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canarygirl1017 · 4 years ago

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Ghosted - Chapter 3 (Teaser)

Pairing: Reader / Jungkook, Reader / Taehyung (past relationship, friends to lovers to friends)

Genre: College!au, fluff, angst, supernatural drama, smut, friends to lovers, emotional trauma, hurt/comfort

Length: 2, 933k words (partial chapter)

Warnings: language, episodes of anxiety, panic attacks, sexual themes in later chapters.

Summary: Living in a world full of things only you have the ability to see, growing up with Jungkook has been your island amidst the chaos. But when your best friend makes an impossible request, your friendship is fractured, and your sudden decision to cut ties and move abroad changes everything. Three years later, Jungkook is thriving at university as he begins his junior year. He’s a star athlete, member of a popular fraternity, and every girl’s ideal boyfriend. He tells himself that he’s long forgotten you and the friendship he never had a chance to mend – that is, until you show up on campus as a transfer student with new friends in tow. It’s been three years, and everything has changed, but the biggest change is you. Your new found determination to use your abilities to help the ghosts you used to live in fear of, no matter how dangerous it might be, makes Jungkook fear he’ll lose you before he has a chance to fix what he broke. College AU.

Disclaimer: Just for funsies, I don’t believe in real-life shipping. But I like to write, and I like fandom, so here we are. Please do not duplicate this work or repost anywhere else without permission.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Ghosted Playlist

Chapter 3

“You ready to go?”

You turned to see Taehyung leaning in your doorway. He was wearing flared jeans and a green paisley silk button-down shirt. The open butterfly collar revealed a vintage Chanel gold medallion, and he’d added light green sunglasses to complete his retro look.

Taehyung had picked out your outfit – a short, cream colored wrap dress with an abstract floral design and long flared sleeves. Knee high rust red boots and pin straight hair completed the look, and for once you felt like a match to his fashionable appearance.

You held up a finger as you opened your jewelry box, looking for the vintage garnet drop earrings you’d found to complement the outfit. You slid them in, moving your hair back to admire how they dangled and caught the light.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you said, turning to find him behind you.

“Almost,” he said, pulling a small box out of his pocket.

“Tae,” you said reprovingly as he opened the box and took out a ring. The antique gold setting was beautiful – an oval opal surrounded by a halo of garnets – and it looked perfect when he slid it onto your right ring finger.

“Now you’re ready,” he said, looking pleased as he stood back to check your appearance.

You raised a brow. “When did you even have time to shop for this?” Taehyung’s little surprise gifts were something to which you’d become accustomed over the last few years, and your attempts to discourage him were usually ignored.

He shrugged and as always, his sheepish grin disarmed you. You reached up and adjusted his collar.

“You look like you’re ready for a Vogue shoot,” you said, smiling back. “The poor girls at this party won’t know what hit them.”

“That’s why I have you to protect me,” he replied.

It was Friday, the final weekend before classes started, and the welcoming activities had ramped up in the last week. You and Taehyung had attended some of them and declined others, but you’d committed to the biggest events of the weekend – tonight’s Musical Eras mixer and tomorrow’s Movie Night on the Quad.

The mixer was being held at the Kappa fraternity house, something that had almost made you reconsider attending because you were certain to run into Jungkook again as you had for the last week. While your anger had cooled, you still felt that knot of anxiety in your stomach whenever you saw him, wondering if he’d still be angry or if he’d just pretend you didn’t exist.

So far, his attitude fell somewhere in the middle – when he saw you and Taehyung together at the supermarket, he tried to hide his reaction, but the little muscle ticking away in his jaw was a dead giveaway. A couple of days later, you saw him in the park while you were walking Yeontan and for once, he didn’t look big mad at the sight of you. You were alone and had considered trying to talk to him, but he was with friends. Not wanting to invite public rejection, you waved at the group and hurried away, noticing the little wrinkle between his brows as he watched you go.

