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lili863 · 7 months ago

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Animagus Pt 1

Matteo Riddle x MC AN: Enemies to lovers, Quidditch, banter, eventual smut, conspiracies, dark arts, manipulation, death eaters, Slytherin boys, action, romance, and 18+ material which will be mentioned in caption later in story Masterlist

Wynn Cromwell, a descendant of an ancient and powerful wizarding family, finds herself head-to-head with the infamous Matteo Riddle, son of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and leader of the Slytherin Elite: Lorenzo Berkshire, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini. Thrust into a world of conspiracies, dark arts, and deadly secrets, Wynn fights to reclaim her most prized possession and uncover the truth behind Matteo’s mysterious agenda. But as their rivalry deepens, so does the treacherous dance of consuming hatred, desire, love, and lust. As alliances shift and dark forces close in, each must choose a side—save the wizarding world or destroy it.

"You want me to be a what"? You asked, confused.

"An animagus silly, its the solution to all your problems." Hermoine closed the book she was holding in her hands and proceeded to put it back on the shelves. You and Hermonie were just chatting the library after classes when you started venting about your problems on how to better sneak past into the Slytherin common room.

"Although I hardly think what your doing is the best way to go about this"

"Well what would you do if you were in my place? I tolerated all his bullshit and look where it got me". You crossed your arms "Besides whatever Riddle gets he deserves it"

Hermione let out a resigned sigh. "Matteo Riddle is nothing but an immature boy trapped in a 17-year-old's body. I hardly think he's worth my time."

"Well, he's certainly managed to claim some of mine, and not in a good way. Ever since our paths crossed, he's been slandering my house and making my life a living hell. I even ended up in detention because of him. Detention!"

Hermione shook her head. "But it's not like you just stood by and did nothing."

"That's exactly it! Why should I? Just because I'm a Hufflepuff? They can label me however they want, but I refuse to be a doormat."

Hermione chuckled softly before handing you a book titled 'The Animagus'.

"That's for sure, but in the meantime, becoming an animagus might give you an edge."

You rubbed the bridge of your nose, memories of your ongoing feud with the Slytherin flashing through your mind. "Okay."

Determined, you took the book, knowing you had to sneak into the Slytherin dormitory. After all, he had crossed the line when he had taken something precious from you, and you needed it back.

__________________________________________

Slytherins, among the four houses of Hogwarts, boasted a notorious reputation. They were known for their cunning, slyness and a penchant for mischief. Within Slytherin, there existed an even more infamous group—the clique of wealthy, well-connected individuals, all with ties to the dark arts. Blaise, Enzo, Theo, Draco, and the infamous Matteo Riddle. The bane of your existence.

You couldn't fathom how you became entangled in their world, but it all began with a decision to try out for Quidditch.

Flying came naturally to you, a skill you loved and honed whenever you could. Despite your talent, you never considered trying out until your flying teacher practically signed you up herself. The only incentive? The promise of forty potential house points dangled before you. It was an offer too good to refuse.

So, adorned in your Hufflepuff Quidditch uniform, you ventured to the tryouts, representing your underestimated house.

The house often dismissed as ditzy, wallflowers, and notoriously poor Quidditch players. But you disagreed.

While your house didn't often make it to the finals—those spots were typically dominated by Gryffindor and Slytherin—it wasn't due to lack of talent. Rather, it was the incompetence of your team captain and admittedly their strategies.

In reality, your team boasted several skilled flyers only... it was pretty hard to convince people when convince when the first thing you see walking into the pit was a Hufflepuff nosediving to the ground after getting hit with bluddger.

"Oh bloody hell..." You muttered. Scanning the field you notice several houses at the tryouts stretching as they were called into the sky by Madam Rolanda.

You set your broom down and tried your raven hair up to a ponytail. It was jsut tryouts, nothing to be scared of. If you didn't make it its fine, it wasnt the end of the world.

Besdies- you took a quick look around

It didnt look like you knew anybodyu here so no one to embarrss yourself in front of.

Taking a deep a breath, you took your gloves and put them on trying to shake your nerves when all of a sudden a voice called out.

"Hey, Hufflepuff." You looked up, following the direction of the voice, and your eyes landed on a group of Slytherins lounging on the benches nearby.

Instantly your heart dropped.

You hadn't noticed their presence before, but it was evident from their scrutinizing gazes that they had been observing you. You recognized those green Quidditch uniform anywhere.

The infamous Matteo Riddle, leaned back agains the bench, a lazy smile on his lips stared you in amusment. You didn't know him quite well but you knew of him. And you also knew how ridiculoly handsome he was.

Brown eyes, curly locks, and a smile adorned on his lips that looked anything but friendly. But you could tell that didn't deter anyone.

"Me?" You pointed to yourself, hoping they weren't singling you out. Matteo raised his eyebrows, as if it were obvious before Blaise chimed in, "Considering you're the only other Hufflepuff brave enough to try out today, yes."

The Slytherins stared at you, their eyes assessing your entire presence, judging you intensely. Of all days, today was when the most talented flyers from the Slytherin Quidditch team had decided to grace the pitch with their presence.

Matteo and his entire bloody gang had shown up for tryouts.

"Don't look so scared Newbie," Matteo chuckled. "They can smell fear, you know." He gestured toward the group of flyers sitting high up in the sky, waiting for their next victim to pounce on.

The tryouts worked in a select group of flyers testing your skills on a broom, racing you, throwing bludgers at you, and seeing how many you could fend off on your own and how far you could go. Coach Rolanda would assess your skills and see if you had what it took.

You licked you lips determined not to seem fazed by their presence "Not scared, just warming up"

"Heard Coach speak very highly of you. Even offered house points just for you to come to the tryouts" Blaise remarked.

You tried to offer a small smile trying to remain humble when he continued "The team must really be desperate for Rolanda to place all her hopes on you"

They probably saw your jaw drop a little because they all started snickering afterward. Matteo huffed out a small laugh at your face before turning his attention back to the flyers.

What a bunch of grade A assholes.

"Maybe she see potential where others dont".

The group went silent after your reply with Matteo turning his head to glance back at you.

God, the intimidation they oozed was no joke.

"I am sure she did, in fact, I see it too. Hufflepuffs are great warm-ups for the season"

The group burst into laughter, as Matteo's smirk widened, a glint of challenge dancing in his eyes.

Okay, you take it back. He wasn't that good locking.

Grabbing your broom you walked closer to the group, stopping right in front of Matteo, with a newfound confidence, mostly anger, but you still had faith in your skills for the words swirling in your mind. You were gonna make him eat dirt today.

"Yeah? Why dont we do a little warmup today Riddle. Considering your last game, it looks like you need it".

Blaise scoffed a laugh nudging Draco with a knowing look.

"Oh?" he shot back, raising an eyebrow. "I take it you're a fan?"

"Fan? Hardly. I'm more of a critic. And I'm not blind to the fact that your team relies on dirty plays and brute force. I haven't seen any real skill in the air"

You watch him sit up, now inches from your face "There's no room for fairness and kumbaya in Quidditch, Princess. Everyone plays dirty."

The word Princess hits you with something, your stomach churning at the way he said it.

"Hufflepuffs don't play dirty," you interjected, your voice tinged with defiance.

Matteo's hands grabbed the loose Velcro clasp hanging around your waist and pulled on it, tugging you closer. You squeaked in surprise as he attached it back, tightening the gear you had been struggling with when you entered the pit.

"And that's why you're just a filler," he said with a smirk. He patted the hard gear on top of your stomach, sending you a few steps back with a self-satisfied smile.

The sting of his words and the embarrassment of his actions shot through like electricity, warming your cheeks, and igniting a fire within.

"Cromwell! You're up!" Coach's voice cut through the tension, yet you didn't flinch. Instead, you closed in on him.

But it seemed Matteo's grin only widened as you approached, even going so far as to lean in closer, thoroughly entertained by your presence.

"Come up in the air with me Riddle, and I'll show you exactly what a filler can do"

Matteo paid no mind to the chaos erupting behind him in response to your words. Instead, his gaze bore into yours, intense and unwavering.

With deliberate movements, he reached for his helmet sitting nearby before rising to his feet, bringing his face dangerously close to yours. Your heart raced as you blinked rapidly, attempting to conceal any hint of emotion, and instinctively took a step back.

Without a word, Matteo kicked up his broom and effortlessly hopped on, soaring towards Madam Rolanda.

You hastily mounted your broom, ascending into the air to await her verdict. As you hovered hundreds of feet above the ground, the adrenaline from your exchange with Matteo began to ebb away. Part of you almost wished that Coach Rolanda might reject his participation.

You watched in intensly when suddenly the team of flyers above began to descend.

Now you were confused. What's happening?

Suddenly, something zipped past you with lightning speed, causing you to gasp and retreat instinctively. It was Draco?

You furrowed your brows wondering why he was in the air when you decided to look back down.

The full blown panic set in when the entire Slytherin team started flying towards you.

Madam Rolanda's thumbs-up and smile from below were barely registered as you locked eyes with Matteo, who had settled at your level in the air.

What did he even say?!

"Damn newbie," Matteo remarked, spreading his hands wide as he gestured to the guys behind him. "You got the whole team together. I'm already impressed."

Your tongue poked the side of your cheek in a silent response.

"Time to check if your bite matches your bark," Matteo remarked, his tone challenging.

Your hands clenched at the handles of your broom, acutely aware that if you lost, it wouldn't just be a blow to your pride; it would be a dent in Hufflepuff's reputation, with little chance of recovery. Or maybe none at all if Rolanda decided she didn't want you on the team.

Suddenly, those 40 points weren't seeming all that worth it.

"Alright, team!" Rolanda's voice boomed across the field. "Get ready!"

Everyone sprang into position, bludgers at the ready.

Your job was clear: avoid getting knocked off your broom by the bludgers and complete five laps across the field without falling. It was evident they weren't going to take it easy on you. But with a deep breath and a steeling of your resolve, you closed your eyes, focusing on the task at hand. You knew what was at stake. You had confidence in your skills, and with a good strategy, the odds were as good as yours. And suddenly, as your eyes opened, you were locked in.

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

You grunted, zipping past Theo, narrowly avoiding the bludger that flew right in front of your face courtesy of Draco.

One of your strengths in flying was your speed, and right now, with your stats, you were arguably one of the fastest flyers in all of the houses. That's why it caught everyone off guard.

Within moments, you had crossed the field, completing your fourth lap without getting knocked off.

"Alright, one more lap to go," you reminded yourself, the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you focused all your concentration on the game. You barely noticed the large crowd gathered below, all watching your performance. Even Rolanda was beaming proudly as she conversed with another professor amidst the commotion.

You observed the boys below, panting and staring you down, some in surprise, others in thinly veiled annoyance. But Matteo looked downright pissed.

You tried to ignore the bruises forming all over your body from the tackles you received from the other guys. It was only thanks to your quick reactions and nimbleness that you didn't get knocked off, either slipping away or coming to a sudden stop on your broom, letting them fly past you.

"Alright, players! LAST LAP!" Rolanda's voice echoed across the field, signaling the final stretch of the challenge.

As the final lap commenced, you pushed your broom to its limits, streaking across the field with lightning speed. Draco and Blaise, determined to thwart your progress, swooped in from both sides, aiming to tackle you off your broom. With reflexes honed from years of flying, you deftly veered to the side, narrowly avoiding their attempts.

But the challenge was far from over. A bludger was sent hurtling through the air by Theo. With a sharp intake of breath, you ducked and weaved, narrowly avoiding the speeding projectile as it whizzed past, the rush of air stirring the strands of your hair in its wake.

Behind you, Draco and Theo gave chase, their determination palpable in the air.

Glancing back for just a moment you grinned watching them practically inhale your smoke when you turned your head back around and nearly shrieked in surprise.

Matteo stopped right before you, ready for your impact.

In that split second, you came to a sudden halt, relinquesing all magical energy from your broom which allowed to freefall with your broom, barely avoiding the collision.

Matteo shock was evident as he watched you, your stunt or rather trick as you call catching him off gaurd.

This maneuver demanded far more energy than one might expect. After investing intense focus into maintaining flight, you had to swiftly shift gears in a split second to initiate the fall. This not only avoided collision but also allowed for a sudden return to flight from the descent, requiring a rapid redirection of concentration and control.

But just as you tried to redirect your broom the momentum proved too much to bear, and you felt yourself losing control from the utter fatigue crashing onto you.

You were now flying towards the goal, desperation clinging to every fiber of your being, but you knew. You were not fast enough.

The manuver cost too much energy.

Just as the sight of finsh line was close enough for you believe your were going to cross it, a hand suddenly wrapped around, a force hitting your back sending you flying off your broom with a scream.

You could barely register Matteo plummeting to the ground with you, but one thing was clear.

You lost.

And it was all because of Matteo Fucking Riddle.

The two of you free fell , but just before you hit the ground, Levioso stops you two for moment.

And then you fall on top of him int eh ground with a grunt.

The roar of the crowd's gasps and screams seemed to reverberate in your ears, though it was more the rush of blood and adrenaline coursing through your veins that you felt. Anger quickly began to overtake you, fueled by the intensity of the moment.

As you rose, straddling him, Matteo huffed out a laugh. "That was some damn stunt," he remarked, his attention seemingly elsewhere as he gave a thumbs-up to his companions in the air, chuckling softly.

Without hesitation, you seized his collar, forcing him to meet your gaze, both of you slick with sweat and heated from the encounter. "Did you seriously just do that?! You could have easily pushed me off the broom, but you chose to bring me down with you!"

Matteo's scoffs "It's called Quidditch, Princess. Better get used to it."

"Yeah, well, next time you pull shit like that, do me a favor and keep your hands to yourself and just freefall alone."

"Says the one straddling and manhandling me."

"Fuck you, Riddle," you spat, releasing him and flinging yourself backwards onto the ground.

Matteo simply frowned as he picked himself up, seemingly unfazed by your outburst.

"Are you-?!" you began, only to be cut off by the approach of Rolanda, still acutely aware of Matteo's eyes on you.

"Madam Rolanda-"

"That was the finest display of flying I've seen in my years, kid," Rolanda interjected, her tone filled with admiration. "Never before have I witnessed a stunt executed with such finesse. Though there are certainly areas for improvement, your performance was nothing short of brilliant. And you, Matteo," she continued, turning her attention to him, "what's your take on this?"

You turned towards Matteo, huffing for breath, just waiting for him shit on you.

Matteo shifted his weight, his gaze lingering on you before he spoke. "I think Hufflepuff finally has some real talent this year."

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at the acknowledgment.

"Well, that settles it then! Welcome to Quidditch, kid!"

You eagerly shake Rolanda's hand, but your eyes remain locked on Riddle's back as he joins the other guys.

Something told you this, whatever it was between you and Riddle, wasn't over.

Just as you were about to leave, Matteo suddenly looked back catching your eyes, a menacing glare as if he didn't just praise your skills 2 seconds ago.

Yup, definitely not over.

#matteo riddle #matteo riddle x reader #matteo riddle x yn #matteoriddle #harry potter #hp fandom #harrypotter fanfiction #slytherin #slytherpuff #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle #blaise zabini #draco malfoy #theo nott #lorenzo berkshire

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bernblogs · 2 years ago

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The Displacement of the Probinsyana

May 24, 2023 - May 29, 2023

I think about home often. And when I do, I am transported to the shade of an acacia tree where I believed a kapre resided but chose not to pick me up and roll me into a cigar. I think of a clump of mango trees where people in white flowy dresses set up tables for a feast (or at least that's what my lola's mother said). I think of heavy plastic sandals with mud stuck on the heels after walking in gowns pretending like we were part of the local sagala.

When I think of home, I am compelled to think of the first place I ever lived in, San Miguel, Bulacan. It is a part of the province where people had an entirely different Tagalog lexicon paired with a strong accent that can be comparable to 'country'. As someone with a non-Bulakenyo family (they moved before I was born), I had to assimilate in school. When my friends started saying words like "taban" and "panik", I asked them what they meant and took a mental note that I tucked away in my brain so I didn't forget. The accent came naturally the more I talked to my classmates.

Whenever I went to conferences of Paulinian schools where students came from literally the entire Philippines, I found myself trying to use the conyo lexicon and neutralizing my accent. I pronounced my friends' names differently-- "Machu" became "Matthew", "Rayana" came with a soft R instead of a rolling one. I remember desperately wanting to impress students from Manila. Maybe if I talked like them enough, they would finally acknowledge me. I was not new to being shoved aside because I was a probinsyana. Manileño students would probably deny this because they didn't notice, but in the congresses, they would form cliques and lead the group without a consensus. I found myself wanting to be like them, but also hating them for being dismissive.

I'm sure a part of this was projection, but a part of it was true. And so I hated them and I hated myself a little bit too.

I wanted to be them so bad that I wanted to escape to the city. Maybe if I lived in Manila long enough, I would be like them. People would notice me and listen to me and count me in.

I did get all of that, I still do. Except I lost a lot in the process. I lost the deeper vocabulary and the strong accent and I missed them as soon as I did.

The probinsyana with 'big dreams'--of being heard, seen, known--is destined to move to the city and cut parts of themselves in the process if they want to survive. Don't want to get held up? Lose the wonder and sparkle in your eyes and replace it with grim determination to yank your bag out of someone's hands when they try to snatch it.

I have always wanted to be 'a creative', whatever the fuck that means. I wanted to be writer, a filmmaker, someone respected in the arts. I wanted to make things for a living, and that in itself necessitated moving. While I'm sure it's different now with the revolutionary work-from-home, there are simply more opportunities for the kind of livelihood I want in the city. When I look back on what my classmates' parents jobs were, at least those who stayed in town, they were accountants, nurses, municipal workers, dentists, or business owners. While I do not have anything against those jobs, I do not want those jobs. I could have been a teacher there, but I would have been yelled at by nuns, paid in peanuts, and forced to teach a subject I knew nothing about.

I was having lunch with Mita, my lola, earlier today. She told me how when she moved to the city for college, she would think of the food she got to try and dream of earning enough money to buy the same food in the province for her younger siblings. When her dad would introduce her to his compadres, he would say, 'Panganay ko 'tong babae, nag-aaral sa Maynila!' Simply getting inside the city was an accomplishment, it was a promise of better lives.

I don't know if I'd still say that now with the inflation and rising heat, but at least, it promises having a job--and even then, not to everyone.

The first week I moved to Quezon City with my mother (after forcing her for a semester to finally move here because I was desperate to get out of the town and get the town out of me), I started learning to commute to school. And not the baby-commute I knew from San Miguel which was taking a tricycle and telling the driver where you wanted to go like they're taxi cabs. This was the big-girl-commute. After four grueling jeepney rides to school and three grueling jeepney rides going home, I asked my mom if we could move back to San Miguel again. The city has chewed me and was spitting me out.

Of course, my mother said no. She said that I just needed to be strong and adjust. Because what I said was stupid. She was right, after all. After getting my black shoes sopping wet during a rainstorm, chasing countless jeepneys, falling off of a jeepney and scraping my knee on the road, getting taken advantage of by a taxi driver by not giving me change, losing my wallet to snatchers, losing my Bulakenya accent and the vocabulary I worked for my entire life, I finally adapted. Survival of the fittest, as Charles Darwin believed.

I am thankful that my mother let me experience all the shit things because I would have kept being chewed on by the city if I didn't toughen up. And I needed to toughen up because the probinsyana who 'dreams' (or who wants to be a 'creative', or who wants to 'see the world', or who wants to 'experience culture, or who wants to be 'well-educated', or who needs to pay the bills) has always been destined to be displaced. If you ask your parents or grandparents, you quickly discover that at least one of them moved to the city for a 'better life'. My maternal grandmother was a hardcore Bicolana, my father was Novo Ecijano. Our roots are in provinces where trees grow and magic doesn't seem far-fetched and you can hold the world in your palms, but they are dislodged for dreams and survival. I am reminded of a balete tree when I think of myself clinging to the city like I am a parasite and it is my host tree.

Sometimes, I find my peers not knowing these roots about their families until it comes up, but that's because probinsyanas go through a process of loss (of themselves, their identity) to survive a cruel city. And we barely get to ever grieve over this loss.

How often do you hear people make fun of provincial accents? Of probinsyanas not being 'cultured'? Of being clueless?

The probinsyana camouflages out of the need to survive. How are you going to have a better life or give your family a better life if the city crushes you, after all?

The displacement of the probinsyana is not unknown. I discover that many women I look up to who have really made a name for themselves are probinsyanas. Because we have something to prove. Because what is the point of cutting parts of yourself, of changing who you are, of losing the sense of home, if you do not become good at what you do at the very least?

When I think of home, I am transported to the shade of an acacia tree and magical moments. When I think of home, I think of memories I made years ago in a place I used to call home. The displaced probinsyana rarely discovers their sense of home again after the move. Coming home to the province always feels strange. Like meeting a stranger who used to be a lover. You knew them, but not anymore, it seems. It is never really coming home; it is just visiting. And if you visit someplace, how would you call that your home?

Yet, the city is not home neither. It never will be. It is grueling and cruel and filled with the stench of excessive and exploitative labor and rotting dreams.

The displacement of the probinsyana seems inspiring from the outside looking in, but it is tragic when you think of how much she had to lose to get to the top.

#bern writes #bernblogs

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kookdbean · 3 years ago

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unbothered

a/n: another addition to so it goes! just little snippets of acts of service between jungkook and oc. this takes place over the first school year together. also, if you guys have any ideas for more drabbles, pls send them in! enjoy! warnings: mentions of food consumption, coffee consumption, hints at students family life.

series masterlist

It's Friday, the end of the second week of school.

The past three days, Jungkook and you have been arriving at the same time. You'd wait for one another, catching up from the day before since you parted. He'd crack a joke about how he wasn't sure what tires him out more, his roommate's stupid shit or waking up early five days in a row.

Today, you're running twenty minutes behind; twenty-five minutes before school started.

Teeth brushed and face washed were your first two priorities this morning. You were able to throw your hair up into a messy updo; not having enough time for the full routine, only patting moisturizer into your skin. It would be enough to make it seem like you put some effort, right?

It's after you've parked, backpack hanging over your shoulder, tote bag hanging low from your hand, that you spot Jungkook's car and freeze.

Did you leave him waiting?

Clocked in, you make your way to drop off your belongings in your room as fast as you can. No one stops you in the hall, a small sigh of relief leaves you. Who knows how long Ms. Lee Ji-Wan, a second grade teacher who literally beams sunshine, would have kept you if she spotted you.

A moment, just a small moment you allow yourself. A moment where you're not rushing yourself, worried about being somewhere, in the comfort and stillness of your classroom. Hand rubbing your nape, head slowly rolling out to the side. Just a moment.

And it's not ruined, not when you hear three soft knocks on your door before sliding open.

Jungkook's head is poking in, his wide eyes searching the room before settling on you. His eyes quickly look you over before he allows himself in, door closing behind him.

"You didn't wait, did you?" is the first thing that comes out of your mouth, your hand moving down to rub your fingers against your collarbone.

"Not long, no," Jungkook reassures you, not staying still.

"Jungkook," you frown, reaching over to your desk for your coffee, that you realize you forgot when your fingers wrap around nothing, balling up into a loose fist.

"Here," Jungkook laughs, moving his hand from behind his back. An iced coffee.

Hands instantly clasping against your chest, big eyes and a hopeful tug of your eyebrows; your facial expression reading, "is that for me?" Jungkook laughs, holding the coffee out to you, shaking it to show you that it's real, and it's for you.

"I got here just before you, actually. I was in the mood for some expensive coffee and figured you'd like one, too," Jungkook explains, that smile never leaving his lips.

ii.

The end of a meeting is always such a relief.

The quiet, exciting buzz that comes with the meeting being called to it's end, almost like an exhale that relieves your body from the weights of the world for just that moment; weightless and carefree.

The chairs being pushed away so teachers could stand, the sound of shuffling paper and occasional crumple, quiet chatter while some people gathered together, others just making their way of the room. Talk of lunch plans, upcoming events (personal and 'professional').

That was feeling is what you look forward to at the start of every meeting.

It's the feeling you relish this moment. Tae-yeon rubs your forearm, telling you she'll see you after the day ends before rushing off to join Jae-eon, physical education teacher. You look after her, standing up, watching as the pair makes their way out of the room.

You turn back towards the center of the room, eyes scanning the room until you spot Jungkook.

Jungkook's not in the spot he deemed as his unassigned assigned seat during meetings, but at the front of the room, talking to the principal. His body language is animated; his papers on the chair closest to him, hands moving regardless of close they are to his body. You could see how his eyes widened and his tone came off as serious, passionate.

You can't help but watch. You can't help but wonder what he was so passionate about, what he was sharing with the principal.

You can't take your eyes away, not until they bow to each other and the principal is turning towards you, to make his way to the exit behind you. Quickly, you duck your head and a quiet wish leaves your lips, "have a good day, sir."

