hoo fanfic #hoo #alea iacta est #Reyna!Swap au #chart writes #fic: Amicus Certus in re Incerta Cernitur #riordanverse #anyways I'm pretty happy with this and if you want some explanations or clarifications you can ask me or look at my final notes on ao3!#i already have another one in the works! it just needs to be beta read

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girlgirlgirlnormal · 3 years

Text

Truly Happy

This is my AgunixReader / nameless she story that I have talked about before. I found myself completely rewriting it yesterday, wondering why I suddenly craved to watch something so much softer than originally planned, but my question was answered once I got my period today.

So, this is smutty and fluffy and happy, romantic sex.

Have fun!

She was sprawled on top of the covers, eyes closed, caressing her naked body. It had been too long. Since they had entered this hellhole her fiancé Morizono Aguni had not laid a finger on her.

She got it. Really. This “paradise” Takeru had created had to be watched over. Mori had enough responsibilities to keep three people on top of their feet all to himself and to add he had to take care of her.She felt bad about it. She tried her best at the games, and she was sure that she would survive without him trying to protect her during all of them, but he was concerned. He loved her and he sure as hell wouldn’t let her die in this horrible land. His pretty little princess.

She sighed as her hand travelled further down, contemplating if she should just do it herself. Mori was in an executive meeting. She, despite her being the number three, did not attend those meetings. They were tense and boring, and she didn’t like seeing the love of her life filling out the role of ruthless militia leader for his best friend.

She missed him. She missed him so much. He was right there, but she missed him. They had spent almost every moment together in the real world, only leaving each other’s side to go to work, here she only saw him briefly, when he carefully entered the room and laid down beside her, trying not to wake her in the middle of the night, being already gone the next morning when she woke up, when they walked past each other on the beach, when they attended a game together. It was not enough.

Her hands cupped her breasts, not big enough to hold all of them. She missed his hands on her. She moaned his name, thinking of the way he kissed, touched, loved her. She couldn’t help but moan his name.

“What are you doing, my love?”, Moris voice interrupted her.

She hadn’t heard him come in, he was too used to sneaking in and out. She bit her lip.

“Being naughty?”, the answer came out more as a question, as her eyes finally met his.

She knew how much he loved her being a brat. How much he loved her being his little princess, who he could love and cherish, and care for.

Morizono sighed, he walked up to the bed, and sat down next to her. Without thinking she grabbed his hand and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles.

“I miss you”, she whispered, “I miss you so much, Mori.”

“I’m here, my love”, was all he said, his eyes focused on hers, not even straying to look at her body, “I will always be here for you.”

She gave his hand another soft, slow kiss, “I need you, daddy”, she whispered.

Mori sighed, slowly taking his hand out of hers.

“Princess”, he sighed, caressing her face, “we have talked about it. Our families were blessed by the fertility gods”, he laughed softly, “you don’t have your pills and everything else is expired.”

He was talking about the condoms and hormone shots they had found here. She knew from Ann that at least 5 of the girls living in the beach had tested positive with multiple pregnancy tests, so none of the expired birth control was useful and they both came from families who had never had a problem reproducing.

She pouted, looking up at him through her lashes, “I really need you, Mori. Please.”

She sat up, taking his hand back in hers and lightly sitting on his lap, placing soft kisses on his lip.

“Princess”, he whispered, “please, my love. What will I do if it happens? How will I protect you? From the beach? The games?”

She chuckled lightly, “Just the day before we got here, we were counting the days until our wedding, just for it to happen. Have you forgotten how much we wanted children?”

“Not here”, he said, looking away, “we don’t know how long we will be here. What will we do without doctors? You wouldn’t get the necessary nutrition. You would have to keep attending games.”

“My visa runs out tomorrow”, she sighed, “I could die tomorrow at the game. I could die in the morning, because some dumb fuck was training his shooting near the pool. We don’t know what will happen. We still must live our lives. We can’t just keep surviving.”

“What do you want me to do, my love?”, he finally embraced her, pulling her closer to his chest.

“I want you to love me.”

He looked in her eyes. Watching her face carefully. She thought he would reject her again, but he nodded with a sigh.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t been”, he paused for a moment, “that I have been so distant. You know I love you. More than anything. I will do everything for you, my love.”

“Just do me, daddy”, she whispered, knowing that he finally would.

He chuckled, hands resting on her thighs, as he started kissing her jaw and throat. He knew what she liked. He knew how to make her happy. He slowly sat her down on the bed, never stopping the small kisses he was peppering all over her throat, as he hovered over her, placing her comfortably on the bed. His hands slowly massaging her breasts, just like she liked it. Her hardened nipples were poking his palms, and her soft moans ringing in his ears like an angels choir.

“Mori”, she moaned, pulling his face up to hers, and putting all the love she felt for him in a painfully slow kiss, her arms snaking around his chest, trying to pull him even closer, like she wanted them to just melt together and never come apart again.

“I love you so much it hurts”, she whispered against his lips, describing the constant pull in her chest. When he was by her side her heart could explode from joy, when he was away the ache got even worse, making her think she would die from missing him.

“My love”, he whispered, he loved her more than he ever thought he could love anyone and he didn’t know how to put it in words, “You are my everything. My heart, my soul. My sun and my moon”, he kissed her forehead before pecking her lips one more time and kissing a trail down to her breasts. His hands wandered down to her thighs, slowly squeezing and massaging them as his mouth was busy kissing and licking her breasts, slowly, lovingly. She liked it rough, but she liked it even more then he put all his love in it.

“Please”, she whimpered, “I need you.”

He looked up at her, mouth still sucking on her left nipple, one hand down at her thigh, the other playing with her breast. He slowly nodded, releasing her breast with a soft plop. He kissed down her stomach, placing herself between her legs to go down on her, but she stopped him.

“I’m ready for you, daddy. Don’t tease me anymore”, she could see his hard cock under his army pants, “Please.”

He stopped a moment, placing a soft kiss on her venus hill before standing up and undressing. She watched him with a longing look. To her he looked like a god. The most beautiful and sexy god in all of history. He sat down between her spread legs again, leaning forward, kissing her with so much love and lounging that she could feel her heart explode. One hand was placed next to her head, holding him up, the other caressing the wetness between her folds.

“I said stop teasing”, she giggled into the kiss, “Please, Mori.”

Mori answered that we a laugh, but he complied, slowly easing his long, thick dick into her. She moaned, quickly wrapping her legs around his waist to hold him close. He moaned, kissing down to her throat again, kissing and sucking it, as he slowly started to thrust in her.

“I love you so much”, Morizono whispered in her ear, lightly bighting her earbud, “I can’t wait to go back and marry you.”

She could feel herself get close to her release, as Mori kept thrusting into her, while slowly sucking her nipples.

“Like that”, she moaned, as he hit a particularly sweet spot, “I’m so close, Mori.”

He looked up to her. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed in ecstasy and her lower lip was worried between her teeth. Morizono Aguni loved seeing the love of his life like that. He loved seeing how good he could make her feel. It only took a couple of more thrusts and she whimpered, body spasming under him, her walls clenching around him. He moaned at the sensation of it, trying to prolong his own high, to fuck her to another orgasm.

“Mori”, she moaned, “Please”, her nails were digging into his back, as she was already on her way to her second high, having gone untouched for so long.

“One more, my love”, he whispered, “for me.”

“And after that you will fill me up”, she requested, moaning, pulling him closer to herself.

“Everything for you, my love.”

Mori groaned, his hand travelling to her clit and massaging circles onto it, making her moan even louder.

“Mori”, she moaned, her nails lightly tracing his back.

It didn’t take her long to come again, her walls throbbing around him again pushing him over the edge. He groaned, slowing his thrusts, as he was trying to ride out his orgasm, face buried in her neck. With a sigh he collapsed next to her on top of the sheets, wrapping his arms around her and placing a kiss on top of her head.

After resting a couple of moments, he untangled his limps from hers and sat up, “Water and snacks?”, he asked smiling down at her.

She shook her head, making Mori stop in his tracks. That’s what she always wanted after sex. Water and snacks. It never changed.

“Is something wrong?”, he asked worriedly, “Did I hurt you?”

She laughed, “No, it was perfect”, she reached out for his hand, pulling Mori back to her side, “It was great. All I want is you.”

She opened her arms, gesturing for him to cuddle her. Smiling he obliged, lying down next to her and pulling her close to his chest.

He wished the world would stop spinning that moment. That time would stop. That he would never have to leave this bed, the side of his soulmate ever again. At that moment he was happy. Endlessly and truly happy. And so was she.

#alice in borderland #morizono aguni #aguni #netflix #beach #soulmate au #imawa no kuni no arisu

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gilbertsannegirl · 3 years

Text

The Scientist

Merry Christmas to @rootedbutfl0wing! Sorry it’s a couple of days late, but I really hope you do enjoy it! Hope your Christmas was wonderful, and it was a lot of fun getting to know you a little bit :) And thank you @kindredspiritssecretsanta (@royalcordelia) for once again hosting this wonderful event! Once again, cannot wait till next year x

Read it on AO3 / fanfiction.net

2019 Fic

2018 Fic

Summary: Based on The Scientist by Coldplay, which I thought kind of fitted Anne and Gilbert a lot (have a listen if you’ve never heard it before! It’s a beautiful song). Major moments of their relationship from Gilbert’s point of view, along with missing scenes and an AU ending, definitely enemies to friends to lovers. Hope you enjoy!

Come up to meet you; Tell you I’m sorry; You don’t know how lovely you are

Red. He saw it, red hair. Never was there another colour like it. Gilbert slowly turned in his seat to see a scraggly, freckled girl seated next to Diana Barry. Who was this girl? The sun glinted steadily through the window onto that hair that had drawn his eye in the first place. Why it’s as red as carrots, he thought, continuing to do nothing but stare at the girl who he had never seen in his life. She glanced his way, to which he winked at her, smiling smugly that she’d looked.

After a muttered word to Diana, the girl gazed out the window and, at least what Gilbert began to believe, blatantly ignored him. Feeling the need to see those grey-green eyes look his way once more, he began to rack his brain for ideas. Carrots…

“Carrots,” he hissed softly while tugging gently on the red hair he’d already grown so fond of, “Carrots.”

She whirled around in horror, her eyes flashing a delicious shade of green. “How dare you!” she screamed, and the next Gilbert knew was she’d gone and smashed something over his head. Was that a slate? Either way he found himself apologising profusely to Mr. Phillips who’d rushed to the scene.