Jin, Jimin and Jimin’s girlfriend, Ayeong, had all been by the house a couple of times. Sera had also visited with her mother, accepting Taehyung’s offer of a house tour since Sera’s mother was interested in how the historical home had been renovated. Jungkook was noticeably absent, though Jin seemed certain that he’d eventually come around.

You weren’t so certain of that. In all the years you’d been friends with Jungkook, you’d never seen him so deeply upset with another person. If someone upset him, he might avoid that person for a while, but he always got over it, and you’d never seen him blow up at anyone the way he had with you.

You always thought you knew him better than anyone, and he you, but now you had to acknowledge the reality of this situation – three years had passed, and the truth was, you didn’t know this Jungkook. Worse, he didn’t know you either and you had no one to blame for that but yourself.

________________

Stepping into the Kappa house was like stepping back in time. The large house had several rooms downstairs, each of which reflected a different decade of music, and everyone had taken their costumes just as seriously. You laughed when Jimin and Ayeong met you out front dressed as Sonny and Cher.

“Very nice,” you said, gesturing to Ayeong’s dress.

“Thanks, I love yours too.”

Thought it was still early, the party was already a crush of people circulating between the rooms. Younger guys, probably freshmen, circulated with drinks on trays which they offered to guests.

“Pledges?” Taehyung asked Jimin as he took a beer.

Jimin nodded. “They have to put in an hour according to a schedule and then they’re free to party. That’s as close to hazing as we get here.”

When Jimin offered you a glass of wine, you shook your head. “I don’t really drink much when I’m…” you paused, unsure how to finish the sentence without being weird. “When I’m out.”

You could see that Jimin understood what you meant. “Got it. We have a dry bar too if you want to call it that.”

Ayeong linked arms with you. “I’ll show her. I’m not really in the mood to drink either.”

The dry bar turned out to be pretty impressive, with lots of juice, sparkling water, club soda, and even fruits you could add. You settled for club soda with a splash of raspberry juice and slices of lemon, while Ayeong created a tropical drink.

“I know Jungkook is being… well, difficult. But I just want you to know that Jimin is so happy you’re back,” Ayeong said. “He said you were all friends since kindergarten.”

“Jimin was always one of the sweetest people at our school,” you replied. “It was really easy to be his friend.”

“Not much has changed then,” Ayeong laughed. “What about Jungkook? Jimin says he wasn’t always such a fuckboy.”

You choked on a sip of your drink. “Jungkook is a fuckboy?”

“Well, a nice one? I think he only hooks up with girls who want the same kind of no-strings fun, so there’s never any drama related to it. He’s not the type to get serious though, which is why I’ve told Erin she needs to move on from her crush.”

Fuckboy Jungkook wasn’t something you could really imagine, nor did you want to. You chose not to think too closely about why it bothered you so much.

But once you spotted him across the room talking to a group of girls, you couldn’t shake that image from your mind. He looked good. Really, really good. He was dressed in tight red pants, a black silk button down, and he’d completed his Michael Jackson Thriller homage with a red leather jacket trimmed in black. When he laughed at something one of the girls said, his dimples appeared.

“I’m surprised Jungkook is wearing a costume – he almost never does,” Ayeong commented.

“He kind of stopped wearing them by the time we were in high school,” you said. “But this kind of party, plus a Thriller homage, is pretty on brand for him.”

“Oh, that’s who he’s supposed to be! I’m really bad at guessing all of these costumes.”

You and Taehyung stuck with Jimin and Ayeong, who introduced you to people you hadn’t met yet. Everyone was welcoming, but two hours in you were starting to feel a little overwhelmed by the crowds and the noise. There was also the fact that ever since Jungkook became aware of your presence, you’d felt his eyes on you. You’d hoped his neutral response to you at the park was progress, but you could feel his judgmental stare like a brand.

Every time you glanced over at him, his impassive expression was contradicted by some blazing emotion in his eyes. You reminded yourself that you’d known this would probably be a struggle – that Jungkook would likely be angry with you for leaving. Emmie had even said that no one mentioned your name to him anymore.

You’d just underestimated how much it would hurt.