"You waited," Jungkook simply says, your head turning upwards and eyes automatically moving to his face.

"Yeah," you hum.

"You didn't have to," Jungkook reassures with a small smile, folding his small stack of papers in half and tucking it under his arm. He makes his way towards you, hand gesturing towards the door.

"Yeah, but I wanted to. We always go to lunch afterwards," you state.

"Oh," Jungkook falters behind you. He watches you make your way to the door, turning midway when you don't feel his presence.

"You wait for me," you shot back, a teasing look on your face.

"Yeah, because I haven't been sucked into a teacher's clique," Jungkook defends jokingly.

iii.

You're looking over the math worksheets from this morning, red pen in one hand, chopsticks handling japchae in other.

"This is DEAN" playlist on Spotify plays softly from your computer. You hum, in tune to the music and to the taste of the japchae that your roommate, Sana, made last night.

You don't hear the door open, your face down towards the container of noodles. Cheeks full and puffed out, you throw your head back, a quiet moan, eyes closed. God, you loved noodles.

"You okay?" Jungkook laughs, taking you by surprise.

Head lowering to look at him, your eyes are wide and don't bother chewing, just watching as Jungkook gets closer.

"I thought you had lunch plans," you struggled, slowly chewing and swallowing, repeating the process until your mouth becomes empty again.

Jungkook laughs again, reaching over to twist the cap off your bottle of juice open before handing it to you.

"Take it slow."

You wave him off, taking a sip, eyes looking him up and down.

"You didn't met up with your friend... Seokjin?" you ask curiously, hoping you got the name right.

"I did," Jungkook nods and taps his finger against your desk, "but Jin-hyung had something come up."

Your lips pout, brows furrowing, "Sorry. I know you were looking forward to it."

"It's fine, I know where he lives," Jungkook cackles, placing a small container in front of you, "but just as I promised..."

"Is this the cake he made last time?" You gasp hopefully, pulling yourself closer.

There's a glimmer in your eyes, it makes Jungkook laugh quietly, shoulders shaking and nose scrunching up as he nods.

"He gave me some extra after I mentioned that I shared it with a friend from work," Jungkook smiles, popping the lid open.

What you didn't know about Jungkook that his hyung(s) did was that Jungkook only shared food with people he really cared about.

iv.

Since the days Jungkook and you used to just magically show up at the same time to school and wait for each other so that you could enter the building together (neither you or Jungkook know that the other peeked at the time when they realized that arrive at that time, thus the new addition to their daily routines), you've both had the other's phone number.

First, texts were exchanged when one of you decided to go for a coffee run, always asking the other if they wanted something.

Then came the texts to tell the other that you were running late (you showed up ten minutes before the school day started just to find that someone turned on your computer).

Following that were the texts that came in the evening. The "what was the name of the website that you those pens?," "what was the dish you mentioned Namjoon made for dinner?," the "I have roommate cake and coffee tomorrow morning!!!"

You remember the first time Jungkook took a sick day, after the winter break, after you'd deemed yourselves friends and not just coworkers.

You're in the teacher's lounge, lips hovering over your water bottle. You're pretending to pay attention to your phone, thumb scrolling against the screen as if you're on social media, but in reality, you had your conversation with Jungkook opened. Subtly trying to type out everything you were hearing in the teacher's lounge.

"before you call me a child, I just have to say... you chose the wrong day to be absent, mr. jeon."

Jeon Jungkook: what is this? are we fourteen? are you trying to get me to wonder what the day is like without me?

You scoff to yourself, trying to bite back a smile.

Jeon Jungkook: when I woke up again this morning, it was already 10am, and the first thing that popped into my head was that it was two hours into the school day and math is almost over.

A laugh leaves your lips, the noise from the nearby teachers becoming quiet as they looked over at you.

Eventually, your texts ranged throughout the entire day. From the morning texts asking if the other wants coffee, texts swapping recipes in the late afternoon, to just asking about weekend plans and just...talking to one another.

"I'll have you know, Jeon Jungkook, that my Saturdays are sacred," you gushed, waggling your finger jokingly.

Jungkook snorts, pushing the cart past you, leaving you standing there. He throws a quick glance over his shoulder at you, rolling his eyes with a smile on his face.

"No one forced you to tag along," Jungkook points out.

"You're right. But, you also know that I cannot and will not turn down a lunch invitation," you sigh dramatically.

"Ah, so when you see my face, you see a money bag?"

"Didn't you hear? The way to someone's heart is through their stomach," you sigh, hand over your chest, walking closer to where Jungkook's stopped.

Jungkook's looking at things that he can gift the students in the after school art club. You both had already gotten little gifts for your respective classes, but Jungkook had told you that he wanted to give his art kids some supplies so that they'd be encouraged to keep doing art; supplies that parents couldn't afford or in some cases, didn't want to purchase.

"I have three students who go to high school next year," Jungkook murmurs to himself, scratching the back of his neck, "but I don't want the rest of them to think I don't care about them."

"What were you planning on getting for them?" you ask gingerly, hands running over the different sketchbook covers.

"Taehyung was able to get some good quality mixed media sketch books from the art museum. They hold workshops every week and he found some extras," Jungkook turns to look at you, a hint of a soft smile, "so I was thinking a basic watercolor set, some pencils, color pencils?"

"Mmm, maybe leave the water colors for the ones going to high school? Not that you don't trust the younger ones, but water colors seems like some more responsibility," you comment.

Jungkook hums back in acknowledgement, moving to stand next to you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand at his proximity, your heart racing when you catch his scent.

"You added erasers and sharpeners?"

"Pencil set."

"Hmm," your eyes scanning down the aisle. You spot chalk hanging at the end of the aisle, hand reaching out to pat Jungkook's bicep before quickly moving down the aisle. Adjusting your bag onto your shoulder, you dramatically gesture towards the various packs of chalk.

"Not only can they make art in their sketch books, but out in the neighborhood," you try telling it to him like a salesman at a car dealership, "art that can be remade, reworked. Sidewalks, driveways, whatever!"

Jungkook can't fight off the laugh as he doubles over, his laugh echoing around him.

His laugh is contagious, it might be your favorite sound. It has you breaking character, your laugh joining his; a symphony that could bring crowds together, one that people never wanted to stop hearing.

"What? It's not good?" you defend yourself through giggles.

"Did I say something?" Jungkook chuckles, pushing the cart towards you, carefully placing several packs of chalk in.

"Did I win myself some dessert?" you turn away to peek at the other aisles.

"That already came included with the lunch offer. You, my friend, have won yourself something even better."

You realize Jungkook's movement until you hear his voice right in your ear.

"You get to pick one thing from the store and I'll buy it for you."

You shiver, stepping away from him, overwhelmed. You try to brush off the way the back your neck heats up, your heart beats a little faster, your hands get a little clammy. Just a moment to compose yourself, yet, a moment becomes too long when the hairs on the back of your neck fall back down and his scent is no longer surrounding you.

You look up with wide eyes, watching Jungkook make his way into the aisle that had "acrylic and oil points" written at the top.

"Wait!" You call out, trying to catch up to him, "you can't judge what I pick!"

tagging: @yslkook

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x oc #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #so it goes

48 notes · View notes

sems-diarie · 4 years ago

Note

SO,,,

Who do you ship YOUR moots with 💀

this is so long lmao!!

@lovetsumie ─♡─ deku.

self explanatory; she’s the only one who’d treat ‘im right. butter is the perfect mix of a bully and a sweetheart, and izu would fall so fast, it’d make him dizzy.

@melanimed ─♡─ deku.

the knight in shining armor and the princess. classical shonen hero x fem lead trope. the two of you just instinctively, naturally fall into each other. the couple everyone knows is a couple/the friends that are so obviously into eachother, everyone expects to become a couple.

@lilgothbabiee ─♡─ kuroo.

she’s the ditzy bimbo who makes lunch n brings it to her rich husband on his break and he’s the rich husband who pats her head and thanks her with a new credit card—could i make it anymore obvious? <3

@unclegarou ─♡─ garou.

it’s the way he would try to scare you off and you’d just roll your eyes LMAO. doesn’t matter where he goes, who gets his ass beat by, he keeps coming home to you <3

@colossalnova ─♡─ bertholdt ❤️ LMFAOOOO JK

nova ─♡─ jean.

nova & jean would be a menace to fucking society, please lock them away. arguing everytime you see them. either that, or shoving their tongues in each other’s mouths.

@kuroosusagichan ─♡─ yuuji.

the himbo and the bimbo. emitting chaotically happy, flowers sprouting from their heads energy. always holding hands. he ritually kisses her forehead after walking her home <3 and she pretends to be hurt when he teases her but she loves being bullied & yuuji knows <3

@bakugoustanaccount ─♡─ megumi.

i just- the vibes are matching. imagine the way the two of you would LOOK together? two baddies in a relationship? the power you’d have?

@tediursula-art ─♡─ deku.

i feel like you’d terrify him LMAO. long walks in the dead of night. sharing a pizza straight from the box, no plates. words of affirmation.

@anxietyplusultra ─♡─ aizawa.

back massages, lazy kisses, intense gazes. always reaching for him, and feeling extremely giddy when he reaches back.

@ihatebnha ─♡─ bakugou!

please he’d be so soft for you no matter what. ambushes you when he’s had a hard time at work, won’t let you cook alone, hums when you wash his hair for ‘im. he’s whipped. you’ve got him pussy whipped.

@waitforitillwritemywayout ─♡─ sakusa.

the vibes are cliqueing. he’s mean but you adore that, don’t you? anyways. charcoal, big ass height difference, tilting your head up to look at him. being scared to ask to hold his hand ‘cause you think he’ll say no and then he says something oddly psychic like “are we gonna hold hands, or what?”

@koutaroufuckinbokuto ─♡─ kirishima.

you are such a bad bitch you would literally leave him frothing at the mouth. he’d be so eager to earn your approval, your attention, your kisses, allat.

@atsutsuki ─♡─ atsumu.

going to in n out at 3 AM. sharing milkshakes. jealousy, then hurt/comfort. atsumu sluts you out—shiny rings, pretty shoes, shimmery dresses.

@nate-writes ─♡─ iida.

you’re so soft, and iida is attentive to that.

@tetsou ─♡─ gojo.

and he would terrorize you. waking you up in the dead of night to take a little dick, bringing you food from his souvenir shop explorations.

@saetyrn9 ─♡─ hinata.

the energy ball and his serene other half. late night drives (picking him up from practice). sweaty, excited hugs that squeeze the air out of you & lift you up! clumsy kisses. promise rings.

@bnhatrashh ─♡─ bakugou.

equally rambunctious!! always butting heads, truly horrible at being in love with each other. he knits you a scarf and feels a twinge of pride in him every time you wear it. holding pinkies 🥺 autumn leaves and kissing in the middle of sidewalks. he’s always a little surprised when you kiss him, too.

@marviess ─♡─ levi.

i hate when mommy and daddy fight 🙄 the two of you are always arguing, except when you don’t have enough energy to. giving very much, we sit in content silence and enjoy the simple comfort of the other’s prensence. this includes phone calls. rocky hills, adventure, reconciliation.

@ukeishin ─♡─ hajime 🥺

wants you to wear his jerseys. asks before he kisses you. he makes you nervous and it shows when you just blabber and sputter about random things—but hajime listens to ‘em all. rubs his thumb across the back of your hand.

@kingtamakimurder ─♡─ levi.

it’s so funny because you’d think shan would be the simp, but actually, it’s levi. thinks about you until he’s red in the face and commits the sound of your voice to memory. always next to you when in a room together.

@wak4tosh1 ─♡─ ushiwaka.

size kink galore. he’s buying you new purses every week, even if he doesn’t know it sometimes. thalia pulls him out of his shell and whaddya know, ushijima can make jokes.

#i hope i didn’t forget anybody 😭#mootie.pooties.💗

60 notes · View notes

sweet-taiyaki · 4 years ago

Text

American Girl

Disclaimer: Very new to the BNHA fandom/fanfiction world. So feedback is very much welcomed.

Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x Fem!Reader (she/her)

Featuring: Students of class 1-A, Shota Aizawa, Principle Nezu

Word Count: 4.2k

Synopsis: You are a new student at UA in class 1-A, now 2-A. You try to fit in and make friends, but no one really trusts you. You befriend Todoroki, but then you are kidnapped by a villain, and he wants to save you.

Quirk: Telekinesis at any distance.

Warnings: Violence, angst, suggestive sexual theme, some mentions of blood, language because Bakugo, finishes with fluff

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

It was a normal day at UA High School. It was also the first day of our second year as students. Since all of us now have our provisional licenses, we can fight crime with the pros when need be. Life was good.

“Iida! Ochaco! Todoroki! Over here,” Deku calls. They all gather together before school and all the cliques catch up on their hero adventures over the summer during their personal getaways to help them become better heroes.

All the students return to their respective class. Class 1-A is now Class 2-A and Pro Hero Shota Aizawa is again their teacher.

“Everyone, please, take your seats. I’m sure we are all excited to see Mr. Aizawa again,” Iida broadcasted.

“Pft, fucking nerd,” Bakago said under his breath. The students took their seats.

“Good morning class,” Aizawa said.

“Good morning, Mr. Aizawa,” everyone said.

“It is good to see you all back here, but you must know that more and more obstacles will enter your life and I will prepare you for those circumstances. For now, we are learning the principles of the amount of strength in your---”

“Excuse me for interrupting, but I have some news for your class, Mr. Aizawa,” Principle Nezu barged in.

“Good morning, principle Nezu,” everyone said.

“What’s the news, sir,” Aizawa said on alert.

“I’d like to introduce (Y/N). She’s from America and will be joining your hero course this year.”

“Another girl in our class?” Mineta and Kaminari said simultaneously.

“Yes, she is up to date with her studies and hero work from her previous academy. I’m sure that she is a good fit for UA. Bye bye now,” he leaves.

“(Y/N), I will get a desk for you. I’ll be back. Students, please be nice,” Aizawa said.

The class just stared at me. I look down at the floor as I move to the back of the classroom. Bakugo cuts me off and scuffs.

“What’s your quirk, new girl,” he asked aggressively.

“Uh, well, I---” I started.

“She’s from America, so I’m not sure she might even have one. It’s more common here than it is over there. I would think,” Sato said.

“Well whatever it is, I’m sure I can beat you,” Bakugo said.

I made my way to the back of the classroom behind Todoroki and Yaoyorozu. I could feel their eyes staring at me as some giggle and talk. Everyone has their friend group, and I was the outsider with no one.

Mr. Aizawa comes back and sets a desk next to me. “Welcome, (Y/N). Would you care to show us your quirk in front of the class?”

I make my way back to the front with eyes burning into my body with curiosity.

“I bet it’s something stupid, like water manipulation or something,” Bakugo laughed.

I look around to see what I could use me telekinetic power with. I move from a distance and raise the podium with my mind.

“Whoa,” Deku said, “Telekinesis! I’ve always wanted to meet someone with a mind power. There’s so many questions.”

“So basically like mine, but you don’t touch the object. Aww, I was hoping she would transform into something cool,” Ochaco said.

“Very well,” Aizawa said, “You can take your seat. Today, we are going to learn the principles in the amount of strength in your quirks, using physics and anatomy.”

The class moans as he continues the lecture.

……………………………………..........................

Class ends and the students return to the dorms. 2-A dorms are more spacious and a larger common room. All the students are receiving help from each other to move in. I struggled a little bit with my things. Deku ran over to me. “Hey, (Y/N), right,” he asked. I nodded and he helped me with one of my bags. “I hope you know that we have your back. Class 2-A never gives up and we all do our best and since you’re one of us now, I think you’d be a great addition to the class.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I promise that I will never give up and do my best!”

Deku smiled as he helped carry a bag to my room.

All the students are chilling in the common room in casual conversation. “Where’s (Y/N),” Deku asked. “Yeah, I wonder how big her boobs are. I researched that the average size is much larger in America,” Mineta said. “Alright, you crossed the line,” Kirishima said. “I think I saw her go to sleep. She maybe had a long day of traveling and the jetlag got her,” Tsu said. Everyone started to turn in. Todoroki looked out the window to watch the sunset.

I saw Todoroki sitting at the sill, half asleep. I snuck past him to go outside to train. I play classical music in my earbuds as I create my symphony of moving things with my mind. There was water nearby that I started to play with. I watched how I move it and it was almost like an art. Dancing water is so soothing. I gathered some loose leaves and made them dance with the water. I briefly close my eyes as I feel the music. “Hey, you’re the---” a voice I heard through my headphones. I take all the things I was mentally holding towards the voice before it hit them. He looked pretty shaken up. “I’m sorry,” I said lowering the items. “I didn’t know you were watching.”

“My name is Shoto Todoroki. I see that you are pretty quiet. Does that mean you are a threat?” His flames and frost started to ignite.

“You are also quiet, to my understanding. So why judge on personality,” I asked lifting some rocks.

“I strive to be a better hero than my father. You could be a villain that just turns up out of nowhere to gain access to the school and our training. I don’t trust you,” he said.

“I understand. Does that mean you underestimate me?”

He throws his fire at me. Instead of dodging, I tried to see if I can hold a gas. I’ve only attempted to hold solids, but it would be a challenge to contain and hold a gas. When the fire got close, I used all of my mental capacity to hold and control it. Todoroki dropped his hands as he watched me hold his fire. I watched the fire as I made it dance in the air before it went out.

“A villain would have thrown your fire back at you for revenge. Yes, I use objects to attack, but I know not to use other quirks against themselves,” I said.

“You’re smart. I’ll give you that,” he pauses. “I didn’t know you could hold fire.”

“I’m working on holding all states of matter. Gases are a little difficult for me, but it is obtainable.” We both exchange glances with small smiles. “So your father? He must be a pro,” I said to break the silence.

“Yes, he’s Endeavor, the number one hero.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who that is. What’s his quirk?”

“You don’t know who Endeavor is? Well after All Might retired, he took his place. He enhances and manipulates fire. He doesn’t treat my family well, which is why our relationship is complicated,” he said.

“Did he—did he burn your face,” I asked with sympathy.

“No, that was my mother. She was scared that I was going to turn into him. My father just wants to improve for his personal success. I want to save people from danger and help others around me, which is why I will surpass him,” he said confidently.

“You already sound like a pro,” I smiled. He smiled back running his hands through his hair.

I immediately feel a pain. It was not a migraine or headache. I knew exactly what it was, but why now? When I have a possible chance of having a friend. Why? I grabbed my head in pain as it got closer. “(Y/N), are you okay,” he asked as I continue to hold my head.

A tall figure swooped in and grabbed me by the neck. He was wearing a long, black jacket with every language on them. “(Y/N), wir treffen uns wieder (we meet again),” it said in German. Todoroki was on his guard to fight. “No, Shoto. Don’t fight. He’s a---”

Before I could finish my sentence, the figure flew off with me. “(Y/N)!” Todoroki yelled.

I was held hostage in his lair.

“Linguist, why did you follow me?”

“Oh (Y/N). I missed you. There wasn’t anyone I could play with, so I came here to see you. It looks like you are going to a hero school. That’s exciting. Perhaps I could make an alliance to join my German team of villains.” He held a knife to my throat and hooked me up to his mind enhancing device. The mind enhancing device was to manipulate people with mental quirks. There are certain levels, and he would always use the highest setting on me since he liked to see me in pain. “Help me lift these, unless you want your classmates to die.” My eyes widen as he revealed his attack robots.

Meanwhile, Deku, Uraraka, Iida, and Todoroki walked to class. Todoroki held his head low. “Todoroki, are you alright? You’ve been pretty down this morning,” Iida said. “The new girl, she was taken last night. I didn’t get the chance to save her,” he said.

“We must find her,” Deku said confidently.

“No,” Todoroki went on, “She said not to fight.”

They all enter the classroom to see (Y/N) at her desk. “Uh, Shoto, she’s right there. Are you sure you’re okay,” Uraraka said. Confused, Todoroki and Deku came over.

“What—what are you doing here,” Todoroki said.

“I’m here for school, like you,” I said.

“But you were in trouble and you told me not to fight,” he said.

“I didn’t want you to get in trouble. I let him take me, but don’t worry. I’m alright now.”

“Was he a villain,” Deku said.

Hesitantly, I did not want to reveal the Linguist to them, so that everyone in the class would know. Everyone here wants to be a hero and help me, but I didn’t want to sulk being the weakest student here. I can take him. I can beat him and I will. Alone. Besides, it is an ongoing battle between me and him due to our pasts. Should I trust Todoroki to open up to him about my past? No. It’s too soon and I don’t know who I can trust here. I’m brand new.

“No,” I sighed. Class started and everyone took their seats. Present Mic was lecturing the class today. I took notes and I look up to see Todoroki staring at me with concern. I continue to write my notes and he turns himself around.

Class was dismissed for the day and everyone was hanging out in the dorms. “Let’s do some baking party to help Sato with his sugar strength!” Mina said excitedly. Bashfully, Sato agreed as the girls gathered everyone. Hagakure was mixing bowls, Jiro was decorating, Yauyorozu made her unique, expensive tea, and Uraraka and Tsu would eat some cookies as they helped Hagakure and Jiro. Ojiro, Deku, Koda, and Iida watched a movie. Shoji and Tokoyami were in the yard helping each other strengthen their quirks. Sero, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Bakugo were playing pool. Aoyama and Mineta were on their laptops studying. I was on the couch with Todoroki reading. He placed down his book and looked at me. “Hey, do you mind if I talk to you for a second,” he said to me as he walks away.

We walk towards the entrance of the dorm and he sits on the edge. “(Y/N), I want to know who that guy was that took you away. I can’t help but think that you are either working with him or that you are in danger. If you are working with him, I have to stop the both of you. But if you are in danger, I want you to know that it doesn’t make you a weak hero to ask for help. I just want to know, please.” I had to open up to him. I hope he sees me as a friend. I want him to see me as a friend.

“Okay,” I began. “Shoto, with what I have to say, I don’t want Class 2-A to get involved. I don’t want anyone’s life in danger because of me. So that guy. His name is Linguist. He speaks every language and is originally from Germany. I met him when I was studying abroad to become a hero. He started off as a good person, but his intentions were bad, and he eventually turned into a villain. Not only is he knowledgeable of all languages, but he also knows all the styles of combat and he has a mind enhancing device which he used on me when you saw me the other day. There are rumors that he has been working with All for One, which is why I transferred here. I’m not looking to take down All for One. I’m here to take down the people around him so he can become weaker. I don’t know a lot about All for One, but all I know is that he is pure evil and a great leader for villains. I don’t want to be a weak hero. I can take down Linguist.”

“All for One was the villain to cause All Might to go into retirement. We all know about him and want to take him down too, but it can be dangerous, and he can’t be beaten alone. As for Linguist, I can help you. Let me take him down with you,” he said eagerly.

“You would help me take him down,” I asked.

“Of course. I want to help you. We’re friends aren’t we,” he smiled. I looked at him in shock. He said we are friends? I smiled back and he stood up and held out his hand to help me up. I took it and he didn’t let go for a moment. He looked at me holding his hand and we both blushed as our hands parted. He took out a piece of paper and pen. “Here’s my number,” he said, “Send me your location when you find him, and we’ll take him down. Together.”

I took the piece of paper and he walked back inside. I look back on the sunset for hope. Maybe it’s good to have a team to support you. I walk back inside the dorm.

Shoji and Tokoyami overheard everything and wanted to help as well.

Everyone was in their dorm room ready to go to sleep. Todoroki was writing a letter to his mother when there was a knock at the door. It was Tokoyami. “Tokoyami, what’s up,” Todoroki said.

“I overheard your conversation with (Y/N). Shoji and I want in,” he said.

“I promised (Y/N) that her and I would fight. She specifically doesn’t want 2-A to get involved.”

“But you are now keeping a secret from the rest of us,” Tokoyami barked, “We help each other up to succeed as heroes. Even though she is new, she is in trouble. We have to tell the others.”

“She doesn’t want to endanger everyone. We could get expelled for going on a mission collectively without Aizawa’s permission,” Todoroki raised his voice.

“We all have our provisional hero licenses, Todoroki. Let’s use them,” Tokoyami yelled and paused, “We’re coming with you. That’s final. Send everyone the location when you get it.” He walked away, leaving Todoroki frozen in the doorway. He closed the door and went back into his room. He saw that he got a text from (Y/N). “Thank you for your support” the text says.

……………………………………………………………

A few days go by. (Y/N) and Todoroki’s friendship grew stronger. They learned to have the same interests, like soba noodles, and similar pasts. (Y/N)’s parents and siblings were murdered by villains, so she just kinda had to learn a lot on her own.

Around midnight, my head started to hurt and it became more and more painful to the point where it woke me up. I had a hand over my mouth. It was Linguist. “Shhh, un mot de toi et tes amis meurent (one word from you and your friends die),” he laughed. I let him take me to his lair.

