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oopsitsnothingcreative · 20 days ago

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SUNLIT MEADOW

Summary: Beau Swan-Torres moves to a small town to live with his father and finally have the regular life of a high schooler. Instead, he meets a mysterious, charming boy who flips his world upside-down. Beau's determined to uncover all of this town's secrets and it might end badly for everyone involved. Twilight (Life&Death, Twilight Reimagined, and Midnight Sun) rewrite!!! I changed and added to the lore and world building.

Aka Twilight but make it gay and not toxic. No stalking, no watching people in their sleep. They will actually date/have a relationship and have personalities. Everyone has trauma.

Parring: Edward Cullen/Beau Swan

TW: Underaged drinking, panic attacks, mention of child abuse, mention of past toxic relationship,

CHAPTER 3: THERE’S A MILLION SCARY THINGS

Soon, Halloween became the only thing anyone could talk about—especially Jessica. Her parents were going away for the weekend, leaving her alone in their big house, which was apparently code for “party time.” She handed out invitations to anyone that seemed even mildly interested.

I would’ve been more excited about it if I hadn’t accidentally agreed to bake cupcakes and cookies for the party. Well, “agreed” was a strong word. Jessica had this incredible talent to con her friends into helping with her schemes before they realized what was happening. It wasn’t just me, either—she roped Alice into decorating, a bunch of guys (including Mike) into picking up snacks, and even got her older cousin to buy what I assumed was the sketchiest—and cheapest—alcohol imaginable. Meanwhile, Jessica herself was busy making playlists and planning “fun activities”… whatever that meant.

“How am I supposed to do all of this in one night?” I groaned, letting a stack of recipes Jessica had printed out flop dramatically onto the cafeteria table. My forehead followed immediately after.

Alice leaned in close, practically yelling into my ear. Her voice was as obnoxiously cheerful as ever. “I can help you!”

I tilted my head just enough to glare at her, cheek still squished against the table. “Aren’t you already busy turning Jessica’s house into the set of Hocus Pocus? How are you gonna help me and make the party look like Spirit Halloween had a meltdown?”

“Multitasking.” Her grin practically gleamed. “If we team up, it’ll be done in no time!”

“Oh, good,” I deadpanned. “More work. Yay.” My face remained firmly planted against the table, my voice muffled by sheer resignation.

“Could you not?” She gave me a pointed look, crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed.

Angela, who’d been quietly reading at the other end of the table, finally set her book down. “I can help, too.”

Alice lit up like we’d just solved world hunger. “Perfect! We’ll head to Jess’ after school and get to work. It’ll be fun.”

“Sure,” I muttered, shifting my glare to the mountain of recipes now haunting me. “If by ‘fun,’ you mean collapsing from exhaustion while frosting a cupcake with my own tears.”

Alice rolled her eyes at me, but I caught her hiding a smirk. That was one of the best things about her—she never let my sarcasm faze her, but she never dismissed me either. She just... balanced me out. Like, where I saw doom, she saw glitter and glue guns. Somehow, it worked.

“Stop being dramatic,” she said, nudging my arm with her elbow. “It’s gonna be fine. And anyway, you’re better at baking than you think.”

“Sure,” I grumbled, “and I’m also great at suffering in silence.”

“You’re definitely great at suffering,” she teased, leaning her chin on her hand. “Silent? Not so much.”

Angela chuckled softly. Alice smiled at her, and for a second, I let myself think that maybe this whole baking disaster wouldn’t be so bad after all.

**********

I spent the rest of lunch—and the walk to Biology—strategically avoiding Mike. I’d overheard him talking to Tyler about matching group costumes. I was pretty sure I’d heard my name somewhere in their conversation. Whatever it was, I didn’t want to know.

By the time I got to class, Edward was already at our table, smiling at his phone, his face lit by the glow of his phone. He was smiling at whatever was on the screen, and my heart immediately betrayed me by skipping a beat at just the sight of him, and I stopped in my tracks like a total idiot. I didn’t even realize I was blocking the entrance until someone bumped into me.

Why was this happening to me? Why couldn’t I like someone more… attainable? At some point, between late-night texts and those maddeningly perfect lunch conversations, my brain had made the executive decision to develop a crush on Edward Cullen. Stupid brain. Stupid feelings. Stupid, impossibly pretty boys who made my heart stop.

I practically threw myself into my seat, busying myself with my bag. That’s when I noticed something sitting on my side of the desk.

“What’s that?” I asked, frowning.

Edward looked up, his expression a mix of amusement and mild confusion. “Your book.” He said flatly, setting his phone down.

And indeed, there was “The Complete Novels of Jane Austen” lying before me.

I blinked. “My book? W-What? How? I’ve been looking everywhere for this. I thought I lost it in the cafeteria! Where did you get it?” Words were just spilling out of my mouth as I picked the book up.

“I borrowed it.”

“You… w-what? Borrowed it?” I squinted at him. “You mean stole it.” I corrected jokingly.

He leaned back, “I borrowed it,” he repeated, his lips twitching into the smallest soft smirk, making one of those small, adorable—very distracting—dimples pop out. “I made some notes for you in the margins.”

My mind went blank, and I could only stare at him just as blankly. Words failed me and my stupid heart went crazy again. All I could do was stammer, “W-what?” and continue to stare. Damn those mind-melting dimples.

Fortunately, Mr. Banner started the lesson before I could embarrass myself any further. I quickly stuffed the book into my bag, yet I couldn’t focus. All I could think about was Edward sitting in his room writing notes with that stupid, perfect handwriting of his in my book, for me, thinking about me. And he remembered I liked to put notes in my books. Had he been paying attention? Why was I like this? Why did I do this to myself? Why couldn’t I just stop thinking about this boy? A very, very, very attractive boy who did very, very cute things.

I mean, how could I not start catching feelings? Honestly, I was screwed. And the worst part? I had no idea if he even liked me back. Why would he?

“Beau?” An already too familiar voice right beside me got me out of my daydream. “Are you listening to me?”

“Huh?” I turned to him, panic flickering across my face.

Great, I’ve been daydreaming about Edward and his stupid, perfect hands the entire freaking hour.

He tilted his head, clearly trying not to laugh. “I was talking… to you,” he said, smiling faintly, like he found my obliviousness very entertaining. “I said, we should get going. Unless you wanna stay here…”

“Oh! Sorry, I-uh, sorry.” I mumbled, frantically shoving my stuff into my bag, avoiding eye contact like my life depended on it.

“It’s fine. I’ll walk you to the gym. We can talk on the way.” His smile deepened, and my knees promptly forgot how to function.

We fell into step together, his voice a low, calming hum beside me. My thoughts were all over the place. I tried to focus on what he was saying, but I kept getting distracted by all the little things he did. The way his hand occasionally brushed against mine, or when he leaned in and spoke really close to my ear, leaving the faint scent of his cologne and sending shivers down my spine. Somehow, I managed to keep up the conversation and even made him laugh once or twice.

“Are you excited about the party, Eddie-boy?” I heard Alice’s teasing voice behind us, and suddenly her arm looped through mine. She wedged herself between us, wrapping her other arm around her brother’s waist. Edward slipped his arm around her shoulders instinctively, though his expression was a mix of fondness and mild annoyance. They exchanged a look, it seemed like they were having a full conversation, though they didn’t exchange a single word.

“I’m still not sure I’m going, Ali,” he said, matching her playful energy, but I could tell he was a bit annoyed.

“Of course you are! You have to. It will be fun.” She sounded certain, like she knew it would be exactly as she said. I noticed she did that often.

“It’s a costume party. I don’t have a costume.” He explained flatly.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve got a perfect one for you, already at home,” she said with a sly smile. “While we’re on the subject of costumes…” She turned her gaze to me, eyes sparkling with mischief. “What about you, Beau?”

“I, uh…” I stammered, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. “I don’t have one. Haven’t really thought about it.”

Shit. Another thing to add to my ever-growing list of things to stress about.

“You could go as Bowie. B-O…” she sounded out my name slowly “B-O-wie. Get it? I think you can pull it off. And Eddie is, like, obsessed with him.” She slightly squeezed my arm and smiled at me.

“You’re sooo funny, Ali,” I said dryly. “Really, how do you come up with this stuff?”

She elbowed me in the ribs. “You could go as the king of sarcasm, but that’s who you are everyday.”

“I use sarcasm because murder is illegal,” I shot back, earning a laugh from Alice.

“See you after class, boys!” She walked off, still giggling, and I suddenly realized we were standing in front of the gym.

Edward leaned casually against the wall, giving me a once-over that made me self-conscious for absolutely no reason. “You could pull off anything,” he said, his voice quiet but sure.

I rolled my eyes, mostly to cover the blush I could feel creeping up my neck. “Thanks, Mr. Flattery.” I lightly pushed his arm, which only made him grin.

“You should go,” I said pointedly, hoping to deflect whatever was happening here. “You’re going to be late for French.” I paused to emphasize the next part “Again. Mrs. Goff will kill you.”

He smirked, tilting his head like he was daring me to stop him. “Spending time with you would be worth it.”

I just stared at him, brows raised in disbelief.

“Fine, fine.” He pushed off the wall, his grin softening into something warmer. “I’ll see you later.”

I walked backwards in the direction of the entrance, still looking at him. “I’m going to Jessica’s. To help with the party prep, so don’t wait for me.” As I opened the door, I saw he didn’t move, so I yelled, “Go to class!”

He looked down, his hair falling over his eyes. I heard him mutter something that sounded like “Yes, sir,” and with that, he turned on his heels and walked away, leaving me wondering—again—what the hell I’d done to deserve this kind of torture.

When I entered the locker room everyone was already there. Mike was talking animately with Tyler in the corner. His voice was low, but his expression wasn’t exactly subtle—irritated, maybe even angry. I couldn’t hear them over the usual chaotic chatter of guys yelling across the room or slamming lockers shut, but when they saw me, they clammed up and started walking away.

Okay. That wasn’t suspicious at all.

It might’ve been all in my head, though. ‘Cause when we were teaming up to play, Mike, as usual, did everything to be on my team. He was his regular, overly friendly self. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was pissed at me for something.

When I got to Jessica’s, Alice, Angela, and a few others were outside, battling over the decorations. Alice was mid-argument with some unfortunate soul about how the pumpkin string lights were supposed to be hung. The main entrance was wide open, so I ducked inside, leaving her to her war.

No matter how many times I came here, Jessica’s house never failed to make me feel like I’d walked onto the set of some rom-com about ridiculously rich people. I knew Jessica’s family was one of the richest ones in Forks, but this house was fucking huge—absurdly huge, especially, for a family that small. Even the kitchen looked like it belonged in a magazine instead of an actual house. It also looked like it had never been used, which made the ridiculous amount of supplies on the counters seem even more out of place.

I dropped my bag on the counter, pulled out my recipes, and started sorting through them. Most of them were fairly simple, but some were overly complicated. Absolutely me, a sleek little radio perched on a shelf. I turned it on, letting the background music drown out the awkward silence. A song I didn’t know came on, and I shrugged. It was better than nothing, I thought. I sorted the supplies next and got down to work.

Four hours later, I was still baking. Apparently, this kitchen had two pretty big ovens. Was this a rich people thing? Who the hell needed more than one oven? I suppose it did make things easier for me. I could shove in double the cookies and cupcakes at once.

I was almost done. Almost. The cupcakes were in the ovens, and I’d moved on to decorating the cookies. Pumpkin shapes, bats, witches, and other halloweeny things—store-bought icing galore. But then, because fate has a sick sense of humor, Jessica wandered in to “check” on me, and while scrounging for a snack, she casually remembered that her mom used to make mac-and-cheese cupcakes when she was little. She’d made those big pleading eyes and asked sweetly if I could whip up some for the party. And, of course, instead of politely saying that I in fact did fucking mind because I’ve been here all day and would love to go home instead of indulging her weird rich-girl nostalgia, I responded with “Oh, no problem,” like the spineless idiot that I am.

Fast-forward to me working alone in a giant kitchen, decorating cookies while mac-and-cheese cupcakes baked away. Alice and Angela? MIA. I assumed they had their hands full with Jessica and her ideas, and I didn’t have the energy to bother them.

I was channeling all my artistic abilities and focus into decorating a cookie when I nearly had a heart attack as I realized I wasn’t alone in the kitchen anymore.

“I didn’t know you could sing.”

The voice came from across the kitchen island, so sudden I dropped the cookie I’d been working on. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. That voice had been haunting my daydreams and messing with my sanity for weeks. If I looked up, I’d lose whatever thin thread of concentration I had left. So I didn’t.

“I don’t sing,” said flatly, trying to salvage the mess I’d made instead of acknowledging him.

“Weeell…” He dragged the word out teasingly. “You just did. You have a beautiful voice.”

My hand froze mid-cleaning. Beautiful voice? Me? I snuck a glance out of the corner of my eye. Edward was leaning against the counter,his head tilted slightly, wearing one of those stupidly disarming smiles. “I think you should do it more,” he added lightly.

That’s when I realized I’d been absently singing along to Like a Virgin. Fantastic. Kill me now.

Back in California, there had always been music playing. My mother and I would sing along, and for a while, those moments were some of the happiest memories I had. She’d light up whenever I joined in, overjoyed that I was doing something—anything—that connected us. It was the only thing besides ballet that ever seemed to work. Everything else eventually led to me disappointing her.

She signed me up for art classes so I could learn to paint like her, but I fell in love with drawing instead. I wanted to write; she wanted me to play an instrument—anything but the guitar, which she despised and hated that I even touched. When I inevitably caved in on her wishes and took piano lessons—because we were “supposed to learn together”—she lost interest in a matter of weeks, leaving me stuck with an old upright piano in the living room. I only played it when the sight of it gathering dust became unbearable. But I couldn’t say any of that to him. It wasn’t exactly kitchen-counter small talk.

So, I changed the subject.

“Whatcha doing here, Eddie?” I asked instead. The nickname slipped out, and I realized it was the first time I’d called him that. Maybe it was because I liked the way his full name rolled off my tongue.

He grinned. “I’m picking up Alice… but she’s not done yet.” He leaned closer. “And those smell amazing.” He nodded at the cookies. “May I… Have one?”

He started reaching out for one, but I smacked his hand away before he could grab it.

“These are for the party, so no. Hands off.” I made the mistake of looking at him then—directly into his stupid, unfairly beautiful eyes. And when he looked at me with those eyes, it was nearly impossible to say no to him. I could see all the different colors in them, a perfect mixture of light brown and green—that you couldn’t normally see, unless you stood this close—with a dark ring around the edges, like someone had hand-painted them.

He leaned in even closer, his nose just inches away from mine. “What if I ask really, really nicely?”

My whole body went rigid. My grip tightened on the edge of the countertop as my thoughts spiraled into complete chaos. I didn’t know if I wanted him to move away or come closer. Did he want to kiss me? Did I want him to? What if he kissed me? What if he did, and it wasn’t what he expected? What if it was? What if it’s all just in my head? What if I kissed him? What if? What if? What if…

“Pretty please,” he murmured, his voice soft and infuriatingly sweet. It echoed in my head like a spell.

I straightened up, desperate to put some space between us. “Edward Cullen, are you flirting with me?” I asked, half-joking, half-looking for some kind of confirmation.

“No, I’m not flirting with you,” he said, a bit too quickly. “I’m clearly begging you for food.” His cheeks went faintly pink, and I could’ve sworn his eyes flicked down to my lips for a split second. Maybe I wasn’t imagining it. But I might’ve gone completely insane at this point.

“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “You can take one—” But before he had a chance to, I added. “If… You help me decorate the rest.”

“Deal,” he said instantly, a quiet laugh escaping as he snatched up a cookie. He took a bite, then froze.

My stomach twisted and my head started folding with anxious thoughts.

Oh, no. What did I do wrong? Did I forget to add some key ingredient? Did I grab salt instead of sugar? Did I ruin the whole batch?

“This is soooo gooood,” he said, his eyes wide. “I think I’m in love.”

And with that, he took another bite, looking entirely too pleased with himself while I stood there, losing what little grip on sanity I had left.

This man was seriously driving me insane!

**********

When I finally got home, my dad was fast asleep on the couch, the sports channel still blaring. The man could fall asleep in the middle of a war zone—and honestly, he probably had. I didn’t have the heart to wake him—not that he’d wake up easily—so I turned the TV off, covered him with a blanket, and dragged myself upstairs. I thought maybe a shower would help me find the energy to come up with a last-minute costume. Well, I thought wrong. I barely made it to bed before passing out, and honestly, it wasn’t a graceful collapse.

When I woke up, my face was mashed into the pillow, and something felt… off. It was quiet, which was weird. Normally, the morning was filled with my dad’s hurried footsteps, the coffee machine going full blast, or he would already be on his way to work, the morning news left on in a hurry. But today? Dead silence.

I stayed still, waiting for my alarm to go off. It didn’t. The feeling that I was getting a suspicious amount of sleep crept in. I rolled out of bed in panic, smashing my knee on the floor on the way down. My phone almost slid out of my hand, and when I finally managed to check the time, my heart sank. 9:53.

Cue panic.

Messages flooded my phone: Alice, spamming notes and random gossip; Mike, mostly asking if I was dying and—most importantly, for him—if I was still going to the party; and, of course, Jake with his usual Good morning, sunshine text. My heart sank. I was so late I’d skipped panic mode and gone straight into existential crisis.

My heart was racing as I threw on some clothes and sprinted to the bathroom, managing to brush my teeth and fix my hair in record time—okay, I looked like a half-drowned cat, but who cares?

On my way downstairs, I missed the last step, fell flat on my back, and rolled dramatically into the wall. I could hear the framed pictures banging against it, and for a very scary second I thought they would fall on me.

It took me a moment to register the throbbing pain in my shoulder and I was thankful no one had been home, they would’ve heard some truly creative language that my dad definitely wouldn’t have approved of.

I had no time to wallow in self-pity, so I quickly gathered the scattered contents of my half-open bag and threw it over my still hurting shoulder and hurried to the kitchen. I was just going to grab something to eat and take off when something on the fridge caught my eye. Held by one of the magnets—one of a little, blue fish—I got for my dad years ago, was a piece of paper with his messy handwriting.

“I saw how tired you were, so I called school. You have a day off.

Get some rest! I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. Have fun at the party!

—Dad.”

I stared at the note, my back slowly sliding against the wall until I hit the floor. My knees pulled up against my chest, the paper crumpled in my hand. My breathing turned shallow and ragged, like someone had sucked all the air out of the room. I hugged my knees tighter, trying to keep it together, but it wasn’t working.

It was stupid, really. A day off shouldn’t feel like such a big deal. But it wasn’t just the day off—it was the fact that someone had noticed, that Dad had noticed. He didn’t say much, but he always saw me. Even when I wished he wouldn’t. He knew when to push and when to let me breathe.

It was the kind of thing my mom or abuela would never have done.

I’ve never missed school. Well, not without a good reason. No missed school days unless you were literally dying. And even then, my abuela would probably shove a thermometer in your mouth, wave a hand dismissively, and remind you she’d escaped communism, or that she’d sacrificed everything for her family. She was one of those larger-than-life Cuban grandmothers who could command a room with just a look.

She and Mom expected perfect grades and a spotless house. All this to say, complaining wasn’t allowed. Every argument, every minor rebellion, it didn’t matter if I was asking for five more minutes of sleep or complaining about math homework, ended with her reminding me how lucky I was to be born in el país de la libertad or saying something like ‘What happened at school that was so bad, Xavi? Did someone… steal your freedom today?’ And then she’d give me the look—the one that shut down arguments before they even started. She had this way of making you feel guilty for even breathing wrong, but you couldn’t be mad at her because she’d bake you pastelitos right after. Like some kind of guilt-trip peace offering.

Mom went along with whatever grandma wanted. Whether she agreed or not, she didn’t fight back. Even after grandma passed away her presence lingered like a ghost, and everything stayed the same, weirdly enough. My mom didn’t step into her shoes exactly, but the expectations didn’t disappear.

My mom was… complicated. She wasn’t strict the way abuela had been. Not exactly. But she carried that same controlling energy, wrapped up in smiles and hugs and a glass of wine that was never quite empty. Her mood would quickly change regardless if she had something to drink or not. But after a few too many drinks she usually said something along the lines of ‘Beau, you need to relax. Be a teenager’ yet everything she did prevented me from doing so.

I always thought she was that way because her free-spirited nature had gotten crushed under abuela’s endless rules. But I wasn’t so sure now. After all, my father was in the army, and he wasn’t anywhere near as strict as them.

I mean, he was army through and through, but somehow the most chill person on the planet. People always expected him to be the strict one, I guess because of the whole army vet, now chief of police thing, but he wasn’t. He’d spent his early twenties halfway across the world in places he never talked about—not unless he’d had a few beers and thought I wasn’t listening. The one time I’d asked, all he’d said was, “It’s nothing like the movies, kiddo.” He’d never gotten into details, but I could piece it together from the shadows that sometimes crossed his face when he thought no one was looking.

He trusted me, and that somehow made me try harder. Not that I’d admit it.

Somehow, after all of that, he’d ended up being the kind of dad who’d let me screw up a million times and still say, “You’re doing fine, kid.” My mom used to say it was because I reminded him of himself, but I didn’t see it. He was tough. I was… well, whatever the opposite of tough is.

I closed my eyes, the vice in my chest tightening. I hated the feeling of losing control, the way it made my hands tremble and my breath catch. I tried the tricks that were supposed to help: counting, focusing on something solid like the cold linoleum under my fingers. Nothing worked.

The tears burned, threatening to spill over, and I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. “Get it together, Beau,” I muttered. Deep breaths. That’s what they say, right? Deep breaths.

It didn’t help much, but I stumbled into the kitchen and boiled some water for tea.

Chamomile. Grandma used to swear by it. “Xavito, you drink this, you calm down. Then you can be smart again,” she’d say, her thick Cuban accent turning every word into a song. I could still hear her voice sometimes, echoing in my head, teasing me about my name. She never liked “Beau.” Too American. Too… not Xavier.

I forced down a cup of tea, the warmth helping to unclench the icy grip on my chest. Still, I couldn’t shake the restless energy gnawing at me. I wandered back to my room, hoping it would help, but when I stood in the doorway, I froze, staring at the bed like it was mocking me.

What was I supposed to do now? There was always something—always something to fill the time. I never had to just be. It was… unsettling.

I hated it. I hated the way it felt like I was waiting for something to happen. Or, worse, for something to go wrong. I was never without a plan, never without a schedule. Not even for a second. And now? Now I was just… standing there, useless.

I glanced at the clock. I had no idea what to do with myself, and it was making my skin itch. I paced the room a few times, like I could out-run the feeling of emptiness. The ticking of the clock on the wall was starting to feel louder than usual.

I couldn’t let it get to me. I couldn’t.

I decided to try to get some sleep. And that’s exactly what I did—tried.

I closed my eyes, tossed and turned, trying to find the most comfortable position to sleep. And nothing. It felt like my body had forgotten how to be still, how to be calm.

The more I tried to get comfortable, the more restless I became. I opened the window and drew the curtains, hoping the fresh air would clear my head. It didn’t. And it got even worse when my mind inevitably wandered to yesterday… to Edward… to his eyes… to his lips… Damn, those lips… and to how I shouldn’t be thinking about him or his stupid lips. But I couldn’t stop.

Why was I even thinking about this? About him? It wasn’t like he’d said or done anything… except for the way he looked at me, the way his voice got softer when he spoke to me, the way he leaned in just a little too close.

Okay, fine. Maybe he’d done plenty. But this wasn’t me. I’ve never craved someone’s affection like this. Ever. But with him, it was like my brain had been rewired. It was terrifying, wanting someone so badly it felt like my whole world might shatter if they didn’t want me back. Wanting them like that—needing them—that wasn’t me. But with Edward, it was different. Too different.

I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow, but it only made the thoughts worse. It felt like my brain was just looping through the same images, the same impossible questions.

What if he was flirting with me? Or was he just messing with me?

Get it together, Beau.

But the panic was creeping in. I hated that feeling. My chest felt tight again, and the idea that I might need something, want something from someone—it sent me into a tailspin.

I looked at the time again. Instead of trying to relax, I decided to make a plan. Something to fill every second, every corner of my brain, just to stop the thoughts from creeping in. It didn’t matter what the tasks were—cleaning, reorganizing my bookshelf, math homework—anything was better than this. Something was always wrong when I had too much time to think.

Before I knew it, the day had slipped away, leaving me tangled in a web of thoughts and feelings I didn’t know how to escape.

**********

The party had started over an hour ago. I’d parked a block away, and I could already hear the music—the bass thumping so loud it felt like my car was vibrating.

And yet, I couldn’t make myself get out of the car.