Ann Shirley has a very bad temper. Ann Shirley must learn to control her temper. * Was written on the board, and the girl grimly marched to the board placing an ‘e’ at the end of each Ann. Anne Shirley. What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Anne stood seething under that sign for the rest of the afternoon, glaring every now and then at the boy who started it all.

At the end of the day Gilbert waited behind for Anne to leave after her lecture from Mr. Phillips. Intercepting her at the door, he glanced into her eyes, “I'm awfully sorry I made fun of your hair, Anne," he whispered contritely. "Honest I am. Don't be mad for keeps, now." *

The lovely girl with the golden, red hair snubbed her nose, and marched away with Diana at her side. Despite this, he grinned dumbly. She’s simply lovely, he thought his eyes following her down the road as she made her way towards what he assumed to be her home.

I had to find you; Tell you I need you; Tell you I set you apart

With the mayflowers in hand, Gilbert set off towards Patty’s Place, smiling sweetly at what could come of this particular visit. He found Anne in the orchard her head buried in a book, and he smiled slightly at her usual Anne-ness.

Handing her the Mayflowers, he carefully told her of his plans for the summer: staying in Kingsport to work at the Daily News Office. Gilbert watched as her face fell, hoping this was as good of time as any to ask her the question he had yearning in the back of his mind ever since that fateful day he called her carrots. She quickly composed herself however, and before she could make any more excuse to leave to pick violets, he said, “Things can't go on like this any longer. Anne, I love you. You know I do. I - I can't tell you how much. Will you promise me that someday you'll be my wife?” **

Anne quickly turned away shaking her head. Gil’s face fell immediately. Perhaps he was deceiving himself all along. Had she really never loved him? What about at Echo Lodge? Surely there was something in her eyes then. She begged for his forgiveness, and he gently, in person and heart, let go of her hand.

“There isn't anything to forgive. There have been times when I thought you did care. I've deceived myself, that's all. Goodbye, Anne.” ** And as he walked away that day, malice entered his heart. He must never think of Anne Shirley again.

Tell me your secrets; And ask me your questions; Oh, let’s go back to the start

Gilbert sat, his work sprawled across his desk as he ran his hands carefully through his curls. Biting his lip, he thought carefully about what was bothering him so. It has been a year, a year to the dot. His eyes glistened with tears once more as he remembered the terrified look on Anne’s face as he told her of his love for her. Oh, how he regretted it now. Shaking his head, he recalled their beautiful friendship, dwelling on the secrets that she had lovingly entrusted him with.

“Gil,” Anne said, a little melancholic after a particularly deep conversation between the two of them, “Could I tell you something? Something I’ve never told anyone else?”

He looked at her curiously, “Not even to Marilla or Diana?” At the shake of her head, he swallowed carefully, “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Well, I never really thought of it till now. Do you really think anyone could love me? I mean romantically? I’m afraid that I’ve not grown up surrounded by love that I don’t know what I’m looking for. Marilla and Diana, they think me foolish with my fantastic ideals of love. But when I was about 5 or 6, I was living with a family who’d hired me as a work hand – to look after the children, you see. I remember their eldest son was much older than their youngest children. He was about 15 or 16. He wrote poetry and was melancholic. He was the only one in that household that ever paid any attention to me and snuck me food when no one was looking. I didn’t love him romantically of course, I was only 6, but I feel that’s where this all sprouted from in the end. Don’t you think it’s strange that these memories come back to us so many years later?”

Gilbert had stopped their walking a while back. He looked deep into her eyes and whispered, “Anne…”

Anne cleared her throat at the intimacy in his voice, and Gilbert immediately thought himself an idiot for letting such intimacy come about in this private moment, “Um, I should… go. I’ll see you later Gilbert.”

Thinking back to this moment now, just a few weeks before they went to Redmond, he knew how idiotic it was to ask for her hand. He wasn’t the brooding hero she had longed for her whole life – he was plain old Gilbert Blythe, ex-best friend of the most remarkable woman to walk the earth. Yes, she was…

Nobody said it was easy; It’s such a shame for us to part; Nobody said it was easy; No one ever said it would be this hard; Oh, take me back to the start

Gilbert saw the radiant girl – no, woman – waltz into the newly decorated hall on the arm of Royal Gardner. Her figure was dressed in an apple green with a low scooped neckline, and her ruddy tresses were laced with small snowdrops. She’s simply beyond beautiful tonight, and you can’t have her. He sighed, lacing his fingers with his ruddy curls, and pacing near the wide window that showed the snow covered land. His best friend – ex-best friend, he scoffed – was on the arm of another man and if the whispering around him was true, she would continue to be on his arm forever.

He felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, and he swung around to see Christine Stuart with a small smile gracing her lips. “Gilbert, are you ready for our dance? The band is set up now.” In the short while of pacing, the room had come to life. Women and men dressed to the nines, chatter erupting and creating an atmosphere of warmth. He nodded and grabbed her hand, placing it in the crook of his arm as they meandered to the dance floor.

They twirled and swayed slowly to the tune that was being softly played. Violins, piano, and flutes all filling his head with sweet song. Not as sweet as Anne, the thought rudely interrupted. He shook his head, gracing a glance at the couple dancing not two feet away from him and his partner. And I guess that is the man who will sit and read her Tennyson by firelight. Yes, but you would do that for her too…

“Gilbert, is everything alright?” He quickly looked up and then down, realising that he had stopped their slow dance and there were people hurrying to avoid crashing into them. “You’re awfully pale. Did you want to sit down for a spell, or perhaps get some air?”

“Um, yes please. I just need to be alone for a little while. Will you be alright? I’ll be back by the next dance.” Christine opened her mouth, but Gilbert had already started walking away continuing his pedantic running of fingers through his hair. Oh, why did you ask her to marry you anyway. You ruined everything; she could still be on your arm as a friend – best friend – not on the arm of that Royal guy. He gasped in the cold air and his hardened heart frosted over as the rivers seeped from his eyes.

I was just guessing at numbers and figures; Pulling your puzzles apart; Questions of science, science, and progress; Do not speak as loud as my heart

Every day Gilbert placed one foot in front of the other to pull himself out of bed, through the door and into the gates of Redmond to face his studies, and it was paying off. Another year without Anne; another year of topping every class. It was the easiest distraction from the rushing thoughts and escorting Christine around to various social gatherings. Pouring into schoolwork was always something he had enjoyed, but especially now when it was the only thing in his life that he could fully control. Especially when flashes of red hair and green eyes invaded his dreams every night. Especially when he couldn’t have her.

Tell me you love me; Come back and haunt me; Oh, and I rush to the start; Running in circles, chasing our tails; Coming back as we are

It hadn’t been so long ago that they were walking through Hester Gray’s garden – she was picking flowers and he was desperately trying to see more in their friendship. Days often turned to dusk while they were together. And oh, they could talk, or rather Anne could. In every memory he had of her, there were glimpses of moments that he had misconstrued as love. Fleeting touches – of course they were by accident – meaningful glances – Miss Lavender’s wedding, I think she did love me then, perhaps for a moment.

Anne was still very much on the arm of Royal Gardner at every social gathering, while Christine Stuart was on his own arm. The distractions of schoolwork and being up for the Cooper prevented Gilbert from taking in much of the gossip that surrounded the couples. In the back of his mind, he knew what they were saying. Gilbert to wed Christine and Royal to wed Anne. He knew the gossip around his love life was not true, Christine was engaged to another man and he didn’t think of her in that way. But Anne… All of those rumours could very well be true. Where would that leave him?

“Gilbert!” No… it couldn’t be her. “Gil!” And just like that her red hair was staring him in the face.

“Anne?”

“Yes, of course. Gilbert, I just wanted to congratulate you. It seems we are both on the honours list, I’ve just come from the dean’s office. Here,” she shoved a piece of paper into his hands, “see for yourself. It’s all so exciting!”

And in that moment Gilbert allowed himself back to those friendship days of Lover’s Lane, the Dryad’s Bubble, the Lake of Shining Waters, and imagined what it would be like to be with her in those places now. She continued to chatter but stopped when he suddenly gathered her into his arms. “Thank you, Carrots.” And he walked away, leaving her mouth wide open and a few tears gathered on her eyelashes.

Nobody said it was easy; Oh, it’s such a shame for us to part; Nobody said it was easy; No one ever said it would be so hard; I’m going back to the start

That moment of the honours list sustained him for some time. She was radiant at convocation in her dress with his flowers. His promise to her all those years ago. If we make it to graduation I’m sending you a bunch of Lilies of the Valley. The Cooper’s Prize was his and Anne had made the honour’s list for English. Well, of course. In the times that he has known her she has been the storyteller, and so honours in English was never a negotiable thing.

The dance began and through the crowd he could see her. She was once again in a shroud of pale green taffeta, his flowers laced through her hair. Everything slowed as they made eye contact with one another. He stumbled towards her, dropping Christine from his arm. As if in a daze, he made his way through the ballroom. But then he saw the haze of her eyes, and the shock in her face as she turned towards the entry of the room. She began to run out into the cool of the early summer night.

In that moment Gilbert knew exactly what he was doing, and yet his knees never stopped knocking, his hands never left his curls. He was going after her. And this time nothing was going to stop him. In the craze of the ballroom, he flung himself around dancing couples and out the door. In the moonlight he saw the pale skin of her throat accentuated by the curls let loose down her back.

“Anne!” She stopped her dazed walk but did not turn to face him. He quickly caught up to her and placed both hands on her cold shoulders. “Anne-girl, what’s wrong?”

“You did it again.” She murmured, which he barely caught through the howling wind.

“What?”

“You call me Anne-girl, you send me gifts, flowers, you never break your promises. And yet you look at me in the same way you always have, even after I broke your heart. Gil? How can you still look at me that way? I’ve never deserved it Gil… I’ve never…” It broke his heart more to have this precious girl crying in his arms over unspoken words, glances, and touches. But he did speak his heart over two years ago in that orchard. Could it be that she’s changed her mind? “And now, you’re going to marry Christine and it’s all my fault that I never understood… I never understood…”

“Anne-girl,” he said in reverence, “is that what this is about?” She pulled her head off his chest to look into his kind, hazel eyes, and he reached up to wipe away her tears. “I’m not engaged to marry Christine. It’s all silly rumours, one’s which I never paid much attention to anyway. You see… I have a dream. I persist in dreaming it, although it has often seemed to me that it could never come true. I dream of a home with a hearth-fire in it , a cat and dog, the footsteps of friends – and you!” ***

And there was once again that moment in which Anne looked at him like he thought he must look at her and he knew there was no separating them again.