I am restrained and gagged to this long board with my hands above my head. “You know, you look more attractive with your hands above your head. I can do things to you that would pleasure me,” he said seductively. I watched him program the robots with some of All for One’s quirks. He tested the robots against each other and kept the ones that stood from the fight. Every once in a while, he would zap my head with the mind enhancing device to assure that I would be in constant pain to the point where I couldn’t take it anymore.

I attempted to send Todoroki my location, but whenever I would think to use my quirk, the mind enhancing device was one step ahead of me. I felt like my brain was going to explode. “Don’t you realize that every time you attempt to use your quirk, it zaps you? I thought you were really smart, but now you’re just coming off as stupid,” Linguist said.

“I won’t give up,” I yelled, “I’ll do my best to beat you!”

Linguist laughs and gets close to my face. “You’re currently restrained to this board and submerged in the mind enhancing device to essentially cancel your quirk whenever you use it and overwhelm your brain. Your brain will swell in that tiny skull of yours and work itself to your death. The brain is very complex, yet yours isn’t that difficult to figure out. But since you want to fight, I can let you swing.” He releases me from the mind enhancing device and restraints. I fall to the ground catching my breath. I attempt to stand up, but I could feel my legs about to give out. “This is you at your best,” Linguist laughs, “This will be a very easy fight.” Secretly, I text Todoroki my location with my quirk before standing up to fight. I stand up, holding up my fists. He charges at me like a UFC fighter. I take a few punches to the mouth and gut. I see blood spewing from my mouth. “This is way too easy. Put more effort into it,” he said. He continues to fight and I try to fight back with everything I’ve got.

………………………………………………

Meanwhile, Deku, Iida, Uraraka, and Todoroki walked to class together. “How’s your hand, Deku,” Uraraka asked concerned. “It is a bit scarred, but it will get stronger,” he retaliated.

“Hey Todoroki, so are you crushing on (Y/N),” Iida said as Deku and Uraraka looked over. “No, Iida,” he said blushing, “We’re just friends.”

“We’re friends with her, too,” Uraraka said, “It just seems you two are attached to each other.”

“Attached, no,” he chuckled.

They all go to class and (Y/N)’s desk is empty as the bell rings. Todoroki checks his phone and there are no notifications from her. “Class, take your seats,” Aizawa welcomes the class. Tokoyami and Shoji look at (Y/N)’s vacant desk and over to Todoroki. Todoroki shakes his head “no” to them. Deku and Bakugo notice. Even though Todoroki kept his promise to (Y/N), he felt the need to tell the other students and Aizawa, but only if she sends the location.

The whole day of class goes by and still nothing from (Y/N). “Todoroki,” Deku comes by, “What happened to (Y/N)? Why wasn’t she in class today?”

“I don’t know, Midoriya,” he replied.

They all head back to the dorm and (Y/N)’s door was ajar and vacant. Todoroki noticed it before anyone else and closed it. He sends a text to her asking if she was okay. Bakugo was in the hallway when he found Todoroki at her door.

“Icy-hot, no one cares about new girl,” Bakugo said.

“Bakugo, I’ve got to talk to you,” he said. Todoroki invited Bakugo into his room. “Bakugo, I don’t ask for much, but I may need your help. (Y/N) is possibly in trouble with a villain named Linguist. He is known for knowing multiple languages and combat styles. She may be with him, which is why she wasn’t in class today. Since you are strong, would you like to team up with me to help her?”

“I have to do everything around here. I’ll kill him myself,” Bakugo frowned.

“Thank you, Bakugo. When I know, I’ll let you know,” Todoroki said. Bakugo smiled slightly before he left the room.

Around 2 am, Todoroki got a text from (Y/N). Half asleep, he looks at his phone and shoots out of his bed. He knocks on everyone’s doors in a panic. Bakugo is the first to respond. “Damn Icy-hot, what the—” Bakugo saw the look in Todoroki’s eyes and knew he had to suit up for battle.

…………………………………………………………

(Y/N) is on the ground. Linguist picks her up back on the board and grabs her face to look at him. “I’ve finally defeated you, (Y/N),” he laughs, “After all these years, you are forever mine with just one more charge to the mind enhancing device. Then after I kill you, I will kill students at UA and join All for One. Happy promotion day to me!” He hooks up the device and restraints.

“I will protect my classmates. They’re my friends,” I screamed with all my strength. “Goodbye, (Y/N). It was fun while it lasted,” he said. Linguist is about to flip the switch when Bakugo blasted through the lair and shot an explosion in Linguist’s face. Behind him was Todoroki, Shoji, Deku, Tokoyami, and Kirishima. Todoroki uses his ice quirk to freeze Linguist’s legs after Bakugo’s explosions. Linguist closes his eyes to break free from the ice. “ONE FOR ALL FULL COWLING,” Deku charged. Linguist changed the direction of his hit. “DARK SHADOW,” Tokoyami’s dark shadow fought the Linguist. Kirishima tagged with Dark Shadow and hit Linguist with multiple fists. Shoji tried to help me escape from the mind enhancing device and the restraints. He looks at the restraints with a puzzling look. “It’s a puzzle to unlock,” he said to Todoroki.

“Solve it,” Todoroki yelled, “Bakugo, make my ice explode into shards.” Linguist’s mind was too powerful to contain in a room. The ceiling exploded and he rose. “Kirishima! Bakugo!” Todoroki made a ramp to Linguist. Bakugo and Kirishima use their quirks together to catch the Linguist off guard in the air. The Linguist is thown back to the ground. “Midoriya!” Deku charges at him with a Detroit Smash into the ground.

The Linguist is paralyzed. Sounds of rain and the police sirens fill the air. Shoji finally unlocks the restraints. Todoroki looks over. My eyes are fluttering. “We did it, (Y/N). We beat him,” he said holding me, out of breath.

My head is stained in blood and my mouth continues to bleed. Tears start to fill my eyes. “This is all my fault,” I said, “I put your lives in danger by coming to this school. I should have just been alone.”

“No, (Y/N). We are your friends. All of us. We are here to help you and support you. We will not let you die,” Deku’s eyes filled up with tears.

“You’re like the manliest lady I’ve ever met. I’d do anything to support you,” Kirishima added.

“I will kill and beat every villain,” Bakugo yelled.

“And I’m sure you would also be there for us when we are in trouble,” Tokoyami assured.

Shoji encased me in his arms and transported me to the ambulance. I watched Deku, Kirishima, Bakugo, Tokoyami, Shoji, and Todoroki disappear in the rain as my ambulance departed.

…………………………………………………………

I open my eyes in the hospital to see the same six men before me. All with a single flower that they added to make a bouquet.

“Good morning,” Deku smiled.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Kirishima added.

“I don’t normally give girls flowers, but shitty hair insisted,” Bakugo said.

“How are you feeling,” Shoji asked.

“I’m sore, but I’ll live,” I said sitting up, “If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know. I have your back.” They all give me a hug and leave the room. Todoroki stayed behind. He sat next to me on the bed and smiled.

“You know,” he began, “I did this for Iida a while back when he went after Stain who paralyzed his brother. This is what friends do for each other. I’m glad to be your friend.” He pulls out cold soba noodles. “I know you like them hot, but I felt like they would at least put a smile on your face.”

“My hero,” I said softly. I leaned in to kiss Shoto on the cheek.

He blushed in shock and rubbed in the kiss. He held my hand until I dozed off to sleep.

#shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki imagine #bnha imagines #bnha #todoroki shoto #bakugo katsuki #midoriya izuku #kirishima eijiro #shoji mezo #tokoyami fumikage #iida tenya #deku #uraraka ocacho #bnha todoroki #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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forthemorefortunate · 4 years ago

Text

Live Like Animals

Nessian Modern AU

Merry Chris- er, happy New Year to my secret snowflake! @ncssian 💕😅

I hope you like the fic! I’ll be honest, when I filled out the application for the secret snowflake, I said I could make a fic believing that it was very unlikely somebody would ask for one 🥴🤔 But lemme say, I LOVED writing this, which is definitely something I didn’t expect. More than that, I’ve never been much of a Nesta or Nessian fan, but actually thinking through their characters and interactions for this fic gave me a whole new perspective on and appreciation for them (even if I’m not the best at writing their characters, aha), so thank you!

A few quick things about the fic:

(Ik I already told you this, but for anybody else reading this aha) This is my first fic! So please take it easy on me 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Okay so this part is kind of weird, but there’s kind of a corresponding playlist 😅 Each part is named after a song. You can play the songs while reading or not, I know for me personally (*cough* my ADHD ass) it’s hard to listen to music and read at the same time. The title is also the name of a song! Except that one is more random, haha (I couldn’t think of a title, so I shuffled my entire library and chose the first song as the title, and it kinda worked so I went with it)

One more quick thing – thanks to @moussescientist @ko0mbayamylord @blxckbeak @chanberry @mikitheswiftie @potatoburp @dead-on-the-inside666 @queenoffortunes and two anons for answering a question, and a HUGE thanks to Skye, @oneoutofamillionbooklovers for all your help and for roleplaying the parts I got stuck on with me ❤️

Part 1: Distant Early Warning (Rush)

Nesta pulled the dress over her head, letting it slide into place over her body. Screw this, she thought for the millionth time, yet she continued to get herself ready, turning to glance at her reflection when she was finished. She raised an eyebrow and nodded slightly at the woman looking back through the mirror. The woman Nesta spied had on a satin slip dress, darkest blue. She wore no jewelry save for the small silver studs in her ears, and her hair was pulled into a neat-yet-simple updo.

Why Nesta even agreed to go to this party she didn’t know. There was nothing different about it, just another college booze fest. The music would be too loud, the air too heavy, the guys too grabby, and the company too... clubby. Feyre insisted that she would fit right into her friend group – her clique – but Nesta wasn’t sure she wanted that. She padded over to the door of her apartment. No, Nesta was quite certain that “fitting in” with Feyre’s newfound friends was something she didn’t care for at all.

Nesta’s phone buzzed on her kitchen counter as she slipped on a pair of black heels, and she picked up to Feyre’s forcibly perky voice. “Hey! We just pulled up, you coming?”

“No.” Response blunt, tone dry. The line was silent for a long moment, and Nesta held in a sigh. “Did I give you the impression that I was interested in coming?”

“Nesta, I’m not in the mood for fucking around,” Feyre said, perkiness mysteriously faded now. “It’s just one party! I promise you’ll have fun.” Bullshit.

“Since when have I ever-”

“And everyone else really wants you to come, too!” Feyre cut her off, “Rhys is excited to meet you!”

Rhys. Feyre’s boyfriend. Nesta groaned inwardly, truly dreading any interaction with the rugby star. Feyre had immediately caught the eye of the local heartthrob, and the two began a serious relationship shortly after meeting. And with one came the others. In high school they would have been labeled “popular.” They were quite possibly the closest group of friends at the college, almost all of them having known each other since childhood. And Feyre had slipped right in among them. Nesta had warned Feyre against making the tight pack of fourth-years her main group of friends, and she had her own opinions about a freshman dating a senior, but Feyre didn’t make a habit of following Nesta’s advice. Rather, she seemed to think she could give Nesta – a third-year – much more valuable guidance. Domineering bitch.

“I don’t give a shit about your friends, Feyre. I’m only coming because of our deal,” Nesta said. Feyre had been pestering her all semester, spewing crap about how Nesta and Feyre should spend more time together. Nesta should get out more. Nesta should tag along with Feyre’s friend group. Nesta should have some fun.

More bullshit.

As second semester began, Feyre had proposed a deal: Nesta would go to one party with Feyre and her buddies, and if she honestly didn’t enjoy it, Feyre would stop asking her to join them.

“I’m on my way. Let’s just get it over with,” Nesta grumbled, and with that, she hung up the phone and opened the apartment door.

Part 2: Can You Afford to Be An Individual? (Nothing but Thieves

Nesta looked around the group of fourth-years–plus Feyre–arranged in front of her. Introductions were unnecessary; you couldn’t attend this school without knowing who they were. Her eyes fell first upon Rhys, his arm around Feyre’s waist. His chin lifted slightly as she made eye contact. Rhys: double major in history and foreign policy. President of the astrology club. Captain of the rugby team, possibly one of the best players the school had ever seen. He was the group leader, though nobody said it aloud. Nesta knew him well. Perhaps she only knew his type well, or her own perception of his type, but that didn’t keep her from holding his gaze a few moments longer than would be comfortable. Then she turned her scrutiny on his sidekicks, so she called them, Cassian and Azriel. The former wore jeans and a baggy black jacket over his rugby uniform in the school colors: black and red. The latter wore black pants with a dark blue button-down shirt untucked.

Cassian smirked as her eyes met his. “Glad you decided to make an appearance,” he drawled. She narrowed her eyes at him, and his smile widened in response. Cocky bastard. Azriel, double majoring in political science and criminology, simply nodded at her in greeting.

After the sidekicks came Rhys’s cousin Mor, an architecture major with a minor in design. She was entirely too peppy in a way that left Nesta exhausted, but Nesta wouldn’t give her satisfaction by scoffing at her cocked hip and half-grin, ostensibly projecting confidence. She held Mor’s stare, matching her asserted confidence with a cool security in her own assets. The half-smile twisted, just slightly, and Nesta moved on to the short girl farthest to the right: Amren.

Amren scared people. As in, people were genuinely freaked out by her. Aside from a few cultish tendencies, her occasional propensity for violence and/or verbal outbursts, and her sharp expression, though, Nesta couldn’t tell why. Amren majored in gemology and minored in linguistics, and was the only one in the group other than Feyre to have not known the others since they were little. In fact, she was studying here from abroad, though nobody actually knew where she was from. Unlike Mor, Amren presented a confidence that Nesta could believe in and respect. Nesta maintained her chilled posture, but let the bite in her expression retreat.

As for Feyre’s introducing Nesta, that was unnecessary as well. They all knew her; most upperclassmen did. Or rather they knew of her, by the name of heinous bitch. If she were being honest with herself, she didn’t mind the nickname.

“Okay,” Feyre started, her voice expectant as she tilted her chin to look at Rhys’s face, “Let’s head in?” Feyre, Rhys, and Nesta had met up with the rest of the group in the parking lot before they entered the party. Fashionably late, Feyre had told her on the drive in Rhys’s tesla. Rhys taught me that the key to maintaining his public image is in making grand entrances. God, Nesta wanted to laugh at Rhys’s influence over her.

As they entered the building holding the party Nesta immediately stiffened, and had to close her eyes for a moment against the harsh blue and purple lights cast by PAR cans. All senses at once were smacked by the presence of weed. The floor was vibrating, and speakers blasted near-deafening music so that all Nesta could really hear was thunder. Jesus Christ, I hate parties, she thought. A mass of sweaty bodies shifted and bounced through the too-heavy air ahead of her, some only silhouettes in the murky haze, through which Nesta saw red solo cups littering every possible surface. Suddenly she noticed Feyre standing next to her, fidgeting with her clutch and looking over expectantly. Nesta shot her a withering look that said, “This is not what we agreed to.” Feyre had the nerve to look guilty.

“Okay before you say anything,” Feyre began, “I know that look, and... I know this is a bit bigger than we talked about-”

“A bit?! This is a rager, Feyre. Do I look like I rage?”

“Okay no, but I promise Rhys and I have a plan.” Oh my God.

Nesta gave her another glare and plucked a cup off a nearby table. Sniffing it, she sighed and took a big swig. “Please, my dearest sister, do tell.”

“We’re going with a buddy system.”

Nesta coughed. “A buddy system – are you fucking kidding me?” She spied Rhys and his dickhead friends in the corner of her eye. “Wow, are arts and crafts before or after beer pong?”

Feyre rolled her eyes, calling a fresh wave of frustration to roll over Nesta. “Can you shut it with the attitude, Nesta? I already apologized for the crowd of people – it kind of got out of hand. Rhys told me before we left but I didn’t want to scare you out of coming.” She gave Nesta a pleading look.

“Tch, whatever. Who’s my buddy? I assume you’ll be with Rhys?”

Feyre beamed at her. “You’re paired up with Cassian!”

“Cassian.” Great. Alpha dickhead.

“Don’t be like that. He knows his way around these things and he’ll keep you from accidentally overdosing or blacking out.”

“Who said that wasn’t my intention?”

Feyre scrunched her face up. “Either way, you can’t deny that he’s bigger and taller than half the creepy guys here. He’ll keep unwanted attention away.”

Nesta watched as Rhys, lead hulking rugby bro dickhead, caught sight of her sister and eyed her with what might have been lust or love – Nesta couldn’t decide. Cassian, approaching from Rhys’s side, cut Nesta a slow, purposeful look down and back up to her face. She felt an annoying tingle down her spine as the crowds parted for them. This was going to be a long night.

Part 3: Inhaler (Foals)

They had been at the party for less than ten minutes and Nesta already wanted to leave. Drink in hand, she aimlessly wandered around the outskirts of the crowd, hoping to find a place to sit farther from the lights that drowned out any rational thought that flashed through her brain. Cassian trailed a few steps behind.

“So, what do you do for fun?”

She twisted around to glare at him. “Why are you talking to me?”

Cassian puffed out a laugh and spread his arms wide, responding, “If you don’t recall, we’re kind of stuck together, darling.”

Right. Nesta rolled her eyes. “How could I forget?” Cassian left the question hanging, still following her, so she forged on. “I like to read. A concept that’s probably foreign to you.” She dodged a young couple parting from the fray to make out against the wall, and paused to reorient herself.

“You might be surprised.” Nesta groaned inwardly and arched a brow. “Oh I have no doubt.”

“None at all?”

“What. Are you on volume seven of Captain Underpants?”

“Volume eight, actually.”

Nesta stopped. She was pissed. Pissed at this party, pissed at Feyre for lying about how big it was, pissed that she was stuck with rugby bro sidekick, pissed that the purple lights suddenly seemed a lot brighter, the music a lot louder, her thoughts a lot fuzzier. “Look, Cassian. I only came here as a favor to my sister. We’re not friends.” He started to cut her off, but she continued, turning so that they fully faced each other, “You don’t have to stay, I can take care of myself.”

He leaned in close, the laughter in his tone suddenly gone. “Listen, princess. You’ve had two beers and you’re already tipsy. I get it, we’re not friends. But there are at least four guys looking at you like they want to take you against the nearest surface and I’m the only man within a thirty-foot radius that has any self-control. There’s no way I’m leaving.” He held her gaze firmly.

“So that’s it – I’m just supposed to trust you? My knight in shining armor, here to protect my virtue? That ship sailed a long time ago.” Fuck it. “I wouldn’t mind taking you for a ride though,” Nesta said, flashing a smirk at the end.

Cassian’s lips twisted into a half-grin, but she could see annoyance rising up in his eyes. “Nesta, you don’t wanna play with me.”

“Brute.” Nesta turned and started walking away again.

“Bitch.” He followed.

Nesta scoffed. “How original.”

“Not all of us are English Lit majors.”

Somehow Nesta tripped on her own foot at that moment, staggering sideways into Cassian’s path. He lunged forward, arms going around her waist to hoist her upright. Her lip curled and she spit out, “And not all of us are rugby stars,” and shoved her way out of his arms.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Cassian asked, incredulous.

“Cassian, I’m sure there are plenty of girls here that would love your attention. But I’m not one of them.” She turned around to face him, walking backwards, and almost tripped again. “So go on and play with someone else. I don’t care. Just leave me alone.” With that, Nesta thrust herself into the fray, pushing her way through the mass of shouting people, making the crowd a barrier between herself and Cassian.

Part 4: Emergency (Nothing but Thieves)

After five minutes of random college students bumping into her from every direction, her head pounding and thoughts muddled, Nesta realized she didn’t know which direction the exit was in. Fuck. She was disoriented and exasperated, her frustration now showing in her usually unshakable expression. She couldn’t even tell which direction the light was coming from. How many beers had she drunk? Two? Three? She wasn’t usually a drinker, and it hit her then that she hadn’t eaten for hours before the party started. Stupid, she thought. This was why she didn’t do parties.

She was so distracted trying to figure out where the light source was, trying to get her bearings at least, that she didn’t catch sight of a brooding figure wending its way toward her until the man had a hold of her wrist and was pulling her to the side of the room, wherever that was.

“Hey! Get the fuck off me!” Nesta shouted over the crowd, but couldn’t get a response from the man until they found one of the cinder block walls.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice cruel as he tried to pull her closer. “We’re just having a bit of fun, that’s all.”

“Excuse me?” Nesta ripped free of his grasp, but he backed her into a corner. He had a drink in one hand. Not good.

“Hey, hey, no need to get worked up,” he drawled, “I saw the way you were looking at me.” Looking at him? Nesta thought. This was the first she’d seen of him.

Nesta tried to step to the side, but the man followed her, his senses keener than hers in her condition. He reached out for her arm again, and Nesta shouted this time. “Don’t touch me!”

He put his hand up as if in innocence. “Come now, I’ll make it fun for you. Just have a drink.” He brought the cup toward her face, his hand now reaching behind her head, which she snatched away.

“I swear to God, can’t you bastards understand that no means no?”

“You-”

“Get the fuck away from me, creep!” She aimed a kick at his groin, but he easily dodged it.

His mouth hardened into a line, and he growled, “Just take the damn drink, bitch!”

The man shoved her into the corner, her head hitting the wall. He brought his hand up to hold her back by her shoulders as he brought the cup up toward her lips and-

“Let me go or I promise you’ll regret it.” Last resort.

He shot her a crooked grin and began to reply, but whatever response he had in mind was cut short.

A voice from behind him said, “And she never goes back on a promise, asshole.” The man was wrenched off her body by two strong hands, and pulled over to the side to give her an out, which she quickly took advantage of.

And there, dragging the man away from her, was Cassian.

The creep tried to play it cool. “Hey, Cassian, bro, what’s up, man?” he said mock-casually, “I caught your last game! great playing, dude!” His demeanor shifted completely as he turned on his bro mode.

Cassian’s jaw was set. He tightened his grip on the man’s shoulder, his stare withering. “You need to leave. Right now.”

Yet the man kept going with a smirk, “It’s all good bro, we can share.”

That was a step too far.

Cassian grabbed the man’s shirt, pulling him close. “That’s the thing – I don’t share. I don’t play nice.” Cassian thrust his face forward so they were only a couple inches apart. “You said you caught my last game, right? So you know I don’t go down without a fight. Touch her again and you’ll regret it.” With that, he shoved the guy into a table, and turned to Nesta. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Part 5: Before We Drift Away (Nothing but Thieves)

Dizzy and shaken, Nesta let Cassian guide her through the crowd to the exit. Once they were outside in the cool night air, he pulled her aside, gaze dark.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

“Did he force you to drink whatever was in that cup?”

“No.”

His eyes closed and relief flooded across his face. “Good. God, some people are fucked up. I don’t know what I would have done if he had drugged you, or taken you away, or...” He trailed off, leaving anything further than that unsaid.

They were silent for a minute. Nesta looked up at him, a bit of worry still etched across his features. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you care so much?”

He looked over to her, something strange in his expression that Nesta couldn’t place. “I don’t know. You’re a human being, and your safety was left in my hands.” He paused and looked away. “If I’m being honest, when I saw that guy put his hands on you... I don’t know. Something flipped inside me.” At that moment he looked down to her bare shoulders, noticing that she was beginning to shiver. “You’re cold,” he said softly. “Here, take this.” He removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, even when she protested.

Nesta frowned as she gave in and pulled his jacket tightly around her, annoyed at the way her body betrayed her. “I don’t need protection. I’ve lived a long time without people to care about me.” She started walking toward the parking lot, and he followed.

“You shouldn’t have to live like that, Nesta. You’ve been pushing me away all night, but listen to me – don’t you understand? I’m not just talking to you because I’m bored. I don’t smile at you as a game, as if you’re some prize for me to win. Can’t you see by now that I’m doing literally everything I can just to stay by your side? Damn it, I asked Feyre to pair us together at the party.”

Nesta had stopped walking and was speechless for once.

Cassian stepped closer tentatively, as though she’d back away. He ran a finger over Nesta’s wrist and looked up to the sky. “Please, just don’t make me say anything else completely insane. I promise I’m not in the habit of sharing intense moments with perfect strangers.”

A rush of anger coursed through Nesta, and she shoved him back. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t talk to me like that. Despite what you must think, I’m not an idiot. I’m not naive. I am well aware that this is all a favor to my sister. Stay with my lame, antisocial sister. It might be fun, right?” She paused, any restraint she had used earlier having completely abandoned her.

“That’s not what I think at all, Nes-”

“Fuck you, Cassian.” She shoved him again, more aggressively this time.

Cassian caught her wrists and pulled her closer. “Try that again.”

Nesta glared. “Bite me,” she spit out.