I just sat there, overthinking everything. Why did I drive here alone? I should’ve gotten a ride. Would I end up drinking? Probably not a good idea. Why did I even come at all? I’ve never been to a party before. I didn’t even know how I was supposed to act.

“This wasn’t life or death—just high school.” I muttered under my breath, over and over, like a mantra. It didn’t help much, but eventually, I took a deep breath and cautiously stepped out of the car.

The air was cold, too cold even for my outfit. Somehow, even four layers of clothes weren’t enough for autumn in Washington. At least it wasn’t raining, though I probably should’ve worn a thicker jacket. I knew I was acting like a five-year-old screaming at his mom that a jacket would ruin the costume, but then again, I didn’t have a mom that would tell me to wear a warmer jacket.

I glanced down at myself. This costume had been sitting in my closet since last year, for what was supposed to be my first real party, my first wild high school experience. The party I’ve never got to because I had to take care of my heartbroken mother after her boyfriend decided to trash our living room and steal her credit card. I spent that halloween night on the phone with the bank while cleaning. So fun.

Still, I’d been excited back then. I remembered the guy that invited me. He was a year older, kinda cute in a “plays in the band that only performs in his garage” kinda way. We had that in common, the band thing. We went on a couple of dates, and I barely knew him, but it still hurt when he avoided me in the hallways after I stood him up.

Now, here I was, finally using the costume. People were pouring out of the house, some of them I had never even seen before. I guessed Jessica managed to invite people from the town over. A big group gathered on the porch and front lawn, talking and drinking, and one guy was already puking in the bushes. A great start.

I stood frozen on the sidewalk, overthinking again. I could still turn around, go home, and pretend none of this ever happened.

But I didn’t.

I felt my shoulders tighten as I walked inside.

Everything from the floor to the ceiling screamed halloween—the low lights, thin smoke, decorative pumpkins, skulls, cobwebs, caution tape over some of the doors and, of course, the people in crazy outfits. It was so loud I had to fight the urge to cover my ears. The living room had been turned into a dance floor, packed with sweaty, drunk teenagers. I pushed through the crowd, dodging elbows and drinks, and made my way to the back of the house, where it was quieter.

Sort of.

The back room had tables covered in snacks and games. To my surprise, people seemed to actually enjoy my baked goods, and that earned a small, satisfied smile from me.

I was looking for my friends when I got hit by a ping-pong ball in the shoulder. A guy dressed like a baseball player just shouted “sorry” before going back to his beer pong game. Meanwhile, I got stuck in place like a Sim when their action was canceled. Just following the ping pong ball with my eyes, watching how it missed the cups each and every time, to the frustration of the players and others around the table.

“Beau! I’ve been looking for you!” Jessica’s voice snapped me back to reality. She pulled me into a tight hug. “You look… amazing!”

“Wha-what are you supposed to be?” she asked, pulling back to give me the full once-over.

“Oh, I, I’m the Doctor. The Tenth Doctor.” I gestured awkwardly at my thrifted brown three piece suit with thin white stripes, a matching tie, red converse, and paper 3D glasses on my head. My nails were still painted black, thanks to my shortage of nail polish remover, so I decided to lean into the look with some eyeliner. The only thing missing was the iconic sonic screwdriver, but I’ve never been interested in buying overpriced movie gadgets—mostly because I’ve also never had the money. Jessica was dressed as Princess Peach in a light-pink puffy dress and a very sparkly tiara.

Jessica’s blank stare said it all.

“Doctor Who,” I added. “The British TV show?”

“Who?”

That was it. The joke practically wrote itself. “Exactly,” I muttered with a little laugh, but it was wasted on her.

Jessica shook her head like I’d just confessed to an unspeakable crime. “Whatever. Come on, we’re drinking!” She grabbed my arm and dragged me into another room.

And there he was, looking like a dream, looking like Mr. Darcy. The shirt, the coat, the messy hair—he looked like he’d just stepped out of the set of the 2005 Pride and Prejudice adaptation. Like he’d just confessed his undying love for Elizabeth Bennet.

My heart skipped a beat.

He was incredible, and I was hopeless.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away, not even when our eyes locked, and the rest of the room disappeared. My stomach twisted into a knot, and I could barely breathe. Not until I literally couldn’t see him anymore, until there was this tiny faerie practically throwing herself at me. Her cheerful voice pulled me back to Earth and then she literally pulled me straight to the ground to sit next to her, because apparently we were playing a drinking game.

That was when I finally noticed there were other people around that weren’t this handsome Georgian guy or his magical-looking, faerie sister.

Before I knew it, I was sitting cross-legged in a circle on the floor, wedged between Jessica and Alice, being handed a plastic cup filled with something alcoholic, surrounded by Super Mario characters. Looking at them all—Mike as Mario, Tyler as Luigi, Eric as Waluigi, Lee as Wario, Samantha as Rosalina and Lauren as Princess Daisy—made me glad I avoided them when I heard the words “group costumes.” Ben and Angela’s costumes didn’t match the rest of the group either. Angela was some anime character I didn’t recognize, and Ben was a superhero from one of those comics he always reads.

“Okay, game time!” Jessica announced, dropping a stack of laminated cards with questions or dares, and an empty bottle on the floor in the middle of the circle. The rules were simple: spin the bottle, pick a card, and either do what it said or drink. Basically, a mash-up of ‘Truth or Dare’ and ‘Never Have I Ever,’ so the classic teenage party game, except Jessica was the mastermind behind the questions and dares—which meant things were about to get really personal. Of course.

As expected, I was right; the questions did get personal, especially when it came to Angela and Ben. Everyone knew they had feelings for each other—except them, obviously. Beyond that, everything, specifically the dares were exactly what you’d expect—designed to make you drink. I honestly thought I could just sit and observe everyone else without ever having to actually, well, play. Fortunately, the bottle seemed to avoid me most of the time—maybe out of pity—and when it finally landed on me, I got lucky and only got the easy questions, like ‘what was your first kiss like?’ Questions that were a little embarrassing, but not so personal that I couldn’t answer them.

I considered lying but decided the truth was mortifying enough. “Weird,” I said, trying to sound casual. “It was with my best friend’s school friend. Paul. He kissed me at a campfire while people roasted marshmallows. Romantic, right?” I rolled my eyes, hoping that would be enough.

But Jessica, of course, the gossip queen that she was, immediately connected some dots in her head. “Wait, is this Paul Lahote? Didn’t he—?”

“Yep,” I cut her off quickly. “He did. And we don’t talk about it.” My tone was light, but internally I was wishing for spontaneous combustion again.

The game dragged on, circling around like an awkward confession roulette. People swapped stories about exes, awkward childhood moments, and, in one case, an unfortunate tattoo. I stuck to short answers, leaning on sarcasm, and kept my cup untouched. The only thing that truly made it embarrassing was Edward’s presence. Especially when I got the question ‘what was your first relationship like?’ I almost choked on my drink.

Talking about my first boyfriend—if I could even call him that—in front of the guy I wished was my boyfriend was a special kind of torture. Worse still when I had to admit I was still a virgin (or at least by my friend’s standards). I wanted to sink into the floor. I avoided Edward’s eyes like they might actually catch me on fire, instead staring at the rim of my cup as I muttered something vague about my weird, messy, complicated relationship with Paul Lahote.

I kept most of it to myself, glossing over the details like I always did. Paul wasn’t someone I liked to talk about often with anyone, brushing it off with a joke that didn’t quite land. It wasn’t a story I wanted to share here, not with Edward sitting across from me, his gaze soft and curious. Not when the truth still felt too raw, too tangled. Even Jake only knew bits and pieces, though he probably knew more than I’d ever had to admit out loud. My relationship with Paul was a tangle of contradictions—brief but long-lasting, messy but magnetic—and doomed from the start.

Well, it wasn’t always bad. It was actually quite sweet in the beginning, the opposite of complicated.

Jake introduced me to Paul when we were thirteen, during one of those Forks summers where the days stretched out like they’d last forever, back when everything felt simple and exciting. Paul was a year older, he was pure energy—loud, cocky, and unfiltered. But when we were alone, he let his guard down just enough to pull me closer. For weeks, he tried to impress me, to make me laugh, showing off at the bonfires and daring me to do things I never would’ve done on my own, like daring me to race him into the freezing water. I laughed at him at first, but before I knew it, I was caught up in his gravity.

I’ll never forget the night he kissed me for the first time. We were sitting by the fire on the beach, away from everyone, the ocean whispering behind us. His hand brushed against mine, and for once, he seemed nervous, his confidence faltering. He looked at me like he wasn’t sure if he was about to ruin everything, and before I could second-guess what was happening, he leaned in and kissed me. It was awkward and clumsy—his lips too warm, his nose bumping mine—but it was also perfect in the way only a first kiss can be. We spent the rest of the summer tangled in each other’s orbit, sneaking around like it was the world’s greatest secret, stealing moments when no one else was watching.

When the summer ended and I went back to California, I thought that would be it. A sweet little memory to tuck away. That’s just how these things went.

Only, it didn’t end.

When I came back the next summer, Paul acted like no time had passed. We picked up right where we left off, sneaking around, again, stealing kisses when no one was looking, and whispering into the night. For the first time, it felt like something that could stretch beyond just a season, into something bigger, something real.

Even though loving Paul came with rules, ones I didn’t understand at first. He wasn’t out—not to his family, not to anyone but me… not even to himself in some ways. I could feel the weight of his fear, the way it pressed down on every moment we shared. Always looking over his shoulder, always torn between who he was with me and the version of himself he thought he had to be for everyone else. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t his fault, that I could be patient, that he’d figure it out.

But no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t carry that weight for him. Loving him meant shrinking myself, bending myself to fit into the spaces he made for me, and hiding in the shadows he was too afraid to step out of. I kept telling myself it was enough… even when it wasn’t. But the truth was, Paul’s fear kept us on uneven ground from the start. I was always waiting for him to let me in completely, and he never did.

We promised to make it work, even with the distance. And for a while, it did. I believed him when he said it was worth it, that we were worth it. We stayed up late texting, calling each other, trading sleepy ‘I miss yous’ that felt like lifelines when we were hundreds of miles apart. I clung to those words like they could hold us together.

But slowly, Paul began to drift away. For a while, I convinced myself the distance was the problem. That everything would be easier if we were in the same place. But it wasn’t. Paul started pulling away bit by bit. He would take longer to text back, then stopped responding altogether. Let my calls go to voicemail. At first, I made excuses for him—he was busy, overwhelmed, tired. I told myself we were fine. But the silences between us grew heavier, like they were saying all the things Paul couldn’t bring himself to say.

Then Jake called.

He wanted to know why I hadn’t told him that Paul and I had broken up. My heart sank. I didn’t know what he was talking about until Jake told me he’d seen Paul with another boy—and, furthermore, he apparently also had a girlfriend.

He’d been seeing other people, and I was the last to know.

I felt hollow. I’d been holding onto something that was already gone, and everyone else could see it but me. Paul didn’t even have the decency to end things. He just… moved on, leaving me to piece together what was left of my dignity. I wanted to hate him for it, but I hated myself more for not seeing it coming. For ignoring the warnings Jake had given me from the start. He told me Paul wasn’t the kind of person who’d ever give me what I deserved. He told me Paul didn’t know how to love anyone but himself, but I didn’t want to believe it. I thought I could prove him wrong.

The worst part of a broken heart wasn’t the moment it shatters—it was the quiet echoes that linger after. I missed him in ways that made no sense. I missed the warmth of his laugh, the way he’d call me “kid” even though we were only a year apart, the spark in his eyes when he was just Paul and not the mask he wore for the rest of the world.

I kept waiting for closure that never came, for some kind of explanation. But Paul never gave me that. He just kept going, not looking back. And I was left to wrestle with the ache of loving someone who wasn’t who I thought they were.

I wrote about it, of course—it’s what I do, what I’d always done. I put it all in my journals, poured every feeling, every ounce of confusion, and longing, and heartbreak into words, or incomprehensible scribbles or sketches… anything that came to my mind was hidden neatly into those pages meant only for me. Though sometimes that endless stream of thoughts and pictures ended up as poems or lyrics, and those lyrics—with a lot of effort from my more musically talented friends—turned into songs for our little band.

But even with everything I wrote, the words couldn’t erase the hollow ache of knowing that no matter how much I’d loved him, it would never be enough to change reality.

Paul had always been a storm—wild and untouchable, pulling me in and tossing me aside. And I’d been foolish enough to think I could weather it.

And yet, even after all that, it wasn’t over.

The following summer, I didn’t expect to see Paul. I told myself I was over him, that the bruises he’d left on my heart had faded. But the moment he found me again, smiling that same careless smile like none of it had ever happened, my resolve crumbled.

He told me he’d made a huge mistake, that he’d never stopped caring about me, that he missed me. He said I was the only one who really understood him. And like the fool I was, I believed him. I let him pull me back in, convincing myself that this time would be different. That the sweet boy who kissed me by the fire was still somewhere inside him.

But Paul wasn’t the same. He was reckless now, angrier. He’d started drinking heavily and even smoking weed, partying with people who only fueled the worst parts of him. I’d get calls from him at three in the morning, his voice slurring as he told me he loved me while I could hear the sound of wind whipping past—Paul, drunk and driving, making promises he’d break by sunrise.

He wanted me when it was convenient, but he refused to let anyone else see us. We’d sneak around like some dirty secret, hiding behind locked doors and whispered conversations. When I asked him why he couldn’t just be honest about us, he’d snap, accusing me of trying to ruin his life or calling me selfish for not understanding how hard it was for him.

He showed up late to see me, reeking of alcohol and bad decisions. Sometimes, he’d come with bruised knuckles, a split lip, or blood on his shirt, and I never knew whether to ask questions or stay quiet. If he was in a good mood when I asked what happened, he’d laugh it off or change the subject. Other times, we’d fight. The arguments were sharp and exhausting, like walking on glass, and no matter what I said, it always ended the same.

He’d apologize and tell me it was my fault in one breath. He was so charming and persuasive. He’d tell me I was wrong, call me crazy, say I was imagining things, make me doubt myself so much that I started to believe him. There were times I’d feel like I was losing my grip on reality, constantly questioning if I was the problem, if I was too much, or not enough.

I remembered the time when I could make him smile during an argument, the argument forgotten, but those times were gone, swallowed by the storm of anger that lived inside him now. I couldn’t reach him anymore.

Paul’s temper scared me. He’d punch walls when things didn’t go his way, leaving holes in the plaster. One night, during an argument, he grabbed my wrist so hard it left bruises. I told myself it was just a moment, that he didn’t mean it, but deep down, I knew it wasn’t the first warning sign—I’d been ignoring them for months.

He’d cheat on me and lie. Once I’d overheard him talking with his friends, saying he’d only ever dated me for laughs. We’d fight and we’d break up. Later, when he was drunk and alone, he called me crying, saying he didn’t mean it, that I was the only one who ever mattered to him. And I believed him. Over and over again.

This cycle went on until this past summer—the one that finally broke me. Paul begged me for another chance, tears in his eyes and promises tumbling from his lips like they actually meant something this time. And like every time before, I gave in. I didn’t even know why anymore. Maybe I was still clinging to the memory of the boy who kissed me by the fire, the one who made me feel like I was someone worth chasing. Or maybe I just wanted to believe that he could change, even though deep down, I knew better.

I wanted to believe him when he said things would be different. But nothing had changed. The fights were still there, sharp and suffocating. The jealousy, the anger, the drinking, and, of course, the cheating. He wanted me to belong to him completely, but he was never really mine—not in the way I needed.

It all came to a head when I told him I had to go back to California a month early. He didn’t even let me finish before he lost it. His face twisted in anger, his voice cracking as he shouted over me. When I tried to explain, he grabbed my shoulders and slammed me against the wall. His whole body was shaking, and for the first time, I wasn’t just scared of losing him—I was scared of him.

I never got to tell him the truth—that I wasn’t leaving for good. That I’d decided to move to Forks, to stay. Not for him, but for me. Because I wanted a fresh start, a place that felt like it could finally be my home. But in that moment, I realized something that had been staring me in the face for years: Paul wasn’t the person I thought he was. He never had been.

Walking away from Paul felt like breaking free from a chain I’d kept locked around myself for far too long. It wasn’t easy—I wanted to turn back more times than I care to admit. There was a hole where he used to be, and no matter how much I knew I needed to leave, it still hurt. For so long, I thought love was supposed to feel like this. Like sacrifice and pain and longing. But Jake—my best friend, the one who always had my back, even when I didn’t deserve it—showed me otherwise. He reminded me of who I was, of what love should feel like.

Looking back now, I can see the relationship for what it really was: a mess of manipulation, heartbreak, and abuse dressed up as love. Paul was like a storm—beautiful and wild, but impossible to hold onto without getting swept away. He played with my emotions like it was a game, keeping me guessing which version of him I’d get each time. The charming boy who made me laugh until my sides hurt? Or the angry, destructive one who left bruises on my… heart?

Paul never changed, not really. He was still the boy who punched walls when he didn’t get his way, who got drunk and showed up at my door with slurred apologies. The boy who talked shit about me to his friends, who made me feel like I wasn’t enough and too much all at once. And for a long time, I let him make me believe that was my fault.

But the truth is, Paul wasn’t mine to save. No matter how much I tried to break through his walls, all I ever did was hurt myself in the process. He drained me of everything I had to give, and when there was nothing left, he moved on, leaving me to pick up the pieces.

I think the hardest part was letting go of the hope. The hope that he’d wake up one day and realize what he’d done, that he’d apologize in a way that actually meant something. That he’d love me the way I deserved to be loved. But holding onto that hope was killing me, and I finally had to let it go.

In the end, all I got from Paul was a lesson—and some songs. Writing about him was the only way I could make sense of it all, turning the pain into something real, something I could use. So, yeah, I got some decent songs out of it. But honestly? I’d trade them all just to never have met him at all.

Now, only a few months later, I sat in a circle of new faces, new friends and I couldn’t stop thinking about how messed up it all was. Paul’s ghost lingered in the room, a weight I couldn’t quite shake. I wondered if Edward saw it, too—if he could tell that every sarcastic remark was just a defense mechanism, a way to keep anyone from getting too close. After all, getting close had only ever ended in disaster.

The bottle spun and spun, but it never seemed to land on the right questions for Edward—the ones I needed answers to. My stomach twisted every time I glanced his way, wondering if he noticed the way I stumbled over my words when he looked at me a little too long or how I laughed a little louder at his jokes. Maybe it was stupid, but part of me wanted to believe Edward could be different. That he wouldn’t leave me feeling small and broken like Paul had.

The bottle spun again, glinting under the dim light, and I forced myself to focus on the moment, to push Paul out of my mind.

Edward drank a couple of times, always at the worst moments for my sanity. Questions like, ‘Do you have a crush on anyone?’ were met with a cool, deliberate sip instead of an answer. My chest tightened every time. I wished he’d said something—anything. I wished he’d said my name. I wished for confirmation that all of this wasn’t just in my head.

Jessica’s grin turned downright predatory. “Alright, Cullen,” she drawled, handing him a card. “Let’s make this interesting.”

Edward picked up the card and read it aloud, his voice calm and measured: “Who’s the most attractive person in the room?”

Cue collective silence.

Edward’s gaze swept over the circle, his expression unreadable, until his eyes lingered on me. For a fraction of a second too long. Then, with infuriating poise, he raised his drink and took a slow sip.

My stomach flipped, and not in a good way. Was I imagining things? Did that tiny pause mean something, or was I just desperate enough to make it up?

The moment passed, and the game trudged on. The rest of the group seemed oblivious to the tension humming between us, but I couldn’t stop sneaking glances at him. And every so often, I caught him doing the same.

When the bottle finally spun back to me again, Jessica couldn’t hide her excitement. “Alright, Beau,” she said, her grin like a shark circling its prey. “Let’s get serious.” She handed me a card that read: “Kiss the person you find most attractive here.”

I froze, heat rushing to my face. The room felt suffocatingly small.

Edward’s gaze burned into me, intense and unreadable. It was the kind of look that could melt steel—or possibly my brain.

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the cup. I considered my options.

A) kiss Edward, get rejected and die of absolute mortification.

B) drink and look like a total coward.

Well, I already was a coward, so the choice was easy. I lifted the cup and drank, the alcohol burning my throat as I avoided looking at Edward. It was warm and bitter. It wasn’t all that bad, but I wasn’t entirely sure if I liked it.

Jessica pouted, but the game rolled on. Slowly, people started peeling away. Ben and Angela were the first to leave, as they emptied their cups to avoid the uncomfortable questions about their feelings. Tyler followed soon after. Alice abandoned the game entirely to join Emmett and Rosalie on the dance floor. My cup was still half-full at that point.

Before I knew it, everyone had fizzled out completely. It was just Edward and me, sitting in the corner of the room, the laminated cards abandoned on the floor. Exchanging questions under the flimsy pretense of the game, except neither of us wanted to embarrass the other. It started very simple.

“What’s your favorite color?” Edward asked suddenly, as if it was vitally important to him.

I rolled my eyes. “Very creative.” I leaned back, pretending to think deeply. “It changes from day to day.”

“What is it today?” he pressed, still solemn.

“Probably brown.” I tended to dress according to my mood.

He snorted, dropping his serious expression. “Brown?” he asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

“Yeah, brown,” I said defensively. “Brown is warm. Also everything that’s supposed to be brown—tree trunks, dirt, rocks—is all covered up with squashy green stuff here. I miss brown,” I complained.

He seemed fascinated by my little rant. He considered for a moment, staring into my eyes.

“You’re right,” he decided, serious again. “Brown is warm.”

And then, like it was nothing, he reached over, swiftly, but somehow still hesitant and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingertips barely grazed my skin, but I forgot how to breathe for a solid five seconds.

“What’s your mother like?” He asked suddenly. It was my turn, but I let it slide. His tone shifted to something softer, more curious.

I blinked, thrown by the change in topic. He studied me curiously while I answered. “Uh, she’s… complicated. She kind of looks like me—same eyes, same hair color—but she’s short with darker skin. She’s an extrovert and super forgetful. She’s also eccentric, irresponsible, and a very unpredictable cook. She’s a nurse, or I guess she was a nurse, she quit to travel with Phil.”

“Do you miss her?”

The question caught me off guard, and I hesitated, my hands tightening around my cup. “Yeah. I mean, I guess I haven’t really thought about her much this past month.” I paused, feeling a little guilty. I looked away, focusing on the way my drink swirled in my cup.

“Why did your mother marry Phil?”

It took me a second to answer.

“That’s… complicated too.” I sighed, trying to find the right words. “My mom… she’s very… young for her age. I think Phil makes her feel even younger. Anyway, she’s crazy about him.” I shrugged, feeling awkward. Personally, I didn’t see it, but did anyone ever think anyone was good enough for their mom? He made her stop drinking or at least drink less, so that was something, I guess.

Edward tilted his head, like he was trying to understand my logic. “Do you approve?”

I shrugged again. “I want her to be happy, and he’s who she wants.”

“That’s very generous… I wonder…”

“What?”

“Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?” His voice was low, his eyes searching mine with unnerving intensity.

“I, I think so,” I stammered. “But she’s the adult—on paper at least. It’s a little different.”

His face relaxed. “No one too scary, then,” he teased.

I grinned back. “Define scary. Covered in tattoos and piercings? A gang member? Someone who doesn’t like dogs?”

“That last one would be unforgivable,” he said, his tone dry.

“Exactly.”

His lips curved into the faintest smile, and I found myself staring at it, which was definitely not helping my racing pulse.

“Do you think I could be scary?” he asked suddenly, his eyebrow arching in challenge, the corner of his mouth lifting in a teasing smirk, lightening his face.

I pretended to examine his face for a minute, partly to keep the conversation light and partly as an excuse to shamelessly stare at him, my favorite thing to do, as of late. His features were perfect, so symmetrical. His face would stop anyone in their tracks, but it wouldn’t make them run in the other direction—the opposite.

“It’s kind of hard to imagine that,” I admitted.

He frowned a bit.

“But, I mean, I’m sure you could be, if you wanted to.”

Edward’s smile faltered for a second, like he wasn’t sure if I was joking. Then he chuckled softly, the sound low and warm.

We both paused for a moment, the silence between us wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt… comfortable. More than I’d ever experienced with anyone else. It was strange to feel so connected to him, even when we weren’t talking. This past month had been filled with so many moments like this, where we didn’t need words to understand each other. It was like we had fallen into this rhythm, this unspoken closeness that I hadn’t shared with anyone else.

“Do you have any other relatives?” he asked after a while, his voice quieter now.

“My mom has a sister,” he waited for me to continue. “Umm…Tía Isa, she’s great. She and her husband are journalists, they travel around the world, or at least they used to. I don’t know what they do now. I-I haven’t seen them in years.” I looked down at my hands. “We used to be so close.”