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Jungkook almost skipped Movie Night on the Quad because he was in a foul mood after the Musical Eras mixer. Seeing you there with Taehyung in your matching costumes had made him inexplicably angry, something Jin called him out on.

“Shouldn’t we be glad that she has good people in her life?” Jin asked him when he stomped around the kitchen the next day, slamming cabinets as he fixed a late breakfast.

“He’s right,” Jimin said. “Plus you know that she and Taehyung aren’t together, right?”

That made him pause. “They look like they’re together.” Fucking matching costumes and all, he thought viciously.

“They dated, but Ayeong said y/n told her it’s been a while since they were together like that. At least six months or so.”

“Who the hell follows their ex-girlfriend to another country? And buys a house?”

“If you took the time to get to know Taehyung, you’d understand that he feels like y/n saved his life. He’s committed to helping her with the ghost hunting because of that, but he also genuinely cares about her. So do Namjoon and Chloe,” Jin said. “They’re all good people.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook muttered, shoving cereal into his mouth.

“Forget it, Jin. He won’t admit the real problem, and we all know his anger default setting when it comes to y/n is because of that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jungkook demanded.

“You’re jealous. You’ve always been jealous of anyone that got close to y/n,” Jimin replied calmly. He crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.

Jungkook grit his teeth. “I’m not jealous.”

“Really? So every time a guy expressed interest in dating her back in high school, and you very pointedly warned them all off, that was you just being what? A good friend?” Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Who? Like Lucas? You’re damn right I warned him off. He didn’t deserve her.”

“What about me?” Jimin asked, a challenge in his tone. “I told you that I liked her our sophomore year, and you shot down that idea so fast I was afraid if I pursued it, it would actually ruin our friendship.”

Jungkook stared at him, shifting uncomfortably. “Because you weren’t serious about it.”

“Says who? I was dead serious, Jungkook, and you know it. For that matter, I think even Lucas was serious about liking her. He never said a word about her that wasn’t totally respectful.”

“Yeah, because he knew I would beat his ass,” Jungkook said.

“You’re right – everybody knew that. Why do you think people steered clear of her? Why do you think Grace hated her so much? I told you that Grace wasn’t as nice as you thought she was. Yet you still held tight to y/n with one hand while you chased after Grace. And I figured it was just a matter of time until you realized how you really felt about y/n, so I let it go. But damn, Jungkook, you need to stop taking out your anger on y/n. Let her explain why she left.”

No one spoke for a moment. Then Jungkook asked, “Has she told you why?”

“I asked her,” Jin said. “But I think she’s waiting to talk to you first.”

Jungkook tried not to think about what Jimin said, but now that he was here on the quad, and you were just a few feet away, it was all he could think about. Jealousy.

He couldn’t deny he hated seeing how close you were to Taehyung. The way the other man touched you, or kept a protective arm around you, pissed him off. The way you smiled at him made him even angrier. Still, beneath the anger was something else – a yearning for the way things had been. No one had ever understood him the way you did, and he missed that connection with you.

It was his fault you left. That little voice in the back of his head kept reminding him that you weren’t the only one to blame for this vast distance between you now. He kind of understood why you’d left, but he didn’t know why it had taken you so long to return.

He kept stealing glances at you rather than watching the movie playing on the large screen set up on the quad. You’d been to the concession stand, and he wasn’t surprised to see you eating gummy bears since that had always been your favorite movie snack.

You looked pretty. Your hair was a little longer now than it had been in high school and fell in gentle waves around your shoulders. You wore another floaty little summer dress, the kind you had always liked, small feet encased in comfortable flat sandals. You and Taehyung had joined Jimin, Ayeong, Erin and Jin on a large blanket towards the front of the crowd.

Stubbornly, Jungkook had opted to sit with some of his friends from the baseball team. He was still close enough to watch you – to hear your voice – to just observe you while his mind sorted through his confusing thoughts and emotions. You had glanced over at him a few times, as if feeling his eyes on you, a silent question in your own. And somehow, he knew that you understood that he needed some time.