“Maybe I will.”

And as though drawn to her by some gravitational force, Cassian’s mouth came crashing down onto hers. He wrapped his arms around her waist, seeming to lift her off her feet. Nesta’s bare skin burned where Cassian touched her, and she pushed back against his touch to gain control. Everything, every thought was fading to nothing. Biting down on his lip drew out a low groan from Cassian, and Nesta broke free.

Cassian put his hands up as though to make a barrier between them, as though he wouldn’t be able to control himself without it.

“So much for being the only man with self-control,” Nesta said. Cassian just shook his head, earning a light snort from Nesta. “I shut everyone out--even pretty jocks like you. Don’t take it personally. It’s just easier.”

Cassian smiled his easy smile, and he reached up to touch his lips with a thumb. “You think I’m pretty?”

Nesta scoffed. “The prettiest.”

He stood there for a moment, just smiling at her, before turning back toward the parking lot. “Okay, princess, allow me to introduce you to the pinnacle of after-party activities.”

Nesta raised a brow, and Cassian let out a bark of laughter.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m talking about pancakes.”

She looked skeptical. “Pancakes?”

“Yes. And after the night you had, you deserve an entire plate of them.” Cassian reached out to her with his big, warm hand, and Nesta hesitated.

“Cassian-” She started warily.

“Hey – I’m not asking you to marry me, it’s just pancakes.”

Nesta waited a moment more, then took his hand. “Fine. But I’m not sharing the chocolate sauce.”

“I wouldn’t dare ask you to. Besides, you already know how I feel about sharing.”

Nesta smiled a bit. “Hey Cassian?

“Yes Nesta?”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

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topweeklyupdate · 4 years ago

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TØP Weekly Update #142: A Formidable Album (5/21/21)

So... how 'bout that album release week?

There's so much to cover; the release of nine new songs, the hype that's building for the World's Best Band to return to the stage, and (if we're able to come up for air) the massive speculation of what the future brings for our band.

I'm gonna get right into it, laying out my thoughts regarding this bold new album and covering all the most notable news from the week. I'll be sharing my (mostly) positive opinions about Scaled and Icy under the Read More line; I hope they're the start of a fun conversation with all of y'all who have stuck around through this last year.

Scaled and Icy Review

First, my general thoughts on the album: It's good! Really good. Do I think it's a no-skip like Vessel or a cohesive piece of art like Trench? Absolutely not! But it's also not the potential misfire that I worried that we might be getting when I first heard "Saturday" (more on that later); I think all of the songs are at least good, and some of them are downright great tracks that hold up with anything else that our band has ever released. It is also indisputably very different, but I think that generally works pretty well. Many of the songs evoke '60s rock or Britpop sounds and structures that you can tell Tyler is still trying to navigate, but I think he does a very solid job at adapting them to suit his strengths- namely his lyricism and knack for melody- rather than change to suit them. Unfortunately, this does result in a bit of square-peg-in-round-hole syndrome at times; most of the rap verses on the album feel like they're here just to fulfill an obligation to fans who would be mad if they weren't here, and most of the songs that use them are the weakest ones in the project.

"Good Day" plays a major role in getting the rest of the album to work as well as it does. Its gradual ramp-up, introducing the sound that will be used throughout the rest of the album. Its playfulness belies its message about how one can project a somewhat false optimism for oneself in the midst of tragedy: the type of dark stuff in a bright package that Tyler is so so good at. It's perhaps not an instant classic, but I am excited to see how it comes across when it's eventually used as a show-opener. 9/10

I've of course already discussed "Shy Away"; an anthemic, inimitably catchy track that I just wish had a bit more going on under the hood. Still going to be so good to hear thousands of voices scream "An 'I LOVE YOU' that isn't words!" someday. 9.5/10

"Choker" definitely took a little bit to grow on me. I think part of that was a bit of disappointment from over-inflated expectations and the environment I was in when I first heard it. With further listens, I fall more and more in love with the melody of the song... well, most of it. Like the rest of this album, the biggest weakness in the song is when Tyler tries to tick the box of having a rap verse; it just feels really out of place, unfinished, and almost amateurish, and it doesn't end the song on the note that it really should. Without it, it'd be one of my favorites on the album; with it, "Choker" is a solid 8.5/10.

Speaking of unfinished-sounding songs really hurt by their rap verse: "The Outside". There's a definite something to the vibe of the song, but that seemingly nonsensical verse is one of the two weakest parts of the entire project for me. The way the song meanders only adds to the feeling that there wasn't as much energy and attention paid to it compared to other parts of the project. It's pretty easily my least favorite track on Scaled and Icy, and the only one I might regularly skip. I've also seen plenty of people saying it's the best song on the album, so please tell me why I'm wrong! 6.5/10

"Saturday", as mentioned above, had me really nervous about this album. Like "Choker", it's grown on me a bit since I first heard it, in part because it fits better with the context of the rest of the album. However, this one really does feel undercooked lyrically and overreliant on the novelty of using a disco-inspired sound that seems to chase trends more than almost any other TØP track. The inclusion of that very sweet audio clip from Jenna boosts the song in some ways, but also adds to the disappointment in others; there are many other songs on this project that would be more worth surrendering time watching Friends. Thankfully, those come next. 7/10

"Never Take It" is fascinating. I never thought I'd hear a Rolling Stones-style song from Tyler Joseph featuring a gd guitar solo of all things, and it actually sounds pretty great. However, I also predict that this song will see some of the greatest critical scrutiny out of all the songs on the album. The lyrics seem to be Tyler's criticism of the media for playing up division in our society, but he's extremely vague when discussing which entities are spreading said division and ultimately recommends that people "educate yourself, but never too much". I'll be honest: maybe it's the fact that it sounds like something my dad would listen to, but it feels like this would get tons of play on Fox News. Since it makes specific reference to the events of last summer, it's hard not to feel like song is at least partially inspired by Tyler's brush with cancellation last year. Maybe I'm reading too deeply into it, but those reservations come from the song's lack of specificity, which is an issue of songwriting more than politics. They hold me back from truly loving a song that still manages to be one of the most exciting the band has ever put out. 8.5/10

"Mulberry Street" seems like the perfect realization of the entire album's intended tone. It is so pleasant, so lush while also simply produced, full of great lyrics, metaphors, and imagery. It really brings the whole project together, even if it's missing That One Line to really move this up to the top tier of the canon. 9.5/10

"Formidable" is the best song on the album and one of two songs I would truly rank in the top tier of the band's canon. Extremely pleasant and brimming with well-crafted lines to make your heart swoon. Jenna (and Rosie) is (are) a lucky gal(s). Or is it about Josh? Who's to say? 10/10

"Bounce Man" is just plain wild. I think Tyler's smuggling someone to Mexico to escape the feds? The playfulness of it all really covers up any frustration I might have with the clarity; it makes it clear that there's not really stakes here, just vibes. 8.5/10

"No Chances" sees the album take a turn that I'm sure the Reddit Clique is going to have an absolute field day with; it and "Redecorate" both sound quite different from the rest of the album and evoke enough elements of Trench to make me think that's it's actually possible that all this 'SAI is Propaganda' stuff might actually have something to it... until I actually pick apart the lyrics, then I'm even more confused. The song has some of the best rapping on the album, though that's not saying much (the feng shui line is a groaner right out the gate) and the gentle pre-chorus is really pleasant. I still haven't made up my mind on whether the chorus is effective or just plain goofy. This one might get worse or better on repeat listens, impossible to say for now. 7.5/10

"Redecorate" rounds out the album by opening with a Clancy quote (Tyler, you bastard), firmly setting this as a coda to Trench more than the album we just listened to. The rest of the song is really storytelling, with Tyler describing a bunch of people who are struggling deeply. The idea of "redecorating" here stands for how they are faced with the option to clean and resort their own spaces and lives or leave that to their loved ones to do after they're gone. By the time it gets to the album's name drop, you begin to wonder how much of this is potential autobiographical of the last year. It's moving stuff, a callback to some of the great strengths of the band's discography. 10/10

If I average those scores all up, this project ranks below almost every album among the Pilots discography on my rating scale, very narrowly edging out Self-Titled. That's still a very solid 8.6. Scaled and Icy is a very good album on first listen. We'll see how I feel about it after having a little more time to sit with it, but I've rambled enough: let's move through the rest of the week's news.

Other News

Of course, there was a lot else going on this week! To accompany the release of "Saturday", Zane Lowe over at Apple Music dropped an interview with Tyler. As usual, Zane did a pretty solid job of getting to the heart of the craft and the creation process. However, Tyler also wound up skirting a lot of the questions to just talk more about how much he loves being a dad, which makes me happy; if the cost of getting a little less attention and mental energy devoted to the music is that little girl getting all of his attention, that's honestly preferable for me.

The album rollout is not even close to over. Later today, the concert will be streamed live. It's our first real performance that we've gotten from the band since 2019, but the previews that we've seen have completely exceeded any of my expectations, and really anything that we've seen from the band. It appears that they've transformed the entire arena (which I think is the ol' Schott at Ohio State) into a whole TØP world, with different sets laden with Easter eggs and a cast of backup dancers. If the website can hold up to the traffic (and I acknowledge that might be a big ask), this could really live up to Tyler's promise of this being the best livestreamed concert ever.

Oh, and this guy dyed his hair pink.

What a time to be a fan. Catch you all tomorrow.

Power to the local dreamer.

|-/

#twenty one pilots #scaled and icy #tyler joseph #josh dun #good day #shy away #choker #the outside #saturday #never take it #mulberry street #formidable #bounce man #no chances #redecorate #top weekly update

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hetacon · 4 years ago

Text

Prom Queen: Chapter 5

First || Previous || Next

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Word Count: 1,920

Pairings: Endgame Prinxiety, Platonic LAMP, more could be included at a later point

Warning: Swearing, mentions of p*rn, mentions of drugs and underage drug use, slight internal panic attack

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Summary: The popular kids were interesting for sure, they definitely weren’t exactly like Virgil had expected them to be but at the same time they kind of were.

(Make sure you read all the way to the end if you want to hear my thoughts on the chapter, and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this story, my art, or writing! I hope you guys enjoy!)

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Music blared through Virgil’s headphones as he and Roman sat with the popular kids again. Virgil wasn’t feeling up to talking much with them today so he had out his sketchbook, mindlessly making marks on the page. He was totally spacing out, too occupied by his latest worry of the week.

He very nearly jumped out of his skin as one of his earbuds was pulled out of his ear and he scrambled to pause the My Chemical Romance song that he’d been playing to drown out his thoughts the best he could, putting his phone face down in his lap. Virgil registered the person next to him laughing loudly at his jumpiness and he looked over to see Nick nearly doubling over from how hard he laughed.

‘It really wasn’t that funny, you scared me asshole,’ Virgil thought bitterly to himself before mentally shaking his head. ‘He didn’t do anything rude.. Well, that rude, calm down Virgil, you’re overreacting again. These are Roman’s friends, they’re starting to like you.’

“Sorry dude but that was the funniest shit I’ve ever seen, holy crap,” Nick chuckled, leaning back as he crossed his arms. He looked over to Virgil finally and nodded. “So what was up with that? You looked like you were about to shit yourself.”

Virgil’s brows furrowed. “Force of habit, I guess,” he muttered out.

“Oh yeah? What were you doing, watching porn or some shit?” A grimace came over Virgil’s face as Nick asked but he tried to not look too disgusted.

Quick, what was the appropriate answer? How did people usually talk about that type of stuff? Should he take it seriously? Consider it a joke? Punch him in the arm like the jocks he saw all the time in his physics class?

Luckily, Roman cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow. “Hey, that’s not cool, he’s clearly not comfortable, Nicholas,” he said, giving Nick a leveling look.

Nick put his hands up and shrugged. “Only joking dude, what he does with his time is his business. Wouldn’t blame him if it was though!” Another laugh rang out as one of the other guys sitting next to Nick punched him in the arm, much to Virgil’s satisfaction. At least someone punched him.

“Gross, shut the hell up!” the person who punched Nick told him with an obnoxiously grating laugh. “You’re sick, dude.”

Virgil tried to ignore the conversation but as he tried to put his earbud back in, he noticed Nick had it in his ear. He just couldn’t get away from them could he? He signed up for this admittedly though.

“Sorry, anyways, Virge, why’d you jump like that, for real?” Nick finally asked as he and the other guy stopped spitting insults at each other.

“I have strict parents, they don’t like anything remotely mature. They always call my stuff out if it has language in it so I just don’t let them see any music I listen to anymore,” Virgil found himself explaining, opening his phone to play a popular song that had been making the rounds around school rather than continuing through “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” like he desperately wanted to. Just one more thing Virgil had to be careful of. No more of his own music at school from now on, got it.

“Fuck, strict parents suck! Like, seriously, let me live my fucking life!” Nick scoffed out. “I just want to vape in fucking peace, they don’t need to get all pissy about it. It’s my fucking life right?”

Virgil looked up to Roman for a possible escape from the conversation, Roman knew he wasn’t a huge fan of people even talking about drugs, but Roman was staring down at his phone, texting someone. He looked upset anyways, Virgil probably shouldn’t make him feel worse.

“I mean, I don’t know, my parents aren’t the worst. I know they love me even if they aren’t good at showing it.”

“Nah, parents are assholes, adults are assholes really. They act like they can control you, it blows!” Nick complained.

Virgil only half-listened to the conversation, the other half of his attention going to trying to not have a panic attack. He took a look at the time and put away his sketchbook after making a mental note that he didn’t get very far into the sketch.

“Hey Virge, mind getting something with me real quick?” Roman asked and Virgil’s head snapped up as he nodded quickly.

The two started to walk off in the direction of their classes, Roman letting out a sigh when they were far enough.

“That wasn’t nice of him, sorry for not really... Doing much. I know you don’t like attention being drawn to you, I didn’t know if you wanted me to step in or not.”

“No, it’s fine! I’m just, you know, getting to know your friends I guess!” Virgil laughed out a little too brightly for his usual attitude. He’d been acting more like that around Roman though lately, Roman barely seemed to notice from what he saw.

“Are you sure..? I know you really don’t like those topics and he was practically steamrolling over any chance for you to stop him. I should’ve stepped in, I’m sorry,” Roman said with a hand rubbing his temple. Virgil watched him closely, noticing the way his shoulders locked up. He clearly looked beyond displeased.

“If it’s just for my comfort, I’m fine. I’d tell you if anything was happening, yeah? It’s what best friends do,” Virgil hummed out with a smile, bumping Roman’s shoulder with his own as they continued walking.

Roman glanced over wearily, a small smile on his face as the bell finally rung, signifying the start of class. “Yeah,” he merely replied, before the two parted ways.

The popular kids were interesting for sure, they definitely weren’t exactly like Virgil had expected them to be but at the same time they kind of were. The group was a bit fluid, some of the people that Virgil and Roman sat with tended to stay every day while others came and went. There wasn’t a super strict clique structure that was upheld but there didn’t seem to be a lot of the nerdier groups represented by the group, it mostly consisted of jocks, preps, and random drifters who tended to throw good parties. All of them had some sense of social standing in the school, many people knew them, and they were generally liked outside of the some of the people in the “lower” social statuses. Virgil definitely fit into at least one of these lower statuses but he seemed to be getting a pass due to being Roman’s friends. Luckily the theater kids were essentially accepted as popular kids even if some would be inclined to disagree.

Most of the conversations they got into wasn’t anything that interested Virgil, it mainly consisted of them complaining over homework and “strict” teachers (Seriously, why the hell would teachers actually let someone vape in the middle of class?) and their parents as well as a shit ton of gossip. There was literally so much gossip. So and so cheated on her boyfriend when he was cheating on her too, someone ended up getting in trouble for a tip-off about drugs in their backpack, these two kids got in a fight over some pointless drama and one ended up shoving off a teacher when they’d attempted to break off the fight. It was way more than Virgil thought was even going on at his school as he tended to stay away from pretty much everyone possible but regardless, it all was just as stupid as he expected. Virgil had no idea how they found any excitement out of talking about how people messed up or were fucked over by someone else. He wasn't sure what he was doing anymore but if nothing else, high school was supposed to be confusing right? That's what everyone always said, no one said anything different.

A sign of progress, if Virgil could even call it that was when one of them decided to sit next to him in his English class. The two of them would chat though Virgil barely managed to understand or be engaged in the conversation half of the time. Virgil definitely hated him when he asked Virgil to make up an excuse for him while he vaped in the bathroom and Virgil barely managed to sputter out that he told Virgil he felt a little nauseous but would be ok. It was insane to see the guy come back and roll with the excuse when the teacher asked if he needed to go to the nurse when he got back. Virgil felt his stomach curl when he shot him a wink with a click of his tongue.

"So hey, I was thinking you guys, we've all been pretty busy lately," Patton said as Logan was driving them out for lunch after school.

"Yeah? What's up Pat?" Roman asked, leaning against Virgil in the backseat. Virgil very slightly leaned in, finally relieved to have it just be the three of his closest friends surrounding him as Dodie played on the radio. This was nice, it seemed more simple like this, Virgil almost forgot all his worries as the conversation started up.

"I was thinking about us doing something over fall break and whatnot! Unless there are family plans and whatnot which is cool but I'm free and so is Logan so we wanted to see if you and Virgil would want to!" Patton grinned to Virgil.

"I dunno, it sounds good to me if you wanted to," Virgil told him, before looking over to Roman. "You in?"

Roman sighed and groaned loudly, running a hand over his face. "I so want to but it might be tricky scheduling, the theater teacher is being a bit of a bitch about rehearsing over break. I can't very well miss it and I don't want to promise I'll be there. But even if I can't find a way around it, you guys can absolutely do so and send me lots of pictures!" He gently nudged Virgil's shoulder and despite the heaviness Virgil felt in his gut, he nudged back, giving a sympathetic smile.

"Hey, it's cool. Pat and Logan and I will hang out, no problem. We'll make sure to make plans for the four of us sometime soon ok?" Virgil told him, the weight coming off of him slightly as Roman let out a relaxed laugh, hugging Virgil close. Virgil felt his face grow exceedingly hot but he tried to push down the feeling.

"Yeah, that sounds awesome, I love you guys so much!"

"Oh, are you guys going to need anyone to paint sets? You know I'm always down," Virgil offered, glad to hear the excitement in Roman's answer.

The conversation kept going, they meandered from that to a new show Roman and Patton had both started watching, Logan gave them some of the details of a new robot he was helping to code. Virgil even showed Roman some of his newly finished sketches in the leather bound book (which was now getting a fair amount of use) even if Roman had already seen them halfway done. It felt easy, it felt nice, and Virgil felt like he could breathe. And that scared him a little.

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It is absolutely so strange to write popular kids, I don’t think it’s going to be the easiest for me! Luckily the next chapter is going to be very popular kid free so I don’t have to worry about that! Honestly, their dialogue is the reason the chapters take so long! I don’t find things like gossip and whatnot interesting, it doesn’t make sense since I’m neurodivergent. I’m trying to not make it too stale, I really hope it’s not stale...

Interestingly enough, I’ve had people mess with me or my friends more than once in regards to stuff like hentai (considering I’m an anime fan) so I actually do have at least two experiences where stuff p*rn-related has been brought up as a way to make fun of the groups I was hanging with.

High school is wild and of the behavior I saw from people much further up on the social ladder than I ever was, they do some really weird stuff. I didn’t even see a whole lot, I just know I definitely didn’t like it.

Be prepared for some Patton and Logan time next chapter, I think Virgil deserves it after all of this!

#sanders sides #prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #multichapter #prom queen #stan writing

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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years ago

Text

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane

~^~

Monday, 14:12

Song: gnash - i hate you, i love you

Lucas tugs absentmindedly at a loose thread on his pillowcase as he waits for the boys. He’s been staring blankly at his laptop screen for a quarter hour already, the only tab open to Jens’s Instagram. Devoid of any new posts but with recent messages that Lucas still hasn’t responded to.

Maybe he’s overreacting, but he physically can’t do it. Not after hearing Jens explain that he’d ditched him for Jana. Without so much as a single warning.

It had taken Lucas over half an hour of waiting like a fool and sending Jens messages before he was able to admit to himself that he’d been stood up. He’d gotten Jens’s urgent apology when he was already halfway home, and at that stage, he’d struggled to care what the excuse was. He was tired of feeling stupid. He was angry.

He still is, but he also misses Jens already.

The tone of an incoming video call stops him from falling into that pit of self-pity, and he answers with probably a little too much enthusiasm. He doesn’t care, though, as Kes and Jayden pop into view on his screen, grinning just as ridiculously, cheering as soon as they can see Lucas. Lucas ducks closer to his screen and examines, noting that they seem to be in Jayden’s room and both have a little more scruff on their chins than when he’d last seen them. Weeks ago, he reminds himself. This is his first time seeing his best friends—the people he used to talk to everyday—in weeks.

“Hi,” he says, giddy, already grinning wider than he has in days.

“Hey,” Jayden leans in to examine him closer, blocking Kes and beaming. “I was hoping I could be like ‘you’ve changed’ but you haven’t even changed your hair, Lucas. It looks like you’ve been frozen in time since you left.”

Lucas snorts as Kes shoves him out of the way. “Shut up, Jayden. You look fucking great, Luc. I missed that pretty face.”

“Funny,” Lucas muses, “I haven’t thought about your’s once since I left.”

Kes squawks, and then he’s leaning forward to take up the frame, pointing a finger at Lucas threateningly. He then turns it towards himself and circles the air in front of his face. “You love this face. Don’t even try to lie to me.”

It is a lie, so Lucas doesn’t bother arguing any further. He’s missed them both more than he’s willing to express, for surety they’ll make fun of him in response. They do, however, still have their own ridiculous grins stuck on their faces, so maybe Lucas is judging them too harshly.

“Are you going to tell me what I’ve been missing then?”

Jayden scoffs. “You’re the only thing that’s missing, man. It’s boring as hell without you.”

Lucas shakes his head. “Come on, you’re seriously trying to tell me you haven’t gotten in any trouble the whole time I was away.”

“Well, no one said that.”

Kes rolls his eyes and offers Lucas a shrug. “There hasn’t been much, man. You’ve only been gone three weeks.”

“I’ve already been gone three whole weeks, you mean,” Lucas raises a brow, even though the realisation sinks in and scares him. He’s only been here a little over three weeks. He hadn’t known Jens for the first one, meaning it has hardly taken any time for Lucas to develop such a strong, ridiculous crush on him.

Really, can he even call it a crush? The word feels much too tame to describe the force of his feelings, sometimes.

He has to swallow down the sudden anxiety crawling up his throat as Kes says, “Surely you have more exciting things to talk to us about then.”

“Yeah,” Jayden urges. “You get to meet all the new people. Did you find any of the hot girls yet?”

Kes bumps his arm. “Luc doesn’t have to find the hot girls. They come to him. It’s weird as fuck, man.”

“Fuck you,” Lucas retorts, and it’s half-hearted. His chest feels tight, all of a sudden, and there’s a heaviness that sinks into his stomach and takes root. It’s a weight that had slowly began to drift away, as Lucas let himself drift and entertain the possibility of accepting that part of him. Of thinking that part could be known alongside all the rest without changing anything. He’s reminded now, with his best friends of years looking at him, that it’ll never be that easy. “There are plenty of girls that I’m sure you couldn’t get, yeah.”

The boys both ‘oh’ dramatically in response and Lucas rolls his eyes fondly, even as the ache in him does nothing to dissipate. His smile still feels tight, stretched thin, and he feels suddenly helpless. He’d been hoping that seeing them would put him at ease, would make him feel normal, would allow him to stop thinking about his dad, still at work, and his mother, still in Utrecht, and Jens, still being avoided.

He supposes he should have known better.

“You can at least tell us about this new fancy friend group of yours,” Kes says, casual and genuine, and Lucas wishes the simple request didn’t make him feel worse, but it does.

He forces a shrug. “They’re cool.”

“That’s it?” Jayden scoffs. “Come on, tell us who’s the pretty boy you’re always with, at least. We have to know something about our replacements, yeah?”

“They’re definitely not replacements,” Lucas assures. “No one could replace you. I wish I could just come back.”

The boys share a look, and when they turn back to him, they’ve softened. Lucas’s chest only grows tighter, the ache more thorough. He misses them now even more than he had that first week, when he’d been left feeling completely alone, even wishing for the presence of his dad on occasion just to have the company. It hurts twice as much to be reverted back to the stage when he’d had a taste of something different.

“We’d love that, too, Luc,” Kes promises, and Lucas misses him so much he could cry, and he almost does when he goes on to ask, “Are the pretty boys not even treating you right?”

Lucas shrugs, looking back down at that loose thread on his pillow, smoothing his hand over it this time to feel the bump under his fingers. “They’re cool. Some of them do remind me of you guys. Aaron’s kind of the funny one, I guess, and Moyo’s really cool and kind of freaked me out at first. But they’re nice. Then there’s Robbe, he’s the smaller one with the curly hair? He’s sweet. But his boyfriend, Sander, is really cool. He’s studying art.”