“What happened?”

“She and my mom fought a lot. They had a huge argument a few years ago, and Tía moved away. Mom didn’t want me talking to her anymore.”

Edward tilted his head, his expression unreadable. But he didn’t push for more.

“So,” I said, desperate to steer the conversation away from myself, “are you going to tell me about your family? It’s got to be more interesting than mine.”

His posture stiffened, instantly cautious. “What do you want to know?”

“The Cullens adopted you?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated, unsure if I was crossing a line. “What happened to your parents?”

“They died a long time ago,” he said, his tone flat and matter-of-fact.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t really remember them clearly.” His voice softened. “Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a long time now.”

“And you love them.” It wasn’t a question. It was obvious in the way he said their names.

“Yes.” A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips. “I can’t imagine two better people.”

“Then you’re very lucky.”

“I guess I am.”

After that, the conversation drifted, though it was hard to find something we didn’t already know about each other. We ran out of the simple, light and breezy questions pretty fast.

He asked me about my favorite books. And reluctantly I had to admit that I’d had a massive crush on Mr. Darcy when I first saw the movie adaptations. He laughed but admitted that he could respect my taste. Then he even got me to talk about Doctor Who, and I was surprised when he admitted the Tenth Doctor was also his favorite.

The room was getting stuffy and warm, the kind of heavy air that makes you feel like you’re stuck inside your own skin. Somewhere along the way, I shrugged off my jacket, letting it hang loose over my shoulders, and absentmindedly started to roll up the left sleeve of my shirt.

I didn’t even know what we were talking about or what led to this conversation, but Edward was laughing at me for being a ‘ballerina’ when he suddenly asked:

“How did you get that?” He was looking at my left forearm, specifically at the faint, thin lines on it, etched there like they’d always been part of me. “Did you fall out of a tree as a kid or something?”

He was joking—I knew he was. But the question hit me like a sharp jolt. I didn’t even notice the countless scars on my body most of the time. Nobody did. Either they didn’t look closely enough to notice, or pretend they didn’t see. Either way, no one ever outright asked about them.

But Edward wasn’t like anyone else.

I didn’t know why, but I yanked my sleeve down quickly, my hands trembling just enough for me to notice. I looked away, the heat creeping up my neck. I could feel him tense up beside me.

“I—” Edward’s tone shifted instantly, his voice soft, urgent, and apologetic. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” I interrupted, my words probably sharper than I intended, forcing a smile I didn’t feel. “It’s fine. Really.”

I grabbed my cup and drained it in one long gulp, in hopes it would calm me down. Unfortunately, the liquid did nothing to settle the storm inside me. The tension between us was palpable, but I couldn’t stand the way he was looking at me, steady and concerned, like he was trying to unravel me with his eyes, or like he wanted to fix something he didn’t understand. I stood up abruptly, and he was right by my side. He reached for my hand, but I pulled away before he could touch me.

“Really, let’s just go dance.” I smiled at him again, but he still wasn’t convinced. “And I can’t dance, so it will be fun.”

He hesitated, his expression doubtful. “You just told me you’re a ballet dancer.”

“Well, this,” I gestured to the crowd of drunk teens, “is very different from ballet.” A corner of his mouth twitched, he was clearly fighting back a smile. I seized the moment, grabbing the cuff of his sleeve, walking backwards, pulling him along with me. “Come on, you can make fun of me some more on the dance floor.”

For a moment, he just stared at me, like he couldn’t quite believe what I was doing. Then he laughed—a low, melodic sound that sent a shiver down my spine—and let me lead him. It distracted me more than it should have.

I didn’t get far.

I bumped into someone. There was a loud shattering noise echoing in my ears, I felt my shoes getting soaked. The acrid smell of spilled alcohol hit me like a heavy wave. I looked down. Glass, tiny shards of glass all over my shoes. And it was like I was back there. I couldn’t catch my breath, I was so lightheaded, I gripped the first thing near me not to fall down. The noise of the party blurred, people laughing, someone yelling “Watch it,” but it was all muffled, like miles away or coming from underwater. The sound of breaking glass still echoed in my head, getting louder and louder—sharp, relentless, deafening.

I didn’t even realize I was running, pushing my way through, until I felt the cold night air on my face. I had no idea where exactly I was. My feet carried me to the nearest wall, solid and grounding, and I collapsed against it, my knees pulled tightly to my chest.

I gasped for air, but it wasn’t enough. My lungs wouldn’t fill. My tie felt like it was choking me. I clawed at it, loosening it with trembling hands. It didn’t help much.

“Beau?” A familiar voice—soft but sharp—pierced through the thick haze in my mind. It felt far away at first, muffled like it was underwater, but steadily, it grew louder, closer. It anchored me, even as I shook uncontrollably.

Edward kneeled in front of me, his face etched with concern. He rested a steady hand on my trembling knees. “Beau,” he said again, his voice calm and deliberate, “what do you need?”

I couldn’t answer, my breathing still erratic, shallow, ragged. I clutched my chest with one hand and dug my fingernails into the palm of the other, hard enough to sting, trying to steady myself. Edward’s hand slid into mine, stopping me from hurting myself further. His grip was firm but not forceful, his touch gentle. I clung to it desperately, like a lifeline.

“Hey.” His voice dropped, low and soothing. “Look at me.”

He tilted my chin up with the lightest touch, just his fingertips grazing my skin. His eyes locked onto mine, those beautiful, weird golden-green eyes, impossibly bright against the night. “You’re safe. Just look at me.”

I focused on him, the sharpness of his features blurring the chaos in my mind.

“Breathe with me” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “Inhale. Slowly.”

I tried, the first breath a jagged mess. The cold night air burned as I dragged it into my lungs.

A moment later, “That’s it. Now exhale.”

We exhaled together. His hand never left mine.

He repeated that over and over. I matched his rhythm, each breath a little deeper, a little steadier. His thumb brushed against the back of my hand in slow, rhythmic circles. Gradually, the tightness in my chest eased, the frantic edge of my panic dulling under his patient guidance. The cold air seeped into my lungs, calming the storm.

I became aware of my surroundings again—the chill of the night air on my skin, the faint thrum of music from inside the house. I realized we were on the patio, mercifully alone.

Edward stayed close, his presence as steady as the stone wall behind me. “Are you feeling better?”

I nodded, though my throat still felt raw, my body shaky.

“Okay. What can I do? Do you want me to drive you home?”

The mention of “home” made me firstly think of the home back in L.A, dragging my thoughts back to the thing I tried desperately to forget about. I shook my head hard. “No,” I croaked.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was careful, almost hesitant, as if afraid to push me too far.

I hesitated, but then nodded. Words felt impossible, but something in me needed him to know.

Edward didn’t rush me. He just waited, both of his hands now in mine, letting me squeeze them as tightly as I needed. The quiet wrapped around us like a cocoon. My jacket must’ve fallen to the ground at some point, and I noticed it lying next to him. He must have picked it up after chasing me out here. The thought sent a faint warmth through my chest, though it was quickly drowned by the lingering echoes of panic.

I didn’t know how much time had passed. It felt like ages when I finally spoke, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. This… this hasn’t happened in a while.”

“Don’t apologize,” Edward said firmly. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult. “I… I need you to just listen. And then we can go back inside, okay?”

I needed to tell someone. And for some reason I needed him to know, I wanted him to know everything.

“Okay,” he agreed, his voice so soft it almost felt like a promise.

I took a deep breath, focusing on our intertwined hands. His were slightly colder. “I was maybe… about seven,” I began haltingly. “It was late, really late, and I was asleep. I heard my mom shouting and this… this loud crashing noise.”

Edward’s grip on my hands tightened ever so slightly, encouraging me to go on.

“I got up and went to the living room. My mom and her boyfriend were fighting.” I paused, my throat closing up. Edward didn’t speak, didn’t move, just stayed there, steady as always. “He was throwing things. I don’t think they noticed me. I… I remember hearing more glass breaking, and my head started hurting, everything was kind of a blur. I think I passed out.”

Another deep breath, shakier this time. “When I woke up, I was on the floor. There was glass everywhere. And this weird smell—like metal and salt with alcohol. Then another crash, and I think something fell on top of me, like a shelf… I don’t know, I just felt something heavy on me and I couldn’t move. My mom was screaming my name, over and over. And then I woke up in the hospital.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and jagged. I let my head fall back against the wall, staring up at the cloudy sky, no star in sight. “I hadn’t thought about that night in years… but I dunno, you asked about my mom, and the…” I trailed off, gripping my left arm where the scars were, “…and then the glass.”

I looked back at Edward, at those beautiful eyes, still fixed on me. Despite everything I couldn’t help but smile, “But I’m fine, really.”

Edward didn’t look convinced. “It’s okay if you’re not fine,” he said softly, his voice like warm honey tea.

He reached for my jacket, carefully draping it over my shoulders.

“But I am. I’m not gonna let this stop me from having fun with my friends. I got scared, and I just needed a minute,” I insisted, standing a little too quickly. My knees wobbled, and I lost my balance. Edward caught me immediately, his hands firm and steady around my waist.

I realized just how close we were, his face inches from mine. I was pressed against the wall, with my hands on his chest. His hands shifted to the wall on either side of my shoulders, caging me in without ever feeling threatening. His breath was warm against my lips, his gaze dark and intense.

“Are you still scared?” he asked, his voice low, rough. It was like he was asking about something else.

“No,” I whispered. “What would I be scared of?”

His gaze dropped to my hands, still pressed firmly against his chest.

“You?” I let out a nervous laugh, though my voice was barely audible. “Oh, Edward, there’s a million scary things in this world… but you are not one of them.”

I made sure to look straight into his eyes as I said this. There was something unreadable in his expression. I held his gaze, trying to will him to understand what I couldn’t put into words. And he looked right back at me, like there was something in me worth looking at.

Edward leaned in, his nose brushing against mine. The smallest, unexplainable spark passed between us, electric and undeniable. His forehead rested against mine, and I unconsciously closed my eyes, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“I get them too,” he murmured, his voice so quiet I almost missed it.

“What?” I asked, but I couldn’t open my eyes.

“Panic attacks,” he admitted, a faint vulnerability creeping into his tone. “Not often, but… when they hit, it’s like the world closes in. Like I’ll never breathe again.”

I stayed still, stunned. “You?”

“I’m not as unshakable as you think, Beau.”

The moment stretched between us, charged with something fragile and electric. I tilted my face up, trying to bridge the gap between us, just enough that the tiniest part of my lips barely brushed his—

And nothing, just nothing.

I blinked my eyes open, disoriented. He wasn’t there. He was just gone.

Was he here at all? Did I just imagine him being there, comforting me? Was I going crazy or did he just leave me? Which was worse, being insane or being rejected?

I pressed my lips together, the lingering ghost of his touch fading. Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I could either cry and drown in self-pity or laugh and move on. So, I laughed—a hollow, bitter sound—and pulled my jacket tighter around myself.

Like I said, getting close had only ever ended in disaster.

With a deep breath, I turned back toward the house, slipping inside through the glass door. The deafening music hit me like a wall, drowning out everything else, every single thought in my head.

I grabbed an unopened bottle from the kitchen counter, poured a cup, and downed it in one go. I wanted to drown everything out. Paul, Edward and every fucking memory of my mother, of the pain, of the screams and the blood that creeped in my head. It burned all the way down, but at least it gave me something to focus on.

Tyler and Mike appeared at my side, grinning and laughing, their words lost to the pounding music. One of them grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the dance floor.

And I let them drag me away, the crowd of screaming people swallowing me whole. Everything started to get blurry fast.

**********

I was in a different part of the house. Maybe the basement? I wasn’t sure how I’d ended up there. The room was thick with smoke, stinging my eyes and making the edges of everything blur even more. A group of guys was sprawled out on couches and the floor, looking like they were melting into the furniture, clearly stoned out of their minds.

I was sitting between Tyler and… someone else. His name was a blur, lost in the haze in my head. Tyler was way too close, uncomfortably close. It was like he had no idea what personal space was. His arm was slung across my shoulders. He was chatty, his voice loud and slurred, and he kept laughing at things I didn’t say. I guessed he was too stoned to notice I wasn’t interested… in him or whatever he was saying.

“You having fun?” he slurred, leaning into me. His breath was warm and smelled like beer.

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure if I could. My head felt heavy, and the words were stuck somewhere in the fog. He offered me his joint and I shook my head weakly, not bothering to explain, but he kept insisting.

“Come on,” he pushed, his voice dropping like it was supposed to be enticing. “Mama didn’t raise no fucking bitch,” he slurred, putting the joint to my lips. I tried to pull back, but the couch seemed to swallow me whole.

“Tyler! Noooo, no, Beau—no, mama raised a bitch, let’s go,” a small voice snapped through the haze, sharp and fierce.

A tiny fairy. Alice. She grabbed my arm, yanking me to my feet with surprising strength. I let her, grateful for the escape. She shot Tyler a murderous look that could’ve burned a hole through him. He looked up at her, confused and slow to react.

“Mama didn’t raise nobody, actually,” I mumbled, stumbling after her. “My mom was absent.” I laughed at my own joke, but no one else did.

Alice’s arm hooked firmly under mine, holding me steady as she led me back upstairs. My legs felt like jelly, but she kept me moving, dragging me to where Angela was waiting by the dance floor. Her face lit up when she saw us. Alice handed me off like a package, and they steered me toward the crowd of dancers.

“Dance it off, babe!” Angela shouted, her voice barely cutting through the noise.

I didn’t argue. I didn’t do anything. I let them push me into the crush of bodies, their laughter and energy buzzing around me like static.

The music thumped in my chest, a dull, steady rhythm that drowned out everything else. Time blurred. Everything faded into a blur of sound and movement. I felt a cup pressed into my hand, and I drank it without thinking. I didn’t even know who gave it to me.

**********

Then I was wearing someone’s cowboy hat. I wasn’t sure whose it was or when I’d put it on. It sat lopsided on my head, threatening to fall off as I swayed to the beat. Everything was hazy and I liked it that way. It was so much easier to breathe with every thought and memory pushed to the back of my mind.

A guy dressed as a pirate offered me a shot, and I downed it without hesitation. It burned all the way down, and I laughed—though it didn’t feel funny. Nothing did.

The pirate high-fived me, and I stumbled backward into someone else. They caught me, steadying me with a laugh, their hands lingering on my shoulders before they disappeared back into the crowd, and then I was dancing again. Or at least moving.

***

It didn’t take long for the room to spin. Everything felt distant, like I was watching it all happen through someone else’s eyes. My body moved on autopilot, going wherever someone pulled me, doing whatever they suggested.

A hand brushed my back—too low to be casual. I turned, but whoever it was had already disappeared into the crowd.

***

Someone pressed up behind me, their hands brushing my waist.

“Hey, you look lonely,” a voice murmured in my ear.

I didn’t turn around. Didn’t care. Just pushed their hand off me.

They lingered for a moment before melting away into the crowd.

***

Another drink found its way into my hand. This one was blue, or maybe green. I drank it anyway.

Someone else tried to talk to me, leaning in close, their smile too wide, their words slurred. I couldn’t hear them over the music, and I didn’t bother trying.

I turned away, letting the crowd swallow me again.

**********

Sometime later, the music slowed down, giving me a second to realize how much my head hurt. My throat was raw from singing—or screaming—along to songs I barely remembered. I felt the ache in my legs, the weight in my chest creeping back in, heavier with every beat of the music.

I needed air. Or maybe just quiet.

I stumbled out of the crowd, I asked the nearest person about the bathroom, the words barely making sense even to me.

“Upstairs,” they said, pointing vaguely toward the staircase.

Ugh, of course, it had to be upstairs.

The stairs were strung with fairy lights, bats taped to the walls, and stars dangling from the ceiling. At the bottom, a cowboy was making out with a cheerleader, their bodies pressed against the railing. I pushed past them without a word and stumbled up the stairs.

The bathroom was one of the first of many doors on the left. I pushed it open and froze in place.

At first, I didn’t know what I was looking at, my brain struggled to catch up. The thought, ‘just how drunk am I?’ came across my mind.

Princess Peach and Princess Daisy were kissing in the bathroom. Or rather, Jessica and Lauren were kissing in the bathroom. Jessica was pressed against the sink, her legs wrapped around Lauren’s waist. Jessica’s hands in Lauren’s hair, Lauren’s hands on Jessica’s hips and moving up and down Jessica’s thighs.

They jumped apart when they finally noticed they weren’t alone anymore, faces flushed, startled and wide-eyed.

I shut the door instantly, yelled ‘sorry’ and ran. Just bolted back downstairs, past the cowboy and cheerleader who were still glued to each other.

**********

Back in the kitchen, I grabbed a new bottle of something amber. Whiskey, rum—whatever. I took it to the dance floor, drinking straight from the bottle.

The warmth spread through me, dulling the edges even more. I drank half of the bottle before someone took it away from me. Everything blurred again—faces, music, laughter. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. I found another bottle, someone took it from me again. But I didn’t care.

I was dizzy. My throat was raw. It was too loud, it was like my ears were bleeding. The flashing lights too bright. I longed for my bed, my warm, cozy, safe bed. I dug my phone out of my pocket, squinting at the screen. 3:15 a.m.

I needed to go home.

Somehow, I found myself on the front lawn, I didn’t know how, but I was there, the cold air hitting me like a slap. I found my keys in my jacket’s pocket, I fumbled with them, realizing with a sinking feeling that I couldn’t drive.

I was in no condition to walk to the car, let alone drive.

I collapsed to the ground with resignation. The damp grass soaking through my jeans. Tears rolled down my cheeks, hot against my cold skin.

I pulled out my phone again, scrolling through my contacts with shaking fingers.

Who was I supposed to call? Definitely not Dad. He was out of the question. No way.

I stopped at Jake’s name and hit call.

It rang and rang, going to voicemail.

I tried again.

And again.

The fourth time, I broke down and left a stupid voicemail.

“Jakey… I know you’re probably asleep, but I can’t get home. I-I need you. I need you to get me. Pleaseeeee,” my voice slurred and cracked, but he could probably still understand me. I hoped he could.

I hung up, dropping the phone into the grass beside me. The tears kept coming, but I didn’t wipe them away. I just stayed there, staring at nothing, waiting for something to pull me out of the dark.

**********

Bonus: Edward’s pov

Beau was so close, yet somehow still not close enough. He smelled wonderful, like lavender and old books. Now there was an undertone of whiskey, which made his smell all the more intoxicating. I inhaled slowly. His eyes were so dark, his pupils dilated, I could barely see the lovely, warm, deep brown, he slowly closed them, his long lashes falling on his cheeks. And then his lips…Oh, his lips… looked so soft, chapped from constantly biting them, but still soft. I wanted to feel them on mine so badly. I gently rested my forehead against his. He was warm, it felt so good against my permanently slightly colder skin.

I had this gorgeous boy under me, and he wasn’t afraid of me, even though he should have been. He was here with his hands on my chest and he trusted me. Beau sighed, and something hot and electric went through my chest. That was right, more right than anything I’d ever managed before. Making Beau feel like that, safe and secure in my arms, was it. I dreamt of kissing him for so long, but when his lips parted and he leaned towards me, his heartbeat quickened, I froze.

I knew I could never have him. I tried so hard not to cross the line. I told myself I’d be fine with just being friends. That I could at least have him as a friend, that it would be enough. But still I hung on every breath he took, every word he said. The question was never out of my mind: What is he thinking now? When I heard him quietly sigh to himself. When he twisted a lock of hair absently around his finger. When he threw his books down with more force than usual. When he was reading and suddenly frowned. When he wrote, almost obsessively, in his journal. When he rushed to class late. When he tapped his foot impatiently against the floor. Each movement caught in my peripheral vision was a maddening mystery. When he spoke, I analyzed every word and tone. I wanted him to be mine. Selfishly, thoughtlessly, mine.

For a long time I wished I couldn’t hear everyone’s thoughts all of the time, but when it finally happened it nearly drove me crazy. I never really got to enjoy the quiet of Beau’s mind. His thoughts were the only ones that actually mattered to me. Not hearing his thoughts was a blessing and a curse.

Spending time with him made me feel normal, human. But I wasn’t human and no matter how much I wanted to be a part of his world, I couldn’t. Being with me was too dangerous for him. My pursuit of him was indefensible. What kind of relationship could I offer him, when I couldn’t risk touching him? He deserved someone he would be safe around, someone that could touch him and not accidentally hurt him.

Alice said that I would not be strong enough to stay away from him. I would prove her wrong.

Leaving Beau there was the last thing I wanted, but I forced myself to anyway. I was gone and inside the house before Beau could notice. But before I could grab my things and leave the party for good, Alice was in my way, blocking my only exit, visibly angry.

“What the hell are you doing?” She yelled over the loud music. Emmett was right behind her. This whole situation was really entertaining for him. He was dying to see what Alice would do.

“I have to leave,” I said, my teeth clenched. If I stayed, I would definitely do something stupid.

“You can’t just leave, you idiot!” she snapped. “What, you can’t even properly kiss a boy you like? You had the perfect opportunity and you blew it.”

Damn, kid, you’re a mess, Emmett thought, sympathy in his tone.

“Bite me,” I muttered under my breath, and I heard his low chuckle. I stalked out of the room. Alice touched my arm as I passed, but I didn’t acknowledge the gesture.

They followed close behind me. Alice sighed. You are so blind, Eddie. Can’t you see where you’re headed? Can’t you see where you already are? It’s more inevitable than the sun rising in the East. See what I see…

I shook my head, horrified. “No.” I tried to shut out the visions she revealed to me. “I don’t have to follow that course. I will change the future.”

She’s been having the same visions for a few weeks now. Visions in which my feelings for Beau either end up getting him killed or changed into… one of us. And I couldn’t let either one happen.

“You can try,” she said, her voice skeptical.

“Oh, come on!” Emmett bellowed. “You had a gay crisis so big you had to leave the state. Just get it over with already.”

“Keep out of it,” I said under my breath. Alice’s face fell, and then brightened again. “Can you keep an eye on him? Please.”

Alice unwillingly nodded. Fine. Be stubborn. It’s only a matter of time.

I was running before I left the house. I raced into the forest. The rain was back again, falling so heavily that I was drenched in a few moments. I liked the thick sheet of water—it made a wall between me and the rest of the world. It closed me in, let me be alone. I ran as fast as I could until I reached the meadow, my meadow, my safe place. It was miles away from the town, from the people, from their thoughts. It was a place where I could breathe, where I could think. And I needed to think. I lay on the grass, feeling the cold rain on my skin.

This could not be allowed. There had to be a way to circumvent the future. I would not let Alice’s visions direct me. I could choose a different path. There was always a choice. There had to be.

His scent lingered on my clothes. That sweet, sweet scent which made me wonder if he was even human. He didn’t smell like any other human, not like, well, prey.

**********

I remembered Beau’s first day at school vividly. Every single detail.

I tried to give him some privacy. I knew how hard it was moving to a new place, every mind in Forks was already focused on his arrival. I wanted to give him space, but Alice decided to talk to him. I saw Alice’s visions, saw her becoming friends with him, which made Beau even more interesting. But I still kept my distance.

He was sitting with Alice in the cafeteria.

Edward Cullen.

I turned to the sound of my name being called, though it wasn’t being called, just thought, a reflex reaction. My eyes locked for a small portion of a second with a pair of wide, deep chocolate-brown eyes, so familiar, yet new, warm and intense at the same time, framed by thick, long lashes that blinked once in surprise. His face was gentle and thoughtful, with soft, dark curls that framed his features, slightly messy in a way that seemed more accidental than intentional. His skin had a warm, golden tone, it stood out against the backdrop of mostly pale faces of the student body. It gave him a distinct presence, though he seemed almost unaware of it. His whole face, the cheeks, the bridge of his nose, trailing all the way down his neck were dotted with faint freckles. Somewhere deep in the back of my mind I wondered if every inch of that enchanting sun-kissed skin was covered in freckles. And those full lips, slightly parted in either curiosity or maybe astonishment, were a perfect blend of features. They made him look almost regal, something that everyone around seemed to notice. I knew that beautiful face, though I’d never seen it myself before that moment. It had been foremost in everyone’s head that day.

The new student, Beauregard Swan-Torres. Beau. He’d corrected everyone who’d used his full name… I looked away. It took me a second to realize that he had not been the one to think my name.

Wait, is he interested in Edward? Is he into boys? I heard the first thought continue.

Now I recognized the ‘voice.’ Jessica Stanley—it had been a while since she’d bothered me with her internal chatter. What a relief it had been when she’d gotten over her misplaced infatuation. It used to be nearly impossible to escape her constant, ridiculous daydreams.