*Anne of Green Gables Chapter XV

**Anne of the Island Chapter XX

***Anne of the Island Chapter XLI

#annesecretsanta #anne of green gables #aogg #anne with an e #anne shirley #gilbert blythe #anne fanfiction #shirbert fanfiction

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

the unseen one - 14

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: are we finally moving the plot? yes we are. get ready for the emotional rollercoaster the next chapters.

Next Chapter >>

James was used to feeling dirty, to feeling guilty. As years went by, he expected that somehow and somewhere he’d learn not to feel guilty anymore, to grow numb to eventually hurting people but the feeling was still very much alive within him. However, nothing hurt more than leaving her while she was sleeping to return to the place he had sadly learned to call his home. He stared at her for a long while, recalling how she had barely made it awake once they got home and had fallen asleep the minute her skin touched the freshly washed cotton white sheets, hair sprawled around her head almost like an halo and hands meeting each other as she sleep on her side. He could see life in her, he could hear it and he could sense it, from the constant rosey blush that seemed to live on her cheeks whenever someone praised her to the sound of air exiting her lungs through her parted plump lips. She was alive, very much alive. He, on the other hand, didn’t exactly know if he was alive or not.

He didn’t want to leave her, specially after sleeping with her. He knew what she was gonna think, he knew that no matter how sorry he was, how much he tried to explain, he knew what she was gonna think when she woke up and he wasn’t laying next to her. He pursed his lips, hand holding the handle applying all his pressure on the small piece of worn out golden metal.

He looked down, turning the knob, exiting the room and closing the door behind him, slowly as not to wake her. The Underworld was waiting and he had to return before Apollo’s pussy chase ended. James left her flat, going down the stairs and onto the hallway. As he was about to return he felt an unnerving presence surround him, almost like a mist of evil had surrounded him. Slowly, James looked over his shoulder, seeing a known figure standing at the beginning of the staircase.

- James, isn’t it? - she climbed down the stairs, a suspecting look on her features. He had forgotten her name but he knew her from the block party, Y/N’s filterless friend. - You remember me, right? Y/N’s friend?

- I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your name. - he gave her a sympathetic smile, hands entering his own pockets, eyes lowering to the floor to stare at his shoes. She sighed, a smile on her lips.

- It’s Anne, make sure you don’t forget it again.

- Well, Anne, I really should get going.

- It’s okay, you’ll be back soon. - he stopped on his tracks, giving up on trying to escape her as her words brought some sort of worry into him. - For Y/N, I mean.

He tried to forget about what she had just said, walking away from Y/N’s building and into a quiet area so he could return to the Underworld. Maybe he shouldn’t be worrying so much, after all Y/N was always saying how her friend would constantly say weird things to freak people out, maybe she was just being overprotective over Y/N, who knew.

Morning rose quickly for both of them however it brought different feelings. Y/N woke up in a cold bed, not knowing why she was expecting him to have stood with her until sunrise. He was a busy man, she knew he was busy and busy people do not have the time to simply stay and sleep with ... well, with whatever she was to him.

Y/N thought about returning to sleep but her plans were interrupted by Anne rushing into her bedroom, taking a seat on the end of her bed, an “I know what you did last night” look plastered all over her face. She hesitates to ask her to leave, maybe she needed someone to pour her insecurities on after being left alone.

- I see you wore your sexy dress. - she noticed the dress Y/N was wearing, lips twinging into an all knowing smirk. Y/N was a predictable person and you’d normally figure out if she was expecting something out of the date based on the way she dressed and the pretty white satin dress was surely a date sex expectation dress. - C’mon, I got us some fruit for breakfast.

- I’m not sure I’m that hungry. - she rested her hands against the duvet, looking at her fingers still somewhat burned from scrapping them against the concrete, memories of his skin against hers invading her memory.

- It’s a really nice fruit platter, sweetie. - Anne put her hands on top of her duvet, staring at her friend with a look Y/N couldn’t read. However, in all honesty, Anne seemed to change in between moods so often that Y/N could no longer identify them. She sighed, nodding her head yes, forcing a smile to linger on her lips.

She got dressed in her sleeping robe, deciding it would be best not to parade around in her dress that still had a lingering scent of James’ sandalwood cologne. The blooming of light coming from her living room made her even more upset than she already was. Normally, she loved leaving her bedroom barefoot and feel the cold of the wooden floors against her feet and the warmth of the sun rays hitting her arms, but today she couldn’t care less about it. Maybe it was because she wanted to share it with James after last night but she knew he had to work.

Anne sat by her kitchen’s island, a cardboard platter of various types of beautifully shiny and delicious looking fruit standing on top of the marbled stone.

- So ... - Anne moved her head to the side, her hair swinging to the side. - How is James? I saw him leave yesterday, am I wrong to assume you’ve spent the night with him?

- It was Valentine’s Day, take of that what you will.

- Why is he not here then? - she took one of the red grapes from the stem and throwing it into the air and into her mouth. - Sounds like a hit and run to me.

- He’s busy. - Y/N let an exasperated breathe, her eyes settling on a piece of red fruit. A pomegranate. - Hey, you got a pomegranate, I love pomegranates.

Y/N grabbed a knife from her knife stand, making a cut along the middle of the fruit before her hands went to grab the cut, opening it. Her fingers went to grab the little red seeds, popping one on her mouth. It always tasted like spring picnics and good memories with her parents.

- How did you get pomegranates? It’s not pomegranates season.

- I’m so sorry, Y/N. I hope you can forgive me.

- What do you mean? - her eyes were stuck with hers before they lowered to her own hands. The redness of the pomegranate juice had started to stain her hands and what once looked like a ripe piece of fruit looked dirty and were suddenly filled with ants. She felt her head lolling to the side before she slid from her high chair, head hitting the ground with a small thud. As her head hit the ground she couldn’t hear anything anymore, everything sounded like a murmur but she was sure her door opened and closed. Her head was laying on its side, eyes staring at the chairs of the leg which turned blurrier and blurrier until the colour black enveloped her senses.

tag list: @philogrobizedvee @keithseabrook27 @inlovewith319

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loukja · 4 years

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A6 Headcanons - Movie Night

(I wrote this with current movie and series examples for, well, obvious reasons^^)

June: June is probably into all those inspiring, beautiful movies with a sad twist. “The Theory of Everything”, “The Untouchables”, “Saving Mr. Banks”, things like those. But he doesn’t like it if they don’t have at least some sort of a happy end. He wants to see a positive outlook on humanity, wants to get to see people be happy and accomplish things. There’s more than enough tragedy in his life, and watching movies is supposed to be an escape. Movie nights with him would be the cosiest. Wrapped up together in a blanket, his arms around you, sharing a bowl of popcorn. Talking about the movie as the credits roll, veering off into the deeper topics, like the meaning of friendship, of holding on and letting go. Oh, and if you fall asleep during the movie he will carry you to bed, bridal style.

Calderon: The captain probably enjoys educational stuff. Wanna watch some documentaries together? Or historically accurate movies? No? But he’d even pause them to lecture you about background information that they left out. Who would want to turn that down? Now, while this might sound boring at first (at least to some), what always is fun is watching something about old (unsolved) mysteries with him and speculating about them. Like corn circles or how humans build the pyramids and stuff like that. At first Cal would be a bit exasperated by whatever people came up with, but then he would launch into spinning crazy theories with you. He’d sneak an arm around your shoulders over the course of the evening, and he would not bring snacks because he “doesn’t need any”. And then he’d steal from your snacks, so watch out.

Damon: Oh, he’d definitely be into crime stuff. True crime and fictional. Either way he’d comment a lot: if things are realistic, what dumb mistakes could have been avoided and so on. He’d probably like “Gone Girl”, and “Hannibal”, generally movies and shows where the characters are smart. If something is badly written he’d actually get upset at it, and is probably not beyond throwing crisps at the TV: “Are you kidding me? He would’ve been caught before he even committed the murder!” The evening would start with you casually sprawled across the couch side by side but would probably end with his head in your lap and you feeding him snacks. If you’re not watching something super engaging, he might even fall asleep like that.

Bash: With him you can binge watch just about any series, he can adapt. Umbrella Academy? Amazing! Game of Thrones? Aweso… wait, why is everybody dying? Friends? Sure, why not? The Great British Bake Off? Sign him up! Attack on Titan? Hell ye… wait, why is everybody dying?! It’s great fun to joke around with him and fall into the ‘just one more episode’-trap together. Snack-wise he’d probably pull some stunt like mixing M&Ms and Skittles because he likes surprises. At some point in the evening you’d probably end up throwing food at each other and trying to catch it with your mouths. And later on you’d probably fall asleep on the couch, tangled with each other and the blanket and the TV still running in the background.

Ryona: Do not, I repeat, do not watch medical series with her if they are not accurate! She’d also get really upset with the general lack of first aid in movies and series. “What the hell are you guys doing?! That’s not a lethal shot! You don’t need to say goodbye! Oh, quit the ‘StAy WiTh Me’ bullshit, do something!” So, yeah, better stick to something nice, something that will make her smile. Maybe “A series of unfortunate events” or “Anne with an E” or “Grace and Frankie”. She’d be also very interested to see movies/series you love and talk to you about why you like them, no matter the genre. Ryona would put an effort into having the perfect movie night with you – she’d make hot cocoa, self-made popcorn or whatever other snack you like. She’d snuggle up to your side and sometimes whisper comments about the movie to you.

Ayame: She’d be into all the trash movies. “Sharknado”, “2-Headed Shark Attack” and so on. Also stuff like “Shaun of the Dead” or “Robin Hood – Men in Tights”. She’s also the queen of movie drinking games. Mostly because she comes up with very specific ones and you’d swear she makes up rules as she goes: “Hammer Time! You have to drink!” “What?” “Whenever there’s a hammerhead shark on screen you have to say hammer time. I told you that, pay some attention, would you?” You’d be so drunk by the end of the movie that she’d have to carry or drag you to bed. But apart from that movie nights with her are so much fun, just the two of you making dumb jokes until you cry from laughing so much. There’s also a high chance of a pillow fight breaking out over who’s hogging the shared blanket too much.