He watches them intently over the word ‘boyfriend’, but nothing in their expression changes other than their smiles widening fondly at the mention of art.

“You’ve already found your perfect clique, then,” Jayden teases. “So what part are you? Still the nice face?”

Lucas shakes his head and pulls the thread. “That’s Jens.”

“That’s right,” Kes drawls. “‘Jensrolt’, yeah? You mentioned him before too.”

Lucas nods. “He was the first one of them I met, so.”

“He seems pretty cool. He’s got the chill, Kes-like vibes,” Jayden muses, elbowing his friend, and it’s enough to finally drag another proper smile out of Lucas.

“He does kinda remind me of Kes, actually.”

“What, ‘cause he took pity on you or because he’s hot as fuck?” Kes raises his brows cheekily and Lucas resists the urge to answer honestly by simply saying ‘both’. Instead he focuses on his best friend calling his crush hot as fuck. Which is weird, but not wrong.

But really weird.

“Maybe because he’s full of himself,” Jayden raises his brows at Lucas, exaggeratedly, mocking, and he and Lucas both laugh as Kes tries to shove him off the bed. Lucas watches them wrestle and glances at his phone.

“I think he might be too pretty and too cool for me, actually,” Lucas mumbles.

Kes and Jayden both stop and look at him, and they’ve lost all previous hints of amusement. “What do you mean?” Jayden asks. “Is he being a dick?”

Lucas shrugs again. “I’m probably just overthinking. I was supposed to hang out with him yesterday and he couldn’t make it, that’s all.”

“He couldn’t make it as in he cancelled on you or he stood you up?” Kes prods.

“It wasn’t a date,” Lucas says, too snappish, too petulant. They can both see right through him. “But he stood me up,” he mumbles.

“Fuck that. Like it’s not hard enough to get used to new friends without them being assholes. Did he tell you why?” Jayden asks.

“He was meeting up with his ex-girlfriend.”

“Fuck that. How long were you waiting for him?”

“Like half an hour? Then I gave up and left. He text me to tell me he forgot because she’d asked him to meet up.”

Jayden scoffs as Kes frowns. “It seemed like you two were getting on well before, though. He’s been friendly enough so far, right?”

“Yeah, he’s been cool right from the start and I thought it was great. I’d found friends. And then he completely forgot I existed. And now I wanna come home to you guys.”

“He obviously didn’t completely forget about you,” Jayden attempts to comfort. “Maybe he had something else going on, too.”

“Yeah, Luc. And if he did then he sucks and you can get better friends than that. But you like them, right? The whole group. And you should trust your own judgment. You’re pissed right now but it probably is a genuine mistake and you probably know it.”

Lucas considers this for a moment and begrudgingly admits that he’s probably right. Kes beams and adds, “But for now, we can say fuck him. It’s us time. Did you talk to your dad about coming down another weekend?”

“Not yet,” Lucas says, sinking into the pillow behind him. “Right now I still have a curfew.”

Jayden snorts. Kes elbows him. “Is he there? We could try to talk him around.”

“No, he’s working. As usual.”

“Fuck that,” Jayden repeats. “Man, you’re lucky you have us. Jens is the last straw. If he fucks up, you tell us, and we’re coming over there to steal you back, okay?”

Lucas laughs, and reminds himself that he is lucky.

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #sink or swim #vds season fic #sos clip

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ghostadventuresstuff · 4 years ago

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Jay Wasley x Reader (Request)

Requested via Wattpad :)

Y/N

Do you ever meet someone for the first time and know for a fact that you'll be friends for life? or maybe even lovers? Making friends in high school is hard, especially when you join a month into the first term when everyone already has their cliques. You'd always been a quiet kid keeping to yourself, finding comfort in your art and photography, it was actually through photography that you met Jay Wasley. The two of you clicked over your love of film and quickly became inseparable. You could call us high school sweethearts, having the cliche high school romance but always remaining friends foremost.

In the final year of high school, you applied to the Royal College of Art in London after some persuading from Jay who intended on staying in America. When you got accepted reality dawned on you that once the year was up the two of you would be separated. Jay promised the two of you could make it work, and you believed him, but as it got closer to graduation you both decided on remaining friends while you sorted out your lives post high school.

You and Jay had been through a lot, helping each other in difficult times and coming out with a much stronger relationship and friendship, one built on complete trust in the other person. It was hard to walk away from him and promised each other that one day fate would intervene and bring you back together again, and you were only a phone call away.

When Jay got the job on Ghost Adventures you rang him up to congratulate him, and he did the same when you won a prestigious photography award. It was a punch in the gut to find out he was in a relationship but he was happy and you loved seeing him happy, while you focused on work wondering if his comment about fate would ever become a reality.

Over the next fifteen years, you guys fell in and out of touch, both of you achieving your goals. However, when a friend from college asked you to join her in opening a photography studio in her hometown Las Vegas you jumped at the opportunity. It would be a nice change of pace from London. Little did you know that this was fates way of intervening.

JAY

It had been a really rough year for me, Ashley and I had decided to divorce after something happened on Ghost Adventures but remain friends. It was in moments like these I needed my best friend y/n back, but I'd been the one to break the promise of keeping in touch. Both of us had achieved our dreams, I just always assumed we'd do it together.

'Jay, who's the girl?' Billy asks, leaning over my shoulder.

I'd found some old photos from high school of y/n and I very much in love with one another.

'Her name is y/n l/n, we were high school sweethearts. I made her apply to art college in London and she got accepted. We promised to stay in touch, but I broke that promise. She was my best friend Billy.'

Billy hums, 'I'll be back in a second Jay, I need to make a phone call.'

I don't think anything of it when Billy excuses himself to make a call, I was too busy scrolling through happy memories of a more innocent time. What I wouldn't give to see y/n again, I could check her social media but I was too much of a coward.

Billy returns a few minutes later holding his car keys, 'I know how to stop you moping, come with me.'

I follow Billy, not quite sure what he was planning but the smile never left his face as I got into his car and he started driving. We drive for a good thirty minutes before Billy parks up outside what looked like an abandoned shop.

'Wow Billy you take me to all the nice places,' I joke.

Billy rolls his eyes, 'how much does this y/n girl mean to you?'

'She means the whole world to me, why?' I reply.

Billy taps his fingers on the steering wheel, 'a friend of a friend is opening a photography studio right here and there is someone inside you should meet Jay.'

I get out of the car while Billy remains in the car giving me a thumbs up. Who was this friend of a friend? And who did I have to meet?

Opening the front door a small bell pings, 'I'll be with you in a second,' a somewhat familiar female voice calls out.

As the girl walks out of the backroom my whole body tenses up, even though years had passed y/n still looked the same, maybe even more beautiful while I had a few grey hairs, 'y/n' I whisper.

y/n gasps and puts the box down she was holding, 'Jay, is that really you? What are you doing here?'

'A friend brought me here, said there was someone I needed to meet, what about you?' I reply.

y/n closes the space between us and throws her arms around me, 'a friend from college asked if I wanted to help her set up a photography studio and I said yes. I never thought I'd see you again Jay.'

I hug her back and smile, 'I'm sorry for breaking the communication promise y/n. There isn't a day where I haven't thought about you. God, you're beautiful.'

y/n giggles, 'I've thought about you a lot Jay, I like the grey hairs, your job is ageing you. How's Ashley?'

I pull back and motion down at my empty wedding ring finger, 'we got divorced at the start of the year, something attacked her at work but we remain friends.'

y/n bites her lip, 'I'm so sorry Jay, from what I saw she made you happy and that made me happy. No one ever put a ring on my finger, men are intimidated by a hardworking woman.'

I shake my head, 'maybe things happen for a reason y/n. I said fate would bring us together one day and here we are. Would you like to get a coffee with me and catch up?'

y/n chuckles, 'I would like that very much Jay, still the sweetheart I remember.'

I was going to have to thank Billy big time for this, I might never have been reunited with y/n if he hadn't come over to get a hard drive for the show as I was too distracted to review evidence. There was no tension or awkwardness between y/n and me, kind of like no time had passed at all. I'd let her walk out of my life once, and there was no way in hell I was letting her walk out of it again.

#ghost adventures #ghost adventures imagines #ghost adventures imagine #ghost adventures fanfiction #ghost adventures fandom #ghost adventures preferences #jay wasley #jay wasley fanfiction #jay wasley imagines #jay wasley imagine #imagines blog #imagine blog #imagines #fanfiction blog #fandom blog #fanfiction #paranormal

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flowerslut · 4 years ago

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Merry Christmas @tragicallywicked! And SURPRISE! I was your Jalice secret Santa! 🥰🎄🙈

Now, let me introduce to you the 15k+ idea that was born last night and that I vomited up and edited in roughly 24 hours. Trust me, it doesn’t read like it’s a hastily-scrapped together fic; I pinky promise. I’m very proud of this fic. Sorry about the whump though. It wasn't unintentional; honest.

Summary: He contemplates telling Peter about Alice’s visits, but something holds him back from doing it. Perhaps because it doesn’t feel like Alice whenever she’s lying on his bedroom floor, curled in an old blanket that’s too small for him but perfectly sized for her, utterly still and silent even while awake. A part of him feels like it would be a betrayal to reveal this side of her to someone even as close to him as Peter is. After all, Peter is his friend. And Alice is… well, not.

Title: No Friend of Mine Words: 15,199 Rating: T Read on: AO3 // or under the cut

He’s not friends with Alice Brandon.

Not really. But in the time it’s taken for him to even properly learn her name—Alice, not Mary-Alice, he hears her cheerfully inform a group of girls making nasty comments one day; comments designed to hurt, and to be overheard—she has apparently decided that Jasper is her friend, and that’s where things become a little confusing.

Maybe she’s just a glutton for punishment. After all, if she wanted an easy time of it, there was an entire list of things she could do to avoid it. That sounded mean, but it was true.

She’s just a weird girl. Plenty of those in the world. No crime about that. About girls who dance in the hallways between classes, or who talk to strangers with the friendliness of someone who’s known them for years. There is nothing wrong with the fact that Alice Brandon wears her hair in bizarre styles or wears clothes that... alright, well maybe that is something that he doesn’t understand, either. Not that he is an expert on fashion, but even Jasper knows her choices are strange.

Alice Brandon being weird doesn’t affect him in the way that it apparently offends most of the students in their tiny school. He can picture her fitting in better at a larger school in a different school district, perhaps. More students always meant more variety, diversity, and cliques. More students would’ve meant that there would have been a whole slew of other weird kids of Alice’s type that she could have hung out with.

But not in Fork’s high.

Which meant the day Alice showed up at his corner of the cafeteria, tray in hand as she grinned over at him and Peter, he felt something in him twist as she sat down beside him, making a remark to Peter he couldn’t quite focus on as he realized that with an absence of overt weirdos at the school, Alice was going to come to the next-best thing. Their little group of ‘misfits’.

He had glanced further down the rectangular table and made quick eye contact with Edward Cullen and Bella Swan, who had also noted the tiny dark-haired girl’s presence, but neither of them made a comment, and Jasper spent the rest of the lunch period wishing she’d sat down next to those two, and not himself and Peter.

It wasn’t to be mean. Truly. But Jasper preferred to go through life (and school) as completely unnoticed as possible. And for the first few weeks Alice Brandon had attended Fork’s high, it seemed that’s all she did: attract attention.

He’s not exactly friends with Alice Brandon.

After all, he knows so little about her. Only that she moved to Washington state about a couple months back with her family. That she’s a sophomore; a year behind both Peter and Jasper. And that she doesn’t need much encouragement, or participation really, when it comes to conversation. Alice can talk about anything and everything at length.

He knows, only because of the way she pronounces certain words, that she’s probably from the South. He knows, because his sister Rosalie has art with her, that she struggles a lot with simple tasks and often misunderstands requests from teachers. And he knows, because adults like to gossip when they don’t think teenagers are around, that the story as to why Alice’s family moved to that town is shrouded in some layer of secrecy.

Even when Bella, on one of the days Alice attempted to unite both ends of their lunch table in one cohesive conversation, had asked her a simple question about her ‘old school’ Alice had ignored the question entirely, before delving into an at-length explanation of the way she’d designed her favorite skirt.

Jasper had stood up and left lunch early that day. It wasn’t that he hated the girl, or even that he dislike her, but she bothered him so fiercely sometimes.

And they definitely weren’t friends.

So when she shows up unannounced at two o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday night, tossing tiny rocks up against his window, he doesn’t understand why.

He whispers down a series of questions at her, too shocked to understand what was going on.

What is she doing there? (She needs somewhere to stay for a few hours.)

Why? (Just because.)

How did she find his house? (School directory.)

Why did she come here? (It’s cold. Please.)

Later, he tells her she’s lucky his parent’s bedroom has windows that face the opposite direction of the house, meaning that they aren’t privy to their first conversation. But he shares a wall with Rosalie, he whispers to her as he leads her up the stairs, so she has to be quiet, he emphasizes the point with a look, as if doubting such a task is within her abilities.

Thankfully, it is possible for Alice Brandon to be quiet.

In fact, she doesn’t say anything that first night after he sneaks her up to his room and lets her curl up with an extra blanket on the floor beside his bed. Jasper isn’t even sure she’s slept; she’d been awake when he’d crawled back into bed, and then still awake when he’d awoken extra early the next morning. And when he explains that he can’t just drive her to school that day without getting in trouble—besides, Rosalie will have a fit (for more reason than one) if he emerges from his bedroom with Alice Brandon behind him—she only nods, asks for a drink of water, and thanks him as she sneaks out the front door, off back toward her house, he assumes.

Lunch that day is the same as any other. Alice’s bright smile greets him and Peter, her voice filling the space where comfortable silence and companionable conversation used to linger, and that’s when he starts paying attention.

To the fact that she rarely, if ever, eats anything. That her clothes, while layered strangely and often mis-matched, barely fit her small frame.

One day, a week after her first appearance at his house, Jasper is walking through the halls when he overhears Lauren Mallory loudly exclaim “God, do you know how to shut the fuck up?” Only to turn and watch Alice’s smile deflate.

He stops in his tracks at the sight because no ones comments have ever affected Alice like this. At least, as far as he’s seen. He even wonders if he should step in and say something, because Lauren isn’t finished with airing her frustrations at the tiny new girl, and each statement is growing more cruel than the last.

Before he can force his feet to move Bella Swan is already there, all stern words and deadly glances as she wraps an arm around the smaller girl and turns her away. Jasper can’t hear what she says but Lauren looks incensed and none of her friends are chiming in to help. And then Bella quickly whisks Alice away and Jasper realizes he’s still standing there, in the middle of the hallway, staring at their retreating forms.

He skips lunch that day, feeling like a coward for forcing shy, introverted Bella of all people to come to the harmless girl’s rescue, while he stood there, watching the scene alongside half a dozen others who happened to overhear the platinum blonde girl’s tirade.

Alice comes to him again that night, another handful of pebbles tossed to his window, but this time she doesn’t speak even when he does lean out his window to ask her questions.

What happened?

Is she alright?

Does she need a place to stay?

She nods at that question, and it’s all the reply Jasper needs before he’s closing the window and tiptoeing down the stairs, guilt and worry dancing around inside his brain.

But Alice is quiet as a mouse as he leads her up into his room. She quickly occupies the same spot on the floor next to Jasper’s bed. Like before, she has brought only a small backpack with her. Whether she owns a phone or not doesn’t occur to him—he’s never seen her use one before, even at lunch—but she never once retrieves anything from the bag.

With the pillow and blanket Jasper tosses her way, she’s curled up and asleep in minutes. This time, it’s Jasper who doesn’t sleep as he lays awake, his attention torn between this small schoolmate of his and his guilty conscience that makes him wonder if today would have gone differently if he’d come to her aid.

But morning comes, Alice leaves, and then when he sees her at school later she’s good as new. Talking and laughing and dancing through the halls like always.

He contemplates telling Peter about Alice’s visits, but something holds him back from doing it. Perhaps because it doesn’t feel like Alice whenever she’s lying on his bedroom floor, curled in an old blanket that’s too small for him but perfectly sized for her, utterly still and silent even while awake. A part of him feels like it would be a betrayal to reveal this side of her to someone even as close to him as Peter is.

After all, Peter is his friend. And Alice is… well, not.

It’s something he wishes he could tell Rosalie about. He loves his sister more than anyone else in this world but she’s too… involved in everything. He knows that she second she finds out it will mean the end of his privacy for the foreseeable future. It doesn’t help that he isn’t entirely sure that Rosalie won’t also say something rude to Alice. Nothing as cruel as Lauren Mallory’s blow-up, but still. Rosalie isn’t typically known for her warmth and consideration when it comes to outsiders…

It’s the night she shows up to his house for the third time, when things begin to change.

Her purple hoodie is pulled up tight over her head when he opens the window to get a good look at her. The material is certainly too thin for the weather she’s out in, but Jasper’s never seen her in anything warmer.

Alice tilts her head up toward him, and when his eyes fall upon her split lip, he doesn’t ask a single question. He almost slams the window shut and moves so fast down the stairs that he knows if he isn’t careful he’ll wake Rosalie and their parents.

She’s waiting on his doorstep when he finally swings the door open, ushering her into the house quickly and quietly.

The instant his bedroom door is closed he flicks his standing fan on it’s highest setting and pushes it close to the door. He’s going to need the white noise to drown out any noise their conversation makes. And he’s going to need her to talk tonight.

“Alice,” his voice is barely more than a whisper, but she ignores him. “Hey, Alice.” And when he ducks down to look her in her eyes, she averts her gaze. “What happened?” His head is swimming with thoughts and ideas and worst-case-scenarios, and as he looks at her face—the split lip, her bleeding cheek, and her swollen eye—he feels worry and fury at war within himself.

These are no ‘accidental’ injuries. Jasper knows with a sinking feeling that running into a doorframe, or tripping on the stairs, didn’t cause this injury.

(His mind is filled with images of the night Rose came home looking similar, and the rage that ignites in his body is hard to reason with.)

“Who did this?” Jasper’s words are slow and careful, but they are not quiet and he doesn’t know if he can be anymore. But Alice doesn’t reply, instead looking anywhere but him, as if she’s embarrassed or ashamed of herself.

But she came here, a voice in his head reminds him. And he doesn’t know if she’s aware of the weight of that—of this trust she apparently has in him—but he is.

He asks her to sit on his bed and then sneaks off to the bathroom in the hall, and then while Alice cleans blood off of her face with a damp rag he tiptoes downstairs to grab an ice pack from the freezer. When he returns she’s already pulled the spare blanket tight around her shoulders, and is lying on the ground.

“Alice,” he says softly, his chest aching at the sight of her, curled up so small on the ground, hurt and quiet. “Get up, I’ve got ice for your face.”

But Alice doesn’t movie, so he’s forced on the ground beside her. It’s when he places a tentative on her shoulder that he realizes she’s shaking with silent sobs. She only curls up tighter at his touch, and Jasper withdraws his hands immediately. He has the thought that maybe he should wake Rosalie, and let her come help. Surely, and despite all of his sister’s prickliness, Rose is better suited for a task like this. Jasper has never been good at comforting people with his words.

“Alice,” he doesn’t know what to say, and has less of an idea of what to do. But eventually she rolls over to face him and reaches out for the ice pack wordlessly. He hands it over and watches, speechless, as she simply presses the ice to her cheek, still not looking up at him.

“Will you tell me what happened?” He asks, feeling as if he already knows the answer, and when she shakes her head and closes her eyes tighter, the pain in Jasper’s chest throbs. “Okay,” he says, because no matter how badly he wants to know, he knows that her showing up here is significant. That there is trust here, despite the fact that Jasper hardly understands why. But it’s trust that seems so fragile that he’s terrified of shattering it if he pushes too hard.

By five o’clock she’s up and moving, and Jasper—who hadn’t slept a wink, instead choosing to lie awake and watch Alice, to make sure she was still breathing as she slept—is requesting that she stay. He offers to play hooky and encourages her to do the same.

She contemplates the offer before nodding to herself. But she leaves anyways, accepting a new ice pack on the way out of the door. She’s gone seconds before his dad is padding through the kitchen, ready to turn on the coffee maker, and Jasper’s heart is palpitating because he doesn’t know what to do.

“You’re up awfully early,” the man grumbles as Jasper wanders into the kitchen. Joseph Hale is a quiet man. A good father, despite how rarely he’s at home due to work. They aren’t alike in many ways other than disposition, but Jasper always enjoys when his father is around. During his absences, his mother often disappears for days at a time, only appearing to change clothes, or argue with Rosalie. With Joseph around Jasper can almost pretend they are a normal, happy family.

His father’s words rip him out of his reverie. “By god… what happened to you?”

Jasper blinks up at his dad before realizing he’s holding the bloody rag Alice used to clean up her face. He blanches at the sight, forgetting he’d even been holding it, and then just shrugs. “Woke up with a nosebleed.”

Joseph shakes his head, frowning as he gestures to the towel. “Your mom’s going to have a fit that you used one of her good towels.”

“I’ll clean it before school.”

Joseph hums, already moving on from this conversation to dig through the cabinets for a bowl for his breakfast. “There should be peroxide under the sink.”

Jasper spends twenty minutes dousing the hand towel with hydrogen peroxide in an attempt to clean Alice’s blood out of the fabric. And by the time the stain is just a faded brown against the cream-colored towel, he can hear Rosalie’s alarm going off.

The drive to school that morning is tense, and the hours leading up to lunch pass by in a blur. Jasper’s mind isn’t focusing on anything, and when Mrs. Chapel calls on him in math class he realizes he hasn’t even pulled his textbook from his backpack.

When lunch rolls around it’s clear to him, as he walks into the cafeteria with a mixture of relief and disappointment, that Alice isn’t there today. He isn’t the only one who has noticed her absence, and as he’s passing through the cafeteria he hears one of Lauren Mallory’s friends make a loud remark.

“Looks like the clown got stuck back at the circus today,” Carson Keys declares loudly enough for Jasper to hear him, three tables away. He turns to look at the dark-haired jackass, knowing that these are the comments they usually reserve for Alice’s eavesdropping ears. But Alice isn’t here today, and Jasper knows why.

And Jasper also knows that there’s a reason he’s never been the victim of any bullying at this school. Despite his misanthropic nature, he isn’t a very easy target. Maybe it’s because he’s one of the taller ones in the school, or maybe its the rumor that circulated last year when he was a sophomore, that he’d killed a senior for messing around with his sister.

But despite the very thorough beating he’d been given, Royce King was still very much alive, despite his swift disappearance from both the school district and social media. The King family had wanted to quiet the ‘incident’ as quickly as they could and had quietly moved somewhere East of Seattle.

The days spent in juvenile court and subsequent six months of house arrest had been worth it, in Jasper’s eyes.

It doesn’t bother Jasper one bit that many of the students are convinced Jasper has killed someone. Anything that keeps people away from him, and prevents others from harming Rose any further, is worth it in his eyes.

Jasper watches as Carson’s joke causes their table to erupt in giggles and head-shakes. Before he knows what he’s doing he’s walking over to the table, a twinge of fury forcing his feet forward.

He goes unnoticed until he picks up one of their textbooks and drops it from shoulder-level. The noise makes a sharp clap that causes the surrounding table to flinch and turn towards the source. Silence seizes most of his classmates as their eyes turn to bore into his form, and Jasper is almost thankful for this awful, unwanted attention. Their unease will certainly make this more effective.

Carson realizes it’s Jasper Hale standing beside him a few seconds after his friends are quiet and staring, and the grin slips off his face so fast it’s almost comical. “Hey Hale,” he says stupidly, and Jasper can almost feel the regret filling the air. “What’s up?”

Jasper doesn’t speak at first, and for a second he wonders if maybe he does have some sort of anger issue like his lawyer suggested, because watching Carson squirm in his seat while his other tough-talking friends are suddenly suspiciously quiet is very, very enjoyable.

He doesn’t issue any threatening quips or waste time with a joke of his own. No, instead Jasper leans in close, forcing Carson to back up a few inches, his eyes wide. “Say it again. Go on.”

Carson of course, doesn’t. Instead looking to his friends for help. It’s Whitney Barnes who chimes in first.

“It’s just a joke,” she says nastily, rolling her eyes at Jasper’s presence as she moves her attention to her phone, lying on the table. “It’s not a big deal.”

Whitney’s dismissal of Jasper’s actions seems to encourage Carson again. He pulls a grin back on his face, “We mean no harm, bro. Mary-Alice is a fun little thing.” He looks back to Jasper but something in his expression makes his smile fall again. “No harm, man,” he’s backpedaling again, lifting his hands up in front of him, as if to claim he doesn’t want any trouble.