At the intermission between films, you went with Ayeong and Erin to the bathroom. Jungkook got tacos from a nearby food truck and when he returned, he noticed that you were the only one missing from the group. A few minutes later, Taehyung was frowning at his phone after making a call that had gone unanswered.

“I’m going to go check on her,” he heard the other man say as he stood up.

Jungkook hesitated for a few seconds before following him. Taehyung had his phone to his ear again, though again there seemed to be no answer.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked as he caught up to him.

Taehyung turned and scowled at him. Then he sighed. “Ayeong said she stayed back because she got a call from her mom that she needed to answer. Maybe it’s nothing, but she’s been gone for almost twenty minutes, so I just want to make sure nothing happened.”

Jungkook nodded and then they were silent as they walked around the buildings that were still open. The campus was well lit, so it was easy to see the faces of people walking to the dorms or back to the quad. When they didn’t see you anywhere, Taehyung made another call.

“Chloe, I need you to ping y/n’s location and send it to my phone.” He listened for a minute. “Maybe nothing but I can’t find her and I don’t know – I’m getting a weird feeling. Okay, thanks.”

Taehyung’s unease was contagious, and Jungkook shifted from one foot to the other as they waited. Then Taehyung’s phone vibrated, and he studied his screen for a moment before gesturing for Jungkook to follow him. After walking for a few minutes, Jungkook realized they were heading towards a park where students often had lunch or relaxed between classes.

And there you were, a silent, ghostly figure swaying in the moonlight as you hummed a strange tune.

“Fuck.” Taehyung started running.

Jungkook was right behind him. When he reached you, he tried to take your arm to turn you towards them, but Taehyung stopped him.

“Don’t touch her,” he said, a note of warning in his tone. “She’s in a sort of fugue state, and it’s safer if she comes out of it herself.”

Rather than argue, Jungkook walked around to face you, but froze when he saw that your eyes were unfocused, and almost… glowing? It was clear that you didn’t see him, though he was standing right in front of you.

Jungkook’s heart was pounding now. “How do we make her do that?”

“There’s something else here,” Taehyung explained. “It probably tried to communicate with her. Sometimes, if she lets her guard down, or if the spirit is especially powerful, she gets sort of… pulled to the other side. It’s usually because they’re trying to show her something.”

Swallowing hard, Jungkook nodded. “Okay. How do we make her come out of it?”

“We can’t make her, and if we try, it can cause severe shock. She’ll already be in a state of shock when she comes to on her own, so we have to be careful. I’m going to go get the car. You wait here with her and just keep talking to her, okay?”

“Can I touch her hands?”

“Carefully,” Taehyung said. “Don’t pull her or shake her, and don’t try to make her move.”

“Okay.” Jungkook pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Jin, I need you to come to the park right now. The one behind the science building.”

You were still humming and swaying when Jungkook reached out to touch your hand. There was no response, so he carefully took both your hands in his.

“Jesus, your hands are freezing,” he said quietly. “You never dress right for being out at night. You know that you get cold even when it’s not that cold, right?”

He squeezed your hands carefully in an attempt to warm them up. There was no response from you, your eyes still fixed on something he couldn’t see.

A/N: I know it's been a long time since I posted, and I'm sorry about that. If you're still reading, I'll get the rest of the chapter up this week, and there is some fluff in the future as Jungkook and y/n start repairing their relationship. I hope I remembered all the people who asked to be tagged (and got the tags right.) If you’d like to be tagged for updates, let me know.

Tag list: @ggukkieland @jikooksgirl19 @waves-and-woods @kookiesbreaky @koochiekoo @monvieesdaebak

#college au #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #Jungkook smut #bts imagines #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #ghosted

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yellowocaballero · 4 years ago

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Human Relations Snippet: Tim teaches Jon the internet and odious goats are sacrificed to the cult of Bezos

There’s no reason for this to exist. I was rereading a bit of HR and I saw a throwaway joke about Jon wanting to buy Martin a Portal Gun. I started wondering about how that would even work. The answer is, obviously, a 200 year old man squinting at a computer screen wondering why there’s so many horny singles in his area. I get possessed by demons easily, so I took three hours out of writing my daemon au and wrote this instead. Bon Appetit.