Vexx: He likes things that go boom. So, movies with tons of action. He’d probably like things like the Avengers. If he says about whatever happens on screen “I could do that.” – dare him to do it. It’s bound to be hilarious. Because Vexx has a pretty big head and this could happen with just about anything. Like for example, even though he’d probably only watch that movie to make you happy, the lift from Dirty Dancing. Only dare him if you’re ready to possibly cut the movie night short and end it in the infirmary with a very angry medic. If you don’t want that, better just stay put and fight him for your fair share of the snacks – which might end in a tickling war and neither of you concentrating on the movie anymore.

#andromeda six #andromeda 6 #andromeda six headcanons #andromeda 6 headcanons #Headcanon

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angryhausfrau-writes · 3 years

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I Travel Troubled Oceans: Chapter 21 - In Which Jack and Charles Have a Conversation

Jack and Charles tumble into bed, laughing. The party's over but Jack's still hopped up on the almost manic beat of the dancefloor and the feel of Charles pressed against him, skin to skin. They roll together until Jack is atop a grinning, panting Charles, his own grin nearly splitting his face in two.

And then they're kissing. Deep and almost lazy, like ocean breakers against the shore. Unending and eternal and unfathomably deep.

It's perfect. It's everything Jack's been dreaming about for weeks and weeks. He breaks the kiss.

“Is this real?”

They've spun so many gossamer dreams over the past months. So many shimmering impossible realities. Made to trap and to trick and to misdirect their marks.

It's possible Jack himself has gotten trapped.

Charles looks up at him.“You mean me being in love with you?”

In love with him? “Yes,” Jack manages to choke out. “That.”

Charles shrugs. “Yeah.” As if it's just that easy. And then he asks, “Is it real for you?”

“Of course it's real! I've been in love with you for weeks! Months!” Jack's almost indignant that Charles could think otherwise. But at least it means Jack hasn't looked as ridiculously lovestruck as he'd feared. “Wait, how long've you been in love with me?”

Charles shrugs again. “It might've taken me a while to figure out, after everything with Eleanor and Flint and that whole fucking mess, but I've known for a while.”

“Then why the fuck didn't you say anything Chaz?”

The idea that Jack could have had this – possibly for weeks! It's galling!

Never mind the fact that he could have said something too.

“It wasn't real, us being boyfriends,” Charles says, matter of fact. “It was just for the con. And I – even if this ain't my usual kinda job, I'm not going to fuck it up just cuz of how I feel.”

He looks at Jack, now, and he looks frustrated, brow furrowed and fists clenched. Such a difference from a moment ago, when everything had been light and happy. Fantastical.

“I almost threw everything away over Eleanor,” Charles says. “I already almost fucked us during one of the most important jobs we ever pulled - I wasn't gonna do that again. Flint's job. His whole plan for us and all the rest of the crews. The stakes were too high for me to be led around by my cock. But I fucked us over for a chance with someone who didn't give a flying fuck about me.”

Because it wasn't just his cock Eleanor'd led Charles around by – she'd had him by the heart. Which was the bigger problem – if she'd just been a good fuck, Charles wouldn't have kept coming back over and over again after every betrayal.

And he's got the same problem with Jack. It isn't just that he wants to fuck him. He is in love with him.

And when Charles loves someone, there's nothing he wouldn't do for them, for that chance at loving them and being loved by them. Even if they use that fact against him, again and again and again.

And Jack's already betrayed him once, for much less than their current con is worth. Who's to say he wouldn't do it again, if he thought he had to. If he thought that was the only way to keep himself and Anne – the first and truest love of Jack's life – safe.

And Charles wouldn't even blame him for it. He understands what it means to be backed into a corner, with no good way out of it except the way that's filled with blood and death and betrayal. So he'd made sure to never back Jack into that corner.

“The stakes are always that high, now, the jobs we're pulling,” Charles continues. “And I'm not going to fuck us over again. Especially since we're supposed to be pretend boyfriends. I wouldn't put you in that position. I wouldn't force that on you when you couldn't say no.”

He's looking at Jack like he's willing Jack to believe him. Like he can make Jack agree through sheer force of will.

But Jack doesn't agree.

“You're so full of shit, Charles.”

He looks startled. Like Jack had slapped him.

“You wouldn't be forcing me into anything. I want this. It – I thought you didn't.”

Frankly, Jack didn't really think Charles could fall in love. Or that he'd want to – particularly with Jack.

Because he's right about love and betrayal and everything. Jack's no Eleanor – who he'd always thought Charles had loved more for the idea of her, the image of strength and pure ballsyness she'd professed, even if it had been a hollow facade. Charles wasn't looking for tenderness – he was looking for a fellow captain. The meanest fuck on the block. Someone who could spill as much of his blood as Charles spilled of theirs. Not a coupling, not a partnership, but a fight for dominance.

And Jack thought Charles was a bloody fool for letting Eleanor lead him around for as long as she did. For letting her betraying him. For letting her use him – though she's more than reaped her reward for all of that.

But he'd thought he'd understood what Charles was looking for. And it sure as hell wasn't the kind of love Jack found himself feeling for him.

“I didn't think you'd want, well, romance. Long walks on the beach. Quiet nights in, all that romance novel rot.”

Charles snorts a bit at that.

“See, that just proves my point! You're not the sort for candlelight dinners and breakfasts and-”

“Bubble baths and cuddling and all that sissy shit, right?” Charles raises a sardonic eyebrow. “All that shit that'd make me weak?”

Jack blushes. “It's possible I may have miscalculated slightly.”

There's a pause.

Charles looks off to the side. And Jack thinks maybe the issue's closed for the time being. But then Charles lets out a long breath. “I used to think like that. My whole fucking life was about being the toughest and the strongest. No attachments, no weaknesses.”

No love. No tenderness.

“But it's not weakness. It's strength.”

Charles turns to Jack, looks him right in the eye.

“We're partners in this thing, Jack. All of us. And there won't be any betrayal, because it would be betraying ourselves as well.”

“You can't know that,” Jack says, sounding frustrated himself now. “You can't know that we wouldn't ever fight. That we wouldn't ever have different ideas about how things should be run – that we wouldn't ever betray each other because of that.”

They've all betrayed each other so many different times. Pulled in different directions by what they thought was the best way forward – the best way to keep each other safe. Jack has betrayed Charles and he has betrayed Anne and he has betrayed Max. And been betrayed in turn. He knows intimately the pain and the fear and the confusion and the hurt that follows. Just as he knows the sick twisting triumphant shame.

“I asked Anne about that. About how it was so easy for me to love you, even though you'd betrayed me. And you know what she said? The whole point of this con, the whole point of being rich fucks, and of fucking over the system from the inside – the whole point of that is so that things are easy, now. So we don't have to struggle. We don't have to be afraid anymore. We can just live. Like all them rich fuckers get to do.”

Jack doesn't know that it's quite as easy as all that. But Anne's right, they aren't living like that anymore. Scared and fractured and trying desperately to stay just one step, just a half step even, ahead of the slavering jaws of enemies much more powerful than they could ever hope to defeat.

They have the luxury of time now, and of choice.

“I suppose we can't promise we'd never fight,” Jack says gently, thoughtfully. “Any one of us. But we've got time now, to come to a decision – together.”

Charles grunts in agreement.

And Jack supposes it doesn't hurt to try. To reach out for this one thing he'd never thought he'd get to have. With someone he'd never thought would want it.

“Anne and Max and Mary are all making it work, after all,” Jack muses, half under his breath. And they have almost more issues than Jack and Charles. “Suppose we gave it a try.”

Charles grins, sharp. “Suppose we did.”

“I get to be the one to tell Anne,” Jack says, calling dibs because otherwise Anne'll let on how desperately Jack's been pining after Charles. And that's just too embarrassing.

“You'll just make a whole big show of it,” Charles grumbles. But in a way that means he wouldn't really mind it all that much.

Jack just gives him a look.

“Yeah, all right.” And Charles heaves a put upon sigh. “You'll be fucking insufferable otherwise.”

“Oh you know you love me,” Jack says, with a coquettish fluttering of his eyelashes.

“God help me, I do.”

A pause.

And then Charles glares up at Jack again. “This is the part where you say you love me too.”

In truth, Jack feels rather giddy knowing his affections are returned. But he's not about to admit that. Admit how looking into Charles's eyes makes him feel like his insides are full of bubbling champagne. How his heart beats faster whenever Charles stands too near him. How much Jack would like to shout his infatuation from the rooftops so that everyone knows he's absolutely besotted.

He can't admit any of that, so sarcasm and good-natured teasing it is.

“Oh, who wouldn't want to date you, Chaz? Such an exemplar of charm and good manners.”

“Fuck you, Jack.”

Charles pushes him off and Jack lays sprawling, looking sideways at Charles. He's got a genuine smile on his face, and Jack's sure his own grin matches.

“Love to, darling. But not tonight. We really ought to get some sleep.”

“Hmmm,” Charles hums low in agreement.

There's another, longer, sleepier pause.

“Like it when you call me that,” Charles says, sounding half asleep already.

“What, darling?”

“Yeah. Know it doesn't mean anything. But s'nice.”

Jack snuggles back against the pillows and makes a note to come up with the sappiest fucking nicknames for Charles he can think of.

Jack and Charles come down to breakfast the next morning, blushing and smiling and holding hands and Anne doesn't need to be a genius to figure out that they've finally figured out that they're stupidly in love with one another. The oblivious idiots.

“Oh. My. God,” is Mary's assessment. “Fucking finally.”

The two just grin and hold hands and blush harder.

#black sails #charles vane/jack rackham #anne bonny/max #i travel troubled oceans #chapter 2

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bookandcranny · 4 years

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If You can Change Your Tune

The interloper arrives in a rented moving van, the same sort as all the ones before.

“Are you sure about this?” her friend asks as they pull up to the house. “I know you’ve always had a thing for fixer-uppers but this place might be beyond saving.”

Even as she unlocks the front door the wind whistles a note of warning through its rickety frame. The floorboards beneath their feet crackle and moan at the intrusion.

“All it needs is a little love,” the interloper retorts. Her name is Ann. I remember her from the showing, a woman of insufferably good cheer walking room to room with the equally annoying realtor of the week, a dopey smile hanging from her lips.