It’s only Rosalie’s appearance at his side that keeps him from doing anything he regrets.

He can tell its her immediately by the way she grips the side of his shirt, bunching up the material in his fist and tugging twice. (Something she has done for as long as he can remember.) “C’mon,” her voice is quiet but annoyed. “Old man Bakers is watching.” She speaks, referring to the assistant principal that roams the halls during the student’s ‘free’ periods.

Carson’s face brightens at the appearance of his sister, but before he can open his mouth to say anything mindless, she chimes in. “I don’t want to hear it. Just keep your mouth shut.”

“But I—”

“No. Stop. I have a test next and I’m losing braincells. Shut up.” Rosalie is already walking away, Jasper’s shirt still gripped tightly as she leads him back the way he came. “You too, Miss Perpetual-Understudy.” Rosalie calls over her shoulder to Whitney, hitting the girl where it hurts. Always a very Rosalie thing to do; to say as little as possible while inflicting the most damage she can.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but stop it,” she grits through her teeth once they’re out of earshot. “If you start a fight at school they’ll slap that ankle monitor back on you before Carson’s dumb face will hit the linoleum.”

It’s an amusing thing to imagine, but he doesn’t want to irritate Rosalie any further, so he just shrugs noncommittally.

“What’s that all about anyways?” She demands as she drags him to her table. It’s still mostly-empty, thankfully. Only Emmett is there yet, and a couple other members of the football team that are nice enough. He likes Emmett for the most part. Most of the guys in school had been afraid of Jasper, and too terrified to get anywhere near Rosalie after last year’s incident. Emmett, on the other hand, had cornered Jasper the day he’d been allowed back at school and thanked him for doing what he didn’t get the chance to.

Jasper tries not to have to many opinions on his sister’s dating life now, but some days he thinks that Emmett wouldn’t be the worst choice if Rosalie decides to reciprocate the big guy’s obvious feelings.

“Nothing,” he speaks quietly as Rose sits in her seat. He knows that she wants him to sit with her and fill her in, but Jasper has never been comfortable around her friends. And he isn’t about to entertain their companionship on today of all days; he’s far too wound up.

“I heard Carson say something rude about that Alice girl,” the boy next to Emmett, whose name Jasper doesn’t know, chimes in. “Loud as shit, of course. But I didn’t hear much else,” he looks up at Jasper and shrugs. “You gotta do what you gotta do man. I would fully support your decision if you clocked him. Morally support, I mean. I can’t physically or I’ll lose my scholarship to UW.”

“No one is getting ‘clocked’,” Rosalie shoots the guy a glare before turning to Jasper and tugging on his shirt again. “Also, if you tried intimidating every person who’s been mean to Alice you’re going to have a long list.” She tugs on his shirt a third time, “sit.”

As Jasper settles into the seat beside his sister, absolutely dreading the next half hour, Emmett chimes in. “She’s a funny girl,” the curly-haired guys speaks, taking an enormous bite of his sandwich, “she told me she’d make me a bracelet the other day because I told her I liked her hair.” The boy next to him snorts and Emmett laughs, “What?” He speaks, mouth full, “like I’m going to say no to a free bracelet?! You’re out of your damn mind.”

“She’s friendly alright,” Rose speaks, turning her gaze back to Jasper. “Don’t know why she likes your prickly ass.”

“I’m not prickly,” Jasper deadpans, accepting the bag of chips Rose shoves into his hands.

Emmett laughs at that one. “Because you’re so warm and cuddly.”

“Em, hush.”

“I’m just playing around. But seriously. I like her. She’s fun.” He takes a sip of soda and fixes Jasper with another look. “Besides, I don’t think she has an easy time of it. My little sister is in her sister Cynthia’s class down at the grade school,” Jasper’s attention perks up at that. Alice has a sister? “According to Jennie, some accident that killed their mom messed Alice’s head up. I think it was a car accident. I’m not sure. It’s really sad though.”

A few members of the table nod at that, a morose feeling falling over them as more of Rosalie’s friends arrive, and then when Daniel Langfield starts telling the story of his uncle’s life-claiming car wreck, Jasper feels his mind wander.

He supposes that’s the day he halfway ‘befriends’ Alice Brandon.

Of course it would be the day she’s not even at school.

If anything he feels less like a friend and more like a protector. Or a guard dog. Like someone willing to do what it takes to keep people off her fucking back, and out of her goddamned business.

Later that night, before he climbs into bed, he rips a piece of notebook paper out of his binder and scribbles a small message on it.

I’m here if you want to talk about it.

He doesn’t see her the following morning, but he slips the note into her locker anyways. It isn’t until he’s walking to his first period class when he realizes he never signed the paper, and up until lunch he kicks himself, feeling much like a weirdo or a creep for delivering such a cryptic, out-of-context note.

But Alice is already waiting for him by the doors of the cafeteria when he finally sees her for the first time that day. She grins up at him, like she always does at school, big and wide, and Jasper is nearly stunned by the fact that she looks completely fine.

Whatever makeup she’s painted her face with that day has made her look entirely normal. But when she chatters at him, walking at his side as they wander across the cafeteria, he notices that her left eye is still a bit swollen, and blinks a bit slower than her right. Her expertly applied lipstick has nearly hidden her fat lip completely.

Peter isn’t there that day. He’d had a dentist appointment and left during the last period, so it’s only them today.

He knows that no one is listening in; if anything, the students of Forks’ High have begun practicing the art of tuning out Alice Brandon’s voice, but he still keeps his voice low when he asks her how she is.

“I’m fine,” she smiles up at him, before she opens her sketchbook and asks him for his input on her current art project.

“Did you get my note?”

She pauses then, smiling down at the still-life on the paper in front of her. Then, she reaches out and grabs the top of his hand, squeezing tightly before releasing it. She doesn’t so much as glance at him while she does this, and in seconds she’s already back to discussing her day.

Jasper knows that he isn’t going to get anything out of her today, and instead he pays attention to her every movement, and every quirk, watching her closely as she explains her current portrait and pulls out colored pencils, slowly working while she prattles on about some anecdote from gym class.

And with each day that passes he finds himself more curious about her. She doesn’t reveal anything during the school day, instead using their lunch period to talk and hum and laugh. He sits at her side, forgoing his music or books to simply watch and listen to her. But as the days pass, her face heals, and Alice reveals nothing.

He knows its only a matter of time before she shows up in his yard at night.

But the next time it happens, he has some warning.

Alice isn’t in school for four days. He hasn’t heard anything from the other students, and why would he? He’s the one she spends most of her time around anyways. If anything, the other students probably assume he knows whether she’s sick or not. By Thursday, even Peter asks him if he knows where she is. Jasper hates how he feels when he wordlessly shakes his head, anxiously picking the bread off the burger in front of him.

It’s Friday when Bella Swan approaches him in the parking lot while he waits for Rosalie. She startles him at first; he’d been sitting in his car listening to music when she tapped on the window. And when he turns the music down and lowers the window, she swiftly apologizes. He just barely takes note of Edward standing a few feet away.

“You haven’t heard from Alice, have you?”

Jasper shakes his head. “No.” He says simply, and then, “I don’t have her number.”

Bella frowns. “She doesn’t have a phone,” she explains, “I’m just…” she straightens back up, folding her arms and she turns back toward Edward. The redhead nods and Bella turns back toward Jasper. “I’m really, really worried.”

“Why?” Jasper shuts the car off then. Something in Bella’s expression causes alarms to go off in his mind, and he’s climbing back out of the old sedan before he can help it. “What makes you say that?”

Bella looks back at Edward again, and the redhead sighs and approaches. “You didn’t hear this from me,” he speaks quietly, looking around to make sure no one overhears. “My dad asked me last night whether I was friends with Alice. And I didn’t even know that he knew who that was. I…” he looked a bit embarrassed then, “I sort of weaseled a little bit of information out of him. But I think something happened to her that put her in the hospital. My dad didn’t say much but, you know how adults get when they want you to befriend someone else or ‘keep an eye’ on them or whatever? It was really weird and… kind of telling.”

“Do you know anything?” Bella asks, and her voice is so pleading, her face filled with so much worry that eventually he starts talking. He tells them about her first visit, and then about her second. And he’s rambling by the time he gets to her third, and most recent visit. It isn’t until he’s talking about her bloodied face and the fact that she cried as quietly as she could, curled up on the floor of his bedroom, when a voice chimes in.

“So that’s where Mom’s good towel went.”

His blood freezes in his veins when he realizes that Rosalie has snuck up behind them, unnoticed. Emmett McCarty is standing behind her, looking nervous at the fact that they have just overheard Jasper’s hurried confession.

Bella looks nervous at their intrusion, and Edward’s face is stern. Rosalie is glaring daggers at her brother, and it’s Emmett that chimes in eventually.

“What can we do?”

When their eyes all drift to Jasper, he feels as if his chest is about to cave in on itself. He doesn’t know how to tell them that he doesn’t know what to do. “Bella says she doesn’t have a phone.”

“Can’t we pull up to her house? Check on her at least?” The concern scrawled across Emmett’s features make him look far less menacing than he usually comes off as—he’s the only one in the Junior class taller than Jasper.

“That’s the last thing we should do,” Rosalie snaps, her words quiet. “The second you try to white-knight your way into whatever situation she’s dealing with, you’ll immediately make it ten times worse for her.” Rose speaks her words with the confidence of someone who truly knows what Alice’s situation is like, and it shuts everyone else up immediately.

There’s silence, then, Edward speaks. “We still don’t know what she’s dealing with. Let’s not assume.”

Rosalie glares at him then. “If your dad was dealing with her at the fucking emergency room, it wasn’t just a check up or a misunderstanding. Don’t be an idiot.”

“I’ll talk to Jennie when I get home,” Emmett offers, referring to his little sister who is classmates with Alice’s sister. “See if Cynthia has said anything at school.”

Bella nods, “Kids see and hear a lot more than people give them credit for.”

Rosalie speaks only to Jasper. “If she comes to you again, that’s a good thing. I can help cover your ass if you need it, but if you push her too much you will drive her away. Whatever you do, don’t go getting yourself arrested again, or I’ll beat you to a pulp.” Then, to everyone else, “If you really want to help her, give her space and mind your business. She’ll either come around, or she won’t. You can’t force it.” She climbs into the passenger seat, “Let’s go, Jasper.”

The drive home is quiet, and painfully awkward. Jasper keeps waiting for Rosalie to snap at him, or for her attitude to catch up, but when she reaches out and grabs a fistful of his shirt, holding it in her hand, he understands.

“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you enough,” she speaks as he turns into their neighborhood, approaching the house. “I wish I had asked for help before it was too late. But,” there’s another patch of silence as he parks in the driveway before she speaks again, “Alice is trusting you with whatever is happening. Don’t take that for granted, and don’t fuck it up. She’ll decide what you can do to help her at her own pace.” Opening the door to the car she stands up as she gathers her things. “Don’t go trying to fuck your life up again. Please.” Then, she slams it and walks toward the house.

Alice doesn’t visit that night, but on Saturday night he’s restless. He picks up his phone and re-reads that day’s text messages. He’s comforted knowing that he isn’t the only person who has been plagued with worry over Alice that day. Bella confesses that she name dropped Alice in conversation with her father—the chief of police—who also pulled something akin to Edward’s dad, requesting his daughter to be nice to the girl and perhaps invite her over sometime.

It is confirmation enough that whatever is happening to Alice was known by both hospital workers and police. This information is enough for Jasper’s concern to turn into something far more nauseating. He’s not even comforted by the involvement of people outside of Alice’s situation, because if what was happening to her was severe enough for the police chief and Doctor Carlisle Cullen to be involved, it wasn’t good.

He’s up late, re-reading Emmett’s most recent texts, explaining that Jennie didn’t see Cynthia on Thursday or Friday, when the first rock knocks against his window.

He doesn’t even rush over to it, instead flinging his bedroom door open and zooming down the stairs as quick as possible—he’s never been so happy for his father to be on a work trip and for his mother to be off and absent once more than he is when he barges through the front door and runs to the side of the house.

The sight of Alice standing beneath his window, preparing to fling another pebble, her face wincing in pain, is both a relief as well as a worry.

She jumps at his sudden appearance, stumbling back as fear flickers across her face. It only takes her a second to realize who is rushing toward her, but by the time recognition calms her, Jasper has already slowed himself.

She’s wearing her purple hoodie again, and her face is black and blue. She reaches up to pull her hood tighter around her face and that’s when Jasper takes note of the pink cast encasing her forearm.

“Alice,” he breathes, approaching slower as he reaches out to her. Thankfully she doesn’t recoil from him and instead walks directly toward him. When she wraps her arms around him, Jasper doesn’t hesitate to hold her close. With her embrace he feels all the tension slowly seep out of him, and it’s when he feels her shivering that he steps back, keeping an arm over her shoulders as he guides her toward the house.

She’s as quiet as she typically is during all of her visits, so Jasper decides to fill the silence instead.

He talks at her mostly, prompting input here and there, but Alice is content to sit quietly on his bed as he rifles through his closet. He eventually finds a winter coat that stopped fitting him before high school and tosses it on the bed beside her. He tells her that it belongs to her now and that he wants to see her wearing it next time she decides to make the trek to his house at night.

He asks her how far she lives, and even when she doesn’t reply he informs her that he has a car, and can pick her up at a moment’s notice if she ever needs him to. He also asks about her phone situation, knowing that she doesn’t have access to a cell phone, but that if she has access to a computer, his phone dings when he gets an email. He can put her email in his contacts so that it rings loudly any time she sends a message his way.

He offers her food, and even when she doesn’t accept (or decline) he disappears for a few minutes, returning with some reheated pizza and a couple of glasses of water.

She accepts the water with a smile, and seeing the light in her eyes, despite how battered her face looks, does something strange to Jasper’s chest.

It’s when he asks her if she’s tired that she finally gives him a response, shaking her head.

“In that case,” he walks over to his desk, unplugging his laptop and carrying it over to the bed, depositing it in front of her. “We can watch a movie.”

He sneaks back into the hallway, and is rifling through the hall closet, retrieving extra pillows and blankets, when Rosalie’s door opens and he freezes, turning toward her with a look akin to a deer caught in headlights.

“Here,” his sister whispers as she tosses something his way, “she can keep these.” Before they can fall to the ground Jasper plucks the cotton pajamas out of the air, nodding toward his sister. With her voice low she then tacks on a threat, “and don’t eat all the pizza. I was saving some for lunch tomorrow.”

He smiles at her as she closes the door softly behind her, trying to decide whether its best to lie to Alice about the blue pajamas or to just tell them they’re a gift from Rosalie.

In reality, he doesn’t need to say anything, because when he presents them to her she smiles up at him, softly thanking him before placing them on the bed beside her.

“I’m serious,” he remarks as he turns the laptop toward him, opening and starting it up. “They’re all yours. They were Rose’s in like, freshman year before she got her growth spurt.”

“I doubt they’ll fit,” Alice’s voice finally rings out clear, and Jasper counts that as a win.

Jasper smirks over at her as he logs into Peter’s Netflix account. “Trust me, I wasn’t the only one who grew nearly half a foot freshman year. The money we spent on clothes that year was a little excessive.”

Alice excuses herself to the hallway bathroom a minute after that, and when she returns, dressed more comfortably now, Jasper smiles. “My uh, parents aren’t home by the way, so you can stay as long as you need.”

She doesn’t reply, but she does climb back into his bed, and when she wraps the old blue blanket around her shoulders—a blanket that Jasper is beginning to view as hers—she scoots herself into the corner of his bed, resting her back against his headboard and pillows.

Jasper is careful to keep his distance as he settles himself beside her, but Alice is quick to scoot closer, and when he asks if she has any suggestions or requests, she simply shakes her head, smiling at the screen, her chin resting atop her knees.

She is asleep twenty minutes into the movie, her head knocking against his shoulder as her exhaustion wins out. Jasper remains still for a while after that, barely paying any attention to the random animated movie, afraid of waking the girl up. Eventually he moves her carefully so that she’s lying down more comfortably. Closing the laptop he moves to place it back on his desk when her hand shoots out, gripping his arm tightly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he speaks quietly, his heart breaking at the flash of desperation—of fear—in her suddenly-open eyes, depositing the laptop on the ground and climbing back into his bed. It feels strange, to lie down beside this girl that he knows hardly anything about, but when she wraps her good hand around his, Jasper turns toward her, wrapping his fingers tightly around hers, returning the gesture. She is asleep again within minutes.

Multiple times he attempts to remove himself from his own bed. After all, he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be staring at this girl as she sleeps, entirely unguarded, her face swollen from what could only be a beating, and for a while he lies there, frozen in both anger and helplessness.

Because Alice is good. A sweet girl with nothing but a smile to offer and friendship to give.

When he wakes up late the following morning, he doesn’t know why he feels sour at her absence. Deep down he knew she wouldn’t be still lying beside him, but in some far off part of his mind, he’d hoped for it.

It’s when he’s sitting up in bed, orienting himself with his surroundings when he hears familiar laughter echoing from Rosalie’s room.

He’s up and in the hallway in seconds.

Rosalie’s door is propped open, and inside of her bedroom there are people. It seems during the few extra hours Jasper stayed unconscious, his sister had invited over company.

Emmett is sitting completely still in the chair of Rosalie’s vanity, far too big for the tiny white furniture, and looking ridiculous as Rosalie leans forward, carefully applying makeup to his large face. Bella Swan stands at her side, holding Rosalie’s iPad in one hand, displaying a picture of whatever look his sister is trying to achieve on the face of Fork’s High’s star linebacker, and in her other hand are a slew of makeup brushes.

Edward is standing closest to the door, recording the entire debacle on his phone while Alice, who is lying across Rosalie’s bed, still clad in her blue pajamas is laughing and laughing and laughing.

It’s such a strange group of people, he realizes abruptly. Jasper is only acquainted with Bella and Edward through the far-off lunch table they all share, since it’s the only corner of the cafeteria that offers an escape from the rowdiness of their classmates. Emmett, of course, he knows through Rosalie, and has always been a friendly, funny guy, but Rosalie has always been careful about who she lets into her social circles. Especially now.

And last Jasper knew his sister couldn’t stand the pretentious red-head in the grade behind them. But if Jasper knows anything, it’s to never underestimate Rosalie Lillian Hale, and quickly he realizes that in the time between her handing off pajamas to him last night, and this morning, she’s carefully calculated this entire thing. From the guests to the activity.

Because the only thing everyone in this room has in common, is Alice.

When she notices him, she sits up, grinning widely at him. The yellowing bruises on her face stick out sorely against her skin that is pink and flushed from laughter, but when she beckons him inside of the room, drawing everyone’s attention from Emmett’s face to Jasper’s presence, he can’t help but smile back.

He carefully turns down the invitation to be ‘next’, and when Rosalie remarks that there are plenty of photos in tucked away albums of their older cousins putting Jasper in makeup and dresses when they were small, the entire room of teenagers look delighted at that information.

“Oh, please tell me you have that album handy,” Alice exclaims, gripping his hand fiercely as she bounces on Rosalie’s bed.

“Hell no.”

“I’ll show you some other time,” Rosalie comments dismissively as she holds Emmett’s jaw tight in her hand. “Now, do we want to go more pink or orange-ish…?”

And that’s how their Sunday begins.

Eventually they make their way from Rosalie’s room into the living room and then soon they’re piling into Jasper’s and Emmett’s cars, after Bella’s stomach had rumbled and Emmett declared that it was time for food. Of course, he took every ounce of makeup off before they left, and Alice changed back into the clothes she’d arrived in the night before.

The day passes so quickly and it’s so fun that Jasper hardly realizes how much he’s enjoying himself until the sun is nearly down and they’re hanging out in the parking lot of the bowling alley they just played in. But Bella has a late shift at Newton’s and Emmett needs to take them back to his car, which is at Rosalie and Jasper’s house. Then Rose declares that she has a paper to finish tonight and suddenly the day is spiraling to a close.

“I’ll see you at home,” she nods at him as she climbs into the passenger seat of Emmett’s Jeep. He simply nods, waving at them as they pull away.

And then it’s just him and Alice left.

He turns toward her after Emmett’s car disappears into the night, only to see her staring after the Jeep, a deep-set frown in her face.

“What do you want to do?” He asks, because he knows it has to be her decision now.

She steps up next to him and grabs his hand tightly, and that’s when Jasper feels her shaking again. He knows it’s not because of the cold; she’s finally wearing the jacket he’d given her the night before. But she’s shaking now and he doesn’t know what to do other than pull her against his side and hold her close.

“We can go back to my house,” he offers firmly, but quietly, as she nestles closely against him, her face pressed into his own coat. “You can stay as long as you want. I mean it.”

She shakes her head after a long moment. “I have to go home.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

She doesn’t answer his question.

Turn by turn directions are all she has to provide for him; she’s still so new to the town that even despite how small it is she only knows her way around when they’re close to the school. So he loops back toward Fork’s High and then Alice begins directing him from there.

They’re only a few streets away—surprisingly close to his house—when she grabs his hand suddenly. “Stop the car.”

Jasper slows the car down to a crawl, pulling it over to the side of the road. He doesn’t see anything that would cause her to erupt in fear like that; they’re still several yards from the next turn, bringing them toward where Alice said her house was.

“Here is fine,” she says in a hurry, unbuckling herself swiftly. When she starts to remove his jacket he reaches out and grabs her arm.

“Alice, that’s for you. Keep it, please.”

“I can’t,” she says desperately as she shimmies her arms out of the sleeves. It takes her a while to yank her left arm, cast and all, out of the jacket, but when she pushes it unceremoniously into his arms, he’s so confused. “Please, understand.”

“I don’t,” he says honestly, a little hurt by her actions, “that’s… that’s fine. Just—” he frowns, “how do you usually get to school? The bus?”

She shakes her head as she lifts her small bag up and throws it over her shoulder. “I walk. It’s fine, I’ll see you in school this week.”

He reaches out again, careful not to grab her broken wrist, and his hand lands softly on her shoulder. “Not tomorrow?”

Alice is anxious now, her eyes looking for something out in the dark, and Jasper hates this. Hates that she comes to him at night but doesn’t let him help. Hates that she does so much talking, but doesn’t reveal anything. Hates that he can’t fix whatever is wrong.

“I’m worried about you,” he eventually says when she flings the door open and moves to depart.

The look she fixes him with then is stern, and Jasper worries that he’s said something wrong.

Alice leans back into the car, and with her good hand she reaches toward him, cupping his cheek warmly, and stunning him into silence. He’s frozen for a few seconds, watching her every move cautiously, and when she smiles up at him, soft and beautiful, any other words he was thinking are suddenly wiped clear.

“Don’t.” And she’s gone in seconds, running off into the dark faster than he can keep up with his eyes.

He doesn’t go directly home afterward. Instead he drives around for a little while. Alice wouldn’t give him her address, and he’s almost nervous to accidentally stumble across her house now, so he steers clear of the residential streets. He’s halfway to La Push when he realizes he needs to go back home, because Rose will be waiting for him.

Rose and Emmett are waiting for him when he returns. It’s something that sort of surprises him, because as far as he knows, his sister has sworn off dating. Not that the two appear to be an item. But again: it’s not a secret that Emmett McCarty loves his sister.

When he walks through the door they’re in the kitchen, and their conversation dies when they note his presence.

“How’d it go?” Emmett asks, frowning from where he sits at the kitchen table across from Rosalie.

Jasper shrugs, turning to walk toward the stairs.

“Jasper,” his sister calls, standing up from the table. “Did something happen?”

“No,” he finally speaks. And it’s true. Nothing happened. No progress in their ‘friendship’. No discoveries on his part. Instead the status quo remains very much unchanged. He still doesn’t know how to help Alice, and she is still unwilling to let him in.

It’s when Rosalie takes note of the small jacket under Jasper’s arm when she finally closes her mouth and nods, turning back to sit back at the table, looking strangely defeated.

He doesn’t sleep well that night, or the next.

The rumors start circulating quickly then. It seems that some senior was at the bowling alley with their parents on the same day they’d taken Alice out on her outing. Word quickly got around that the tiny girl looked like she’d been in a boxing match, bruised and broken and still missing from school.

The worst of the rumors made their way back to him through Edward. Some group of kids in the freshman class were apparently under the impression that her absence and physical state were due to Jasper’s actions. Of course, it is a widely-known fact now that Jasper has a ‘reputation for violence’; whether it’s misplaced or not isn’t for Jasper to decide. But that rumor makes him feel sick to his stomach.

It becomes so bad that, with his dad still away on work and his mom god-knows-where, Jasper stays home from school on Thursday. Rosalie doesn’t even attempt to rouse him out of bed, just accepting his keys and telling him she’ll see him after school.

It’s around noon that he forces himself out of his bedroom. He doesn’t have an appetite so he simply shrugs on his coat, pulls on his boots, and goes for a walk.