Alice was talking about our family, and I listened carefully for Beau’s reaction and heard nothing, though I listened close beside where Jessica’s frivolous internal monologue gushed. It was as if there was no one sitting beside her. My gaze locked on those wide brown eyes again. He was sitting right where he had been before, and looking at us, a natural thing to be doing, I supposed, thinking about us, too, would be natural. But I couldn’t hear a whisper. I scanned Alice’s thoughts for an explanation, but she was already lost in the future and not focusing on what was happening right before her.

I could hear nothing but silence from the place he was sitting. Nothing at all. I felt a moment of unease. This was nothing I’d ever encountered before. Was there something wrong with me? I felt exactly the same as I always did. Worried, I listened harder.

All the voices I’d been blocking were suddenly shouting in my head.

…wonder what music he likes… maybe I could mention that new band… Mike Newton was thinking, two tables away—fixated on Beau.

Look at him staring at Beau. Isn’t it enough that he has half the girls in school waiting for him to… Eric Yorkie thoughts, also revolving around the boy.

…My God, she’s not even looking at me anymore… flaunting her new best friend. What a joke… Even Edward’s staring, weird… Lauren Mallory was always jealous when it came to Jessica. Her secret crush on Jessica was consuming most of her thoughts. Venom continued to spew from the girl’s internal ranting.

…I bet everyone has asked him that. But I’d like to talk to him, he’s cute. I’ll think of a more original question… Ashley Dowling mused.

…maybe he’ll be in my Spanish… June Richardson hoped.

…tons left to do tonight! Trig, and the English test. I hope my mom… Angela Weber, a quiet girl, whose thoughts were usually kind, was the only one at the table who wasn’t obsessed with Beau.

I could hear them all, hear every insignificant thing they were thinking as it passed through their minds. But nothing at all from the new student with the pretty eyes.

Of course, I could hear what the boy said when he spoke to Jessica. I didn’t have to read minds to be able to hear his low, very attractive—though I couldn’t admit to myself yet—clear voice on the far side of the long room.

“Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?” I heard him ask, sneaking a look at me from the corner of his eye, only to look quickly away when he saw that I was still staring.

I’d hoped that hearing the sound of his voice would help me pinpoint the tone of his thoughts, lost somewhere I couldn’t access, but I was instantly disappointed. Usually, people’s thoughts came to them in a similar pitch as their physical voices. But this quiet, shy—attractive—voice was unfamiliar, not one of the hundreds of thoughts bouncing around the room, I was sure of that. Entirely new.

Oh, that’s not a good idea… but I guess everyone had a crush on Edward at some point… Jessica thought before answering the boy’s question. “That’s Edward. He’s gorgeous, of course, but don’t waste your time. He doesn’t date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him.” She sniffed.

I turned my head away to hide my smile. Jessica and her classmates had no idea how lucky they were that none of them particularly appealed to me.

But him…

It was unbelievably frustrating. I could clearly see it was a strain for him to sit there, to make conversation with strangers, to be the center of attention. I could sense his shyness from the way he held his frail-looking shoulders, slightly hunched, as if he was expecting a rebuff at any moment. And yet I could only sense. Could only see. Could only imagine. There was nothing but silence.

I could hear nothing. Why?

“Shall we?” Rosalie murmured to Emmett, interrupting my focus.

I looked away from the boy with a sense of relief. I didn’t want to continue to fail at this—it irritated me more than I cared to admit.

Jasper got up and walked to Alice, and I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. I didn’t need to read minds to know what Jasper was thinking. I hoped they’d go far enough away for me not to hear their thoughts while they made out.

Emmett and Rosalie left soon after to join their friends. After some time, I too got up from the table and left the cafeteria.

In the classroom, I settled into my chair and let my books spill across the table. I was the only student who had a table to myself. The room slowly filled as students trickled in from lunch. I leaned back in my chair and waited for the time to pass as I replayed that brief interaction. The boy was still on my mind.

I didn’t notice him enter the classroom.

It wasn’t until he passed by my desk that my body went rigid, seized by a sudden, primal reaction. I hadn’t been surprised by a human ever since I was changed. Yet, in that moment, I felt something raw and instinctual surge through me—an immediate flight-or-fight response.

In that instant, I was nothing close to the human I’d once been; no trace of the carefully constructed control I’d spent decades mastering, no shred of humanity remained. It was as if his mere presence unraveled me.

The moment my eyes left him, it was like he ceased to exist.

Not in the mundane sense of someone walking out of sight, but in a way that was deeply, profoundly wrong. I couldn’t sense him. Couldn’t track him. It was as if the universe itself blinked, and he vanished.

And it terrified me. I spent decades trying to bury my vampire instincts and, just like that, my control was gone.

I snapped my gaze back to him, and there he was again, walking toward his seat as though nothing had happened. I stared, unblinking, trying to make sense of it. My mind raced, each question more disjointed than the last. What was he? Human? Supernatural? Something entirely outside my comprehension?

His gaze met mine, and I saw myself reflected in the wide mirror of his eyes. —shock, anxiety, and something else I couldn’t name etched into his delicate features. His heartbeat thudded faintly in my ears, grounding me, but the moment I looked away, it disappeared again. I still couldn’t hear his thoughts.

It was maddening.

I spent the entire hour with my eyes glued to him. I didn’t trust myself to look away. I had to make sure he was still there. His mental silence made everything so much worse. He was an unknown. My mind clawed desperately at the silence where his thoughts should have been. I tried to analyze every detail—his movements, his posture, his breathing. He had a heartbeat though, every time my eyes shifted away from him, I couldn’t hear it anymore. Every time I looked away, even for a fraction of a second, the world felt emptier, more dangerous.

And still, I couldn’t ignore how beautiful he was. This boy would drive me completely mad.

When the bell finally rang, I bolted.

I was in my car before I even realized how I’d gotten there. This boy shattered my reality. I was losing my mind. Everything I knew, everything I have been used to and comfortable with was gone. I needed to avoid him. I needed to put some distance between us, as much distance as possible.

So I tried to get out of Biology. I went to the office and, with the rest of my mental strength, I tried to change classes. I was barely coherent as I spoke to the receptionist, gripping the edge of the counter to steady myself. But then, he surprised me for the second time.

A faint breeze from the opening door announced his arrival before I even saw him. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was him; his scent washed over me, a mix of warmth and something tantalizingly sweet. My control faltered, and panic surged again.

I had to leave.

I didn’t stop until I was in my car, moving too fast, too reckless the entire way there. Most of the students had cleared out already, so there weren’t a lot of witnesses. When I slid into my Volvo, the others were already there, their curious gazes fixed on me. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly it groaned under the pressure. My breaths came in short, sharp gasps, as though I couldn’t get enough air.

He isn’t real. He is. What is he?

“Edward?” Alice’s voice broke through the storm in my head, alarmed.

I couldn’t answer her. My vision swam as the panic built, wave after wave crashing against me. I gritted my teeth, struggling to steady myself, but the feeling of losing control only grew.

“What the hell happened to you?” Emmett demanded.

I shook my head, my throat too dry to form words. Swallowing hard, I tried to speak, but the rising tide of panic made it impossible.

Instead of explaining, I threw the car into reverse, jerking us out of the lot faster than I should have. The tires squealed, the sound slicing through my fraying nerves.

Oh, he’s having a panic attack, Alice realized. Her thoughts were clear, cutting through the haze like a blade. “Eddie, what happened? What do you need?”

Without looking, I knew Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper had all turned to stare at Alice. She shrugged, her expression uncertain. She couldn’t see what had passed, only what was coming.

“I need—” My voice cracked, barely above a whisper. I slammed my foot on the gas, the car lurching forward. My hands trembled so badly that I could barely maintain my grip on the wheel. “I need… to think. To figure this out. He’s—he’s not real.”

“What do you mean?” Alice pressed, her tone softening with concern.

I shook my head again, unable to explain. How could I? How could I put into words the way he made me feel like I was losing my mind?

I gripped the side of my head with my free hand as if I could physically hold my thoughts together. The image of him—his wide eyes, his fragile movements, the maddening silence of his mind—played over and over in my head like a fever dream.

“Edward, breathe,” Alice said gently, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I tried. I really tried. But each breath came shallow and fast, and I couldn’t escape the feeling that everything I knew—everything I’d built my life around—was crumbling beneath me.

The silence in his mind. The way he disappeared when I wasn’t looking. The sheer impossibility of it all.

What was he?

What was happening to me?

Alice’s hand tightened on my shoulder, her thoughts shifting. She looked ahead for me now. We both processed the vision that had just flashed in her mind, and we were both surprised.

“You’re leaving?” she whispered.

The others stared at me now, their questions unspoken but heavy in the air.

“I think so…” I rasped. The words felt foreign in my mouth, like they didn’t belong to me. But I knew they were true. I had to leave. I had to clear my head. I needed to breathe.

Alice’s vision shifted again, playing out a future I could see as clearly as if I were already living it: an empty highway at night, trees dusted with snow flashing by at nearly two hundred miles per hour.

“I’ll miss you,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with sadness. “No matter how short a time you’re gone.”

***

I spent a week in Alaska, hiding in the snow, trying to get my mind right, the silence of the wilderness echoing the maddening silence of his mind. The stillness should have brought clarity, but it only gave me time to replay every moment over and over again. It was a week full of realizations.

I came back knowing two things; Beau was a mystery, unlike anything I had ever encountered. And I was undeniably, dangerously attracted to him.

**********

Attraction.

It was a problematic thing to contemplate. So many sides to it, so many different meanings and levels. Not the same thing as love, but tied up in it inextricably.

I had no idea if Beau was attracted to me.

Would his mental silence somehow continue to get more and more frustrating until I went completely mad? Or was there a limit that I would eventually reach?

I tried to compare his physical responses to others, like Jessica Stanley, but the comparison was inconclusive. The same markers—changes in heart rate and breathing patterns—could just as easily mean fear or shock or anxiety as they did interest. It seemed unlikely that Beau could be entertaining the same kinds of thoughts that Jessica Stanley used to have. And yet… as I remembered those fantasies that used to repulse me, but remembered them with Beau in Jessica’s place…

The air in my lungs felt too hot, too sharp. My throat ached, the fire clawing its way up and down as my mind conjured an image I couldn’t seem to stop.

What if it had been Beau imagining me with my arms wrapped around his fragile body? Feeling me pull him tightly against my chest, my hands sliding up his back? One cupping the nape of his neck, my fingers curling into his hair, feeling its softness under my palm? The other tracing the curve of his jaw, tilting his face up toward mine?

And those lips. Soft, full, and slightly parted, warm and inviting. My thumb brushing across them, his breath hitching under my touch. I’d let my fingers trail down the side of his neck, feel the rapid beat of his pulse against my skin, alive and fragile and…

And then I would lean in, drawn by the heat of his breath, the quiet sound of it catching in his throat as I moved closer, so much closer—

I flinched violently, yanking myself back from the edge of the daydream, horrified.

The ache in my throat burned brighter now, hotter, as if it were punishment for indulging those thoughts.

I almost did all those things.

I barely touched him, but I had been so close and his hands were on my chest—And, oh my god, I need to stop…

Attraction was an impossible dilemma, because I was already too attracted to Beau in the worst way.

Did I love him?

No? I didn’t think so.

Maybe?

Not yet.

I definitely had feelings for him, but infatuation or a crush didn’t seem to describe them well enough. So was it love?

Alice’s glimpses of that future had stuck with me. Those flashes of what could be, of what felt inevitable. I could see how easy it would be to fall in love with Beau. It would be exactly like falling: effortless, as though gravity itself were drawing me to him. Not letting myself love him was the opposite of falling. It was pulling myself up a cliff-face, clawing my way up hand over hand, the task as grueling as if I had no more than mortal strength.

I would not destroy Beau’s future. If I was destined to love him, then wasn’t staying away from him the very least I could do?

And yet I couldn’t do it. I guess I was too selfish for that.

Hours passed, the rain eventually stopped, but my thoughts had only tangled further. There were more questions now than before, more fears. And I still couldn’t stop thinking about Beau. I was too far away to hear Alice’s thoughts, and my phone was dead. I had no way of knowing if Beau was safe. The need to check on him struck me suddenly, like a physical pull I couldn’t ignore. Before I’d even made the decision, I was already moving. My feet carried me swiftly, faster than I should have allowed, back toward Jessica’s house.

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fluentmoviequoter · 9 months ago

Text

More Than Meets the Eye

Excellent idea inspired by 5x18 with Tim and his wife from @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 ! I hope you enjoy!!

This is a documentary-style fic! All scenes in italics are the interview scenes, and the non-italic portions are body cam footage, additional scenes, etc.

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!wife!reader (+ they have twins: a boy and a girl)

Summary: You and Tim go undercover as your criminal doppelgängers. When the case is turned into a documentary, the interviewer and viewers learn that there's often more than meets the eye.

Warnings: interview scenes in italics! fluff, angst, murder, credit card fraud, violence, threats, slightly suggestive in parts (bc Jake Butler) but SFW!

Word Count: 3.4k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Death, deception, and doppelgängers. When the Los Angeles Police Department responded to an urgent 911 call, no one expected what would happen next.

“911 what’s your emergency?”

“Send help! He’s- oh my lord, I don’t know- there’s blood and he… I heard a scream, but not the shot!”

“Sir, where are you?”

A single scream, no witnesses, a silent shot, and a once-in-a-lifetime interaction between suspect and officer. This is More Than Meets the Eye.

When you and Tim walk into his office, where two chairs are waiting, you’re surprised to see three people and a camera shoved into the small area behind his desk. You smile at the interviewer as you sit, and Tim waits for you to settle before he lowers beside you.

“Hello! We’ll start right away. I’ll introduce you first,” the interviewer says. “Whatever feels best, and then we’ll get into the dirty details of the case.”

“Like they’re ever clean,” you mumble.

“This is Sergeant Tim Bradford of the LAPD, and his wife-“

“Don’t do that,” Tim interrupts. “She’s not my wife in this case, she was instrumental to solving it. Use her position title.”

“My apologies.”

You send the interviewer a kind smile as your elbow taps Tim’s in thanks. Tim doesn’t really want to be here, you know that, but you appreciate him standing up for you regardless. When your introduction is complete, you straighten your shoulders as the case is introduced and travel back in time to one of the weirdest days of your life.

“Sergeant Bradford, you were the first responder at the scene. But when you returned to the station is when this case truly took its first turn, correct?”

Tim sighs before he answers, “Yes, that is when this became more than just a call for me. For all of us, really.”

“Can you tell us more about that moment?”

“I walked into an interview room and saw a guy who looked like me on the other side of the glass. There was an opportunity, and our detectives were quick to jump on it.”

“Tim, switch to a private channel,” Angela requests. “I know you’re on a Metro patrol, but dispatch just alerted us to a suspected murder. You’re nearby.”

“I’ll check it out,” Tim answers. “Did the caller give any other details?”

“One of interest. He said he heard a scream but no shot. Apparently he mentioned more than one shot suffered by the vic.”

“He heard a scream but not numerous shots?”

“That’s what the call said. He told the dispatcher a name of a neighbor who had some sort of argument with the vic yesterday, so we sent another unit to pick him up.”

“Got it.”

“Thanks, Timothy. I owe you one.”

“Just one?”

“Two baby ones. Let me know.”

Tim rolls his eyes as he sets the radio aside. He reaches the address quickly and knocks on the door. There’s no answer, even after his yelled introduction as a police sergeant. Because of the exigent circumstance and probable cause of the phone call, Tim enters the house without a warrant. Inside is a blood bath, with one body spread in the tile of the entryway. Tim alerts Angela to the dead body, and she asks him to stay close to the scene and guard it until Nyla arrives.

“But the moment she gets there, come back to the station,” Angela adds.

“10-4,” Tim replies.

He clears the house, then closes the door behind him as neighbors gather near the front yard. One neighbor tells the others about what happened, and Tim assumes he is the caller. Several minutes pass before Nyla arrives with a CSU team, and Tim waves as he returns to his shop.

When he steps into the bullpen, Angela jogs to Tim’s side.

“Don’t freak out, Tim,” she says.

“I never do,” he argues.

“This- this is different Tim. So, just consider everything before you say no.”

Angela leads him into the interview observance room. On the other side of the one-way glass is a man who strikes an uncanny resemblance to Tim.

“It’s creepy, right?” Nolan asks. “He looks just like you!”

“Why are you here?” Tim counters.

“I brought him in. His name’s Jake Butler, though I fully expected his prints would come back as a Bradford.”

“He doesn’t look that much like me,” Tim argues.

“He really does,” Angela says. “I thought it was you for a split second.”

“I agree,” Wade interjects from the open door. “But whether you can see it or not, you’ve got an opportunity here, Bradford.”

Tim looks back to the window just as Jake stands to examine his hair in the reflection. Face-to-face, Tim can see the unsettling resemblance, though it pains him to voice that aloud.

“Fine, we- there’s some things in common,” he mutters.

“I’ll take it. I want you in the room with me,” Angela responds. “Shake him a little bit and find out what he really knows.”

“He saw me and immediately asked if the victim was dead,” Nolan fills in. “And his front door had blood all over the knob.”

“I’ll try not to let your wife see the competition,” Wade jokes.

Tim rolls his eyes as he follows Angela into the interview room. Neither of them speaks before Jake sees Tim and gasps.

“Yo,” he breathes out dramatically. “Your face looks like mine, man! Hey, do you have a long-lost twin? ‘Cause I’ve always felt this connection and-“

“No,” Tim says firmly.

In another part of the station, you hear about Nolan’s arrest of a murder suspect and decide to offer your assistance to Angela. A dead body in a nice neighborhood will need a lot of hands willing to do dirty work, and that’s something you don’t mind. Nyla looks up from her computer as you approach Angela’s empty area and smiles like she knows something you don’t.

“Hey,” you greet. “I was just looking for Lopez. If you need help, let me know.”

“Oh, we do. Our suspect has an acquaintance of sorts that I think you could help us find. Come with me?” Nyla replies.

You follow her to an interview room and don’t question when she asks you to walk inside. Once the door is closed behind you, you see Tim and Angela, then-

“Baby!” the man at the table cries.

Your eyes widen as he stands and steps toward you with his arms up. Tim pushes his hand against Jake’s chest and points to his chair.

“Give us just a moment, Mr. Butler?” Angela requests.

“Why you wearing a uniform, sweets?” Jake asks you. “C’mon, don’t leave me alone in here.”

You ignore his plea to stay and follow your husband into the observation room. Looking through the window, you suppress a shiver at how eerily similar Jake Butler is to Tim.

“Baby?” Tim repeats loudly. “What was that?”

Nyla raises a tablet with the criminal file of a woman who looks nearly identical to you. The name is different, and she’s currently in holding after being arrested on a warrant for missing court.

“Jake Butler’s girlfriend. Tell me that’s not lucky,” Nyla jokes, her smile wide as she observes the concealed horror on your face.

“This is too weird,” you mumble.

“It is,” Angela agrees. She lays her hand on your shoulder and smiles before she asks, “Want to go undercover for me?”

You look at Tim, who sets his jaw and lifts one shoulder slightly. He’s letting you choose. Neither of you are undercover officers; given the situation, it’s likely the only chance you’ll have to close the case.

“Only if one of you agrees to watch the kids,” you answer. “I need someone I trust with them if I’m going to pretend to be…”

“Shop,” Nyla answers with a giggle. “And that genius in there is Dim.”

Tim drops his head as he shakes it. You understand the nicknames, especially when compared to your lookalike’s credit card fraud scheme, but it only makes this more real. You’re going undercover as another version of yourself with another version of Tim. You’ll need a lot of help to get through this case.

“Neither of you are undercover officers,” the interviewer points out. “Yet you seemed eager to be launched into a dangerous situation, even if it meant leaving your children for an indefinite period of time.”

Tim clenches his jaw, and you lay your hand on his knee, below the camera's framing.

“We’re cops,” you argue. “Every morning when we kiss our twins goodbye, we know that we’re walking into danger and risking never coming home to them. What made this moment different was that we knew the outcome. With our team behind us, we could be pulled out at any moment, and the whole ‘lookalike’ thing gave us an advantage to call more shots than most UCs.”

“We didn’t abandon our children for some crime spree through the hills. It was a job, a performance, and it had a clear end date,” Tim adds. “Being a cop is the job. Our son and daughter, though, they’re our lives and we keep that line very clear.”

“Then that must’ve made what happened next hard. If your children, your relationship, are your life… how did you turn into - um - Dim, also known as Jake Butler, and…”

“Kaylee Longworth,” you fill in.

“That’s not what you called her, is it?”

“No. She was dubbed ‘Shop.’”

“Why? Dim is a play on Sergeant Bradford’s name, and an insult to Butler’s intelligence. What’s the connection from Kaylee to Shop?”

“It rhymes with cop,” Tim answers. “And she had a shopping habit that caused her financials to take a nosedive. We never would’ve found her if she’d stopped shopping sooner.”

“How was Longworth brought into custody initially?”

“A report of a stolen credit card,” you explain. “She was arrested in a Los Angeles Victoria’s Secret for using the stolen card.”

“Okay. So, you effortlessly become Dim and Shop. Where did those parents you seem to identify as go during your escapade through the hills?”

“What are you asking?” Tim interrupts. “If we feel guilty about pretending to be other people to catch a murderer?”

“Dim and Shop was just that, an act, pretend, and keeping this city safe for our family was the only thing on our minds,” you finish.

“The act went well, didn’t it? Was there any moment where you struggled or thought you did a bit too well?”

“Both,” you and Tim answer together.

“Hey, this isn’t the minor leagues, Butler! Get your head in the game or get out of my way.”

You roll your eyes at Jake’s criminal handler as Tim tightens his grip on your hips. He presses his chest against your back and licks his lips as he smiles at the man before you.

“You try controlling yourself with a woman like this,” Tim argues. “We got it handled.”

“Got something handled,” you murmur, turning your chin over your shoulder to see Tim.

“Focus,” the man snaps. “I need ten more credit cards by tonight. If you can’t do that, then maybe you’ll have to find a new girl, Butler. Can you get that through your girl-centered mind?”

Tim straightens and steps around you. As he crowds the shorter man, he drops his voice and slaps on a fake smile that does little to hide the anger in his eyes.

“I got it, pal. We’ll get it done. And when we do, you may want to find a new way to keep me in line.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Tim wraps his arm around your shoulders and leads you out, whispering an apology as you turn a corner. It’s just a cover, you remind yourself. When Tim acts like someone you don’t know, you remember that you’re playing a part, too. This isn’t you. Though it’s hard, the case is all that matters.

“Jake,” you whisper harshly as another hand wraps around your arm.

“I got the account number,” Tim grunts. “What more do you want?”

“A promise that you’re not the one and done lucky loser you look like,” the man holding a gun against Tim’s temple answers.

“The only lucky thing about him is me,” you call. “You seriously think he can manage to fall into coincidence after coincidence? He only seems like that because that’s what he wants you to see. You can’t replace us, and you know it.”

“Oh. He’s lucky to have you, huh? Then maybe we’ll keep you here for the next score and see if Jake can deliver on his own.”

“Sure. Just make sure it’s not a man he’s ripping off.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because, like I said, I’m his luck. I can press men easier than he can, if you can understand that.”

He presses the gun harder into Tim’s skin, and you level your expression. After a moment, he drops his hand and signals for the men behind you to release you.

“Let’s go, Jake,” you say.

“Where are you going? We’ve got a casino hit tonight.”

“We’ll be back,” you promise. “I doubt a little unlucky boy like you would understand.”

“You’ve got an hour.”

“More than I need,” Tim brags.

“But all those attempts to maintain your covers together fell short,” the interviewer adds.

“How so?” you inquire.

“The interruption in the park. You were millimeters from adding another felony to the arrest when an unexpected interruption occurred.”

“You mean our kids?” Tim asks. “They came up and called me dad, and we did our jobs to maintain our covers and get our guy. So, no, it didn’t ‘fall short.’”

“What are you saying?” you question. “You want me to draw him back to a room so you can pop one in him?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m sure getting men to follow you into private spaces can’t be too hard. So, lure him to my room and I’ll make sure this payday is doubled for you.”

You glance at Tim where he stands on the other side of the semi-circle of criminal conspiracy.

“Dad!” a young girl yells.

You bite your tongue when you hear the familiar voice and look over slowly to maintain your composition and cover. Your daughter stops between you and Tim, and her twin brother pauses beside you. He furrows his brows as he looks at the tattoos covering Tim’s skin but doesn’t ask.

“Dad,” she repeats. “What are you doing here?”

Your son looks up at you, but you keep your eyes on Tim. Raising your eyebrows in faux accusation, you cross your arms and ask, “You have something you want to tell me, Jake?”

Over Tim’s shoulder, you don’t see Nyla or any sign of someone who should be watching your kids.

“Yeah,” the man beside you agrees. “Do you?”