(Edit, quick clarification: I think that Jon would refuse to use the name for the Beholding that Smirke made up, and although all of this exists in my head and you guys don’t know this, there was a lot of tension between Jon and Jonah’s ‘circle’. So Jon hated Smirke and thought he was a hack. He uses Smirke’s terms to others sometimes for ease of understanding or in deference to Jonah (:/) but I think that mentally he mainly calls the Beholding his own name, The Witness. It rings of that personal and intimate connection Jon and the Beholding has. Anyway, onto the story.)

After one hour in anguished uncertainty, fifty popups that advised Jon of very many ‘hot singles in his area’, six separate sites that Jon’s God had to inform him were covers for thieves that stole money from you, and a very confusing retreat to Jon’s favorite internet page ‘Wikipedia’ as to what an Amazon was, Jon had given up.

Normally this was where he asked one of his personal assistants for help. Normally, he wouldn’t even be trying, and he would have just told one of them to do it. This was how Jon had cunningly mostly avoided using computers for the past twenty years. Some endeavors were unavoidable, and Jon was proud to say that he mastered email in 2010. Or was it 2008? He liked to think it was 2006, but it was possible...never mind. If it was important, the Witness would tell him.

Peter Lukas was right on almost nothing, Jon thought disgruntledly as he slammed his laptop shut - including in his taste of men, company, philosophies, men, patron deities, professions, and men - but he was right in his proclamation that the internet was the degradation of society. Not that he hadn’t sacrificed his morality and sold out, feeding his patron through something called “incel forums” and “Reddit”. Between him, Jonah’s “Excel spreadsheets” and “TurboTax”, and Annabelle Cane’s ridiculous “MMO guilds”, the Society was filling with computer geeks. Jon could always read the wind: he had to keep up, and quickly.

Besides, Martin had kindly educated him on how it was almost unheard of for a young man like Jon to not understand how to work that Goggle thing. Giggle? Martin was very streetwise and was one of the most insightful people Jon had ever known, he was definitely right.

Which is why he had to buy him this “Portal Gun” that he wanted. He had even shown Jon the website! And if Jon was in desperate times trying to navigate these confusing webpages entirely with URLs he memorized, then he would take desperate measures!

“I’m going down to the Archives,” Jon said, slithering off the couch and clutching his laptop to chest. Jonah had bought it for him. He appeared surprised that Jon was using it. “I may not be back for a while. I need...a book.”

Jonah didn’t look away from his own infernal machine. It seemed he was on that ‘Excel’ program again. Was it one of those ‘video games’ he kept hearing about? “Do I want to know what you were doing on that laptop.”

“Reading Wikipedia,” Jon said immediately, and somewhat defensively. Jon had discovered Wikipedia in 2001 before promptly funding it and throwing his weight behind its development. He had spent a solid five years convinced a computer was a kind of electronic screen that let you read digital Encyclopedia pages, like in Star Trek. He’d seen Star Trek. Georgie made him. “Did you know that -”

“Yes, yes, have fun. Haven’t you read that entire site already?”

“Not even,” Jon said defensively. “I can’t just sit and read through entire Encyclopedias anymore, Jonah. We know more things now.”

“What a way to describe the last two hundred years,” Jonah said, not even looking away from his computer. “We know more things. Never change, Jon.”

“You’re the one who never changes,” Jon grumbled. But it was a weak comeback, and considering his brand new delightfully short stature somewhat untrue, so Jon breezed out of Jonah’s office with full knowledge that he’d think of a better comeback halfway down the steps to the Archives.