He wanders through the neighborhood for a while, down one street, up another, until he finds himself wandering through Tillicum Park. He used to come here more often when he was younger. It was the one place his parents would let him and Rosalie wander off to on their own. And then when he was in middle school a man in a van had pulled up beside some of his classmates and he and Rose had been forbidden from walking there alone after that.

It has been several years since he’s sat on the swings here. And as he wanders toward where he knows the play equipment is, he finds himself freezing in his tracks.

Because there is a little girl sitting by herself on the swings.

He looks around then, but it’s barely one o’clock on a Thursday afternoon, and this girl can’t be any older than seven or eight. He contemplates moving on with his walk—after all, it was barely a decade ago when his mother would shoo him and Rose out the door and off to the park—but something forces him to approach the child.

He doesn’t want to scare the girl, so he gives her a wide berth as he loops around to the front of the swings, approaching from where the kid can see him. And when she looks up at him, Jasper hates that her terrified expression is vaguely familiar to him…

But when she the fear disappears, relief is quick to take it’s place on her face. The girl smiles at him and releases her grip on one of the chains to wave at him. “Hi!” She exclaims, her legs dangling beneath her as the swing sways in the wind.

Jasper looks around then. “Hi there.” He doesn’t even see any cars parked in the lot across the way. “Are your parents around?”

She shakes her head as she starts pumping her little feet, and then she starts going higher and higher on the swing set. “No, my Mommy is dead,” she says matter-of-factly, and Jasper frowns at that.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says awkwardly, hands in his pockets as he keeps his eyes on the horizon, waiting for someone to come claim this child. Something in him tells him not to wander off. Sure, he doesn’t want to seem like a weirdo creep, talking to alone little girls, but he doesn’t want an actual one to come and snatch this girl up while she’s swinging here, all alone.

“S’okay,” she mumbles sadly as she swings back and forth. “I miss lots of people. And stuff. And my friends, too.”

“Is your dad around?”

“No,” she shakes her head, and a dark, angry look falls across her tiny features. “He’s at home being a jerk.”

“Are you supposed to be at home?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She kicks her legs angrily as she talks, “Not allowed to be at home. And I don’t wanna go to school.”

“You don’t like school?”

She shakes her head, still pouting as she swings back, and forth. “I told the teachers Daddy was being mean and then I got in trouble. And I told them not to say nothing!”

That revelation didn’t sit well with him. “Being mean?”

She’s quiet for a few seconds, her feet ceasing motion as she thinks to herself. Then, she’s pushing and pulling her feet back and forth again. “I’m not supposed to say things to adults, so you should go to your job or something.”

“I don’t have a job,” he offered, “but I didn’t go to school today either.” He looks around once more. “Is there someone I can call to come get you? Someone that’s not your dad?”

The girl shakes her head. “Alice isn’t allowed to. Dad says she has to stay at home so we don’t get in trouble again.”

Jasper’s entire world shifts with those words. “Alice?” He steps closer. That’s when he notices the little girls arms, full of brightly-colored beads, homemade bracelets that Jasper suddenly recognizes. “Is Alice your sister?”

The child nods, and when she pouts again Jasper suddenly realizes why this girl looks so familiar.

There’s a memory somewhere in his mind where Emmett revealed this little girl’s name, but that particular piece of information is out of his reach. “My name is Jasper. What’s yours?”

And then she says, “Cynthia Brandon” confirming his suspicions.

“Is Alice in trouble?” He begins to approach Cynthia then, but then stops and hesitates. Then, he walks to a swing several feet away and sits down on it. “I’m friends with Alice. We go to school together.” He digs around in his pockets then, knowing that he never had the nerve to actually attach it to his key ring, but when Alice had handed him a hand-made keychain a couple of weeks ago, he’d stuffed it into one of his jacket’s many pockets and forgotten about it. He finally wraps his fingers around the beaded thing and sighs in relief. “She made me this.”

The girl leans toward him, frowning as she studies the keychain he holds out toward her. “No,” she shakes her head, “I made that. Alice just takes them to school for her friends. But I definitely made that.” She sounds put-out by the idea that her big sister is stealing all the credit, and Jasper quickly backpedals.

“Oh, it’s very nice. Alice did give it to me though.”

“I know,” and then she’s smiling again as she kicks her feet. “When Daddy gets mad Alice puts me on her bed and lets me listen to all the music and make as many bracelets and keychains as I want while she talks to Daddy.”

“Does…” Jasper hesitates, “Is Alice alright? I’m very worried about her.”

“I’m not allowed to talk to people about what Daddy does.”

Jasper’s frown intensifies. “Because you’ll get in trouble?”

When Cynthia nods Jasper has to bite back a swear. He doesn’t know what to do now. It’s clear that something sinister is at play here, but with a little girl too afraid to say anything, and with Alice also refusing to give any hints as to what happens to her behind closed doors, Jasper is left lost.

But when his phone buzzes in his pocket, an idea strikes him. Retrieving it from his pocket he ignores the random email notification and, as quickly as he can, he types a message to Bella, placing as much urgency in his words as he can in a short text.

He stays there, sitting with Cynthia, chatting idly with the girl about her favorite way to braid and design her tiny pieces of ‘jewelry’, when Chief Swan’s police cruiser pulls up, parking in the lot behind them without the little girl noticing.

“Are you hungry?” Jasper eventually asks the girl, turning his head and nodding toward Bella’s dad when the man begins to approach, a random deputy at his side. “If I got you some food, would you eat it?”

“I’m always hungry,” she whines. “Alice was supposed to go to the market yesterday but then Daddy—” she slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide when she realizes that two policemen are approaching. “Oh, no,” she hops off the swings and scurries closer to Jasper. “Please tell them to go away,” she says in a whisper loud enough for the two cops to overhear.

“Hi Cynthia,” Charlie Swan smiles over at the girl, “how are you today, sweetheart?”

“Going home,” she declares loudly, reaching out and grabbing Jasper’s hand, quickly pulling him after her. “I’m going home now mister police man! Thank you! Goodbye!”

Jasper takes a few steps after the desperate little girl, turning to look at Chief Swan with a confused gaze. ‘What do I do?’ He mouths as the girl begins to drag him toward town.

‘We’ll follow’, Chief Swan mouths back, nodding to where the little girl is heading. Then, he places a hand on his partner’s shoulder and they begin moving back toward where the squad car is parked.

The pizzeria Cynthia drags him into is one he used to frequent as a child. The amount of birthday parties he and Rosalie had attended in the establishment were most likely in the double digits. His grandfather had been best friends with the owner of the place, and for years Jasper and his friends had been allowed to bring their report cards to the restaurant every marking period. Each ‘A’ entitled the kids to one free slice of pizza.

He leads Cynthia into a booth, sitting her in the side facing away from the parking lot. And minutes later when he sees the squad car park at the opposite end of the lot, he pulls his phone out again and starts texting Bella again. Thankfully she’s quick to send him her father’s number and for the first time since his arrest over a year ago, Jasper is willingly talking to a police officer.

He half-focuses on Cynthia as he starts texting Chief Swan every bit of information he has. It isn’t until Marnie—a waitress who has been working at the restaurant for as long as Jasper has been alive—brings them their order, a small cheese pizza to share and two lemonades, that Jasper realizes he has more information than he realizes.

Marnie gives him a serious look, glancing between the cop car and the little girl, and Jasper has to subtly gesture to the older woman that she needs to be quiet. When Cynthia is distracted with emptying more sugar packets into her lemonade, Jasper flashes the woman his phone. When the woman sees ‘Charlie Swan’ on the top she frowns and then nods, before retreating back into the kitchen.

You have to check on her, Jasper emphasizes more than once in his text messages with the Chief of Police of their tiny town. You have to go over there and make sure she’s alright.

It’s nearly two hours later—and Cynthia is stuffed full of pizza, cookies, and one warm brownie sundae—when Chief Swan finally exits his vehicle and approaches the building. Jasper hasn’t heard anything from the man in over an hour, but he knows that they’ve sent a few of his people over to the Brandon residence to perform a wellness check.

Marnie and Steve—the owner’s son, and current manager of the establishment—cleared out the restaurant nearly an hour ago, so after the two policemen step through the door, Steve locks the door behind them and flips the ‘OPEN’ sign to read ‘CLOSED’.

“Hi Cynthia,” Charlie Swan speaks again, and Cynthia turns toward the door and lets out a pitiful whine. “It’s okay. Nothing bad is going to happen. I promise.”

“You can’t promise me that!” She shrieks before ducking beneath the booth and reappearing at Jasper’s side. “Go away! I’ll go home later! Leave me alone!”

Chief Swan leans down to eye level with the little girl, and when she grabs Jasper’s arm, hiding behind it, he doesn’t know what to do. “Well, Cynthia. I’m here to tell you that you aren’t going to be able to go home today. In fact, a good friend of mine is going to come by and talk to you, if that’s alright?”

“I want to go home,” Cynthia’s words began to wobble as tears begin to spring to the surface. “I want Alice. I want to go home.”

“Alice is getting some help right now,” and Chief Swan meets Jasper’s eyes quickly then, before looking away, “but when she feels better you’ll be able to see her, alright?”

“I wanna go home,” she cries, burying herself underneath Jasper’s discarded coat, where she continues to cry. “I wanna go home.”

It isn’t until Edward’s parents show up—somehow Jasper had forgotten all about the slew of foster siblings Edward had when they were young—and Esme Cullen spends a few minutes calmly talking to Cynthia, that the little girl appears more willing to go with them.

When Cynthia is packed away into some random car with a borrowed booster seat Jasper turns toward Chief Swan. “Please tell me she’s alright.”

The man nods, and Jasper feels his shoulders deflate, relief almost suffocating. “I don’t know if I would’ve been able to say that if we’d waited another day or two to check, but their father is in custody and Alice is at the hospital.” The man fixes Jasper with a long look then. “I don’t know why, or how it is that I always find you at the center of these situations,” he remarks, somehow looking down his nose at Jasper, despite the fact he was a shorter man, “but you’re good man, Hale. Just make sure to talk to your parents about this.” He turned to walk away, “And thanks for not going rogue again this time.”

The underlying message was clear: ‘thanks for not trying to kill Mr. Brandon’.

When he walks through his front door an hour later, dragging himself up the stairs with heavy feet, he’s met with an avalanche of people suddenly. And when Rosalie’s arms are wrapped around his neck, he almost feels himself break down then.

“Tell us everything,” she mutters quickly against his neck, and that’s when Jasper realizes that Emmett, Edward, and Bella are all standing behind her on the stairs or in the hallway above.

He gets through the story slowly, starting with when he left the house and stopping when he realized that he was talking to Alice’s little sister.

“I’m so glad you texted me when you did,” Bella sighs. “I don’t usually have my phone on me during school, but it’s my Mom’s birthday, so I’ve been waiting on messages from her all day.”

“I knew something was up when Bella ditched English last period,” Edward comments from where he’s leaning back against Rosalie’s wall.

“Bella ditching class at all should be a red flag,” Rosalie remarks from her spot on her bed beside Jasper.

“Your parents have her sister, last I saw,” Jasper turns toward Edward as he speaks, as if hoping the younger boy could provide more information.

Edward nods. “They called a few minutes after I got here. They’re technically still registered as foster parents, so if they can’t get a hold of any other relatives in the area, I’m going to have some foster sisters soon,” he shrugs as if it’s no big deal to him to have Alice and Cynthia moving in. And the idea of Dr. and Mrs. Cullen taking care of the pair of girls is enough for force Jasper to look away from everyone, afraid that he might start getting emotional again.

Jasper stays home from school again the next day, and Rosalie does, too. It doesn’t take long for news to travel through the town of Forks and Jasper knows that if he hears any disrespectful gossip at school, he’ll likely be disappointing Chief Swan much sooner than anticipated.

He tries to visit Alice at the hospital but since there’s an ongoing investigation they turn him away at the front desk.

Joseph Brandon eventually calls one of them—the school must’ve finally gotten a hold of him about their absences—and gets the full story from Rosalie, promising to be home within the day and giving them permission to use the emergency credit card to get a bouquet of flowers sent to Alice’s hospital room.

When Monday rolls around he doesn’t want to go to school, but his father and Rosalie force him out of bed and down the stairs. He’s sort of glad he’s pushed out the door that morning, because when he returns home that afternoon, Mom is back, which means he’s missed out on a huge fight, and he’s relieved that at least it happened while he and Rosalie were at school this time.

The news of the newcomers—John Edgar Brandon and his two daughters—is such hot gossip around town that when Jasper and Rosalie come home one day to their mother’s belongings packed away in a U-haul truck, and some strange man helping her pack, the news doesn’t even make it to his classmates. Because the story of Joseph Hale finally kicking his unfaithful wife to the curb is something that the people of this town have been waiting for him to do for years now.

But the story of the twice-widowed John Edgar Brandon being arrested for abuse, neglect, and suspected murder, easily trumps the news of any simple extra-marital affair. Jasper hates the relief he feels, knowing that his deadbeat mother isn’t going to be the talk of the town, and instead the fact that John Edgar beat his eldest daughter within an inch of her life, is.

He’s been back at school for a full week when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. It’s nearly the end of the day; the bell is set to go off within minutes and he knows he won’t get a demerit if any teachers see him on his phone at this point on a Friday.

The first message is from Edward.

I told her not to go overboard. But he’s my apology in advance.

The second is from an unknown number.

hi jasper!!!!!!!!!!!!

He pockets the phone with a frown, staring back at the clock on the wall before realizing that his teacher is wrapped up in conversation with a few kids on the opposite side of the classroom. Trying not to be seen he ducks out of the classroom swiftly, pulling his phone out of his pocket to stare at the text message again.

It takes him two more seconds to realize who is texting him and before he can stop himself he’s pressing the ‘call’ button and rushing out the front doors as fast as he can. As he listens to the phone ring on the other end the knot in his throat is so thick that he’s afraid he might choke if he tries to say anything.

“Um,” her voice on the other end of the line sounds like a miracle, and Jasper finds himself clinging to his phone even as he strides into the parking lot, rain pouring down heavily on his head. “Hello?”

“Alice?” He can’t keep his voice from cracking as he makes it to his car, struggling with the keys to open the door and make it inside. “It’s Jasper.”

“I know,” and her voice sounds so small, so unsure that Jasper’s chest hurts hearing it. “Esme and Carlisle got me a phone.”

“That’s amazing,” he finds himself smiling as he talks, slamming the car door shut once he finally manages to climb inside and avoid the downpour. “Is it hard to use?”

“Kind of,” her voice sounds raspier than usual. Whether it’s due to misuse or injury, Jasper is still unsure. He hasn’t heard anything about her physical state, yet. “Edward’s helping me a lot though. Which is nice.” Theres another pause. “He’s nice.”

“He is,” Jasper agrees, leaning his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes. “It’s so good to hear from you, Alice.”

“Jasper,” she sounds sad, then, “I want to apologize.”

“What?” He sits up abruptly, his eyes open again. “Alice, no. You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

“I lied,” she whispers, “so, so much.”

“No, you didn’t. You kept quiet to keep yourself safe,” his words are stern but kind. “That’s different.”

“I’ve made everyone so, so miserable,” and when her voice cracks, Jasper feels something in his chest crack right alongside it. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Alice, listen to me,” clinging to the phone with both hands he finds that he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to tell this girl and he doesn’t know how to repair something that neither of them are responsible for damaging in the first place.

The entire situation is a mess.

“Are you allowed to have visitors now?” He asks instead. “I’d really like to see you.” There’s a slight pause. “And Cynthia,” he adds on. “I’m not sure if she’s told you about our adventure the other week.”

Alice laughs then, “Yeah. She keeps telling me she likes my tall friend with the pizza.” Jasper smiles at that. “I told her I do, too.” Theres the sound of shuffling on the other line, and then Alice speaks again. “I’m… not sure if I’m allowed…”

“Can you ask?” Then, he realizes what he’s requesting of her, and changes his mind. “I can have Edward ask, I mean.” The idea of asking a parent for permission for anything is something he’s sure Alice has no experience in.

“Um, maybe, yeah. That might be better.” After a slight pause, she sighs into the phone. “I miss you.”

Jasper’s stomach does flips then as he deflates back down into the seat. He can hear the sound of the final bell going off in the background, but he’s too focused on his phone to care. “How about I text Edward, and see if I can come over later?” The idea of inviting himself over to the Cullen household is as bizarre as it is bold, but Jasper doesn’t care. He wants to see Alice, badly. “Maybe I’ll bring some pizza for you and Cynthia.”

Alice giggles at that. “I think she’d really like that. Yeah, okay.”

It isn’t until minutes later when Rosalie wordlessly climbs into the passenger seat that he realizes he’s been crying. She gasps at the sight, leaning forward and grabbing his hand and demanding to know what’s wrong, and only when he wipes his cheeks with the backs of his hands and shakes his head, telling her that Alice is safe and home, does she deflate, pulling him into a hug.

Esme Cullen declines his offer to bring pizza, but is happy enough to see him when he and Rosalie walk through their front door that night. Cynthia is excited to see him and wants to show Jasper her new bedroom, informing him that it’s ‘full of books and shelves’, prompting Rosalie and Jasper to share a strange look with one another and prompting Esme to quickly explain that they were still in the process of packing up her husband’s study to convert into another bedroom for the young girl.

The house is huge—easily one of the biggest homes Jasper has ever seen—and when they eventually reach the kitchen in the back of the house, Alice is already sitting at the table, her eyes wide and smile bright as they cross the room toward her.

“Alice! Alice! Your friends are here!” Cynthia exclaims before climbing into the chair beside her sister.

Alice laughs and looks over at her sister, beaming, “I see that! I’m so happy!”

“Me too!” The girl giggles before hopping down off the chair and running after Esme. “Let’s finish dinner now, please, please!”

Alice looks better than Jasper expected her to, if he’s being honest with himself. One eye is still quite swollen and what used to be her ‘good arm’ is in some type of sling, but her smile is bright and there is color in her cheeks. Judging by the ill-fitting button down Jasper can tell it’s a collarbone fracture, and even though he can’t see her legs, there is a wheelchair resting a few feet behind where she sits.

“Good to see you,” Rose smiles at the small girl, leaning forward to wrap Alice in a light hug. Alice looks delighted at such a reaction from Rosalie, even grinning excitedly over the blonde’s shoulder toward Jasper, and when she lifts her pink cast to give him a thumbs up, he has to refrain from laughing out loud. “I’ll have to drag Emmett by sometime this week. He can’t wait to see you.”

“Oh, please do!” Then, Alice freezes, turning toward where Esme and Cynthia are across the room, “I—I mean, if I’m allowed to.”

Esme’s smile is kind and her words are steady when she calls calmly toward the anxious girl. “Guests are welcome any time before eight PM on school nights and ten PM on weekends. Carlisle and I will let you know beforehand if we have any exceptions on any days.”

And with the gentle setting of boundaries Jasper watches as Alice calms visibly, her shoulders losing their tension as she turns back toward Rosalie and smiles, nodding. “Yeah, I want to see Emmett, too.”

“He might be over sooner than this week,” Edward chimes in as he enters the room, waving his phone toward them. “He and Bella are on their way now, apparently.”

Rosalie manages to look a bit irritated at that. “He didn’t tell me he was coming.”

“I thought you didn’t care what Emmett does with his free time,” Edward speaks knowingly. It takes Jasper several seconds to realize that Edward is teasing his sister. And not only that, Rosalie hasn’t retorted; instead, she’s turning bright red where she stands.

Oh. Well, that was certainly a development.

“I’m glad I planned on having leftovers,” Esme laughs good-naturedly from the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

Despite the unexpected guests, the dinner at the Cullen household goes like this: He manages to sit himself on Alice’s opposite side and hardly leaves it the entire night. She has difficulty picking up food with her fork, and even despite Esme’s insistence that she can help the girl Jasper insists on doing it. It’s when he realizes that most of the foods he’s scooping onto her utensils are soft, easily chewable things, that he wonders, as he helps her wrap her fingers around her fork again and again, what other unseen injuries she possesses.

Emmett and Rosalie insist on helping Esme clean up dinner, and Edward shows Jasper how to fold and unfold Alice’s wheelchair, before the younger boy helps Alice into it. Jasper feels nauseous as he sees that both of her legs are injured. Her left is in a cast up to her knee, and her right foot is in a black boot.

They’re ushered from the kitchen into a giant living room with a television so big that it makes Jasper wonder how they got it into the house.

As they wait for Emmett and Rosalie to join them Cynthia takes control of the remote as well as the trajectory of their night. Edward groans and Bella shushes him when the little girl announces they’re watching some animated movie Jasper knows nothing about, but after an hour into the film Emmett has declared that it’s his new favorite movie and Cynthia has declared that Emmett is her new favorite person.

They’re halfway through the sequel when the little girl finally passes out, one too many musical numbers zapping her energy. Esme laughs and Emmett remarks that his dance partner has underestimated her endurance as he helps collect the girl and carry her off to bed.

They turn the cartoon off after that and put on something a little more suitable for a group of teenagers. Some mindless comedy that Esme decides to forgo as she prepares to retreat to some other part of the house.

“Dude, your mom kicks ass,” Emmett whispers to Edward after Esme finally leaves them, bowls of freshly popped popcorn and pitchers of juice placed on the coffee table before them all. “What the hell?” He gestures to the TV and the popcorn. “HBO max and the gourmet buttered shit? You’ve been holding out on us, Cullen.”

“Edward’s spoiled,” Bella remarks with a grin as Edward turns to glare at his girlfriend, but when she pokes him in the ribs, causing him to jump nearly a foot in the air, they all laugh. “What? It’s true.”

The movie has barely begun before Jasper feels Alice begin to drift at his side. He turns toward her, hyperaware of her every movement, watching as she begins to nod off slowly, her head dipping and eyes fluttering shut every few seconds.

“Do you want to go to sleep?” He asks quietly enough that no one else hears him over the noise of the surround-sound in the room. But Alice shakes her head stubbornly before sitting up and adjusting the pillows beneath her arm in the sling. Then, she snuggles up close to Jasper’s side and lets out a long sigh.

“Not yet,” she mutters to him, even though her eyes are already fluttering shut again. “I want to stay here, please.”

Jasper barely pays attention to the movie after that. Instead he spends the next hour and a half letting his mind run rampant. His thoughts are so swept up in all things Alice that he hardly notices when the movie has ended and Emmett and Rosalie are standing up and stretching. Emmett starts to talk loudly before Rose smacks his shoulder, gesturing to where Alice is fast asleep at Jasper’s side.

They all slowly disperse after that. Rosalie hitches a ride home with Emmett, and before Edward leaves to drive Bella home he goes and fetches his mother to help Jasper move Alice to bed.

While Esme is unfolding the chair Jasper simply stands, maneuvering Alice into his arms as carefully as possible, all while trying not to jostle her too much. “It’s fine,” he whispers to Esme, shaking his head and gesturing for her to lead the way.

The room that has become Alice’s room is the only bedroom on the main level. Originally a guest room, Esme explains, it didn’t take much to transform it into the type of a room a teenage girl would love. In addition to the new cell phone, there’s a small desktop situated on a new-looking desk in the corner of the room, and there are pink and white twinkle lights cascading across where the walls and ceiling meet. The bedspread is also pink and white, and knowing that they’re Alice’s favorite colors, and that this room was hurriedly designed with her in mind, is enough to force Jasper’s throat to tighten up with emotion again.

The bed is low enough to make it easy for Alice to get in and out with minimal assistance, which means that Jasper has to bend down quite far to gently deposit Alice against the covers. Despite his care, she wakes up the instant his arms are back at his sides, sitting up with a gasp and then a wince, and when she cries out in pain both he and Esme are at her side.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Esme presses a firm hand between her shoulder blades, pressing forward until she’s sitting up straight. “There we go, good. Try not to bend sideways, that-a-girl.”

Gritting her teeth together Alice blinks up at the pair of them, visibly relaxing at the two people in front of her. “I need to pee,” she manages to rasp between pained gasps.

“I’ll go get her chair,” Esme says as she stands back up, swiftly exiting the room.

“Are you alright?”

Alice nods quickly, despite the pain apparent on her face. “Just hurts,” she wheezes as she closes her eyes. Reaching out she grabs for his hand, which Jasper is all-too-happy to give to her. Squeezing it tightly she manages a weak smile. “Thanks.”

“You’ll be alright,” Jasper sighs. And he means those words so wholeheartedly that it makes him emotional. Her injuries would heal, both physical as well as mental. It was so clear, in just the way that the Cullens had quickly outfitted their home to take in the two girls, that they would be safe here, and loved, and cared for.

Everything they hadn’t been afforded before.

“Is it after ten?” She asks, her eyes looking for the clock on the nightstand behind her. But when she tries to twist to see it and winces, she laughs. “I keep forgetting I can’t do that.”