“Man,” Tim drawls. “Do I look like I have something to tell? Unless his mama didn’t do her part after I bailed out, she’s just a confused little kid.”

“She’s not confused!” your son defends. He’s a few minutes older than her, fiercely protective, and he doesn’t stand for anyone talking down to her. “You’re not being kind.”

You look at the man beside you and shrug. Someone – you and Tim – taught your children too well. Gently, you tug the back of your son’s shirt to get his attention.

“Go back to where you’re supposed to be, alright? You shouldn’t run off,” you encourage.

He nods eagerly, grabs his sister’s hand, and runs back the way they came. You watch them go up a hill, then see James meet them at the top. Jake’s handler needs a performance now, so you look at Tim and tilt your head as your smile grows. You step toward Tim, loop your arms around his neck, and push yourself against him. Tim swallows at your sudden and awkward attention but recovers quickly as his hands drop to your thighs and slide up slowly.

“You may not have anything to tell now, but… It does give me an idea,” you flirt.

Tim cocks his head to the side quickly and then angles his face toward yours. “Tell me more, baby.”

“On your own time,” the handler interrupts. “Car, now, or we miss rush hour at the casino, and you can kiss your cut goodbye just like those kids.”

In the second part of your interview, set up in your living room, the interviewer asks, “And then what happened? You arrest the handler, who turned out to be the killer after a credit card robbery gone wrong. Plus, you apprehend everyone involved in his criminal racket. But a character like Jake and Kaylee can’t just disappear, right?”

“It can,” Tim assures. “That hair grease and the tattoos washed right away. You wouldn’t be asking these questions if we were trained UCs, but we had a team walking us through every step. This wasn’t something we just threw ourselves into.”

“I understand that. You performed well and closed the case. You got your spouse and kids back as you returned to your normal lives."

"Right. The job ended, and we returned to our real lives," you agree.

“You mentioned that the roles were hard to play at times, but your attraction and obsession with Butler seemed effortless,” the interviewer says.

“What are you implying? That I developed feelings for a felon who played a role in the murder of an innocent man?” you reply incredulously. “I was playing a part.”

“Well, sure, but there was no script. Everything you did was your choice, was it not?”

“Stop,” Tim warns. “What we did had nothing to do with the real people. If you can’t see that, you’re not looking in the right place.”

“My mind was never on Butler, it was on the truth. I did what I had to and what would get us the evidence we needed,” you defend.

“Those played up moments were completely necessary in your mind then?”

“Imply that she cheated one more time and we’re done,” Tim interjects. “Ask something about the case or you can finish this documentary on your own.”

“We’ll take another look at your cover identities, then. The moment in the park with your son had to have threatened that act and your composure,” the interviewer muses, changing the subject.

You nod at Tim before you answer, “Well, sure, but police work is everything expect predictable. Things happen in police work, but the detectives and a tactical team were nearby, plus Tim was right there, so there was never a real safety concern in my mind.”

“You trust Tim that much?”

“With my life.”

“And your children’s apparently. They didn’t sign up to go undercover, so how can you justify having them in that-“

“How can you justify a question like that?" Tim interrupts.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’ve made more than enough implications. If you think that we willingly let our children stand in a dangerous moment or put them in the path of any sort of harm, then this interview is over.”

“There’s just a few-“

“We’re done. We’ve covered the case,” you agree.

The door behind you opens, and you turn quickly. You and Tim smile as you walk to greet your children, who are returning from school.

“Mom!” your son calls as he hugs your legs. “We learned about dolphins today! Did you know they can see themselves in a mirror and know that it’s them?”

“Dad!” your daughter squeals as Tim pulls her up to hug her.

“I missed you today,” he tells her. “Do you think we should just stay here and play forever?”

“No!” she says with a giggle. “You have to stop bad people and I need to go to school.”

“I’ll stay home,” your son offers.

You laugh and take his offered drawing of a dolphin. The interviewer and the camera behind you are long forgotten as you interact with your children. This moment, the real you and Tim in your own life contrasts the limited information the documentary makers have about your parenting style.

“Alright, go put your stuff away and we’ll make dinner,” Tim instructs.

“My favorite?” your daughter asks.

“No, it’s my turn!” your son argues.

“You have the same favorite.” Tim chuckles as he directs them down the hall before he turns back to the camera crew in your living room.

Your children run to their rooms, and the interviewer asks, “Just one more thing, please. Why do all of this? You aren’t specially trained or viewed as an officer who has to do this. It’s outside of your scope, so what made this case worth it?”

“Everything we did, everything we continue to do, we do out of love for our kids and our city," you answer. "No matter what you say or how you try to twist this case, we acted from our sense of duty and from love.”

“Not that you’d understand,” Tim sighs. “Being a parent, being a cop... there’s always more than what you see from the seat you’re in outside of it all.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #fem!reader #requests

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inky-writing · 2 months ago

Text

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Inky-writing masterlist Mirage masterlist

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,769

Chapter 4: Waves

End of October - Beginning of November

Another week passed in the quiet town of Forks, and Y/N found herself falling into a routine. Mike Newton had officially asked her to be his girlfriend, a fact that seemed to simultaneously thrill and annoy her friends. Jessica, in particular, had been acting a bit strange, she was still friendly but constantly on edge, and Y/N couldn’t quite put her finger on what was bothering her. Was it jealousy? Y/N hoped not, but the thought lingered.

Despite this, Y/N found herself in weekly outings with Angela and Jessica. Their girls dates were a much needed escape from school. That friday, they had gone to the coffee shop in town, where Jessica’s teasing about Mike had felt lighter than usual.

“So, how’s it going with Mike?” Jessica asked, stirring her drink absentmindedly.

“Everything’s… good, I guess?” Y/N replied, though her hesitation was noticeable.

Angela noticed her discomfort, “You don’t seem so sure. Is there something bothering you?”.

"I don’t know… Mike is nice, he just is overbearing sometimes, he doesn’t leave me space".

Jessica rolled her eyes at that, but didn’t comment further, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Still, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that something unsaid hung between them.

Monday morning brought another change. Alice Cullen, who had previously been content to watch Y/N from a distance, suddenly began acting on it by sitting next to her in history class.

“Hi” Alice said brightly, sliding into the seat beside her.

“Uh, hi” Y/N replied, caught off guard.

Alice’s presence was disarming, her amber eyes were sharp yet kind. She didn’t offer an explanation for her newfound proximity, simply flashing Y/N a smile before focusing on the lecture. Y/N tried to ignore her, but it was difficult. Alice’s energy was magnetic, and her sudden interest felt extremely strange.

By the end of class, Y/N couldn’t help but ask, “So, what’s with the new seating arrangement?”.

Alice’s smile widened, “I thought it’d be nice to get to know you better. Besides, I’m great at history. If you ever need help, know I’ll be glad to”.

Y/N blinked, unsure how to respond. Alice’s attention felt odd, but for now, she decided to let it go.

The weekend brought an unexpected adventure: a trip to La Push. Tyler had suggested it during lunch. By Saturday morning, the group—Tyler, Eric, Mike, Angela, Jessica, and Y/N—had piled into Tyler's van and made their way to the beach, surfboards strapped to the roof.

La Push was breathtaking, the rugged coastline lending it an untamed beauty. Y/N felt a pang of nostalgia as they arrived; she had been here before, years ago, when her parents had brought her to visit her dad’s brother, Charlie. The sight of it stirred memories she wasn’t entirely ready to confront.

As the group unloaded their gear, a familiar voice called out, “Y/N?”.

She turned to see Jacob Black approaching, his broad smile lighting up his face.

“Jake!” Y/N exclaimed, rushing to hug him.

Jacob laughed, wrapping her in a warm embrace. “It’s been forever! I didn’t know you were back in Forks”.

“Yeah, it’s been a couple of weeks now”, she said, stepping back. “How’ve you been?”.

“Good” Jacob replied, glancing at the group behind her, “Are these your friends?”.

“Yes! Let me introduce them to you” Y/N said with a small smile. “This is Mike, Angela, Jessica, Tyler, and Eric. Guys, this is Jacob Black, a childhood friend, we used to do mud cakes together with Bella”.

Jacob nodded in greeting, his easygoing demeanor immediately putting everyone at ease. His friends, who had been standing nearby, joined the conversation, and soon the two groups had merged into one.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. They surfed, played beachvolley, and shared snacks around a makeshift fire when night fell. Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed this much.

Mike stayed close to her, his protectiveness evident, but Jacob’s presence was a reminder of simpler times. He teased her about wiping out on the waves, and she retaliated by splashing him with the cold water.

Jessica, meanwhile, seemed to linger on the edges, her mood made of annoyance. She joined in the fun but often glanced toward Y/N and Mike, her expression filled with sadness and envy. Y/N made a mental note to talk to her later, hoping to clear the air.

As the moon hung high above them, casting the beach in shades of silver light, Y/N sat by the fire, listening to Jacob’s friends tell horror stories. The tales of wolves and spirits were captivating, and she found herself drawn to the passion in Jacob’s voice as he recounted them.

Mike leaned closer, draping an arm around her shoulders. She smiled at him, grateful for his warmth, but her mind kept wandering. There was something about this place, about the stories, that resonated with her in some kind of way.

As the evening wore on, Y/N realized that, for the first time in months, she felt a sense of belonging. Whether it was the camaraderie of her friends, the familiarity of Jacob, or the timeless pull of the ocean, she wasn’t sure. But in that moment, she allowed herself to simply be.

Thanksgiving

(Y/N listen to this: https://open.spotify.com/intl-fr/track/2kXK4q7xTS7Bn3HqXWShoN?si=f2552777eb1e4fff)

Thanksgiving in Forks was quiet for Y/N and Charlie. Neither of them celebrated the holiday, their shared discomfort with its origins made it easier to bypass the usual traditions. Instead, they spent the day in comfort. Charlie watched a football game on TV, and Y/N curled up on her bed in her room with a book and some music, grateful for the peace.

But it was elusive. Over the past week, she had learned something that refused to leave her mind: Jessica had been in love with Mike since primary school. It had slipped out during one of their girls date, and Y/N couldn’t think about anything else. Jessica hadn’t meant to say it, but it slipped, and her expression after the admission told Y/N everything she needed to know.

The realization made Y/N’s relationship with Mike feel even more strained. She’d already been having doubts, his constant need to be around her, his childish refusal to give her space, but now, it felt wrong on an entirely different level. She didn’t love him, not in the way he deserved to be loved. And the truth was, she hadn’t entered the relationship for the right reasons. She’d been lonely, grieving, and desperate for a distraction. Mike had been there, eager and comforting, but he wasn’t what she needed.

That evening, as she sat in her room staring at the ceiling, Y/N knew she couldn’t keep pretending. She would have to end things with Mike, no matter how awkward it made their friend group. Jessica deserved the chance to be with him, and Y/N needed to focus on herself.

The next day, Y/N had her weekly appointment with Dr. Cullen. Sitting across from him in his office, she felt a strange, at the same time comfored and nervous. Carlisle’s presence was always calming, but it also made her confront emotions she’d rather avoid.

“You seem distracted today” he said, his voice gentle.

Y/N hesitated, unsure how much to share. “It’s just… relationship stuff. Nothing major”.

Carlisle nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “Relationships can be complicated, especially when you’re still figuring out what you want. It’s okay to take a step back and evaluate what’s best for you”.

His words struck a chord, and Y/N found herself opening up more than she intended. “I think I got into it for the wrong reasons. Mike’s great, but… I don’t think I’m being fair to him. Or to myself”.

Carlisle offered her a small, understanding smile. “Honesty is important, both with yourself and others. It’s not easy, but it’s necessary for growth”.

Y/N nodded, feeling a weight lift from her chest. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to have the conversation with Mike, but she knew it was the right thing to do.

Meanwhile, her friendship with Alice Cullen continued to grow. The two had started sitting together regularly in history class, and Alice’s vibrant personality was quickly becoming a bright spot in Y/N’s days. Alice had a way of making her feel seen, as if she understood things about Y/N that even Y/N didn’t fully grasp yet.

One afternoon, as they walked out of class together, Alice turned to her with a grin. “Do you ever feel like history repeats itself? Like, not just in the world, but in your own life?”.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the question. “I guess so. Why?”

Alice shrugged, her expression full of mystery. “Just a thought. You’re a fascinating person, Y/N. I think you’re going to do amazing things”.

The comment left Y/N puzzled. Alice’s words often were weird and mysterious, but Y/N wasn’t sure if she was ready to dig into it.

That weekend, Y/N finally decided to have the conversation with Mike. They met at the diner in town, where he greeted her with his usual enthusiasm. But as they sat down, Y/N’s nerves began to take over.

“Mike, there’s something I need to talk to you about” she began, her voice trembling slightly.

He watched her fidgeting with her fingers, his smile faltering “What is it?”.

She took a deep breath “I think we rushed into this. You’re a great guy, but I… I don’t think I’m in the right place for a relationship right now. And it’s not fair to you”.

Mike looked stunned, his blue eyes wide with hurt, “Is this about Jessica? Did she say something?”

Y/N shook her head. “No! No, it’s not about her. This is about me. I need time to figure things out, and I can’t do that while I’m trying to be someone I’m not”.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he nodded, though his expression remained sad “Okay. If that’s what you need”.

Y/N felt a pang of guilt but knew she had made the right decision. As they parted ways, she felt a strange mix of relief and sadness. But, for the first time in months, she felt like she was starting to take control of her own life.

Chapter 5 >>>

#tumblr #fanfic #fandom #requests #twilight #carlisle #carlisle cullen #y/n #x y/n #x reader #reader #carlisle x reader #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle x y/n #carlisle cullen x y/n #new moon #eclipse #cullen family #volturi

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vicaliciouz · 4 months ago

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RIPTIDE - vance joy feels like..

B99, murder most unladylike, percy jackson, harry potter, the hunger games, the maze runner, 10 things i hate about you, clueless ,1D, Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo, Sabrina carpenter, sally face, ariana grande, billie eilish, little misfortune, the owl house, korn, limp bizkit, noah kahan, gracie abrams, the walten files, fnaf, conan gray, life is strange, grown ups, heathers, hamilton, newsies, beabadoobee, legally blonde, friends, gilmore girls, gossip girl, the whisper of the heart, studio ghibli, nirvana, my neighbour totoro, spirited away, little mix, hooky, marionnetta, titanic, costa concordia, IT, stranger things, the black phone, marauders, home alone, home alone: lost in new york, laufey, mitski, true crime, rotten mango, adele, kanye west, simgproductions, mlpstopmotion, a good girls guide to murder, binding 13, yellowjackets, bojack horseman, metallica, tate mcrae, chappel roan, megan thee stallion, doja cat, nicki minaj, caraval, one of us is lying, five survive, reappearance of rachel price, larry stylinson, omori, tattletale, kindergarden, laurenzside, yammy, gloom, azzyland, kubscouts,pewdiepie, jacksepticye, weebynewz, blaze ,high school musical, pitch perfect, the perks of being a wallflower, SZA, rihanna, the big bang theory, young sheldon, 💜 , clairo, super danganronpa another 2, danganronpa another despair academy, danganronpa, danganronpa despair time, heartless deceit, project edens garden, danganronpa lapse, to all the boys ive loved before, the summer i turned pretty, outer banks, the mandela catalogue, coraline, dead poets society, white chicks, the outsiders, fear street, be more chill, waitress, phantom of the opera, cinderella, beauty and the beast, princess and the frog, shut up and dance, peraltiago, the office, kesha, wicked, the eras tour, chicago, royale high, roblox, bloxburg, fashion famous, adopt me, green day, lady gaga, payno, nialler, derry girls, heart break high, lps popular, gogglebox, bad education, victorious, meepcity, kim possible, the princess diaries, pretty little liars, modern family, little Einsteins, jake and the neverland pirates, die hard, why dont we, girl in red, dodie, greys anatomy, mean girls, tmz, marina, 2010-2019, maisie peters, molly grace, holly jackson, rick riordan, robin stevens, anthony horowitz, james dashner, dylan obrien, the promised neverland, teen titans, lana del rey, alessi rose, grishaverse, doki doki literature club, niall horan, frat boy harry, thomas brodie sangster, bridgerton, cookieswirlc, ldshadowlady, krew, among us, kreekcraft, piggy, lps, gacha life, mlp, yandere simulator, vine, ifunny, ___ characters as vines, baldis basics, glmv, glmm, bendy and the ink machine, fnaf trilogy, game theory, matpat, slenderman, shopkins, bohemian rhapsody, project sekai, vocaloid, flamingo, leah ashes, denis daily, pals squad, fran bow, talking angela, pink, halsey, katy perry, miraculous, SIX, the lightening thief musical, dear evan hansen, little shop of horrors, the loud house, annoying orange, larva, monster high, ever after high, life in the dreamhouse, a fairy secret, elsia and annia, equestria girls, pj masks, total drama island, horrid henry, henry the viii, bubble guppies, sofia the first, disney junior, pop, cbeebies, x factor, Britains got talent, jaquenline wilson, dork diaries, diary of a wimpy kid, alex rider, tom gates, jojo siwa, vacations, mouthwashing, trisha paytas, tumblr, hairspray, hadestown,

** interact if ur in these fandoms i need more fandom buddies

It never leaves you

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prettiestlovergirl · 1 year ago

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❝ REQUESTS !

" late night devil, put your hands on me "

disclaimers ༊彡⬭ 𓈒 I

✪ please check my rules before you request anything! and please read these disclaimers, if you are in violation of any rules, you will be deleted and/or blocked.

✪ please make sure you have your age in your bio/ pinned on your account! i do not interact with minors!!

✪ there is no guarantee that i will write what you've requested! i do not always have inspiration for things, so please bear with me and PLEASE do not message me/harass me about whether or not i saw your message.

✪ smut is my preferred genre but i am definitely open to writing/responding to other genres! i'm a whore but i love fluff as much as the next girl!

✪ if you want a part two of something, you MUST give me an idea for it!! could be small, could be fully thought out, doesn't matter to me, but there MUST be something i can go off of.

✪ below i have a loooooong list of characters i'll write for, if you see a character you like but is not on the list, please feel free to reach out! i will let you know whether or not i will add them to the list xx

characters i'm willing to write for 𖼐꒱࿐ ִ I

✦ luke castellan ✦ coriolanus snow ✦ sejanus plinth ✦ finnick odair ✦ peeta mellark ✦ anakin skywalker ✦ peter parker ✦ jj maybank ✦ rafe cameron ✦ tim bradford ✦ wesley evers ✦ john nolan ✦ jake peralta ✦ barry allen ✦ james potter ✦ remus lupin ✦ sirius black ✦ tom riddle ✦ mattheo riddle ✦ theodore nott ✦ ares (from pjo) ✦ spencer reid ✦ aaron hotchner ✦ matt simmons ✦ luke alvez ✦ will lamontagne jr ✦ tony stark ✦ miguel o'hara ✦ steve rogers ✦ peter quill ✦ scott lang ✦ harry potter ✦ ron weasley ✦ fred weasley ✦ bill weasley ✦ charlie weasley ✦ percy weasley ✦ george weasley ✦ aaron thorsen ✦ anthony bridgerton ☆ benedict bridgerton ☆ harry hook (ouat) ✦ alex claremont diaz ✦ cardan greenbriar ✦ manny (abbott elementary) ✦ sally jackson ✦ lucy chen ✦ celina juarez ✦ hermione granger ✦ katniss everdeen ✦ johanna mason ✦ padme amidala ✦ sarah cameron ✦ angela lopez ✦ nyla harper ✦ amy santiago ✦ rosa diaz ✦ lily evans ✦ marlene mckinnon ✦ luna lovegood ✦ ginny weasley ✦ fleur delacour ✦ emily prentiss ✦ jennifer jareau ✦ elle greenaway ✦ emma swan ✦ natasha romanoff ✦ yelena belova ✦ kate bishop ✦ carol danvers ✦ wanda maximoff ✦ jude duarte ✦ prettiestlovergirl (fantasize about me, baby <3)

definitely into ༊彡⬭ 𓈒 I

☆ oral fixation ☆ infidelity kink ☆ size kink ☆ brat/brat taming kink ☆ face fucking ☆ tit fucking ☆ thigh riding ☆ daddy/mommy content ☆ domination ☆ sadism ☆ breeding kink ☆ masochism ☆ exhibitionism ☆ squirting ☆ degrading ☆ dirty talk ☆ cum swapping ☆ dacryphilia ☆ overstimulation ☆ gagging ☆ praise edging ☆ biting ☆ marking ☆ cne ☆ dubcon ☆ coercion ☆ breath play ☆ impact play ☆ anal play ☆ legal age gap ☆ threesomes ☆ brother's best friend ☆ best friend's brother ☆ daddy x princess ☆ step-cest ☆ legal age gap ☆ dom x sub ☆ gangbang ☆ bareback/ cream pies ☆ being shared ☆ free use ☆ orgasm denial ☆ brat x brat tamer ☆ knife play ☆ corruption virgin! reader ☆ bimbo! reader ☆ office sex ☆ mean! reader ☆ hair pulling ☆ dark content ☆ fratboy! character ☆ hand kink ☆ dumbification ☆ nicknames: mami, mamas, mama, ma, pretty girl, babe, baby, sweetheart, angel ☆

sometimes into ༊彡⬭ 𓈒 I

☆ somnophilia ☆ olfactophilia ☆ piss kink ☆ arm kink ☆ dry humping ☆ virgin! character ☆ best friend! character ☆ kidnapping kink ☆ thigh fucking ☆ sub! character ☆ sex toys ☆ period sex ☆ orgy ☆ drunk sex ☆ angst ☆ fluff ☆ sex pollen ☆ under the table ☆ noncon play ☆ polyamory ☆ predator/prey kink ☆ bondage ☆ sensory deprivation ☆ fake relationship ☆ cuckhold ☆ pet play ☆ cockwarming ☆ nicknames: babydoll, doll, honey, hon ☆

not into ༊彡⬭ 𓈒 I

☆ tentacles ☆ age regression ☆ professor x student ☆ childhood bedroom ☆ self-harm ☆ suicide ☆ ai ☆ pedophilia ☆ incest ☆ underage characters ☆ race play ☆ race exclusive features ☆ eating disorders ☆ depression ☆ getting caught masturbating and moaning out a name ☆ financial domination ☆ scat ☆ gay for pay ☆ age play ☆ wax play ☆ pegging ☆ feet content ☆ food play ☆ male! reader ☆

#requests #please read before sending #lola: info #thanks my love !

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anthemof-gvf · 1 year ago

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Naughty or Nice

Summary: It’s holiday season and your best friend is hosting a christmas sleepover! Oh, and her older brother will be there too ;).

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI!! oral (f!Recieving), f!ngering, unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, choking, overstimulation, mentions of alcohol.

✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥

Walking up the driveway to your best friends house, you were careful not to slip as your feet made contact with the icy pavement. A feeling of nostalgia overwhelmed you as you walked up the steps to the front porch, decorated in an array of colorful christmas lights.

Christmas music and conversation filled your ears as you knocked on the door. It only took a few seconds, but you knew Ronnie was coming by the sound of her bare feet hitting the ground. The door swung open and you were immediately engulfed in a big Ronnie bear hug.

“Y/n!” “Ronnie!”

Ronnie had been your best friend for as long as you could remember, and these sleepovers were something you did together annually. After moving away for college, you rarely spoke to Ronnie, so to say you were excited would be an understatement.

“It has been way too long, I was starting to think you forgot about me.”

She crossed her arms and gave you a sassy look. You couldnt help but laugh, always having adored her spunky personality.

“I’d never dream of it.”

You pulled her into another hug, unable to contain the excitement you were feeling, finally being reunited with your other half.

“Mhm, come on, the others are waiting.”

She grabbed you by your wrist and lead you inside. It looked and smelled exactly how you remembered it, and it warmed your heart.

Making your way to the kitchen, you were able to see a group of your old high school friends sitting around a table, entranced in their own little conversation.

“Guys, look who’s here!”

Ronnie announced. You exchanged a series of “hello’s”, “so good to see you’s”, and so on, before taking your respective seat next to Ronnie.

✥✥✥✥

Hours felt like minutes as you reminiced on your high school days with the girls. Angela, a friend of yours you’d known since 6th grade, was currently on the topic of her obsession with Jake.

Jake was one of Ronnie’s older brother’s and was totally gorgeous. You’d never admit it, but you’d secretly also had a crush on Jake during your adolecent years. How could you not? He was a rockstar babe, gorgeous brown hair and a smile that would make you melt on the spot.

Unfortunately for Angela and yourself, Jake always had a girlfriend. Not that you’d had a chance with him anyways. There was always this unspoken rule between Ronnie and her brother’s that each other’s friends were off limits, so you were forced to admire from the side.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by Ronnie’s gagging and wretching.