I didn’t think much of it at the time. People like her come around from time to time with aspirations in their heads of moving into the rural countryside to rehabilitate my thickets into sprawling gardens or write the next great American novel from within my historic walls. Seeing the reality of the place in person was usually enough to convince them to chase their fantasies elsewhere. However, it appears this particular happy-go-lucky thorn in my side needs a bit more work to dislodge.

“Are you sure you’re not in over your head?” the other one asks. I try to guess at their relationship. Friend? Sister? A lover? I’m sick to death of couples.

“It’s a little late for me to back out now,” Ann laughs, twirling the keys around her finger. “Don’t worry, Nick’s bringing his crew over tomorrow to start on the repairs. She’s a project but the foundation’s sound. Next time you see this place she’ll be a real beauty.”

“’She’?”

“Yeah, you know, like how people call cars or boats a she.” She climbs the stairs and runs her hand along the dusty banister. I think of splinters— with luck maybe she’ll get tetanus- but nothing comes of it.

The house is my body. Two stories, twelve rooms not including the attic, an old-fashioned spiral staircase, and me, the greatest antique of all, left to rot. Once upon a time a family used to live here: a mother and father, a veritable litter of hyperactive young children, uncles and aunts and cousins who would stay with them some summers and during Christmastime, and the wizened pale face of a grandfather who watched over them from above the mantle. It was all very precious, very southern hospitality, very postcard perfect. All very gone. Not even their ghosts remained; just me, and all the better for it.

Chesterfield is the name of the county as well as the nearest town, though from what I understand that’s using the term lightly. Most folks local to the area know better than to disturb me, but sometimes they get bold. Bored teenagers mostly, or suited vultures looking to see if there’s any profit to be squeezed from the property. In its heyday, the house was probably a sight to behold, but I wouldn’t know much about that. Memories of my life, if ever I truly lived, are slippery like oil on the water’s surface, impossible to grasp.

Though without eyes or ears or a mind to make use of them, I can “see” through my many windows— if eyes are the windows to the soul, maybe windows are can be eyes to the spirits— and “hear” any sounds that tremble through my frame. I’m grateful for these senses; they help me keep things in order. If someone starts to get a little too cozy with my corridors, and providing the spiders don’t scare them off first, I just slam a few doors, flicker a few lights, and they go running.

The interloper and her extra finish moving in the last of the boxes. She squeezes her arm and gives her a peck on the cheek.

“I’ll send you pics once I’ve got my room set up,” she says.

“Bold of you to think you’ll survive that long. This place is definitely haunted. Do you get cell service out here? I want to call a coroner and tell them to save your spot.”

“I don’t remember making this big a deal when you moved into your first place.”

“It had bed bugs, but it didn’t have ghosts.”

Ann makes a face. “I’ll take my chances with the ghosts.” She puts an arm around her shoulders. “Kim. You’re acting like I’m dropping off the map. You’re the one leaving the country.”

“For two weeks!” Her expression grows tense. “I feel bad leaving you like this. I should’ve been there for you, there was just so much going on.”

“It wouldn’t have changed my mind.”

She sighs dramatically. “No, nothing can, can it? I fear for whoever you end up tricking into marrying you.”

Ann slaps her playfully on the arm. “Do not start on that. Speaking of which, don’t you have a honeymoon to be on? Go on, get.”

Kim puts her hands up in mock surrender and backs out the front door. I raise one of the loose planks on the porch and she trips, just barely evading a tumble down the front steps.

“See? Cursed!”

“Go!” But she’s laughing as she adds, “Thank you for the help. It means a lot, even if Sophie is gonna kill me for keeping you this long.”

“I’ve got time to talk her down.”

The U-haul rumbles away down the dirt road until it’s a muddled blur in my perception and then, finally, gone. I’m alone with the enemy now. More importantly, she is alone with me.

I slam the door. It’s the easiest most classic trick in the book. Ann jumps and looks around. I know what she’s thinking. Just the wind? Or could it be…?

But no, one small act like that won’t be enough to convince her. With a shrug, she returns to the task of moving in. She shuffles around a few boxes in the foyer and starts moving them one by one up to the second floor. All things considered she hasn’t much to move in, but I’m not fooled. Where one intruder appears, more will follow, and bring all their junk and their noise and their petty living problems with them.

All my original furniture was auctioned off in an estate sale. It took place right here on the lawn, and I watched through my windows as they divvied up my family’s belongings, breaking them down into numbers and measures of worth for the masses. For the most part though I didn’t miss it. The absence of clutter made the space feel bigger, and I got used to the emptiness.

The interloper sets up in the master bedroom and unpacks some supplies to give the room a cursory cleaning. The agency normally sent someone over to prepare the place for new residence, but since the last few rounds of movers had come and gone, they hadn’t bothered. If Ann minds, she doesn’t show it, and I have to admit it’s nice to have someone sweep away the dirt and detritus.

After cleaning to her satisfaction, she starts opening boxes with foreign labels and assembling her furniture from strange little kits, turning sheets of instructions over in her hands as she nibbles on a hangnail. The result is a set of cheap-looking geometric furniture that makes her curse as she accidentally attaches the table leg to the chair and the chair leg to the bedframe. Something about watching her work transfixes me. Probably her comical ineptitude.

After she fixes all the furniture she dresses her new bed and starts cluttering her shelves with all kinds of bizarre toys and knickknacks. Among her affects is a paperback book titled “the art of moving in and moving on”. I scoff.

“This is a temporary arrangement. Very temporary, you got it?” I tell her, though I know she can’t hear me. I know this, but it still annoys me. It feels like she’s ignoring me.

The interloper smiles to herself and takes out a black rectangle that she holds up like a camera, though the shape is far too small and thin. She lowers it, considering, and then from yet another box digs out a string of Christmas lights and hangs them up above the bed.

“It’s June,” I say, dumbfounded.

I look at the string of lights and put pressure on one of the bulbs until it bursts. She jumps, but the moment passes. She spends the bulk of the evening fussing with her camera-thing until she falls asleep.

Fine. If she wants to play hardball, I’ll play hardball.

In the morning, the interloper’s camera-thing plays a tune to rouse her. Her waking is both a curse and a blessing, for while I was glad to be free of her active meddling, even as she slept I was never able to completely ignore her presence. I feel her like an itch, like a stubborn pimple forming beneath my skin, and I’m glad to sense her rising if only because it means I can get back to business sooner rather than later.

The water heater and other facilities are still in good condition from the last unfortunate newcomers I drove from my doorstep, which frees her to take a long shower, singing obnoxiously all the while. This, however, is a perfect opportunity for me. When the heat from the shower fogs the chipped bathroom mirror, I brandish my loathing like a pen and write her a message. Granted, precision isn’t my forte, so the words come out a little smeared and crooked, but still the intent is clear as can be.

LEAVE

Ann squints at the streaked mirror. “Love?”

“Are you really that stupid?”

She looks around but, seeing no one, shrugs it off again and starts to brush her teeth. When she ducks her head to spit, I quickly try again.

MINE

“Mina? Who’s Mina?”

I groan. Okay, perhaps a more symbolic approach. I will the mirror to shatter, but just then a loud knocking sounds and Ann runs off in a frenzy before she can see the long crack forming down the center.

“Door’s open!” She calls from the landing as she hurries to finish dressing with one hand and wrangle her hair into a towel with the other.

I try to hold it shut, but despite my efforts, the door is forced open and a parade of half a dozen handymen file into the entryway. As they start setting up, a burly towheaded man breaks from the pack and goes to meet Ann as she’s bounding down the stairs.

“Careful, careful. Don’t put your foot through anything before I’ve even had the chance to bill you.”

“Nick,” Ann says fondly. “If these stairs could handle me, Kim, and the fifty-pound mattress we lugged up there yesterday, I think they’re stable.”

“You gals didn’t have to do all that. I could’ve—“

“It’s fine,” she insists. “You’re helping me out enough as it is.”

“Yeah, well, we’re even for that whole thing at Kim’s wedding now.”

“More than even,” she agreed. “I know this was last minute. Dinner’s on me tonight. I’ll order enough pizza for the entire crew.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You haven’t seen how much Seth can eat.”

Their easy banter disgusts me. Living people are all the same; wandering around with blind optimism or bemoaning every bad turn, blissfully unaware of how little it truly mattered. One wrong step with those tools of theirs and any one of them could be joining me among the shiftless dead. I don’t have any desire for that kind of company so I decide to wait until they’re done with their renovations before I risk trying to scare anyone again.

As it is they hardly need my help. Ann, it turns out, is more than just clueless, she’s a klutz. If that isn’t enough she insists on “helping” right up until she almost shoots herself in the foot with a nail gun. Nick warns her not to try it again but I don’t feel any anger from him. The crew are all familiar with one another and with her. They chat and toss around jokes between tasks; someone puts on music.

The feeling isn’t quite a tangible one, but then neither am I. It’s an energy I struggle to describe, something like wading in a river and being aware of a splash rippling from upstream. Compared to the sharp tang of fear I’m accustomed to, all this amicability is nauseatingly sweet.

Ann beams, and the high arches of her cheeks dimple and flush darkly, round as apples.

“What exactly do you have to be so happy about?” I hiss in her ear.

As much as I hate to admit it though, I can understand why someone like her moved so easily among the crowd. Even when she was getting underfoot, she’s a difficult person to condemn for it. How could anyone begrudge her excitement when it was so abundant? Or her love when it was so freely given?

Growing impatient with it all, I knock a toolbox off the top of a stepladder and send its contents scattering in all directions. It lands hard and the sounds of work, the music and the laughter, all come to an abrupt stop.

“What was that?” someone asks. A worker crouches down underneath the arch of the ladder to collect some of the scattered screws and I, with great satisfaction, tip the thing over on top of him. The damage is little, but it’s enough to get the entire crew good and spooked.

“I didn’t touch it,” the injured handyman insists as he nurses his bruises with an icepack. “It just collapsed.”

“Maybe this place is haunted,” another jokes, but her smile doesn’t quite cover her nervousness.

“Kim said the same thing,” Ann muses to herself. Nick looks at her and she startles, as if she hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud.

“I was wondering how you were able to afford this place, even with the damage.”

“Oh don’t start with all that black cat broken mirror stuff. You see bad omens in everything.”

“And you don’t see red flags until they’re waving right in the face. Not even then,” he accuses. Her guilty expression says there’s some truth to his words. “Tell me honestly, is this house haunted?”

“That’s silly. Of course not.”

“Then how do you explain what just happened?” I demand with frustration.