“It’s nearly ten; 9:48.”

“That means you have to go soon, then.”

He nods as Esme enters the room, wheeling her chair in and helping Alice scoot herself off of the bed and into it. “We’ll be right back,” the kind-hearted woman smiles up at him as she wheels Alice out of the room. “Carlisle will be home any minute now.”

True to her word, the sound of the front door opening and closing brings Jasper’s attention toward the hallway as he watches Carlisle Cullen move carefully through his home.

Upon sight of the teenager standing alone in Alice’s room he approaches with a smile. “Good to see you, Jasper,” and when the older man offers his hand, Jasper takes it firmly, realizing this is the first time he’s actually spoken to Edward’s father. “I heard you all had a fun night.”

“Yes, sir,” Jasper nods, “Dinner, some movies. My sister and I appreciate the hospitality.”

Carlisle smiles warmly. “And you’re both welcome any time. Friends of Edward’s, and of Alice’s, are always welcome here.”

Jasper is taken aback by how much he dislikes that particular statement. Thankfully, Esme and Alice return seconds later, but the idea that he is simply that—a friend to Alice, doesn’t sit right with him.

It’s a ridiculous reaction to have, of course. And he continues to think this even as he helps Carlisle move Alice out of her chair and into her bed. It isn’t until Alice releases her grip on his hand that he realizes the cause of his disdain for the title.

He isn’t friends with Alice Brandon. Not really.

He cares about this tiny girl far, far too much to use the word. And when she smiles up at him almost shyly when Carlisle kindly reminds the two that ten PM is as late as guests can stay, Jasper can’t help the heart palpitations he feels when she turns to the older man and promises she’ll let Jasper leave after she properly says goodnight.

Jasper can see the unamused look Carlisle gives his wife, but Esme is hiding her grin well as she grabs her husband’s hand and drags him from the room, even closing the door behind them both; a luxury that even Jasper’s lenient father never grants to him and Rosalie when they have guests over.

The alarm clock on the bedside table blinks a bright pink 9:57 at him, and he knows his time is nearly up.

Alice reaches over and takes his hand in hers, tugging slightly until he’s sitting on the bed beside her. Carlisle already propped her up on the pillows and blankets she’ll be sleeping on until her collarbone heals, so Jasper has to nearly crawl across the bed until he’s sitting at her side. And even though most of her injuries are now hidden from him with a blanket tossed over her, he knows they’re there. That her bones are broken and her injuries are still too extensive to even properly see all of them. That the state of her body is far worse than it was that night she came to him, lip and cheek bleeding as she quietly sobbed on the floor of his bedroom.

“I have so much I want to say to you,” Alice eventually speaks, her eyes staring at his hand as she grips it tightly. “But I know I don’t have a lot of time, so I think ‘thank you’ is good enough for tonight.” She stares intently down at his hand as she speaks, and Jasper is so hypnotized by the way her eyebrows furrow and her lips pucker when she frowns that he has to force himself to focus on her words. “If you hadn’t found Cynthia that day, and if you didn’t do what you did, I would be lying in a pool of blood in the basement of that house, dead right now.”

The sorrow that fills him, upon hearing those words from her mouth, is something Jasper can’t even begin to properly sort through. So when Alice continues talking, he files that feeling away, knowing he’ll need to process it eventually, but that right now, Alice and her words are what is important.

“I owe you a lot; not just my life. But explanations. And stories and,” Alice swallows and forces herself to look back up at him, “and I owe you. All the answers I have to give.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he needs to emphasize that before she makes up her mind. “You will never owe me a single thing, Alice.”

“Well, what if I want to volunteer the information? What if I want to tell you every little thing I couldn’t before? Every detail that was dangerous before?”

He stares back into her eyes, realizing for the first time that they’re a deep, dark blue color. “I’ll listen to any little thing you want to tell me, Alice,” he promises as he holds her gaze.

Alice releases his hand then, lifting her hand to his cheek, brushing her thumb against his skin as the palm of her cast presses against his face. “What if I tell you to kiss me?” She whispers, her gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips as she attempts to lean up.

“Are you sure?” He feels himself leaning down before he can even gather her reply, and the second she has enough of a grip on the back of his neck she’s pulling him down toward her.

“Please kiss me,” she whispers against his lips, and when he finally obliges her, she sighs against his mouth. It’s the most beautiful sound Jasper has ever heard.

The kiss is sweet, gentle, and far-too-short, as a sharp knock on the door forces him to draw back quickly, turning at the sound of Carlisle on the other side of the door, reminding them that it was after ten now.

Alice laughs when she hears Esme scold her husband, and then the two voices are far away when Jasper turns back down to look at her. “Oops,” is all he can think to say.

Alice’s laughter fills the room as she reaches up again. And when Jasper kisses her once more before pulling away, Alice sighs against his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He presses a kiss to the tip of her nose before nodding. “Tomorrow.”

“If visitors are allowed as late as ten o’clock,” Alice muses softly as Jasper crawls out of the bed. “I wonder how early they’re allowed…”

Jasper laughs, walking over to the side of the bed Alice is on before leaning down, capturing her lips in one final kiss. “I’ll ask on the way out.” And when Alice pulls him closer, deepening the kiss, Jasper scoffs at his own train of thought.

He and Alice Brandon definitely weren’t ‘friends’.

And that was more than enough for Jasper.

#jalicesecretsanta20 #twilight fanfiction #Jalice fanfiction #I LOVE THIS SO MUCH ANNA I HOPE YOU LOVE IT TOO!!!!!#twilight saga #its a drama-filled high school human AU so please forgive me for the whump and the sands #SADS*

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snarkwrites · 5 years ago

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FFT: voice like honey; tim riggins

Notes:

Honestly... I loved writing this. One, it gave me an excuse to write Friday Night Lights again and two.. this inspired me heavily to maaaybe do more with these two in the future on here. Idk, we’ll see.

Summary:

Tim Riggins is a near fearless flirt. Tati is the new girl and she likes to liken herself to a butterfly.. Pretty to look at, hard to catch. Something tells me she hasn’t really dealt with a charmer like Tim.

Warnings:

uhhh.. just tim being tim.

Pairing:

Tim Riggins x OFC, Tati

His voice was smooth and it was probably the first thing she’d ever noticed about Tim Riggins. As soon as he’d opened his mouth, offering a shitty excuse to their homeroom teacher for being late a third time and he’d slunk in, right past her seat, flopping into the seat two behind her, she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off the guy. She’d turned and pretended to be gazing out the window at the back of the classroom, but maybe she’d been staring at Tim.

Naturally, he was a football player. One of the big shots. A Dylan Panther. She tended to keep a wide berth of the more popular kids since moving to Dylan because she’d been one at her old school and she’d promised herself that she didn’t want to be that spoiled little princess again. She hated the way cliques worked and she’d seen them do their worst to a person. But right off the bat, she’d noticed something… Different about him.

He was smart, even though he had acting dumb as a bag of rocks down to an art. He was truthful, even when the truth might hurt a little upon hearing it. He tried to do the right thing, even when the right thing went horribly wrong. As weeks passed, she found herself growing more and more painfully aware of the guy, despite her best efforts to do the opposite. And Tim went on… Being Tim. Partying, playing football and not noticing anything outside of those two things.

At least this is what Tati had herself convinced. Until one day, the day before Valentine’s day, to be exact, that all changed.

Tati sat facing the front, twisting a brunette curly around her fingertip and sneaking glances at the clock. She felt a tap to her shoulder but thinking it was the jerk behind her being an ass again, she tried to ignore it.

The tap was more persistent this time. Tati whirled around, hazel eyes locking on the guy who sat in front of Tim Riggins, a brow raised. “What? What do you want, huh?”

“I didn’t…” the guy shrank back, waving his hands. Tati rolled her eyes and muttered “Jerk” under her breath, turning back around to face the front. She’d just started to doodle on the blank page in her notebook again when she heard a desk scraping across the linoleum floor.

“No headphones today, darlin?” -Dear god, just the sound of his voice.. The scent of Big Red chewing gum and the warmth of his breath against her ear as he leaned in slightly, an amused grin that she didn’t even have to be looking at to feel… it threw her into an internal uproar. She nearly choked on her own cotton candy-flavored gum and his hand shot out, patting her on the back hard. “Easy there, angel.” Tim chuckled, looking at her as if he were concerned. “Don’t like.. die on me.”

“Mr. Riggins.. Ms. Esquivel… What in the world are you two doing?” - at the sound of their teacher and her intent gaze fixing on Tati, Tati wanted to melt into the floor and disappear. The classroom was snickering. Tim remained calm. Nothing rattled the guy, apparently. He gave a teasing grin and nodded to Tati. “Just hit me, Mrs. H.. I ain’t introduced myself to the new girl.”

“I haven’t been the new girl for almost a month now, Tim.” Tati found her voice and spoke up quietly but firmly, blowing at the fringe bangs that tended to always flop right into her eyes, no matter what she tried to do. Tim didn’t seem deterred by Tati or the teacher.

“Touche. See, I miss class. Didn’t know, angel.”

“First of all, it’s Tati…” she took a deep breath. In her entire short time at Dylan High, this was actually the most she’d ever said to anyone. Tim could see her cheeks darkening and he chuckled quietly. The teacher turned back to the blackboard after he finally moved his chair back into it’s correct space and Tim stared at the brunette intently. The bell rang and she was up out of the chair with this cat-like graceful leap that he almost didn’t catch up to her. He managed to, just as she got to a stop in front of her locker.

Tati’s eyes met his in the flimsy mirror she had stuck to the door on the inside of her locker as she slicked on more red gloss. “You’re real good at blockin people out, ya know that? I’ve tried a thousand times t’ get yer attention by now.”

Tati turned, finding them body to body. Her eyes widened ever so slightly and she gulped, nearly choking on the damn gum again. Tim chuckled and stared down at her, his arm up, blocking her off so that she was pinned in. Tati took a ragged breath and then asked quietly, “Is there something I can do for you, Tim Riggins?”

“Well, you can start by lettin me walk ya to class, Tati. That’s a cute name, by the way, darlin.. Short for somethin?”

“Tatiana.” she gave a soft laugh as she looked up at him, tearing her eyes away abruptly when he happened to glance down at her. “Sorry.. I didn’t know you were trying to get my attention.”

“Maybe if you didn’t slink around campus with headphones in so loud..” Tim mused, snickering as she simply shrugged. They were standing in front of her classroom door now and he chuckled quietly, grabbing hold of her hand and placing a folded sheet of notebook paper into it as he winked. “I’ll see ya in an hour, angel. Gonna be waitin right here.”

Tati breezed into class and sank down into her seat, trying and failing at collecting herself. That only worsened when she opened the folded sheet of paper and hazel eyes scanned the words written there.

Never been good at this dancin around shit.. So here I go.. Valentines Dance with me, yes or no?

Tati smiled to herself, digging around for her favorite glittery red pen and she quickly scrawled out her response.

Yes. This better not be some kind of prank or bet, Tim or I swear to God..

After class, she handed him the note and he opened it, right there in front of her, chuckling as he slipped an arm around her. “I don’t joke a whole lot. I mean.. not about when I’m into somebody. And I am definitely into you..” in that almost velvety gravel voice of his as Tati’s heart hammered wild against her chest.

#tim riggins fanfiction #tim riggins fanfic #tim riggins fic #tim riggins oneshot #tim riggins imagine #// look this is cute af.#// and i miiight be tempted to yannow... write the thing

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high5nerd · 5 years ago

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Vorfreude

Aay, my first (at the time) Pitch x Reader one-shot!

Don’t fook your professors, folks.

“When understanding the root words of our modern day languages, it can be daunting to fully comprehend the detail such a language as English can be intertwined with a multitude of other languages long forgotten,”

Dr. Pitchiner was certainly entrancing when he spoke at the podium, flourishing a hand at the list of most common prefixes and suffixes used in today’s modern English, along with a surprise list of obscure ones you knew you had to take note on. Dr. Pitchiner wasn’t one to give easy exams, the last exam was so gruelling someone almost passed out from a panic attack at the multitude of pages.

Despite enjoying writing yourself, you weren’t as invested in English as he was, which was a given, hence the reason his PhD in English as well as a degree in Latin Translation. Many times he’s journeyed to Italy to help assist scholars in finding new information on the lost civilizations of Rome, Sicily, and Pompeii, and that credit alone was the sole reason he got the job at this state college. He should have been employed at universities like Harvard or Yale, or even Oxford or Princeton, but yet here he was, teaching at your simple state college with an acceptance rate of 93% and the highest transferring stat in all of your state.

Not a lot of students found him attractive like you did. Certainly there was more than a couple handfuls of girls, pockets of them, who’ve admired his lithe figure, his graceful movements and that firm ass that was way too snug in his black slacks. Most of them admired his physique from afar, some even daring others to get closer to flirt with him shamelessly, and usually that ended up with a bad memory for the attempted action, as well as the girl who tried to drop the class out of utter embarrassment at such a call out after class that could be heard around the hall.

Dr. Kozmotis Pitchiner took no bullshit from anyone, and that’s the main reason your heart fluttered at the thought and sight of him. This class wasn’t the first time you two had met face to face either, shockingly. Quite hilariously, the first time you two met, you didn’t even like him.

Three years ago, you were an itty bitty freshman just like the ones that recently arrived this semester, and to the best of your luck, you scored almost five hours of total free time on Mondays and Wednesdays before your Intro to Biology class and Intro to Psychology course after lunch.

Why not explore the gorgeous campus during those five hours? It would get you more acquainted with your surroundings and in small cases, make new friends! Grabbing a can of fruit juice and a danish from the dining hall, you munched as you explored the massive quad before discovering where the art gallery was, venturing towards the art and theatre buildings you’d be in the next year for your art perspective requirements. You found yourself meandering in the photograph-covered walled hallway of the English department, unknowingly headed towards the campus’s own local newspaper headquarters when a voice startled you from your entrancement with your journey.

“Hey. Where do you think you’re going?” a voice matching the texture of velvet came.

You turn around, frowning at the sudden startling noise. There just feet away from you, emerged from his office was a man dressed in what you would consider funeral appropriate attire, a smooth black suit with a basic black tie, and shiny black dress shoes that looked like they could reflect sunlight and somehow cause a car accident if he walked outside.

“I’m exploring. Where do you think you’re going?” you shot back, taking a long sip of your fruit juice.

You were mildly surprised to see a smirk cross his devious lips, his silver-gold eyes narrowing at your sass. He almost looked amused at your attitude, even enough so that his tensed shoulders relaxed, but his arms still remained folded over his chest.

“At the moment, I’m going wherever you think you’re headed, which should be in the opposite direction you’re headed.”

Ooh, he likes playing word games. You took another sip and then took a big bite of your danish, not caring about how childish you were coming off to him. You pointed towards the hallway, “Why can’t I go down there?”

He gestured his head in the same direction, “It’s merely copy rooms and computer labs meant for the Daily Mascot Oracle. Nothing worth checking out.”

“Oh. That’s a shit title.” you commented.

He barked out a heartwarming laugh. You grin at him, glad he finally was capable of taking that stick out of his ass and be a decent human being. Almost three times so far in just two days you got two people to really dislike your presence and your sassy attitude, someone named Bunnymund and another elfish looking kid named Jack who’s definition of fun didn’t match yours at all.

“I certainly didn’t agree to it either, but the editor in chief made sure my vote was outnumbered,” he hesitated, thinking quickly before glancing at you, “Are you a freshman?”

You nodded, knowing what he would ask next, “Majoring in psychology with hopefully a minor in alternative medicine and therapy.”

He looked genuinely impressed, “I must say, it’s quite refreshing to have a new student under that field. Not a lot of freshmen choose that whilst entering for their first year. What makes you like that field of study so much?”

You shrugged with a smile, “I like the whole concept of the human mind and how it functions on an emotional state. It’s interesting how certain actions and emotions can create feelings inside us, and I especially love the study of dreams and fears and hopes. I want to do a project on dream therapy for my senior thesis when it comes time to that, but I doubt they’ll let me. Professor Oren didn’t like hearing me say that at orientation.”

Dr. Pitchiner nodded, “Oren doesn’t really believe in the science behind dreams, and certainly not the spirituality behind it if you believe in that sort of thing. I certainly do.”

“You do?” you were genuinely surprised, literally taken aback. You wouldn’t have considered such an eloquent, smooth and finely dressed man to believe in a spirituality. He reeked of realist to you, you certainly weren’t expecting that.

He nodded again, “Of course. It’s only natural for the human psyche to become understandable to a certain degree, and it’s been proven through many other cultures that such things exist, like the sixth sense or empathy or precognition. Why not in dream analyzation? It’s fascinating, I’m glad you’re interested in it. If I wasn’t an English professor I would immediately return to college to take advantage of that.”

That’s when you realized how gold his eyes were, how they sparkled like the richest coins ever discovered in the vastness of the sunken world of ships at the bottom of the ocean. His eyes gave away intense wisdom, feeling and intellect that you felt the need to learn from. You needed to unlock every part of him to see beyond that gaze he gave you with that strange upturn at the corner of his devilish mouth.

Sure enough, you eventually found yourself in his class a couple years later for your required English Analysis course, and the both of you took advantage of that. You found yourself wandering back to his office between classes and office hours, knowing full well no one visited him nor had the courage to due to his harshness in class and strict code he sticks to in not forming attachments to the student body. For you, somehow you were able to break that barrier and see a different kind of man than what people upfront knew him as.

Your friend Katherine is your first and only senior friend at the university, and from her story when you signed up for his course at the beginning of the year, he was known to be callous and strict, such a polar opposite to leniency that even if you were sick with proof of illness, he wouldn’t accept that as an excused absence unless you flourished a medical note from a doctor to him. Everyone feared him, but admired him from afar since he’s the only professor to actually cut down on the bullshitters and slackers in class, and is one of the most respected professors there because of his adventures in Italy as a historian as well as a translator.

You, however, knew him as a sarcastic, good humored intellect with an avid thirst for learning the unknown, and unlocking skills he’s never attempted. From the times you would visit his office or bump into each other in the hallways and have small talk, you learned that at one point in his life he was just as brash, brazen and impulsive as you are now. Before he considered becoming a professor, he was eager to study what you were studying in now, especially the study of phobias and humans’ reactions to certain fear-triggering events or objects. You were the only one that’s ever heard him snort at a god-awful joke you would attempt at, and the only one that’s ever seen him grin at you in such a way it made your stomach flip and flutter.

Perhaps you exposed yourself too much to him, or perhaps he was just so relatable you felt like you sometimes felt like you were talking to a part of yourself you’ve never discovered before. It slightly scared you how much he knew about you and it wasn’t even the end of the fall semester, but you trusted him in ways you’ve never trusted another before. He always promised you absolute confidentiality with your confessions to him, most out of pure merriment and in the goal of a strengthened friendship, like when you told him when you were fourteen you tried blending into the popular clique but still found yourself drawn to the nerds and theater kids once more. He once gave you such a dubious smirk at the notion of you once being the stereotypical geek, with what you claimed to be the unattractive flat hair, braces and awkward gait.

“I can hardly believe that of you.” he chuckled.

“Why? You can kinda tell, don’t lie.” you winked teasingly.

He tilted his head in his hand at you, looking your figure up and down so slowly and languidly that it made your face heat up with a sudden thrill you haven’t felt in a long time.

“Whoever you were before has grew into a fine young woman, that’s most of what I can see.” he looked at you seriously, his eyes hard with truth.

Ever since that you realized that the idea of him being closer than what you two already were was something else you wanted. You thirsted for it, like an obsession. Unhealthy, you weren’t sure, but you were careful not to give yourself away to him, in fear that it would destroy that friendship you two already had. Without anyone’s knowledge but his, you both called each other by your first names. You called him Koz, and he called you by the nickname you wanted him to call you.

Even just watching him write on the board, hearing his voice wrap you lovingly in it’s deep musical tones made your legs tighten in excitement. You furrowed your brows, trying to ignore the incoming thoughts of his voice saying your name like a mantra as you wrote down everything being scribbled on the board.

The guy next to you noticed your discomfort, and nudged his elbow with yours. You looked at him, affronted, “What?”

“You look pissed. You okay?” he looked suspicious.

“Shut up, I’m fine.”

“(y/n).”

Your blood froze, looking up at him in pure fear at being called out in front of class. His hands were folded behind his back, his eyes lingering on you and only you. The class stared at you, nearly a thousand eyes focused on your nervous leg bouncing and the pen in your hand being crushed by the amount of attention drawn onto you.

“I see you have already started to discuss with Stephen,” you could swear to the moon above he smirked ruefully, “Would you like to tell us what the definition of vorfreude is?”

You gulped quickly before looking down at your paper, noticing that the last couple notes were not even notes, they were sinful descriptions of what you wanted him to do to your mouth and in between your thighs. Your face grew incredibly red to the point it prickled your skin as you stood up. You never broke eye contact with him. You can’t be weak now.

“Vorfreude is a German word to define a type of intense anticipation of imagining future pleasures.”

He nodded, his smirk subsiding to something even darker at the moment you uttered the word ‘future’, “Excellent. Glad to see you’re still paying attention despite your distractions.”

Some people snickered at your red face deepening in color as you plopped back down in your seat. By now Koz was shuffling the exams collected last week, freshly graded and corrections that could leave someone in tears if not taken lightly.

As he passed around the graded exams going over the class’s weak points and what to look forward to for the next midterm, you doodled a bit more in your notebook and wrote more lines of absolute sin into a poetic verse, something E. E. Cummings would be absolutely proud of.

You read over your lines, admiring the visual rhymes as well as the absolute clear imagery of being locked into him, his arms like a vice as he would pull your hair and bite at the sensitive parts of your neck, and even now you squirmed at the daydream of such a carnal act going on in his office. More than anything, more than just impressing him with your knowledge and sharp tongue would be for him to pin you to the desk and make you cry out his name in ecstasy as your legs would quiver with release. You bit your lip as you tightened your grip on your sweatshirt, trying your damn hardest not to accidentally make a noise.

That’s when you noticed the shadow lurking over you.

You froze. Your entire body became still with horror and your blood turned cold as Koz read over your carnal poem and observed your lewd doodles with a casual eye as he handed you your exam. You reached out for it with a shaking hand and slowly placed it over the notebook page, knowing it was too late to hide the damage.

“Please see me after class about your note-taking.”

You nodded, trying to fight tears from the utter embarrassment as he finished handing out the exams. You close your notebook in disgust with yourself. Koz continues the class until 5:45, the usual time it ends when everyone wastes no time in dilly dallying and immediately leaving, most if not all heading to the dining hall for dinner. You, planning to indulge in just a minor dinner consisting of cereal or soup out of embarrassment and sadness, packed up slowly.

“(y/n), a word please.” he beckoned from his podium.

You refused to look at him as you stepped down from the lecture hall stairs to the podium, your backpack slung over your shoulder and your confidence crumbling even further as you waited with baited breath as he finished shutting off the projector and computer.

“You have quite a knack for poetry for someone who says English isn’t their forte, as well as for a psychology major.” he calmly noted, hardly glancing at you.

You couldn’t help it, you couldn’t hold it in anymore and let it burst from your chest, all your thoughts jumbled into a single rambling mess, “I swear I didn’t intend for you to see it, I just-I just-I don’t know why I did that and I know I messed up our friendship, it’s all my fault and I’m really really sorry, I seriously wasn’t thinking and I just can’t help but feel these things and it just makes it worse when I think about you, I don’t know what to do about it-”

A hand crept around the back of your neck and forced your head up, and without even a single warning you felt warm, wet lips enveloping yours, biting sweetly as well as fervently. You couldn’t help but make a noise of startlement at the sudden action, but before you could even have time to melt into the kiss, he pulled away, a smirk on his face.

“It’d be inappropriate for me to do such things, but more inappropriate for you to act on it as well. Yet, I know you are wise enough to not pursue it like you want to.” he stated, his eyes resembling molten gold.

Your gaze flattened, “Koz, what the fuck was that if you say you’re not ‘pursuing it’.”

He grinned, “Your confirmation of your feelings, as well as a promise of patience.”

“Patience?”

He smirked again, tilting his head and embracing the feel of superiority again, “You have nearly one more year left. I wonder if you have the patience to stick it out-”

That pissed you off. You grabbed his black tie and pulled him down, startling him as you kissed him hard. You pulled away just as quickly, enjoying the look of surprise on his face as well as slight bewilderment at being cut off from gloating.

You smiled innocently, smoothing down his tie as well as the front of his jacket, “Nice to know I’m not the only one enjoying the feeling of vorfreude from now on. Have a good day, Professor.”

Without a second backwards glance, you confidently strode out of the lecture hall, leaving Koz impressed as well as out of breath at your grand exit. He didn’t realize he’d be aching for you just as much as you ached for him.

It’s only a year, right? Not too long…

Boy were you two wrong.

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