“If I have to hear one more thing about my brother I will throw up on all of you.”

You all laughed as she rolled her eyes and sipped at her empty budweiser.

“Y/n would you be a doll and get me another drink please?”

She bat her eyelashes at you and pouted.

“Why me?” You retaliated, crossing your arms.

“Because you love me, and this is basically your second home so it makes more sense for you to do it.”

You pretended to ponder, already set on doing it for her. You finally agreed, earning a slobbery wet kiss to the cheek.

“Thank you! Love you! You’re the best!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You rolled your eyes at her playfully as you got up out of your seat and made your way to the garage, where the alcohol was stored.

Approaching the garage door, you could hear the soft melody of a guitar playing from the inside and you stopped dead in your tracks. ‘I didn’t know he was here.’ You thought to yourself.

You stood outside the door like a deer in the headlights. You considered turning around and telling Ronnie they were all out of beer, and you almost did until the sound of a raspy laugh interrupted your contemplating.

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna come in?”

You wanted nothing more than to disappear. You’d been caught. Awkwardly opening the door, you made eye contact with him. Jake Kiszka. The Jake Kiszka you were just daydreaming about a few minutes prior.

“Hi Jake, uh sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

You mentally cringed at yourself for feeling like a teenage girl all over again, but he was gorgeous. Even more so than before. He’d grown his hair out, so it reached his collarbones, and the shirt he was wearing left a good portion of his chest exposed. He looked older, he looked good, and you were practically drooling at the sight of him.

“Ronnie didn’t tell me you were coming.”

He wasn’t looking at you, but you knew he was talking to you because there was no one else in the room.

“Hm thats weird.” You responded as you made your way to the fridge.

You didn’t know how to act around him, and it was apparent in the way that your hands trembled while holding the fridge door open. He was staring at you, you could feel him.

You found the pack of budweisers resting on the bottom shelf and you bent down to retrieve them, arching your back ever so slightly. You stood up slowly and turned back around to face him, a smug look plastered on his face.

The way his eyes scanned every inch of your body sent shivers down your spine. He’d never looked at you like that before and you didn’t know how to proceed. You felt the need to say something, anything.

“So uh, how are things with Hannah?”

Stupid question. You wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. He watched you with a look you’d never seen before, and opened his mouth to speak.

“We broke up.”

The bluntness of his voice was like a strong gust of wind. You felt like a mouse in a snake cage with the way he was looking at you.

“I’m sorry”

You genuinely were. As much as you envied the girl, and spent hours on end daydreaming about being in her position, Jake seemed to really love her, and you could imagine the split having some sort of affect on him.

“I’m not, she was a bitch”

He shrugged and placed his guitar next to him on the couch. He stood up and began to approach you. You could practically see your heart beating out of your chest as he got closer. He made eye contact with you as he began to reach behind you to open the door.

“After you.”

He motioned for you to exit and you did, him following close behind. You made your way back to the house and he followed you, the only thing breaking the silence was the sound of feet hitting the snow that rested on the ground.

The door to get back into the house was a glass sliding door that liked to get stuck sometimes. Praying that this time would be different, you slipped your fingers into the handle and gently tugged. Your prayers went unanswered and the door didnt budge. You continued to tug in hopes of it giving in but it just wouldnt.

“Here let me help-“

Jake placed one of his calloused hands over yours and the other on the glass. You were boxed into him and your breath got caught in your throat. You tried not to think about how close he was as you continued to pull at the door, but the feeling of his breath on the back of your neck made it difficult.

He had to press up against you to get the door open, and you made your way inside with flushed cheeks and a burning sensation between your thighs. Walking back to the kitchen, you tried your best to compose yourself as the group of girls looked at you.

“Took you long enough” Ronnie complained as she took the pack of beers from your hands. She gave you a weird look as Jake entered from behind you. You averted your gaze, careful not to look at either Kiszka while the other girls giggled and whispered amongst themselves.

✥✥✥✥

You hadn’t seen Jake for the remainder of the night, and you honestly didnt want to. That didn’t stop you from thinking about the interaction you’d had with him though.

Laying on the floor of Ronnie’s bedroom, you found yourself unable to sleep. The room was filled with the sound of soft snores and shuffling around, but that wasn’t what was keeping you up.

Giving up on trying to sleep, you quietly got up from where you were laying and went to the kitchen, hoping a drink of water could calm your racing mind.

As you faced the sink, allowing yourself to ease into the feeling of the cool water rushing down your throat, you caught something in the corner of your eye. You turned to see Jake rummaging through the fridge for something and you jumped, sending yourself into a choking mess.

He watched and laughed at you as you tried to recollect yourself and you flipped him off in the process.

“Jesus Jake you scared the shit out of me”

You managed to get out in between coughs. He mumbled a quick apology, still smirking at you as he pulled a slice of cold pizza out from the fridge. He leaned against the counter next to the fridge, wearing nothing but sweatpants that hung low on his waist.

“What’re you doing up?” He questioned, taking a bite of his cold pizza.

“Couldn’t sleep, you?” You lifted yourself onto the counter opposite of him. Little did he know he was the reason sleep refused to come to you.

“Couldn’t sleep either.” He shrugged, chewing the last of his food before swallowing. You couldn’t help but stare at the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He laughed, and you realized you’d been caught yet again. You laughed too, you mustve looked so ridiculous fawning over him like that.

“You’re cute, you know that?”

You started blushing profusedly. The boy you’ve wanted since you were a little girl just called you cute. You were internally screaming.

“I must be if it’s coming from you.”

You weren’t sure where your sudden confidence came from, but the near incoherent hum that escaped his lips let you know that he liked it. He approached you, placing his hands on either side of the counter where you were sitting.

You made eye contact with him, and he held it, a smirk threatening to form on his lips. He let his eyes flicker to yours, but only for a moment before looking back up. You couldn’t tell if you were dreaming, but if you were, you never wanted to wake up.

You don’t know who made the first move but before you knew it his lips were on yours. The kiss started slow and hesitant. This was new territory for the both of you and it was dangerous. You let your arms rest on his bare shoulders while his wrapped around your waist.

You deepened the kiss, parting your lips for him to enter. He wasted no time in exploring your mouth with his tongue, grunting into the kiss. He slid his hands up and down your thighs a few times before taking hold of your hips and pulling you into him.

Your bodies were flush against each other and you could feel his growing erection against your clothed core. You wrapped your legs around him, wanting to feel more of him, and he practically moaned. He pulled away from you, and struggled to catch his breath before he spoke.

“Fuck y/n, you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that”

His confession made you smile and you pressed your forehead against his, running your hands through his hair. He pecked your lips roughly before moving down to your jaw, and then your neck, making you moan softly.

“I need you Jakey.”

He moaned into your neck. It was as if he’d never heard anything so beautiful before. He swooped you up off of the counter and carried you up the stairs to his bedroom.

He quietly shut the door with his foot before placing you down gently onto his bed, climbing on top of you and caging you in between his arms, returning to his spot on your neck.

You were growing needier by the minute, and he was taking too long. You arched your back into him and moaned out of frustration.

“Needy are we?” He teased, as he placed wet kisses down your neck.

He toyed with the hem of your shirt and began to lift it before looking up at you, silently asking for permission. You nodded slightly, and he wasted no more time in yanking your shirt off and tossing it somewhere behind him.

He paused when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra, and if he’d allowed himself to stay frozen like that for one more second, you wouldve grown self concious. He didn’t though and instead dove down to explore the newly exposed skin.

He started lapping at your left nipple while using his calloused fingers to pinch and rub at the right one. As good as it felt, you needed him, and you couldnt wait much longer.

“Jakey please.” The desperation in your voice was pathetic, and under any other circumstance you’d be embarrassed. Tonight you didnt care though, you wanted him, and you wanted him badly.

“Tell me what you want baby, what do you want me to do?”

You could listen to him call you ‘baby’ forever. You whined as he continued to leave open mouthed kisses down your body, stopping at the waistband of your shorts.

“I- fuck Jake, just touch me, please.” You choked on your words. You were about to cry and he was starting to feel bad for you.

He pulled your shorts down to your ankles along with your underwear and groaned at the sight of your soaked pussy.

“Fuck y/n, you’re dripping.” He was in awe at the sight of you. Fully naked and soaked, sprawled out over his bed, eagerly waiting for him.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good baby. Gonna make you cum so hard you’ll forget your own name. You want that pretty girl?”

He began rubbing small circles over your clit and you cried out, finally getting some sort of friction.

“Answer me y/n. Is that what you want?” His motions started to slow and you began to panic, gripping his wrist to keep him there.

“Yes, Yes! Fuck yes Jake I want that, just please dont stop.”

He hummed, satisfied with your answer. He began running his middle and ring finger through your folds, collecting some of your wetness before sliding them into your entrance.

He pumped them in and out of you, gradually picking up the pace with every thrust as he placed gentle kisses over your swollen clit. You moaned softly trying your hardest not to wake your friends, who were completely unaware of what was going on.

He began sucking and licking at your clit while he quickly pumped his fingers in and out of you. It became harder and harder to control your moans as he quickened his pace. It didnt take long for a familiar knot to form in the pit of your stomach.

“Jake i-“

“I know baby, I know. Be a good girl and stay quiet for me yeah?” He cut you off before you could finish, and started pumping his fingers into you even faster than before. You had to cover your mouth with your hand to silence the ungodly sounds that were escaping you.

Your legs began to shake and you threw your head back as the long awaited orgasm washed over you. You expected him to slow down, or stop, but he didnt. He maintained his same pace and lapped at your clit more aggressively than he was before.

You started to squirm under him, and couldn’t hold back the loud moan that escaped you as he sent you immediately into your second orgasm.

He lifted his face up to look at you, his chin glisening in your release. He had a cocky smirk plastered across his face as he licked his lips.

“Sorry baby couldn’t help myself. You just taste so sweet, taste yourself.”

He removed his fingers from your throbbing pussy and placed them into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his fingers, humming as the taste of your release hit your tastebuds.

He let out a shaky breath and chuckled. “Naughty girl, enjoying the taste of her own release.” He pulled his fingers from your mouth and put them into his own, sucking the mixture of your release and your saliva off of his fingers.

He kissed you roughly, his erection rubbing against the side of your thigh. You reached down and began to palm him through his sweats, causing him to moan into the kiss.

He was painfully hard and you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you. You tugged at the waistband of his pants, signaling you wanted them off. He slid them down to his ankles, cock springing free and resting against his lower stomach. It was thick, tip swollen and leaking pre-cum.

He pumped himself a few times, then aligned himself with your entrance, running himself through your folds a few times.

“Are you sure you want this?”

You thought it was cute that he constantly asked for consent, even after he’d already been in you. You nodded, but it wasn’t enough.

“Words baby girl.”

‘Fuck, could he get any hotter?’ You thought to yourself.

“Yes Jakey, please”

That was all he needed to hear, and he began pushing himself into you. It stung a little, and you winced. He haulted immediately and searched your eyes for any indication that you wanted to stop, but there was none.

Once he was all the way in, he slowly thrusted in and out of you, allowing you to adjust to him before picking up the pace. You moaned silently, never taking your eyes off of him. Strands of hair were stuck to his forehead and he was flushed a bright red.

He pounded into you suddenly and roughly, causing you to let out a high pitched yelp. His hand immediately flew to cover your mouth, eyes wide and body stiff.

“I thought I told you to be quiet.” He was pissed, you were in for it now. He removed his hand from your mouth and wrapped it tightly around your throat. He started pounding into you rough and fast, using his free hand to rub vicious circles around your clit.

The sensation was too much, and if it werent for his hand wrapped around your throat youd’ve woken everyone in the house. You started to cry from overstimulation and you were becoming lightheaded due to the restriction of air.

“Aw is it too much for you? Shouldve thought of that before you tried to get us caught you little slut.”

His change in demeanor was unexpected to you. You’d never seen Jake so mean before, and you certainly didnt expect to like it as much as you did.

Your third orgasm came crashing into you like a wave from the north sea. Your vision went blurry and your brain forgot how to function, you’ve never came so hard in your life. You squeezed around him hard and his rhythm began to faulter, signaling his own approach.

“Fuck y/n, i’m close. Where do you want it?”

He was panting heavily, face scrunched and fully concentrated.

“Inside.” Was all you managed to get out, still coming down from your high.

Within seconds he was filling you up with his warm release, collapsing on top of you. You both were panting heavily, sweaty and high on sex. You ran your hands through his messy hair as he caressed your side.

It hit you then, you just fucked your best friends brother. Your childhood crush that you could’ve sworn you had no chance with, was laying on top of you with his cock still burried inbetween your legs.

Wet kisses on your collarbone pulled you out of your thoughts and you looked down at him. He was already staring up at you with a smirk on his face.

“What’re you thinking about?” He looked into your eyes, genuinely curious.

“You.” You brushed a strand of hair away from his face and he kissed your hand.

“What about me?”

The look in his eyes gave you the sense that he knew, but you decided to humor him anyways.

“Just that i’ve spent a good portion of my life convincing myself I’d never have a chance with you, but here you are.”

“Here I am, and i’m not going anywhere.” He smiled and kissed you, a silent reciprocation of feelings.

✥✥✥✥

The ray of sun shining across your face pulled you out of your sleep. You were still in Jake’s arms, and you looked up to see the peaceful boy still asleep. You’d gone another round after your confession, though it was much gentler the second time. To say you were sore was an understatement as you slipped out of his bed and gathered your clothes off of the floor.

You struggled but managed to get your clothes on and snuck out of his room. Tiptoeing your way down the stairs, you quietly opened the door to Ronnie’s bedroom.

You slipped into the covers of the bed you were supposed to stay the night in and let out a relieved sigh, no one knew a thing.

You heard the sound of shuffling coming from Ronnie’s bed and you shut your eyes, pretending to be asleep. The movement continued for only a moment and then it stopped. Pure silence took over the room.

“Whore.”

✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥

A/N: Hey guys! This was my first fanfic ever, so i’m sorry if it sucks. I actually had so much fun writing this even though it’s my first smut so it’s probably bad. I love feedback so feel free to tell me anything I can change or do in the future :)) xoxo

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #jake smut #greta van fic #greta van fleet #greta van smut #smut #jtk smut #jake kiszka smut

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specialagentlokitty · 2 years ago

Text

Who I write for/Rules;

This is a list of fandoms and characters I write for (some may be missing) and some rules, if you’re curious about a fandom or character please message and I’ll let you know if it’s someone I’ll write for or not! If you’re looking for prompts please search the tag Lokittys prompt list

THIS BLOG IS STRICTLY NO SMUT DO NOT REQUEST IT AS THE REQUEST WILL BE DELTED IMMEDIATELY!!

Please if you’re requesting use some manners, say please and thank don’t demand I write something from you

This blog is for all ages, do not be hostile towards any member of this blog as you will be told to remove yourself immediately and if you don’t I will remove you, hate will not be tolerated this is a safe space regardless of age, sexual orientation, gender/pronouns, disability and such

If you’re wondering about a request you have but you’re worried or confused if I’ll write it or not or you’re just curious please reach out through inbox or asks and I’ll let you know! I write both romantic and plutonic requests for a wide range of characters!

Some things I will NOT write include; teenage pregnancy, smut(or related themes), underage!reader x older characters (these will ALWAYS be plutonic either a parental or sibling relationship). If you’re wondering about anything else just message! 💜

Fate the winx saga

- Saul silva

- Farah Dowling

Avatar

- Jake

- Quaritch/ recom Quaritch

Criminal minds

- Hotch

- Rossi

- Derek

- Spencer

- Jj

- Emily

- Garcia

Castle

- Castle

- Beckett

Lucifer (Fox)

- Lucifer

- Maze

- Chloe

- Dan

Greys anatomy

- Alex

- Derek

- Mark

Twilight

- Carlisle

- Esme

Harry Potter

- Sirius

- Remus

- Snape

Marvel

- Tony

- Clint

- Bruce

- Natasha

- Thor

- Steve

- Loki

- Bucky

- Logan

- Wanda

- Pietro

- Maria

- Phil

- Carol Danvers

BBC Merlin

- Merlin

- Arthur

- Gwaine

- Leon

- Percival

- Lancelot

BBC Sherlock

- Sherlock

- John

- Moriarty

- Lestrade

- Mycroft

Black butler

- Sebastian

- William

- Undertaker

- Claude

Supernatural

- Sam

- Dean

- Castiel

- Gabriel

- Balthazar

- Chuck

- Crawley

- Lucifer

- Jack

The witcher

- Geralt

- Jaskier

Brooklyn nine nine

- Rosa

- Jake

- Amy

The good doctor

- Melendez

- Shaun

Friends

- Joey

- Rachel

- Ross

- chandler

- Monica

- Phoebe

Teen wolf

- Derek

- Peter

- Melissa (plutonic only)

- Chris

- Parrish

- Noah (plutonic only)

Doctor who

- 9

- 10

- 11

- 12

- 13

- River

- Clara

- Rose

- Amy

- Rory

- Jack

Lord of the rings/the hobbit

- Bilbo

- Legolas

- Thranduil

- Elrond

- Lindir

- Thorin

- Fili

- Kili

- Aragorn

My hero academia

- Aizawa

- Mic

- Dabi

- Hawks

- Midnight

- All Might (Toshinori)

- Fat Gum

Demon slayer

- Rengoku

Tokyo ghoul

- Yomo

- Uta

Durarara!!

- shizuo

Skyrim

- Vilkas

- Farkas

Ackley bridge

- Mr Evershed

- Mrs Carter (plutonic only)

- Mr Bell

The vampire diaries

- Damon

- Klaus

- Elijah

- Finn

the watcher

- Ryan

- Shane

911

- bobby

- Buck

- chim

- hen

- Athena

- Maddie

- Eddie

Downton Abbey

- Thomas Barrow

- Anna

- Tom Branson

- Mary

- Sybil

- Edith

- Mrs Hughes (plutonic only)

Kingsmen

- Merlin

- Eggsy

- Harry

Bones

- Booth

- Brennan (bones)

- Hodgins

- Angela

- Sweets

Buffy the vampire slayer

- Angel

- Giles

The walking dead

- Rick

- Daryl

- Negan

- Glenn

- Rosita

- Carol (plutonic only)

- Gabriel

- Aaron

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intoduskoutofdawn · 8 months ago

Text

Arts and craft and family things

|Jake x Phil

| How Jake met Angela.

I managed to finish it, it was supposed to be a very casual piece and got long again but what can you do?

The red sauce in the pot threw up a big bubble, bursting with an unappetizing noise. Jake shook his head, with a wavering exhale he let go of the wooden spoon.

"Am I doing this right?" he pointed at the sauce as it started clotting together - startled, he quickly started stirring again.

Hannah was kneeling in front of the oven, focusing on it's delicious smelling content, she turned her head and said over her shoulder,

"Jake, just keep stirring...there's nothing that can go wrong."

"So... now it's forming this skin on the surface and the smell is getting - intense, I'd say."

"What the..." Hannah jumped up and ripped the spoon out of Jake's hand, with the seriousness of a heart surgeon, she bend over the pot.

"Ok, apparently you are the only person on the planet who manages to stir a sauce wrong."

Jake lifted both hands to a defensive gesture,

"For the record, I tried to help. And might I add - I stirred quite a bit, this sauce wouldn't be... "

"Yeah, yeah. Great stirrer you are. Now get out of here, I have to fix this." The hacker shrugged not at all unsatisfied with himself, turned around and left the kitchen.

Lilly sat at the table in the living room, tugging and tearing on a black woolen thing that she had knitted.

"Did she finally kick you out? Told you not to go in there," she said as Jake sat down at the other side of the table. "Well, I thought I should at least try, she seems to be so utterly excited about this dinner. How...how do you think she is doing? In general, I mean."

Lilly paused the tugging and looked towards the kitchen,

"All things considered, she is doing fine. But yeah, anything that is close to a normal life is very important at the moment."

The hacker ruffled a hand through his dark hair and seemed to be reflecting on his sister's words.

"Like family dinners," he mumbled and finally pulled his laptop over the table, leaning back in the chair he set it on his lap. Over the screen, Jake glanced at his younger sister for a moment,

"That's quite the arts and crafts phase you are in," he remarked. Lilly smiled and shrugged,

"It's fun. Have you seen the window decorations I made for Hannah?"

Jake turned his head towards the window on which he spotted something dangeling, consisting of a fair amount of glitter and feathers. A cruel scene of a canary flying out of a Christmas tree, splashing on the window, came to the hacker's mind.

"Aren't they fabulous?" asked Hannah, coming out of the kitchen, she gave Jake a meaningful look.

"Yes. Fabulous," approved Jake, using that word possibly for the first time in his life.

Hannah came to a halt at the table and frowned over all the chaos - cables, hard drives, wool, knitting needles, buttons and gummybears.

"You two should start getting all this stuff out of the way, I was planning to use that table. And stop eating junk, Lil!"

"I'm not done here," protested Lilly holding up the shapeless wool creation, munching gummybears.

"What is that?" Hannah tilted her head, narrowing her eyes, trying to figure out, what exactly her sister was holding up.

"It's a hoodie!" Lilly said triumphantly, "I wanted to make something for you, Jake."

Jake lifted his head and looked doubtfully at the thing Lilly had called a hoodie. He took a long breath before he spoke hesitantly,

"Wow... for me? You really knitted that for me?" Hannah chuckled and flung an arm around Jake's shoulder, patting him gently. "Fabulous," said Jake for the second time in his life with even less conviction.

Lilly chuckled and nodded,

"I'm so glad that they had enough of the black wool at the shop. It's almost done, but I can finish after dinner." She started collecting her things, stuffing everything in a bag.

"A woolen hoodie," repeated Jake in a sorrowful tone, "sounds warm and..."

"Scratchy." Hannah finished the thought.

"Oh yes it will be," chirped Lilly with a smirk,

"Awfully scratchy and ...well shapeless, but you know what the best part is? He will wear it around me anyway, because he loves me so much and wouldn't want to hurt my feelings." Jake furrowed his brows over his sister's snickering,

"You are an evil genius," he admitted and threw a gummybear at Lilly's head. Hannah couldn't stop herself from laughing but finally said in a serious tone, "Start setting the table...now please!" which made Lilly obediently trodd into the kitchen to get the plates.

"Explain to me again, why are we doing this?" Jake asked with the eyes pinned on the screen of the laptop. Hannah sighed like someone who had to repeat herself too many times and sounded annoyed as she answered,

"Thomas went on a trip with his folks, Cleo and her mum are visiting her aunt in Coleville. So I thought it would be nice, if we do a family thing too. Just siblings having a nice dinner!"

Lilly heaved a stack of plates on the table, pretending they were heavy.

"So that's why you invited the Hawkins'? More siblings?"

"Yes, exactly. Well...- and because Jessy genuinely likes my cooking. And also with Phil here, Jake won't text him as soon as he's got enough of us - thinking we wouldn't notice." Hannah winked at her brother.

"I don't do that..." Jake protested lazily without looking up. Lilly was quick to interject,

"Oh please, you're so obvious! Hey and another thing, you are never texting me when you are with Phil. I mean ...-"

"To be fair, Lil. I assume Phil doesn't talk about crafting as much as you do lately. Anyway, no escape for you today, dearest brother." Hannah poked her sister and chuckled. Jake raised a brow and shook his head,

"You two are all about forging evil plans today, huh?"

Hannah looked around the room and sighed, "I hope there is enough space. I even swept the balcony this morning. Oh Lil, can you get the chair from the kitchen? And we need another plate." Lilly counted the plates, "But... "

Hannah held up three fingers, walking back to the kitchen she said "... all the Hawkins'."

Lilly threw her head around and looked wide eyed at her brother, who was about to put the laptop away, suddenly held up by this new piece of information.

"Angela is joining?" Lilly asked Jake who obviously didn't have a clue. She counted in her head, "I don't even remember when I saw her last. I must have been a lot younger. She doesn't come here often, to Duskwood, I mean."

Jake gazed abscently out of the window. In a way this new information seemed important but at the same time inconsequential, otherwise somebody would have told him.

He had never met Angela Hawkins. Of course, there had been some talk about her. Phil mentioned her now and then, and Jake might have been wondering about her - but he hadn't followed up on it. Which appeared now as a grave default. The hacker felt uncomfortably underinformed.

"Why didn't you tell me that Angela is coming?" he asked loudly towards the kitchen. Hannah's voice was breathless and a bit shrill, she was about to take the food out of the oven,

"Didn't know I had to... ouch...usually you find out everything before I even get to tell you."

"Didn't expect there is so much to know about a casual dinner," Jake mumbled and sat back down on the chair. He could feel Lilly's gaze on him,

"Phil didn't tell you? I mean, you would think he could have told you..."

Jake shook his head with a frown, it made his hair fall over his forehead.