In fact, it wasn’t until he was at the door, and by then he felt stupid for losing a point against Jonah anyway. He easily opened the door, stepping inside and quickly bee-lining for Sasha’s office. Her burgeoning powers were wonderfully flowing in the shape of access to and understanding of technology. He had never seen such gratuitous breeches of privacy as she casually committed. Every day Jon was validated in his decision to save her from the Stranger. A balance, an equal yet opposite Archivist from Jon, would be invaluable. Not that Jonah and Jon weren’t their own yin and yang, but Jonah’s powers were paltry and out-of-date. Mind reading and spying through iconography was so 1960. They needed fresh blood.

Sasha had been a wonderful choice, and Jon didn’t regret choosing her to act as saviour. Most of the time. Some of the time she -

“She’s not in.”

Jon’s fist halted in front of the door, about to sharply rap on her office door. He turned around to actually look through the bullpen, only to see that Timothy was sitting in his chair chewing a sandwich. Somehow angrily. Definitely suspiciously.

“Are you sure?” Jon asked dubiously. “Because you’ve lied about this before.”

“Because you should stop coming down here and bothering her.” Timothy balled the saran wrap in his hand and dunked it in the trash can, somehow undoubtedly giving the impression that he wished it was Jon’s head. “Just bugger off.”

Someone was in a snit. Normally Timothy wasn’t this hostile. Jon had thought that learning his name might make him less mean, but it did little to help. But when Jon looked around he didn’t see Martin, and a quick check assured him that both Sasha and Martin were having lunch at their favorite deli and engaging in that plotting hobby they both enjoyed. Timothy had elected to stay behind, stewing in his own angry and paranoid juices.

He would have to do this with Martin out of the Archives...and he really wanted to take care of this now so Martin would get it before the weekend...and it wasn’t as if Jon was scared of this boy he was one hundred and seventy years older than…

“Uh,” Jon said intelligently, “can you help me with...something…”

Timothy’s face twisted in a novel combination of surprise and disgust. “What,” he sneered, “your evil fear god or whatever can’t figure it out for you?”

“I don’t need others to think for me,” Jon said stiffly. It was something he’d had to say far too many times. “The Witness is less helpful with...troubleshooting...look, do you know how to work a computer?”

Timothy stared at him blankly. “Like, at all?”

“I’m trying to buy Martin this toy he desires,” Jon said desperately. Fuck it all, he walked over and sat down in the chair next to Tim’s desk. He pulled a little bit closer, placing his laptop on Tim’s desk, and ignored the way the other man leaned away. “But whenever I try I keep on seeing alerts about hot singles. I’m not interested in young women, I just need to buy a ‘Portal Gun’. Do you know what a Portal Gun is?”

Timothy continued staring at him, eyebrows raised. Clearly involuntarily, so quick that he may not even have noticed, one corner of his lips was ticking upwards into a smile.

“How many credit card scams have you fallen for?”

“Absolutely none,” Jon said, very quickly. He pulled out his credit card, placing it on the table. He knew a credit card was involved, although he didn’t know how. “What do I do? Do I swipe it? Is there a port?” He picked up the laptop and squinted at its sides, looking for a port. “I wanted to ask Sasha for help, since she’s the expert in hacking, but surely you know the basics?”

“I mean...I can’t, like, code, but yeah, I can work Amazon.” Timothy carefully opened the laptop, watching the display light up. He effortlessly navigated to an icon on the screen, clicking it open.

“That’s not right,” Jon said urgently. “You’re supposed to press the E.”

“I do not want to know how many toolbars you have,” Timothy said bluntly. “We��re using Chrome. That’s another way to look at the Internet.” He rubbed his hands together. “Yeah, I got a grandmother, we can do this.”

Jon perked up. “So you’ll help?”

Went unsaid: even though you hate me?

“Whatever,” Timothy grumbled. Jon decided not to press his luck.

Jon decided that he liked the Chrome better than the Internet Explorer, because it was simpler and Google was on the first page. Tim rapidly typed on ‘Amazon.com’ into the search bar and easily scrolled through the very busy and picture filled page that immediately popped up. Why was everything so fast? Maybe this was why the young people had no attention span: these pages just came up immediately. No flipping for indices for finding anything in phone books.