“Then how do you explain what just happened?” asks the injured worker.

“Thank you!”

Ann hums thoughtfully and looks up at my aged walls, my decrepit ceilings. “The realtor warned me there were rumors about this place. This house has survived fire, flood, and an attempted demolition; somehow nothing was ever able to destroy it, and every person who’s lived here had reported seeing strange things. Objects moving on their own, strange sounds at night.”

Nick leans forward in his seat. “And what did you say when they told you all that?”

“I told her it sounded perfect.”

He puts his head in his hands. “Ann. Mary-Ann Thorne. Tell me you did not buy an actual haunted house. When Kim told me you just up and bought a house on a whim I thought that was crazy enough but this…”

“I didn’t buy a haunted house,” she says. She stood up straight and spread her hands with a dramatic flourish. “I bought a survivor. Houses are like people. They have personalities, they have their own little quirks, their likes and dislikes. Old houses most of all. I could tell as soon as I walked into this place that… well that she had something special. I can’t explain it, I just felt so drawn to her.”

She places her hand on the wall and holds it there. If I were alive I think I would shiver.

“She’s been through a lot, but with some TLC she’s gonna sing, I can feel it.”

“That’s crazy,” Nick says, but she isn’t listening. Not to him. It’s almost as if… almost…

“Can you hear me?”

She doesn’t respond. Of course she doesn’t. I berate myself for even daring to expect something so deluded. However, her little speech seems to encourage the crew, or else they’ve just calmed down enough to put aside their reservations and get back to work.

Watching them I feel… strange. Even when my house had been lived in before I had never really felt so cared for. It’s all ridiculous of course, a blind act of charity sprung from some silly woman’s misguided and misdirected affection. While the workers patch holes and replace crumbling pieces, the interloper sweeps and scrubs, eager to do her part.

Evening falls, and Ann prepares to head into town to pick up dinner.

“The guy on the phone said they don’t deliver to this address for some reason,” she says. “Weird.”

“Why don’t I go,” offers Nick. “I’ve got the truck. There’s more room.”

“Okay,” she reluctantly agrees. “But I’m still buying, clear?”

“Crystal.” There’s a faint air of nervousness wafting from him, I think. I suspect he’s been hoping for an opportunity to get away from me for a while.

The rest of the crew seem mostly recovered from their brief brush with the supernatural. I intend to fix that.

I start by flickering the lights, another classic. Someone gets up stammering about checking the fuse box in the basement, but as he and Nick each go for the doors I slam them both at once, creating a nice echoing effect that rings all through the house.

“Try writing that off as the wind.”

“I got a better idea,” another someone offers up. “How about we all go into town for dinner? It’ll be nice to get out of— it’ll be nice to get out, let the dust settle here.”

“Come on, Ann,” Nick gestures. “We can swing by the bar after. It’ll be fun.”

She hesitates, a strange look on her face, and takes a step back. “You all go ahead. I’m not that hungry.”

“Ann.” He speaks more sternly now, looking something like an older brother with a neat wrinkle of worry taking up residence on his brow. “Come on.”

“I’m fine here, and you’re being silly. If you don’t believe me, bring me back something after you eat and you’ll see that I’m perfectly safe here alone.”

“But you’re not alone,” I whisper, for nobody’s benefit but my own. “What would you say, if you knew. If you really knew.”

“Besides, I’ve already spent the night here once. If something were going to happen, why didn’t it?” She pulls a smirk, puts her hands on her hips. “Maybe it’s just you guys my house doesn’t like.”

Nick huffs an almost-laugh and relents, not entirely satisfied but not looking to argue the point any longer. He tells her to call him right away if anything changes and then he leaves. The workers file out after him, the last of them gingerly shutting the door behind him, so as not to anger me.

“Why didn’t you go with them?” I ask her. My voice, such that it is, takes on a plaintive edge. Pitiful. I correct myself, refocus my aims. “You’ve had plenty of chances to run, and it’s only going to get worse from here on out. You know that, right? You’ve got to know this isn’t just some twenty-four-hour fever. You can’t get rid of me. It’s my house.”

She starts up the stairs. I follow. I have no other choice.

“Are you really this dense? How can you ignore the signs? How can you believe there’s anything here worth salvaging?"

She walks into the bathroom and stares into the cracked mirror.

“What are you doing now?” I complain. “Looking for answers? I couldn’t give them to you if I had them. Or are you just admiring your pretty reflection?” I stroke the mirror’s surface. “Must be nice, to be young and lively. If you leave now, you could have years and years of perfect ignorance, uninterrupted by those pesky reminders of death. You could have a life, and you’re wasting it.”

She touches her fingertips to the cool glass with a mystic look in her dark eyes.

“Mina?” she whispers.

“My name isn’t Mina.”

Or maybe it is. Might as well be, for all I know. I think I must’ve had a name once. Surely there was a word, a simple sound, some collection of syllables that meant I see you. Surely there had been someone to speak it and make it real in their mouth. But how should I know? And if such a person did exist, what does it matter now? I’m not a person anymore, I’m a thing that happened, a thing that’s happening still. I’m a box built to hold my history, filled up to the rafters with hurt and resentment. That’s as close as I get to living. If I could move independent of my dour walls like her, I think, I wouldn’t be wasting my time moldering in the darkness.

Ann shakes her head. “Silly. I’m being silly,” she tells herself. Looking up at the dim light fixed above her she adds, “I should probably check on that fuse box after all.”

She goes back down and opens the door to the basement. She flicks the switch on the wall a few times but that bulb's been long neglected. Even those who swear up and down they don’t fear the fables or superstition became suddenly shy when it comes to probing the deepest depths of this old house. Ann turns, presumably to seek out a flashlight, when her heel catches on one of the repairmen’s screws that had rolled loose. It’s not even my fault this time, technically.

Like some kind of morbid slapstick, her foot shoots out from under her and she stumbles backwards towards the open basement door. It’s a long drop that awaits her, followed by a fast end if she’s lucky. And I know well enough by now that she isn’t.

Without thinking, I push her. Instead of that foresworn drop down the basement stairs, Ann finds herself tripping backwards into the wall instead. She rights herself, takes in a sharp breath, and then releases it with a sigh. She’s dazed but unharmed. I find myself mirroring her relief.

She smiles. “Thank you,” she says.

Then she closes the door and walks away.

That has never happened to me before. Normally, to manifest, to have any direct impact on the physical world, I have to summon up a great deal of anger. That isn’t too hard for me; I’ve been angry a long time. But in that moment, I hadn’t been angry. I think I’d been afraid. For her safety? No, of course not. More likely I’d been worried she would leave behind a ghost and I’d be stuck with her invading my personal space for eternity. Still, I’d never… never done anything like that before. I’d never helped somebody. I suppose I’d assumed it couldn’t be done, even if I wanted to. Ghosts, spirits, malevolent spectral entities or whatever you like to call it, that’s not what we're for. That wasn’t what I did, until I did it.

I become aware of singing coming from the kitchen. The fool is never not singing or humming or whistling something. I know music; it’s not as if I’m totally uncultured. While I have no lungs nor lips to make sound, sometimes on a stormy night the wind whistles through my walls, each creak and moan playing for me the orchestra of slow degradation I’ve come to know well.

This is not that. This is… I don’t know what to do with this. I don’t know the words. Is it too late, I wonder. I can’t. I’m not ready. Oh but if you can give me time, stranger, I think I want to learn your song too.

#my writing #short story #ghosts #haunted house #paranormal romance #lgbt #horror romance #4k words #first person #original fiction

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hermankopusortizorsumshite · 4 years

Text

“Why did Hondo want everyone in today?” She asks as she walks in right behind Luca. He sits in the last available chair, leaving her searching for a seat. Swiping Luca’s elbows from his knees, she perches on his knees. They kept their work life very professional; so professional in fact, that no one knew they’d been dating for a year.

“I’m not sure.” Street shrugs. Luca’s long arms rest on her shoulders very relaxed.

“You two should date. Wouldn’t they be cute?” Cortez points as she walks in with Hondo, smiling at Ann with a knowing smile.

“Look more like friends to me.” Street shrugs, tapping Ann’s shoulder with a chuckle.

“Alright, sorry for ruining your days off. We’ve got a problem downtown. There’s a foster agency being held up. A dad looking for his son. The son’s been placed in a good home, dad’s abusive. They guy has shot two of the workers and is holding twelve other kids hostage. These are kids. You guys know, we gotta save ‘em. Gear up, Black Betty in ten minutes.” The team disappeared, congregating five minutes later dressed and ready to go. As they roll towards the agency, her heart thundered. The team loved children, and for children to be in danger whose worlds have already been turned upside down isn’t right.

“Luca, Ann take the left side, wait for my signal. Chris, Street take the right. Keep each other safe. Tan and Deacon are going through the back to escort the kids out.” Hondo directs his team as they break off. She and Luca head to the left side door. She enters first on Hondo’s go and sees a little girl, holding a finger to her lips. “I’ll be back baby.” She assures and continues on, signaling one person in that room, a kid. Once everyone’s in position, Hondo starts talking to the guy. They needed the man distracted so she could get to the two kids in the closet right behind him. At the closet door, she ushers the first little girl out and Luca gets her safely out. The second one starts to cry loudly and catches the man’s attention.

“Honey listen to me. This vest is gonna protect you okay? You put this on and hold it tight. You see that guy at the door? He’s gonna get you out safely. Okay? Hold onto your super vest and run.” She assures, giving her Kevlar to the little girl. With a confident smile, the little girl takes off towards Luca, who could no longer see Ann.

“Did that nice lady give you this?” He asks, eyes falling on the Kevlar. His heart stopped. His sweet girlfriend was in there alone, no Kevlar. “Hondo, Ann gave the little girl her Kevlar.” He stammers, a cold sweat on his forehead. He was so scared. A few shots echoed, and Tan comes out with a kid draped over his shoulder and shouting about a bus. Luca stalked back and forth, hands shaking at his sides, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Ann took her chance to jump on the guy, knocking him and his gun to the ground. She felt a sting of a gunshot, but she didn’t think another second about it. The adrenaline kept her moving as she strutted out the front of the building with the man. Luca heaves a huge sigh, sprinting to her, handing off the man and gripping her in a hug.

“Holy christ. You gave up your Kevlar? Why?” He digs, giving her a concerned look.