"Wow...", Lilly nattered on, "...the big sister. That's like meeting the parents - just way worse. And you didn't even know about it. I mean, who knows what is going to happen. You must be nervous. Are you nervous?"

A rather sarcastic smirk appeared on Jake's face over his sisters attempt to tease him. "I'm fine, terrific even... thanks for your concern. Come on then, spit it out! What can you tell me?"

"Me? Nothing. Like I said, I was too young when I saw her last. Hannah - she used to worship Angela when she was younger, like a groupie, really embarrassing," Lilly snarled just as Hannah darted back in the room with a tray of glasses.

"Oh, I used to think she was Wonder Woman," she nodded and put the tray on the table, "I remember grilling Jessy all the time about Angela... what she reads, what music she likes, where she buys her shoes and so on."

"And why was that?" asked Jake.

"Some role model thing, maybe? I don't know, I was young and she was just this impressive, larger than life person at least with the attitude and the great hair... she appeared to be so ...strong - somehow, like she didn't even belong here. And I-," she paused and blinked,

"I don't know how to explain it better," Hannah ended with a shrug and swallowed hard. Jake didn't look quite satisfied but held his peace. It still didn't give him more information.

"It doesn't matter now," Hannah said, "that was years ago. Tonight we are just going to have dinner. Like normal people with normal lives. Completely safe, right?" She looked at Jake and he confirmed with a quick nod. "Perfect. Nice and easy." Hannah sighed with self reassuring emphasis.

Meanwhile, the three Hawkins siblings were walking through the quiet streets of Duskwood. The setting sun slowly retrieved long fingers of orange light from the fronts of the buildings.

"I just don't understand, why you insisted on walking, Duckling. Are we getting any closer?" Angela Hawkings pulled her coat around herself though it was a fairly mild evening, she threw a bunch of her dark curls over the shoulder.

"Of course we do. Stop complaining already. It's not that far anymore. Did you forget that in Duskwood everything is walking distance? Let's enjoy it!" Jessy answered cheerfully. She was in a good mood. Though she tried to contain it, her voice bubbled up to a higher pitch than usual. It had been a while since the three of them were together, and after all the events of the past year, Jessy felt relief and comfort in the company of her family. She looked up at her brother next to her and then peeked over his shoulder at her sister. Yes, being with them was neither easy nor peaceful by any chance. Nonetheless, those two were the most important people in her life, which was an unalterable certainty and, therefore, a big comfort for Jessy.

Angela let her gaze wander over the facades of the buildings they were passing - with unveiled contempt for her surroundings. She loathed this place passionately with all its memories but finally shrugged it off and sighed,

"Guess this gives us some more time. It's family time after all. I mean, nothing beats our annual Christmas pizza and beer. But a brisk walk through this - 'city'...well, why not? At least we got you out of that joint of yours," Angela pinned a sharp look on her brother walking beside her.

Phil snorted in return, he had been rather quiet the whole time and appeared to be uneasy about something.

"Don't call her a joint," he said peevishly. Jessy giggled, "Her ? Really? Her?"

"You know, Kitten, that pronoun for your bar just proves me right. You have to get out more. So cheer the fuck up! This will be good - for all of us," Angela said determined with a cryptic expression, grabbing Phil by the arm, he could feel nails digging into his jacket.

"So in conclusion, you are glad we are walking," Phil stated with a crooked smile. Still eyeing the buildings skeptically, Angela dragged him with her, picking up the pace. Jessy had to perform some jumping steps to keep up with them.

"Wait up! I'm so over the moon that we are doing this," she threw herself against Phil's other arm. He stumbled and grunted annoyed at her.

"Me too, Duckling," Angela nodded, "Though 'over the moon' is a bit strong. Calm the chipperness, will you? It's irritating..." She brushed away the curls that had fallen over her face and then mumbled,

"I think we're officially late. Were we supposed to bring something?" She let go of Phil's arm and looked past him at her younger sister.

"No, Hannah said she is making dinner and we only should bring ourselves," Jessy answered lightly but then lifted up her bag,

"Of course, good friend and outstanding person that I am - I am bringing dessert."

"You bought dessert. That's different," Phil snarled and Jessy chuckled at his side, still clinging to his arm.

"Are you saying I'm not a good person?"

"I'm saying, buying dessert isn't the same as bringing something that you made yourself."

"Well duh! I only said, I'm bringing dessert and that is be-..." Phil interrupted her with another snort,

"You bought cookies for Pete's sake! A lousy pack of cookies. That's it. Stop calling it dessert!"

Angela underlined her eye rolling with an audible sigh,

"Just let it go, Kitten. Jess, a pack of cookies does neither diminish or improve your status as a good person - plus, it's hardly dessert. Wait a sec... is that why we are late? You two were out buying fucking cookies?!"

The two younger siblings exchanged a look and with a shrug Phil answered,

"I was just driving her, I didn't know what the mission was. She confused me with all that talk about cows," he said turning to his younger sister.

"Dairy cows!" Jessy exclaimed but Angela lifted a hand and snapped,

"Let me get this straight ... I waited for you two to drive to the store and back for a stupid pack of cookies and now we left the car to walk all the way? On foot?"

Phil chuckled, "And we are back..."

"Didn't we agree that this is nice? The walk. The time we spend together? Want a cookie?" Jessy said with her facial expression oscillating between devilish and angelic, forcing a smile on her sisters face. They kept walking, holding their peace for a while.

"So... I guess I am going to meet the guy then," said Angela casually with a sideways glance at her brother.

"The guy. Your guy?" She enquired again.

"Yeah," Phil kept his eyes stubbornly fixed on the road in front of them,

"he will be there, so it would be strange if you wouldn't meet him," he muttered.

"And that is the long lost brother of the Donforts, right?"

"Oh, that's right," Jessy warbled, "You are meeting the notorious hacker, wow that is so-...,"

Angela stopped her walk so suddenly that Phil and Jessy came to a surprised halt a few steps further, turning around looking confused. Angela stood there with her arms crossed, frowning in disbelief.

"What does she mean by that?" Her tone was low and lurking. Jessy bit her lower lip and with a hint of contrition in her voice she asked Phil,

"Did you...why does she not know?"

Phil huffed as if offended, "I - did mention it. I think...maybe it didn't come up, ok?"

Angela drew a slow breath, lifting her chin, she gazed in the distance.

"So you neglected to tell me that the guy is not only the Donforts brother but...he is a hacker?" She seemed to be chewing that last word for a while and then let her sharp eyes drop on Phil who remained obstinately silent.

"The hacker, who was involved in all of- oh my God, it makes so much more sense now!" Angela couldn't believe that she didn't put this together herself.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" Jessy poked a finger in Phil's rips. "Why didn't you tell her that Jake is a wanted hacker?"

"Whoah, whoah...wanted? Wanted?!" asked Angela. Phil looked angrily at Jessy but she just rolled her eyes impatiently,

"Wanted by the government...and probably a bunch of other people. What?!" She tried to deflect Phil's death stare with a hand gesture. He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette,

"Look, I don't see how this is any of your business...I didn't try to...there's a whole confluence of...circumstances - and why are you making such a fuzz now? Like I said, it didn't come up and you didn't seem to be all that interested," he stopped his own squirming by lighting the cigarette.

"When I asked you ...specifically asked you, what he does - you answered 'something with computers'," Angela narrowed her eyes.

"Well, there you go." Phil blew out the smoke with some vigor. Jessy tried to keep herself from laughing and pressed a hand against her mouth.

Angela shook her long curls again, her eyes sparked up with fury,

"Look at you being all smart-ass! Typical Hawkins communication!" she spat out angrily but then confused her siblings with a smile and a chuckle. She drove a hand through her hair and shook her head,

"You know, I cannot remember my little brother ever telling me shit about the people he was seing."

"Can you blame me?" Phil defended himself, "You eat people alive! Remember that guy Jessy introduced to us a few years ago at the Aurora anniversary? Corey...something? The one with the bike shorts. You made him cry!"

"Stanley. And that was both of you!" Jessy exclaimed and pointed a finger at her brother.

Phil seemed to remember, "Oh that's right. He always called you 'm'lady' ... like duke douchebag."

Angela nodded, "I only asked him about the shorts and where he left his bike. Just...in so many words."

"He didn't have a bike," Jessy mumbled. The silence didn't last long and all three of them burst into laughter.

Angela wiped a tear away and sighed still chuckling,

"Well, Kitten, I must say, this is actually a bit of a relief. When you said 'something with computers' - I was picturing some middle-aged guy, no hair, beige pants, pit stains..." Jessy burst into another wild snickering.

"...you know, like a guy Jessy will probably end up with one day."

"Hey!" The snickering was abruptly choked by indignation but Angela ignored her sister.

"How would a middle-aged guy come to be the brother of Hannah and Lilly?" Phil asked still attempting to point out, that he didn't hide anything.

"Again with the smart-assery? Maybe picturing you with a beige pants guy, freaked me out so much, that I refused to ask any further."

"So in conclusion, you are glad he is a hacker?" Phil put on his crooked smile again.

"I guess, we will live to see. Let's keep walking, shall we?" Angela set herself in motion and the other two followed behind her.

"Typical Hawkins negotiation," complained Jessy "...insulting me in the process."

"Ouh, don't be so sensitive, Duckling!" Angela waved a hand at her younger sister,

"I'm curious, what does this Jake not know about me then?"

Phil drew a long breath, "That you eat people alive. And that you are coming to dinner."

"Shh...I think that's them." Lilly leaned over the railing of the balcony. Hannah got up from her chair,

"I'll let Jake know." She turned to go inside.

"Stay here...listen to this," Lilly whispered, pulling her sister by the arm. They could hear Jessy saying "...and that will be the tipping point where dairy cows take over the power."

"Why dairy cows? Is their state of labor of importance? Is this a communist thing?" Phil sounded rather irritated.

"Cowmunism!"

"If you two don't stop this, I will bang your heads together like coconuts!" That was Angela's voice. "Is it here? Oh, I think Mr. Hunter lives in this building...I'll go check."

The door bell rang and Lilly and Hannah both went to great the guests. Jake slowly got up from his seat but stayed behind a bit. Lilly ripped the door open.

"Jesus, you scared me, Lil!" Jessy said with a hand on her chest.

"Hello girls, I hope we're not too late," Phil smiled. Lilly looked frowning at him and then over his shoulder in the hallway.

"Where is Angela?" she asked eagerly.

Hannah rolled her eyes and pushed her aside to give Jessy a hug.

"Nice to see you," then she pulled herself up to kiss Phil on the cheek, "come in, come in. You're not too late, dinner is ready and waiting in the kitchen."

"Angela wanted to check out if that Mr. Hunter is still living downstairs. Apparently he used to buy her beer back in the days..." Jessy took off her jacket and rummaged in her bag,

"By the way, dessert is somewhere in here..."

"You're not really saying that to the person who single handedly cooked dinner for us?" Phil snarled angily, waving a hand at Jessy.

"Single handed? Guess who stirred the sauce?" Jake uttered raising a brow, he was leaning himself against the wall in the back. Phil smiled quickly at him but then turned back to Hannah,

"You let him stir something? So are we still having dinner or what?" Hannah rolled her eyes and chuckled,

"Yeah, no worries. I fixed it."

Jessy finally held up the bag of cookies,

"If Jake gets credit for stirring, I am going to take some for this as well."

Lilly grabbed the bag out of her hand,

"Ouh, yum...bless your heart, Jessy!"

Through the open door they could hear steps coming up the stairs. Angela snuck herself in between Jessy and Phil,

"Wow, small hallway for so many people. Turns out, it wasn't the Mr. Hunter I used to know, nice guy, though - he gave me this brochure that possibly will save my soul." Hannah nodded with a knowing smile,

"Oh, so you met my neighbor. Apart from the cult thing, he is indeed a nice guy."

"Hannah!" Angela reached out and touched Hannah's cheek before she pulled her in an embrace, "Damn, it's so great to see you! Thank you for being so brave to invite us," she said with a stern look at her siblings.

"I'm so happy that you could make it," Hannah let herself sink into Angela's arms.

"Is that your sister? Lilly... wow, I think you were only reaching up to my knee when I last layed eyes on you."

"That's... great," Lilly sounded excited, almost to the point of getting hiccups, "Angela, have you met my -"

"Lil, let's go. I need you to help me with the food." Hannah interrupted her rigorously.

"But I -,"

"Now!" And she grabbed her younger sister by the arm and dragged her out of the hallway.

Jake, who had been watching silently as was his habit, felt like a spotlight was pointed at him all of the sudden.

He blinked a few times and straightened himself up but finally managed to focus his gaze on Angela.

Indeed an impressive presence, was Jake's first thought. The eyes pointed at him were green brown like Jessy's but then unlike her's they were like daggers or crystals, sharp and illuminated by a cold light from inside. Thick long black curls streamed around her face and down her shoulders, she was almost as tall as Phil and their resemblance was clear as day - the same pale face with fine skin and sharp cut features like it was carved out of marble.

Suddenly Jake felt Angela's gaze on him tightening like a grip around his neck and he wouldn't be able to move even if he tried. Her voice was deep and sonorous,

"Let's have a look at you then," Angela stepped forward with her eyes fixed on the motionless hacker.

"Obviously nobody told you that we would meet each other today, so apart from being blind sided at least we have some honest ground here. Although I have the higher one, I guess, since that whole hacker business came out - did you know that this crownjewel of a brother didn't even mention this occupation of yours?"

Jake cast a quick look over Angela's shoulder where Phil stood pouting and Jessy next to him pulling her shoulders up to make herself invisible, she seemed excited nonetheless.

"So a hacker, huh?" Angela raised her voice again and forced Jake's attention back on her,

"Can't say I ever met a person who does what you do. I don't even know what it is you do... must be wild. Being wanted by the government. No, I am not quick to judge, don't you worry. There could be a lot of good things to be done, I imagine. So, are you a good guy, Jake?"

"I...-"

"Wow, I sounded like the big sister there, didn't I? Well, you know how it is, Jake. I have to hand it to you, sometimes you just get protective. Even if you are a good guy, I guess you just can't be a safe guy, can you?"

Jake felt dizzy and his tongue seemed heavy to lift,

"That is...", he couldn't get further.

"An issue, right? Well, we all have those, this whole city is a conglomerate of issues. You don't have to tell me that. So if I had, let's say, a problem with my taxes, would you be able to - make it go away?"

Jake sounded breathless in another attempt to speak,

"Well...under certain..."

Angela turned her head and said over her shoulder,

"He is awfully cute, isn't he? No, Jake, no need for tax evasion, thanks anyway. I wasn't serious but you seem like a serious person,"

"Surely that seems ...-"

"Sorry, hun, I just have to get this one thing in. A serious person... makes the kitten an interesting choice for you, Jake, I must say. And vice versa! I mean, I know he's a dish and all - and but foremost a piece of work, as you surely noticed. Was it the first or the second impression that you had? You don't seem to mind work, do you, Jake?"

Hesitantly, Jake shook his head, not sure what he was doing anymore.

"Okay then, glad to see there's issues and beige pants are not one of them. Damn, that food smells good! Nice talking to you, Jake. We really should have that dinner now." Angela turned around and flew out of the hallway in direction living room.

The dizziness that had befallen Jake refused to disperse, he stood there with an uncomprehending look that he finally threw towards Phil.

"And that's my sister Angela," he said slowly and attempted a contagious smile. Jessy chuckled and sighed,

"Oh, Jake, don't be mad at Phil. It's my fault, I begged him. I really wanted to see the impact of hurricane Angela," she patted the hacker on the shoulder as she passed him to join the others in the next room.

Phil stepped closer towards Jake, still smiling. Though the posture radiated compassion, the hacker knew he would not hear an apology. Jake bend his lips into a sarcastic smirk and felt his head finally stopped spinning,

"So...there was no way, you could have given me a hint of what awaits me here tonight, kitten?"

Phil sighed and brushed a strand of Jake's hair back,

"Well, you know how it is, sisters and so on," he shook his head,

"At least she spit you right back out, she must really like you."

Jake swallowed and frowned,

"You think? How? I didn't even..."

"...finish a sentence? That's alright," Phil laughed and Jake was surprised how reassuring it felt, this family business was new to him but he would get the hang of it.

"You did just fine, lover, better than most," Phil said teasingly, "still standing, no crying. The queeziness will pass, you'll see! Or at least the cause will change, you'll never know - it's still a family dinner and all. Excuse me, lover, am I boring you?" He frowned at Jake, who typed on his phone,

"Not at all, I just remembered something...," The hacker lifted his head with a guileful smile. He suddenly brushed a kiss against Phil's unsuspecting lips.

"I'm starving, let's go in," said Jake.

"Oh my God, Hannah, this is delicious," chewed Angela, "If those boys don't join us soon, I cannot guarantee there will be anything left!"

Lilly was just taking a zip of her glass as her phone started buzzing. "Jake..?", she mumbled confused.

[Is that hoodie ready yet? I think I have to give some punitive hugs.]

As Jake and Phil sat down at the table, Lilly leaned forward and whispered to her brother,

"You know, I could knit some underwear too."

Jake nodded and pointed his fork at her,

"That's my evil genius."

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fanfic #jake x phil #duskwood jail #duskwood jake #duskwood phil

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irrevocableloves · 1 year ago

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violent delights

twilight rewrite! edward cullen x fem!witch!reader

chapter six: an old scary story

previous chapter ౨ৎ masterlist ౨ৎ chapter seven

summary: with edward still in her thoughts, will her trip to la push answer all of her unsolved questions?

warnings: blood, gore

words: 1.4k (unedited)

I tossed and turned in my bed, attempting a nap after today’s events, all that should’ve drained me completely. From nearly passing out in Biology, those images, the blood. I shivered at the thought. Then, Edward. No. I should be thinking about what I’d seen, how the world around me had gone completely silent as the nightmare of images had flared through my mind. But, no. All I could think about was Edward’s last words to me: Maybe another time. Just the two of us. It was all too much to take in at once.

Once I settled myself down on my desk chair with my computer lighting up my dark room, racking my brain for something to search. An answer to what I’d seen. The dreams I could ignore and blame my acute sense of imagination. But to be completely pulled out of my reality, to be shown gruesome images in the middle of Biology was something different entirely. I couldn’t even blame my trauma on that episode.

All that I could think to search was: ‘images flashing in my mind,’ which had brought me to the term hypnagogic: relating to the state immediately before falling asleep. I wasn’t asleep. Faint, yes. But no, it didn’t feel right.

The more I searched upon the hypnagogic state, it related more to hallucinations; things that couldn’t possibly be as clear as what I’d seen at all.

I’d given up by the time I decided to search up on visions, seeing images throughout the day, being pulled out of my conscious thought, but all signs had pointed towards severe mental issues and that I should get help immediately.

Maybe it was the shock. Maybe the blood had caused some sort of unusual hallucination from that night, maybe things that had completely blocked out my mind had risen up. But the boat? The dock? There were people… with red beading eyes. All of that was new.

I sighed, defeated, plopping down on my bed.

After a couple of minutes, I read the clock on my nightstand: 7:00 PM. I got up, deciding to go downstairs to start dinner.

I decided to reheat Harry Clearwater’s fish fry, frying it back in the oven and boiling a pot of rice along with a frozen pack of broccoli in the microwave. When I was nearly done, I heard my dad coming through the front door.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” he said, setting the mail on the table.

“Hey,” I started.

He started taking out plates and silverware out of the cabinets.

“Hey, Dad?” I asked. “Do you know a place called Goat Rock or something like that?”

“Yeah, why?”

I shrugged. “Some kids were talking about camping there.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “It’s not a very good place for camping. Too many bears. Most people go there during the hunting season.”

“Oh,” I mumbled. “Nevermind, probably got the name wrong.”

He only nodded, serving himself a plate of everything. I did the same. Then we both ate in our usual comfortable silence.

The beach trip had gone as usual, except it was Mike driving Tyler’s van because of my dad’s success in suspending his license. The rest of the group attempted to surf in the icy waters while Angela and I sat in the back of Tyler’s now dented van with the comfort of our sweaters and blankets. After an hour, we decided to set down blankets close to the water so Angela could take photographs.

Once they came back to shore, we all settled down in the sand.

I closed my eyes, letting the sound of the waves soothe my ears, tuning out the conversations about the dance (one that I probably shouldn’t go to since I’m without a date).

Before I drifted off, I heard a new group’s voice coming closer, opening my eyes, I saw a familiar face amidst the crowd. “Jake?” I called.

“Y/N!” He smiled, attempting to jog towards us.

“Guys, this is Jacob. You all remember Jacob right?” I greeted. Jacob had been there for all of my birthdays and had sometimes joined us on our beach trips, but he mostly kept to himself, only bothering to conversate with Angela, who was the least intense of the group so I didn’t blame him.

They all nodded, exchanging ‘hi’s’ and smiles.

Jacob plopped down next to me, asking about my car, which turned into an entire conversation about his growing obsession with cars ever since his dad let him work on mine over the summer.

Lauren walked by, an obvious hint of jealousy in her eyes. “Y/N,” she called out. “I was just saying to Tyler that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today. Didn’t anyone think to invite them?” Her tone was almost mocking.

I didn’t say anything. A boy had spoken up, he looked quite older than the rest. “That doctor’s family?” Lauren nodded. “The Cullen’s don’t come here.” A look of disgust plastered on his face.

I stayed silent. From the looks of the school, I knew the Cullen’s had a hard time fitting in, but they didn’t seem to care about social cues or how others perceived them. Even my father heard the gossip of the town surrounding the Cullens, but even he knew that they were good people, and that was a judgment that I was willing to trust more than gossip. Plus, I knew Edward. At least I think I do.

Once Jacob and I separated ourselves from the group, I sprang up a question: “Was that Sam? Thought he said he was too old to hang out with us.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled.

“What did he mean by ‘the Cullens don’t come here’?”

“Oops. Caught that, huh?” He laughed it off. “I’m not really supposed to say anything.”

“I won’t tell anyone. I’m just a little curious.”

“It's really just an old scary story.” He laughed. “Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from – the Quileutes, I mean?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, there’s one legend that claims that we descended from wolves – and that the wolves are our brothers still. It’s against tribal law to kill them.” Wolves? He continued on, “Then there are the stories about the cold ones…”

“The cold ones?” I asked, feeling a shiver down my spine.

“Yeah. The legend with the Cullens is that they supposedly descended from this, like… ‘enemy clan’... According to the legend, my own great-grandfather knew some of them. He was the one who made the treaty that kept them off our land.”

I nodded, letting him know to continue on.

“The cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf–well, not the wolf, really, but the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."

My eyebrows furrowed. “Enemies how?”

“The wolves served to protect, while the cold ones… feasted.” I was getting impatient from his sugar-coating.

"So you see," Jacob continued, “the cold ones are traditionally our enemies, but this pack was different. They didn't hunt the way others of their kind did – they weren't supposed to be dangerous to the tribe. So my great-grandfather made a truce with them. If they would promise to stay off our lands, we wouldn’t expose them to the pale-faces.”

“What do you mean by ‘hunt’?”

“They claimed that they didn’t hunt humans. They supposedly preyed on animals instead.” Oh. I couldn’t believe I was actually considering this story.

“So, how does this fit in with the Cullens?” I breathed out, knowing the answer. “Are they like the cold ones that your great-grandfather met?”

"No." He paused dramatically. “They’re the same ones." I tried hard to keep my expressions flat, but failed as I saw the look on Jacob’s face. He smiled, looking almost pleased with himself.

“So… what are they? The cold ones?”

“Blood drinkers,” he replied, his tone darkening. “Your people call them vampires.”

Vampires. I didn’t realize how big of a breath I’d taken, releasing it slowly before speaking up. “Wow.” I laughed. “You’re a really good storyteller.”

A bit of a silence rose between the two of us. Vampires? Werewolves? I was dying to know if there was more. An answer to all of my questions.

“What about witches?” I forced out.

“What about them?” He seemed surprised by my question.

“I mean like… witches? Maybe even sirens? Seers? You think they exist?”

“They’re just stories, Y/N.” He laughed it off.

“Yeah. Right.”��

“Pretty crazy, though, isn’t it? No wonder my dad doesn’t let us tell anyone about it.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep your secret.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “Please don’t say anything to your dad. He was pretty pissed when he heard some of us weren’t going to the hospital since Dr. Cullen started working there.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

next chapter

a/n: this chapter is superrr short and booooo no edward </3 but i really loved the book's telling of the legend of the quileutes and the cullens !!

tags: @measure-in-pain @brekkers-whore @rejectedbimbo @leilanileila @anothercoffeeblogx @cevans-winchester @trawberry-fire (if you'd like to be tagged, either comment on this post or click the link below!)

taglist ₊˚⊹♡

#violent delights #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen #edward cullen fanfiction #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen x you #twilight #twilight rewrite #twilight fanfiction #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson #violent delights fanfiction #violent delights fanfic

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itsnotzka · 1 year ago

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Hello! Huh, what's this? A silly, cheesy little thing, I'd say ;)

TW: (very mild) alcohol, talking about stalking in a not very serious manner Genre: ...fluff? Silly fluff? Confused fluff? Word count: 5,3k Characters: Jake x Phil You can also read it on Ao3.