“She was too scared. Anyway, let’s go home. I need some Netflix.” She chuckles, holding her side as she got into Black Betty. She nodded off on the ride back, suddenly exhausted. No one found it exceptionally strange because she often fell asleep on the ride. Luca was the last one out, offering to grab her.

“Hey, hey you ready babes?” He hushes, shaking her shoulder.

“Yeah.” She whispers, standing and making her way into the car.

Once they were home, she went out onto the balcony with a glass of whiskey and started to inspect her injury. It still burnt pretty badly, like a hundred bees were stinging her, and she was so tired.

“Shit.” She murmurs, grabbing at her side when she saw the hole in her stomach.

“Babe?” She was dizzy, her heart hammering in her chest as she grabbed the railing to steady herself. Blood was never her strong suit. She had totally forgotten she’d given her vest up. She never once thought that she’d been shot. With a dizzying stumble for the chair, she trips over the table leg and the low railing on the north side had her falling over the ledge and landing flat on her back on the ground below. Staring up at the sky, she felt her heart slowly quit beating.

“Babe?” Luca thought he’d seen her on the balcony. Actually he was sure he’d seen her on the balcony. She’d been acting super strange since her arrest today. She appeared to be in a lot of pain, but she didn’t say anything. He looked across their little balcony, it’s emptiness was odd. A shriek lets out from the ground. Luca looks over the edge to find Ann sprawled like a rag doll tossed aside. His feet carried him to her, his heart ramming against his chest as he dropped to his knees. Hauling her into his lap he calls for an ambulance. People began coming from their houses.

“It’s okay babe. It’s okay. I love you. Hold on, baby. Help is coming.” He sobs, rocking her. His heart imploded, he couldn’t breathe. His whole world was lying still in his arms. He sobbed and cried until the ambulance showed up.

“Luca, Luca, let go. Let go.” Hondo whispers, pulling Luca away from her as the ambulance loaded her up and took her away. The wailing sirens slowly faded, but Luca’s heart was still jamming.

He couldn’t breathe.

Ann.

His sweet, loving girlfriend.

His favorite person.

The love of his life.

His angel.

Hondo watched as the zombie that Luca became wandered into the house for the keys to his bike.

“Luca! Let me drive you.” Hondo leads him to his car and they head for the hospital.

One hour.

Two hours.

Three hours.

“Family of Ann?” Luca jumped to his feet and ran to the doctor, his eyes bloodshot and puffy. “She’s suffered a few dislocated vertibrae and shoulder, a fractured ulna, and she suffered a concussion. She will be fine, given how badly she’s fought already.

“Can I see her?” Luca drives, nose twitching back and forth as he sniffs to keep from crying more. With a hesitant look, the doctor nods.

“She’s currently in a coma. Medically induced to give her body a chance to heal. It should only be about a week or two before she can wake up an get moving. We also found a gunshot wound we treated from earlier. Do you know how that happened?” Luca’s eyes drifted down the hall as they got to her room.

“Yeah, she’s SWAT. She tackled a guy in a house full of kids and got shot. She gave a little girl her Kevlar so she’d feel safe enough to leave the house.

“Wow, she sounds like a real hero.”

“Yeah.” He hushes, letting the doctor lead the way.

“Mister Luca, don’t be concerned at the amount of cords and wires. It’s all protocol.” The doctor informs as they head into the room. Luca’s eyes land on her and he stumbles, falling to the floor.

“Oh christ baby. I’m so sorry.” He sobs.

He went home and sat on the couch, cuddling her pillow against his body.

Luca found it harder to breathe as he walked into SWAT. He only thought about her.

“Luca? Go home.” Cortez calls from the doorway.

“No, I wanna—“

“You’re not sound. Please go home.” Luca hangs his head and nods.

Once at home alone, he filters through his memories like a movie. When the memory of her lying on the ground hits him, he folds against the pressure and collapses on the couch. A blanket they often shared during movie night falls into his lap and he hugs it, bawling so hard his breaths come out in gasps.

“I’m so sorry.” He cries, trying to stand only to hit the floor.

Two months passed like years, Luca found it hard to even get up ten minutes before work.

“Luca!” Chris shouts as she sprints into the squad room, grabbing the blonde’s arm and dragging him out of SWAT. Shoving him in the car, Street floors it towards the hospital.

“What’s going on?” Luca shouts. No one responds as Street hits the siren and lights as they fly into the hospital parking lot. “You guys, please tell me what’s going on?” He begs, his voice wavering.

“Come on!” Chris shouts as Deacon and Hondo fly up next to them. The team disembarks and starts towards the hospital. Luca sprints with the team, still confused. They run through the hospital, shouting ‘gimme two gimme two’ as they get to her room. Luca was so confused and scared. Everyone was so serious.

“Luca! Open that door!” Hondo calls, waving to her door. Luca flicks open the door, everyone filing in. Luca’s last. “Right side clear!” Hondo calls.

“Left side clear!” Street shouts.

“Target sighted!” Deacon calls, grinning at her with everyone else.

“Luca! Take down the target!” Chris shouts, and Luca slips through the crowd to find her sitting up in bed. Grinning and reaching for him.

“Holy shit.” He whispers, hands reaching for her and tears filling his eyes, throat thick with tears.

“Hi Dom.” She whispers as he hugs tightly to her.

“Baby. Holy shit.” He whimpers, gripping handfuls of her gown in his hands and hugging tightly.

“You guys are so silly.” She giggles, giving each team member a hug.

“You almost look ready to come back.” Hondo chuckles.

“Oh no. No she’s not getting anywhere near SWAT for a while.” Luca barks, holding her against him. He hadn’t quit crying the whole time. Tears still streaked his face as he held her. “I love you so much, Ann. You can’t ever do some crazy shit like that again. Do you understand?” He warns against her hair, his nose pressed right above her ear.

“I love you too, babes.” She giggles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@annluca hey boo!! Hope this is okay!! I’m so sorry it took so long! I’ve been trying to find the right way to write this, and I wrote a few different scenarios but this one came out the best. Hope you like it!! Thank you for the request!!

#imagine #cute imagine #dominique #dominique luca imagine #dominique luca #dominic luca imagine #swat fanfiction #luca fanfiction #dominic luca #swat imagine #request

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toruq · 4 years

Text

i want to hold on to my au that concorde was actually kept alive but just “lost” - if you want a nice sob story to read right now:)

It was a cold and silent night in Valedale. The sky was dark blue, but light enough to see the dark clouds that barely let the moon’s light shine through. Linda gazed through the blinds of the little framed window at the night sky before it would lift its deep color and reveal a dull, dawn sky. Linda looked over to the opposite side of the room. A large double bed was covered in pillows, stuffed animals, and soft blankets. Below the piles of plush slept Anne, breathing a shaky, sickly breath. It was Linda’s turn to sleep with her throughout the night to make sure she rested well and was aided with any need. Anne still struggled to stand on her own two feet - let alone use the restroom by herself. Linda originally shivered at the thought of helping Anne use the restroom, but she shook it off quickly. We’ve been through much stranger things together, she thought. After all, it was the least she could do for her friend after not being able to help her for months while she sat helplessly waiting in a pink hell.

She returned from Pandoria to her home on Jorvik with pink scars sprawled across her body and face. She struggled to stand and walk and barely said a word. Anne had been exhausted from her time there. A few days in Pandoria might have been fine, but this long would make any human being very sick, even the soul sister that harnessed the power of the sun.

The few times that Anne did speak, it was usually about Concorde. It was mostly an, “I’m coming,” or “don’t fall asleep yet,” as if he was in front of her and she were speaking directly to him. At first the druids predicted she was showing signs of something similar to schizophrenia. Pandoric corruption would not only affect the body, but the mind, as well. Linda recalled the time about a week ago, when the girls, Fripp, and Avalon gathered in the library. Fripp tried confronting Anne about her strange outbursts of speech to her soul steed, and she fell to her knees on the floor in front of him. She sobbed heavy tears, tears that gushed from her face like waterfalls. She encased her head in her hands to hide her sobs but she screamed when she cried anyways, there was no hiding this emotion she was feeling. Anne was usually good at that, hiding the strongest feelings she had. As an older sister and a public figure, she had lots of practice doing so. Her face would glaze over into a perfect, stone cold smile, only distinguishable by her moon sister that could read her loud thoughts.

Linda scanned the room. Alex stood awkwardly next to Linda, not sure if she should try and help or stay where she was. Like a nervous racehorse, Linda thought, she wants to run but the gates are holding her back. Linda then looked to Lisa, who was tearing up. She knew that Lisa wanted to help, too, but didn’t know how. My star sister, you can’t heal this kind of pain, thought Linda solemnly. Then she looked back to Anne and Fripp on the floor. Fripp nervously approached her and put a tiny blue paw in her golden hair. Linda had never seen Fripp so unsure of what to do. She knew he wasn’t the best at comfort. If only Elizabeth were here. Her thoughts were interrupted by Anne’s hoarse, whispery yell, muted by the shaky hands covering her face, “Concorde is still here. He’s alive. I can hear him.” Linda could see Avalon sink in his hood. Fripp bowed his head and went on to explain to her that he surely had died in the hands of Dark Core, as “his soul was necessary to feed into Garnok’s greedy intentions.” Linda was somewhat upset with Fripp, for him to be so upfront about Concorde’s assumed passing. Please don’t diminish her only hope.

Linda jolted out of her memory. It had felt so real and recent that she figured she may have accidentally visited that memory. She ran her hands up her arms and held herself. It helped to remind her that she was physically home and she wasn’t stuck in a vision, memory, or dream. She sighed and relaxed again in her seat, yawning and rubbing her eyes under her glasses. She should’ve fallen asleep with Anne hours earlier. The last time it was her turn to care for her, it had just been two days since Anne’s return from Pandoria. Both of them, exhausted from the past couple days, had fallen asleep early in the evening with their arms around each other, Anne’s face buried under Linda’s chin. This night, Linda got up from her spot in bed next to Anne and sat for hours on the ottoman, curled up in a blanket by the window. This night, something kept Linda awake. She wasn’t sure just yet what it was, and couldn’t see what it could be either. She was scared to fall asleep, as she didn’t want to get trapped in a dream and not be able to help Anne if something had happened to her during the night.

Would something happen? What could it even be? she thought. Nothing could come to mind. Linda dug deep in her mind for any clues what could be happening tonight. The first thing that came to mind was sickness. Alex had told Linda earlier that day that Anne had thrown up twice the night before. It grossed Linda out to the point where she nearly vomited on Alex’s shoes at that moment. If Anne was going to throw up, Linda would have no clue how to deal with it. It terrified her to think of cleaning up Anne’s vomit and wipe it off her face like a mother would to her newborn child. She gagged. Then shook her head. No, it wouldn’t be something so minor like that that my body is keeping me up for. She dug deeper. She wondered if Anne could accidentally teleport in her sleep. What if she had opened a portal in a dream and suddenly disappeared in her current reality, here in Valedale, resting with Linda. Linda jumped up from her seat with the thought and quickly examined the bed.

Anne was still there, her breath lifting the blankets up and down, slowly, repeatedly. Her blonde hair sprawled across the heap of pillows that encased her upper body like a fortress. Linda sighed with relief and walked over to the bed. What am I worrying for, I’m not even having any visions. You’re finally home, and everything’s alright again. Nothing can ever hurt us now that we’re together again. Linda comforted herself with those thoughts as she looked solemnly at her sickly friend, reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder.

Then she fell. Onto pink ground, heavily, on her knees. She swore as she hit the ground. Pandoria, she thought immediately. Though she could recognize the place right away, she wasn’t so sure why she was here. She felt heavy, like some force was restraining her from getting up and running. Her knees sunk into the ground and ached with pain. With her head spinning, she looked around at purple trees and glowing mushrooms. She looked up at a clear, deep purple sky, laced with beautiful white stars. No moon, no sun, yet somehow the world was so bright her head pounded with the worst headache imaginable.

“I’ve had enough of this place, and I’ve only been here twice” Linda grumbled, mustering the strength to push herself up off of the ground.

She brushed blades of pink grass off of her sweatpants. The Oxford University logo on the left pant leg looked incredibly out of place in a scene like this. Linda felt as if she needed an entire superhero outfit if she were to be in Pandoria. Then she remembered how Anne would sometimes leave in a completely unorganized outfit. Once, it consisted of the following: breeches, sneakers, the socks pulled up to her calves, Derek’s red hoodie, and a white t-shirt underneath that read, “Jorvik City High School Honors Society,” written in navy letters on the back. This outfit was always the first to come to mind. It always made Linda giggle. Anne and Linda had just left the honors society meeting after school and were in a rush to get ready for a riding lesson. Anne’s phone had dinged and she read a text instructing her of a mission. She was forced to abandon her riding lesson that night, and in a hurry, she galloped aboard Concorde into a portal, only half dressed to be ready for a ride. She came back later that night when Linda was getting Meteor ready for bed. She stomped through the portal, leading Concorde, both of them soaked head to toe. Simultaneously, Linda and Meteor took a single look at the duo and burst out in laughter. Anne grumbled, “It’s not funny,” but of course, that only made it funnier.

Wait - Anne! Thankfully that silly memory helped Linda figure out why she was in this pink abyss. She had touched Anne, and she had fell into her dream, a façade of a reality. Thankfully, this Pandoria wasn’t real, but Linda’s energy was real and she could feel two other real energies - living souls that were in this dream together. It couldn’t be the rays that soared through the sky or the mutant bunny-like creatures that hopped from bush to bush. They were simply mirages in Anne’s dream. It was most likely Anne and a visitor she has somehow summoned. But who? Elizabeth, perhaps?

“Anne?” Linda called for her. She knew it would be no use. It was rare that anyone could hear her in a dream or vision, even if it was another living soul. She was only an audience to the two other souls in Anne’s dream.

To her surprise, a shrill whinny responded after a few seconds after her calling. Linda pushed her purple glasses up on her face. She knew that whinny. Immediately she recognized the other living soul in this dream.

“Concorde?” She cried. How could his soul hear her if it was just a dream? Could he be shifting between realities?

Again, another whinny escaped his throat. He sounded restrained, like his neck was entangled in chains. His consistent response to her voice and the tone of his cry worried her. She started to jog, then run, even though her legs felt weighted and stuck to the ground. She called once more for him. She shouted at the top of her breathless lungs. Her eyes filled with tears from the wind. Linda wasn’t the best at running, her legs tingled and stung as her feet hit the ground and her chest felt like it would collapse inward if she took another breath.

“Please, where are you!?” She cried helplessly, then slowed to a walk and eventually stopped once she reached towering statues of four horses. Guardian’s Dale - the familiar ruins that were also somehow identically replicated on Jorvik, resting in a ravine near Hillcrest.

Panting, she rested her hands on her knees and bowed her head. She wiped the sweat off of her forehead. Once she regained some strength, she looked up at the statues. Her legs felt like noodles, so she walked to sit at the base of the closest statue, which she recognized as Starshine. He had a slim, dished face and his long horn peaked between his ears and forelock. Across from Starshine stood Tin-Can, his bushy mane hiding his face, but his strong and protective personality showing through in his stance. Next to Starshine stood Linda’s steed, Meteor, his head held high and his confident pose asserting his wisdom. His long beard reached almost to his chest in this marble representation of him. Across from him, the furthest from Linda, stood Concorde. She eyed him down as beads of sweat still rolled down her face. Her mouth hung open as she still breathed through her mouth. Intensely, she stared at him, looking him directly in his stone eye. His stern glare represented his closed, VIP sort of personality. He was the most reserved soul steed out of the four. If they were put out to graze, he would always find his own patch of grass in the sun where the grass was the greenest. The other three horses would settle for a lush, shaded patch that they’d share amongst each other. Linda looked at his marble wings. They were spread proudly, pointing up to the constant starry sky. She missed those full, beautiful wings. Each steed was unique in their own way, and Concorde’s wings was what set him apart from his brothers. His talent of flight was not only admirable and unique, it was also, perhaps, a metaphor for the sun circle’s powers to shift to and from dimensions.

“Where are you, Concorde?” Linda spoke to the statue. Her voice was too tired to yell now, and she only found hope through this still, stone version of him.

Linda’s attention turned abruptly to the wide cave that the guardian horses protected. She heard Anne crying and speaking nonsense. Her face lit up. A fresh wave of energy flowed through her body and she hopped off of the stone base of Starshine’s statue. She ran through the cave, the walls neatly carved with Pandoric language and ruin symbols that were so easy to translate for her and Anne (it was so simple, it was as if it were their native language). They captioned pictures of Garnok, the four guardian horses, and Aideen, telling the story of the beginning of Jorvik that every druid and soul sister learns first in their training. The cave echoed the thuds of her footsteps as she ran through and into the open world of Pandoria once more, to see Anne sitting in the grass facing away from Linda and holding onto Concorde’s leg. He looked nothing like his confident statue. His neck looked strained and shadowed, as if something was constraining him. His legs were the same, shadows of chains, perhaps, wrapped around his legs up to his shoulders. His wings were out, but they were frayed. Some of his marble-like feathers were missing and one even fell to the ground in front of Linda’s eyes.

Linda came to an abrupt halt at the sight and it felt like a wave had hit her head as another headache consumed her energy. Concorde seemed to notice Linda, as his ears pricked forwards and his head outstretched to her. She was shocked by his awareness, somehow he could see her. Anne was muttering words to him through tears as she held onto his leg. Linda approached Concorde. Your energy is too real, she thought. It was true. His soul was still alive and existing in every reality, not just in this dream, not just a mirage of a reality. He was truly alive, just hurting, lost, and alone. His soul was caught between time and space. This is how he could see both Linda and Anne. Poor Concorde, Linda thought, you exist both everywhere and nowhere. It must be hard for you right now. She reached out a hand to pet his nose. A tear rolled down her cheek and she covered her mouth with her free hand as a sob escaped her. Anne was sobbing silently too, on the ground right by Linda’s feet.

“I’m coming for you, buddy, I’m just not strong enough yet,” Anne mumbled.

Concorde let out a breath.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you out somehow,” Anne said in response to his breath.

Linda looked down at her. She knew that Anne chose to visit him in this dream. Her eyes widened once Concorde nickered again. You can actually talk to him, she realized. Anne wasn’t lying when she broke down in front of Fripp. She can hear him, she can talk to him. He can talk back with her! A smile crept on Linda’s face. Tears streamed down her cheeks in a singular path. She listened to them converse for a while, then Anne started to get more upset.

“Please, you can’t go to sleep, Concorde. Please believe me. Just stay awake a little longer, I’m coming, I swear,” Anne’s silent sobs turned into loud cries.

Linda cried with her. She didn’t want Concorde’s soul to fade away. She moved her glasses to wipe the tears from her eyes. Once she looked up to where Concorde was standing, she realized he was almost completely transparent. His head hung and his chin rested on Anne’s shoulder. He was so tired and weak, Linda knew if they didn’t save him soon, he could be erased from every reality forever. Quickly, she casted a spell that would bring her back to her familiar home on Jorvik, the woodland smell and the normal, deep blue sky.

It felt like she had fallen again, but this time, she awoke on the floor of the bed. Through the window, she saw the Earth’s sun peak above the horizon, just barely enough to lighten the sky a few shades of blues, pinks, and oranges. She wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her heart was pounding and she was sitting in a puddle of sweat on the floor. Gross! she thought, abruptly standing up. She turned to the bed to see Anne still sleeping, obviously suffering because of her dream. Tears were falling over the bridge of her nose and onto the pillow. Her breathing was staggered and she sweat under the covers. Linda pulled a few blankets off of her and felt her forehead. She was burning.

“Anne!” Linda whispered harshly. She didn’t want to wake the rest of the house, but needed her awake now.

“Anne, wake up, please!” She raised her voice slightly.

Anne sat up in bed so quickly that she bonked her head with Linda. She was still crying, and looked faint and pale. She stared at Linda, whose glasses had fallen from her face. She ignored her glasses and hugged her friend.

“Anne, I saw everything, we’re going to get him, I promise,” said Linda.

Anne hugged back weakly, she made barely any effort to do so, as she couldn’t muster the strength. The two sat in silence for about a minute until Anne spoke.

“You have to believe he’s alive.”

“Of course I do, I went into your dream, I know you’ve been talking to him,” Linda reassured her. “We’re together now, Anne, we’re stronger than ever.”

She paused, then repeated herself, with a lower, faint voice, “We’re together now.”

Anne replied weakly, “Together.”

#i tried really hard with this one :')#my writing #sso #sso spoilers #star stable #star stable online #linda chanda #anne von blyssen #sso concorde #sso fanfiction #my fics #linda's purple glasses

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