Not your stalker

With a quiet, contented sigh and a smile on his face, Phil finally let the last customer out and closed the door of Aurora behind them. He turned around and took a few steps towards the center of the pub, taking it all in. The wooden floors creaked softly under his feet. The air was thick with the comforting scent of dust, cigarette smoke, and the faint aroma of old furniture.

He knew it wasn’t the most pleasant smell for most, but for him, it was everything. To Phil, it was more than just a smell; it was a reminder of all he had, and almost lost just a couple of months back.

Every time he started cleaning up Aurora for the night, he thought about the day he was accused of a crime he didn’t commit and thrown into jail for a few weeks, with basically no explanation. The memories still lingered in his mind, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

For quite some time, nobody really cared about him. They had other things on their minds, such as their missing friends being found. He knew he wasn't a perfect person. People tended to either love him or hate him. However, at that time, those he thought were his friends simply didn't care, while those who couldn't stand him laughed behind his back. There was somehow no in-between.

The bartender couldn't help but smile, still lost in thought. He was released from custody only because someone had paid his bail. Then, mysteriously, his lawyer found evidence of his innocence. Normally, there would be nothing unusual about this—lawyers have their own methods for uncovering the truth and exploiting legal loopholes—but the sudden clarity of this particular situation was nothing short of a miracle. At least it felt that way. Despite the happy outcome, his lawyer seemed eager to sever all ties with Phil as soon as possible. In fact, he refused to even accept any money from him, leaving Phil with a sense of both gratitude and absolute confusion.

He hadn’t told his sisters about it. At first, he suspected they might have been involved, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He knew Jessy and Angela all too well; they were always quick to point out his flaws and mistakes, even the smallest ones. Surely, they wouldn't have helped him without a big, wonderful lecture about his life. So he just told them the case was solved, period.

He stopped caring about it and moved on. At least, that's what he was telling himself. He shook his head in frustration, trying not to overanalyze everything once again.

He walked over to the bar, slowly making his way through the tables, turning off the lights, picking up empty beer mugs, and wiping down the surfaces. Unable to shake his thoughts away, he changed the music to something less modern to keep his mind off things, but it didn't help either. Then he was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of the bell hanging above the door.

“I’m sorry, I already closed the pub,” he said, turning towards the sound. “Come back tomorrow, eh?”

Only then did he look at the person standing in the doorway and frown. He didn't recognize them. He knew basically every face, every name in Duskwood, after all. He knew at least something about everyone. Those were the advantages of running the only pub in town! Rumors came to him, and tourists, if they appeared at all, came early and didn't stay long.

And yet… there was a stranger in front of him.

The man didn’t answer. He just raised his brow slowly, glanced at Phil, and then looked around the pub.

“Look… I'm tired, I've already cleared the tables. I can give you a beer to go, but that's it,” the bartender said again, his tone tinged with a hint of annoyance.

“I don’t drink,” the stranger replied, his voice resonant and clear, his eyes meeting the bartender's.

Phil paused, the corners of his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to read the stranger's face, but it was particularly hard. “So, can I help you with anything else?” he asked with a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn't sure, but the stranger seemed to give him a small smile. Then the man closed the door behind him and briskly walked down the two steps that led inside the pub.

“I just thought I could finally visit this place,” the man replied casually.

The bartender sighed deeply, trying to keep his composure. "Listen, man… I already told you, Aurora is closed for the night," Phil said firmly, walking over to the door and opening it wide. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you stay here. Now be so kind and get out, or I'll call the police.”

"Oh? The same police that were stupid enough to arrest you?" the stranger’s mocked.

The pub was quite dark, with most of the lamps already turned off by Phil. But at that moment, the light of a street lamp shone in through the open pub door, casting a warm glow on the stranger's face, finally illuminating his features.

As the bartender glanced at his unexpected guest, he noticed the fairly young man was likely around his age, if not a few years older. His all-black outfit, complete with a backpack clearly designed for carrying a laptop, gave him a serious and tidy vibe. Although his nearly black hair seemed neatly combed, it curled in every direction, as if mocking his efforts to keep it in check. Phil couldn't help but notice the man's tired, dark eyes. Yet there was something about his gaze, a level of… maturity that Phil had not expected to see.

“Get out,” the bar owner repeated, but without much conviction.

The stranger laughed softly but ignored his words, calmly and surely walking over to the bar. Laying his heavy backpack on one of the barstools, he sat on another, resting his hands on the counter.

“Could I get some coffee?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at the somewhat confused bartender.

Phil was not a person to be easily upset. True, sometimes he could say too much or react too harshly, but only with words. He was good with words and with people. But for some reason, the stranger didn't seem to care about that… and it was annoying.

“What do you want from me? Didn't you hear what I said?” Phil snapped, his frustration boiling over. He slammed the door shut, the sound reverberating through the room. Turning to the man, he stomped over, his footsteps echoing in the silence. Grabbing the stranger's arm, he spun him around on the stool with such force that he almost fell off his seat.

Phil was surprised when the stranger didn’t react with fear or surprise, but instead looked at him with an understanding gaze, as if he knew something that Phil didn't. The bartender's anger slowly dissipated as he studied the man's reaction, taking a small step back.

"Now, to answer your questions…” the man sighed, shifting on the barstool once more. “First, I'd appreciate some coffee or something else with caffeine. For your other concern… of course, I've heard what you said, but I don't necessarily want to leave. The truth is, I feel like I owe you this meeting… or at least an explanation."

Phil scoffed. "Oh, you think so?"

"Correct," the stranger exhaled. "I should have done it sooner, but somehow, well... To be completely honest with you, Hawkins, I think you were getting on my nerves a bit too much," he added with a lopsided smile.

"So, you know who I am?" Phil's anger was replaced by curiosity in less than a few seconds.

The bartender then quickly bit his bottom lip, refraining from asking the stranger more. He was well aware of one of his greatest flaws and, even though he didn't like to admit it to himself too often, he secretly enjoyed being the center of attention. No matter what.

"So... no coffee then? Well, that's a shame," the stranger rested his hands on the counter once more and pointed to a soda drink on the right side behind the bar. "So let’s put it this way. The truth is, I happen to know quite a bit about you accidentally, even though you probably don't know who I am. Before you jump to any conclusions - no, I am not your stalker; no, I am not trying to extort money from you; and no, I am definitely not involved in any scheme or conspiracy that would require your involvement."

"You know about me... accidentally ?" Phil repeated doubtfully, walking behind the bar and facing the stranger. "What kind of bullshit is that?"

"Oh, well..." he chuckled again, "I wouldn't say it’s bullshit. Not entirely, at least. You see, we both became involved in the same case a while back, and I was actually forced to learn more about you. You understand that I did not do this for my own enjoyment, although I must admit..." he hesitated, then cringed, "You are not very cautious with what you post online; that was so easy... So yes. It was, at least to some extent, accidental."

"The same case...? Wait, wait, hold on..." Phil resisted the urge to grab his own head in surprise. "Are you... that guy? That hacker or whatever. That tech-savvy guy that disappeared after Hannah was found? No way it’s you… Police say he's dead. That he died during the mine fire."

“I have two pieces of information for you,” the stranger leaned forward conspiratorially and spread his hands. “The first one... I’ve heard you were a good bartender. I somehow can’t picture that, you know?”

Phil looked completely confused as the man rolled his eyes slightly and nodded meaningfully at the soda bottle once more. Gritting his teeth, Phil blindly reached into the fridge, pulled out a bottle, slammed it against the counter, opened it with the agility of a truly experienced bartender, and pushed it towards the man, ending with a jazz hands gesture.

Annoyed jazz hands gesture.

The man only chuckled and nodded in approval, taking a sip of his long-awaited drink.

"And the second thing?" the bartender urged.

“The second thing!” the stranger chuckled. “The second thing is… I don't think you trust the police after all the trouble they caused you, so do you think you should trust them if they say that guy is dead? You’re talking about that Ironsplinter mine fire, correct?”

“Yeah… there was no way he survived that.”

“Oh?” the man chuckled, “I think his chances were quite good, actually.”

Phil frowned, “How so?”

"Well..." the stranger spread his hands again. "I'm not an expert, but I know a thing or two about mines. Actually, I know a lot about many things, but it doesn't matter now... I won't bore you with the details because you probably don't care, but believe me, there are many safety features in mines like that one that can help you survive fire, explosion, shockwaves... It's just a matter of knowing your surroundings well. The amount of air can be a problem during a fire like that, but it can also be remedied. So… maybe he didn't die after all. But what do I know?”

“That's… interesting,” Phil concluded, and the stranger snorted.

The bartender fell silent, analyzing every single word the stranger had said. It was already clear to Phil that he would not tell him anything directly, especially not about himself. The man didn't confirm anything explicitly, but he didn't have to. Phil already knew the answer to his question.

“Alright, I get it… So should I call you Jake, then? That was the name of that techie guy, if I remember correctly.”

“Was it, really?” the stranger smirked. “In that case, you can call me whatever you want, Hawkins. Jake is a name as good as any.”

“Really? Okay then, Techie,” Phil placed his palms on the counter. “You’ve said you owed me… why exactly? Why are you here?” he reiterated, still confused by the stranger’s presence.

Jake paused for a moment, his piercing gaze fixed on the bar owner. Phil was not one to be easily intimidated, but there was something about Jake that made him uneasy yet intrigued at the same time. Was it his unwavering confidence, his carefree attitude, or maybe something else entirely?

“I understand that my visit may seem unnecessary, but I felt compelled to come,” Jake responded, his tone measured and deliberate. “You see, there’s something about you that… let’s say, that doesn’t add up to me.”

“Oh…” the bartender nodded, feeling annoyed and somehow disappointed again. “So you want to accuse me of more things, then? Tell me I should rot in jail, like some other wonderful people?”

“No... nothing like that,” the man chuckled nervously, his dark hair falling onto his forehead. He brushed the locks away with a casual flick of his hand, trying to hide the fact that he was clearly troubled. As he paused to collect his thoughts, his eyes darted around the room. Finally, he spoke again, his voice hesitant and uncertain.

“I know someone anonymously paid your bail, and I may know more about that. I may know a lot about that. And I believe it still bothers you, so I think I should share it with you. And, well… I suppose what I'm trying to say is that this meeting has been weighing heavily on my mind. I've been thinking about it quite often, trying to figure out what to say or… how to say it, and I think I still don’t know… I mean… okay, here's the thing. Do you remember the second person who got involved in this case by accident?” Jake continued, “You… you invited her to Aurora. She never came here, but still, you did, and—”

“The girl? Shit… okay, now I think I get it,” the bartender sighed deeply and nodded, as he couldn’t believe it was that simple. It was always that simple when there were feelings involved. “Don’t tell me… It hit your ego, didn't it? You liked her, right? Did you come to tell me I was not only released from the arrest thanks to you, but they actually arrested me because of you in the first place? You got jealous of that girl, and that's why I had a shitty couple of months? Was it your revenge?”

The stranger shrugged, but his awkward smile said it all.

Guilty as charged.

“Great... so you almost ruined my life over some chick I don't even know?! Only because I invited her here? I did nothing wrong! Couldn't you explain it between you two? You had to get me into this… And you still have the nerve to come to my bar and—”

“No, wait,” the alleged hacker silenced him with a gesture. “I mean… you almost got it right. I do feel guilty you were in that arrest for quite some time, but for a different reason…” the stranger rubbed his neck nervously. “What if… hypothetically, of course, what if I knew right away how to get you out of this? I knew you were innocent and I had proof for that? But... she was so interested in you... and you in her! And I didn't want you to be interested in her… I guess I was just… confused about you. Shit, it doesn't make sense, does it?”

Phil frowned, but slowly the meaning of the stranger's words began to dawn on him. He wasn't after the girl who helped solve the case. Techie was after… him.

He was jealous of… him?

Was that even possible?

He knew he should be angry. Furious even! It was about his life! Countless hours wasted in the arrest he didn’t deserve! Yet, somehow… The guilty look on the stranger’s face made it fade away. He'd be lying if he said he didn't wonder who that mysterious hacker was from back then, or why exactly he was involved in the case. He knew back then that the answers to these questions were just beyond his reach, but now, miraculously, he was sitting in front of him, almost vulnerable and almost exposed. His fascination overcame his anger. The stranger's eyes were full of remorse, and for a moment, he felt a twinge of sympathy.

Sympathy and something else, but he wasn’t sure what it was…

Curiosity!

It had to be just curiosity.

“My, my… So I think you are my stalker, after all…” The bartender hummed, taking two steps away from Jake, but somehow couldn't help but smile.

“No. No, no. Nuh-uh! This statement is definitely not true!” The alleged hacker protested immediately, pointing his finger at Phil as he blushed a bit, his heart pounding in his chest. "I know things about you, and I learned them without your consent, that is correct. Good luck to you with suing me. But I— it’s not my fault. And I didn’t— I wasn’t really— I just wanted to understand you better!" He paused and took a deep breath. "Didn't I help you after all?! You got out, didn’t you? And I am not a stalker! Jesus, I think I need a real drink… " he trailed off.

The bartender was taken aback by the unexpected outburst and blinked a couple of times in confusion. However, he soon burst out laughing, unable to hold it any longer. "Wow, you really lost your cool there, man… You’ve just admitted to some weird things…" he said between chuckles, "I didn’t think it was possible! In fact, you sound exactly like a stalker trying to explain himself, you know." The bartender knew his mocking tone only made the situation more awkward and uncomfortable for the stranger.

“Yeah.. Coming here was a mistake, I guess…” Jake scoffed, grabbed his backpack, and was about to jump off the stool and leave the pub, but Phil, without thinking too much, grabbed his forearm. The stranger winced in surprise, but as his dark eyes met the calm eyes of the bartender, he slowly sat back down.

“Alright, okay. You’re not my stalker, yeah?” Phil smiled,letting go of his arm, “But I think you still owe me more explanation. Fair?”

“F-fair,” the stranger muttered.

To Phil's surprise, Jake leaned forward from his stool and across the counter, invading the bartender's personal space as if it was absolutely nothing unusual. The stranger's arm accidentally grazed Phil's shoulder as he gently pushed him away and reached for a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from behind the bar. Before Phil could even register what was going on, the stranger was already sitting back on his stool, pouring the liquor generously into the glasses.

“I… thought you said you don’t drink,” Phil observed, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. And I thought you were a self-absorbed, narcissistic, brainless drama queen, and yet here we are, engaging in a somewhat intelligent conversation. How about that?”

Phil chuckled, a bit taken aback, as he watched Jake down his drink in one swift motion, followed by a wince and quiet grunt. With a solid tap, the stranger placed the glass back on the counter, exhaling audibly.

“That’s some terrible whiskey, Hawkins,” he admitted, reaching for the bottle to pour himself another.

“It’s my finest one, Techie,” Phil smirked, “And the most expensive one, too.”

“Still quite terrible, for my sophisticated taste… And don't call me Techie.”

“Then don't call me by my father's stupid name.”

Jake blinked a couple of times, as if realizing something. “Right. I forgot he was an asshole, too. Bigger than you.”

“You forgot— oh, Jesus…” the bartender whined, “Don't tell me you even know about my father? I didn’t post anything about that online… How the fuck? How much do you exactly know about me, Stalker?”

“Again with the stalker…” the hacker poked Phil’s chest with his finger, “Listen, the thing about your father is quite well-known around town, isn't it? It's not that weird that even I know about it… and I didn't have to dig too deep to—”

“Damn it, Stalker.” Phil shook his head in disbelief, “You're a walking red flag. I should have thrown you out as soon as you came here. Why am I even still talking to you?”

“Oh, come on, I've never— I am not that bad.”

“Any other sane person would have handed you over to the police a long time ago, Stalker. You do realize that, don’t you?” Phil finally took the glass into his hand and sipped his whiskey.

“But you won’t do that,” the stranger smiled as he clinked his glass with Phil’s, “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you?”

“That's very possible. So what do you think about me, then? Besides that I’m a brainless douche, that is…”

The bartender's question lingered in the air for a few seconds before Jake spoke up. His voice was clear and confident, matching the intensity of his gaze, "I have a couple of thoughts, actually," he said, pausing for dramatic effect, taking a sip of his whiskey as well, "Ready? First and foremost, I think that you have an overinflated sense of self-importance," Jake's tone was stern but not unfriendly, "Secondly, you have a habit of getting under my skin. I can't explain it, but something about the way you carry yourself and the things you say just... irks me, but that much you already know. It's like you're actually trying to push my buttons or something!" He shook his head in frustration. "And finally, I think you may be a ginormous asshole, but you're also… intriguing in a way that I don't—don't quite understand." Jake paused once more, letting his words sink in. Then he, once again, angrily poked Phil’s chest with his finger, "And I don't like it. Not. One. Bit.”

“Oh? And you’re very weird, Stalker. You know that, right?” A little pissed off by the stranger's behavior, Phil grabbed Jake's hand and moved it away from his chest, but didn't let it go afterward. Suddenly, he felt a strange warmth spreading throughout his whole body, an electrifying feeling caused by the touch of the hacker's skin on his own. The stranger looked straight at him, his big, dark eyes almost like they were trying to read his soul. The expression on his face reminded Phil of a deer in the headlights and it definitely didn't help him with getting rid of the hacker.

As Phil slowly released his hand, the silence between them engulfed them both. Jake’s Breathing became heavier, and his cheeks, once pale, now glowed with a blush.

The bartender rested his elbows on the counter right next to him. Close enough to feel the slight touch of fabric of Jake's hoodie on his skin. The stranger's earlier confidence seemed to have disappeared, and the bartender couldn't tell whether it was the alcohol or Jake's confessions that had caused this change.

After a brief moment of silence, the stranger spoke up, "I'm sorry," he said, leaning forward slightly.

The bartender furrowed his brows. "What exactly are you sorry for? Because I could name a few things now..."

The hacker smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, "I didn't mean to be annoying, "he admitted, his hand idly drifting towards the bottle of whiskey on the counter. He rested his hand on it but refrained from lifting it. “I'm not exactly a people person, you see. I just… I wanted to get you out of my head. It didn’t quite work out as I expected…”

Feeling the weight of the moment, Phil gently placed his hand on the whiskey bottle, his fingers brushing against Jake's. The hacker hesitated, his gaze locked onto Phil's intense stare.

In a soft, almost whispered voice, Phil spoke, "Easy there. You're not much of a drinker, and if there's something you want from me, I want you to be clear-headed enough to ask for it. You're already a puzzle without the alcohol. Stick to your soda, Stalker."

Jake's eyes shifted from Phil's to the bottle, as if contemplating its significance.

After a moment of reflection, Phil continued, his voice measured, "Alright, let's lay it out. You're quiet, so let me see if I understand correctly..." He released his grip on the bottle, meeting Jake's gaze with a steady intensity. "You're suggesting that I'm getting under your skin, but I'd argue otherwise. I have a feeling you actually like me, and you're just not sure how to handle it. That’s your dilemma, Techie.”

"Wow, okay. If what you're saying would even be true," Jake said dismissively, "Would that even be a problem? Like, you know… my problem?”

Phil leaned in closer to Jake once more, a small smile forming on his lips. His fingers traced the hem of the stranger's sleeve playfully as he leaned forward more, "Well, we could always make it my problem, too," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, “Because, believe it or not, you somehow… fascinate me, too.”

“Oh?”

"Don't get me wrong... You obviously have issues, and I have a feeling your mere presence means trouble. But, the thing is, I don't mind trouble. Life’s boring without it, right? And maybe I should keep an eye on you… to stop you from stalking me further. So… which is it? Do you like me or hate me?"

Jake’s dark hair fell across his face, but Phil could still see the glint in his eyes, "I still can’t decide… Can I say it's both?"

Phil’s smirk grew wider, “It never happens, you know. People either love me or hate me. But you…” he shook his head, “You’re different.”

“Is that a compliment? Are you telling me I’m special? It could be good and bad, you know…” Jake chuckled as he playfully pushed him away, his hand lingering on his chest a little too long.

Then Phil realized he was somehow already long gone... The stranger had managed to wrap the bartender around his finger without him even noticing. The mischievous twinkle in Jake's dark, deep eyes was impossible to resist, drawing Phil towards him like two black holes. Phil found himself powerless to resist the pull, feeling as though he had absolutely nowhere to run.

“What?” Jake asked, noticing Phil was staring at him without saying a word, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I have an idea how to help you with your dilemma. Can I… check something?” Phil tilted his “Um, what exact—” Jake wanted to ask, but he didn’t get to finish his question.

Phil was tired of guessing. He sighed, taking the stranger’s face into his hands, his fingers gently entwining with the strands of Jake's dark, tousled hair. As he leaned in, his heart raced, and he could feel the warmth of the hacker's breath on his lips. Yet, to his surprise, Jake tensed up, his eyes widening in a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. Phil's fingers tightened slightly on Jake's hair, reassuring and firm.

Their kiss was soft, almost tentative, their lips barely grazing each other's. Yet, Phil's tongue slowly found its way into Jake's mouth, and the man welcomed it with a quiet sigh.

That was it. That was what Phil wanted to achieve.

Phil couldn't suppress a chuckle as the taste of whiskey lingered on Stranger's lips, a soft, breathless sound passing between them. He felt Jake's hesitant smile against his own,a silent acknowledgment that he finally realized what it was all about.

The bartender was suddenly glad that there was a bar counter between them, otherwise he would have pulled the stranger much closer.

“Shit… you really did that,” Jake mumbled as they broke the kiss, but they stayed close, “And you know what’s worse? Fuck, Hawkins, I think I liked that…”

Phil's lips curved into a smirk, his voice low and hoarse as he looked deep into the Stranger’s eyes that no longer felt strange to him, “Liked it, eh? Well, well, well... Seems like we've stumbled upon something interesting here.”

Jake exhaled, his reddened lips still curled into a smile, “Don’t get any ideas, Hawkins…”

The stranger leaned back a bit as Phil’s hands let go of his hair. Then he playfully tugged at Phil's t-shirt, the fabric stretching slightly as he did so.

Suddenly, the watch on the stranger's hand emitted a high, short beep, interrupting the moment. Jake’s expression changed immediately as he glanced at the device. He sighed heavily in frustration, and without any explanation, moved away from the bartender, hopped off the stool, and grabbed his backpack.

Phil was left quite confused. He quickly jumped out from behind the bar and grabbed the stranger's arm, wanting at least some sort of explanation, “Hey, whoa… What is it?”

"I have to go. I'm sorry,” the stranger said quickly, his tone tinged with regret.

"Wha— Why?" Phil asked, his grip on the stranger's arm tightening, “Is it because we–”

"No," he replied with a slight smile. "I don’t really want to go. But it doesn’t matter. You wouldn't believe me anyway."

Phil's brows furrowed in confusion. "So.. you're just leaving me like that? After we–" he scoffed. "Will I… will I even see you again?"

The stranger paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. Then, he smiled slowly, his fingers lightly tugging at the hem of Phil's shirt once more. "Even if I wanted to come back here, which I do not confirm at all," he said, his voice teasing, "I would… probably come here tomorrow, same time. Purely hypothetically, of course. We could… get to know each other better. Properly. Without any hint of stalking."

Phil's heart skipped a beat at the prospect. He needed to see him again.

"Is that so, Stalker?" Phil said, grinning, “You mean I could get to know you better. You already know all about me, right?”

The hacker snorted, “Oh, come on, I thought we’re past it…”

“But I don’t want you to go,” the bartender admitted, his voice softer.

The stranger smiled in a way that made Phil’s head spin, “Too bad, Drama Queen. I’m already gone.”

“Well then, Techie. I’ll be thinking about our next, hypothetical meeting.”

A snort of amusement escaped Jake's lips, but his eyes betrayed his hesitation as he held Phil's gaze, “See you never. I demand coffee next time. And maybe some better whiskey…”

At that moment, it seemed like the hacker wanted to say or do something, but he only managed to muster a frustrated grunt. He shook his head, allowing his dark curls to tumble with the motion, and reluctantly, after a couple of long, long seconds, he finally let go of Phil's shirt. A sly smile then crept across his face, a spark in his eyes that made Phil's heart skip a beat. Despite his temptation to keep the stranger with him for even just a bit longer, Phil grudgingly let him leave.

With a final glance, the stranger turned on his heels and strode out of the pub, disappearing into the night.

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