“Right. What was it, a Portal Gun? Like from the game?”

“A board game?”

“Video game.”

“Like on a VHS…?”

“Right.” Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, Sasha said that you’re one of the most famous sociologists and anthropologists in British history.”

“I am extremely intelligent, Timothy, and I won’t abide any insinuation otherwise,” Jon said curtly. “I cannot be expected to keep constant track every time there’s another - iPhone or whatever. You have teenagers in your family, correct? Do you always know what they’re talking about? That’s, what, a twenty year age gap? Multiply that by ten.”

That shut him up. Timothy sighed again, much more aggressively, but he clicked the white bar and typed in ‘portal gun’ anyway. “Right. Not fucking apologizing, but right. I still don’t fucking know what ‘Twitch’ is.”

“It’s a brief spasmodic contraction of the muscle fibers,” Jon said helpfully. “Fascinatingly, this phenomenon was first observed in frog’s legs before I was even born in 1780, by Luigi Galvani. Erudite man, by the way, but he couldn’t hold his liquor. It was the birth of the study of bioelectricity, although the exact mechanism of muscle contraction eluded scientists for years.”

“Never mind.” Timothy sighed again, the perfect mix of aggravated and long-suffering. It seemed to be the man’s two favorite emotions. “My grandmother has a PhD and she still can’t figure out her cell, either. We had to get her a Jitterbug.”

Amazon, as Timothy explained, was a kind of shopping mall, except you could pick out what you wanted by its picture and have the shopping mall pack it up and send it to you. Jon didn’t quite understand why people preferred this to just going to a shop yourself, seeing as you could get it immediately instead of with a three or four day turnaround, but Tim explained that Amazon was cheaper, had a wider selection, and didn’t make you get off the couch.

“Oh,” Jon said, finally getting it, “this follows the economic model of large scale businesses underpricing their products to undercut smaller businesses in the area, driving them out of business until they hold monopoly over the market and can raise their prices without worrying about staying competitive.”

Timothy stared at him.

“I mean,” he said, “I guess?”

“This explains why my Alexa project was successful so quickly,” Jon mused. “With a lack of competition or alternatives, consumers are more likely to accept the dramatic invasions of privacy as normal. Normalizing intrusions into privacy took ages, but my early efforts paid off very well. The Ring doorbell was even better, along with the line of security and home protection systems. We’re now working on live streamed 24/7 surveillance to social media platforms.”

Timothy stared at him further.

Finally, he said, “Alexa was...you?”

“Of course,” Jon said, baffled. Who else would it be? “I gave Jeff the idea and convinced him it would be profitable. I didn’t understand the whole mechanics of it, but once I gave Jeff a vision from the Witness he was eager to implement the divinely inspired spyware.”

Timothy continued to stare.

“The evil fear god controls Jeff Bezos.”

“He thinks I’m a prophet, actually,” Jon said helpfully. “I let him become Cardinal of the imaginary cult in exchange for funding some of my more esoteric programs. Had him sacrifice a goat and everything, it was great.” At Timothy’s alarmed look, Jon was quick to elaborate, “It was the most evil goat you’ve met in your life. Morally odious.”

“...for my sanity I’m going to pretend that you said none of that.”

In retrospect, although Timothy had worked at the Institute for a few years, it did take quite a bit of time to acclimate to the fact that the Avatars permanently shaped the shape of human existence in order to better feed their gods. Jon knew better than anyone: when humanity made gods, and gods made man, and man made gods...the feedback loop could self-perpetuate for years. Eternity, if needed.

But they had no luck on ‘Amazon’. With Jon’s eidetic memory he was able to easily pick out the one that looked most similar to the one that Martin had showed him, but all of the little toy guns were for someone named ‘Rick’. Then Timothy took twenty laborious minutes explaining the entire plot of ‘Rick & Morty’ to him, which Jon patiently sat through.

“I think young people today deeply enjoy explaining media,” Jon said, once Timothy finished telling him the funny jokes. “I’m very interested in your interests, Timothy.”

“You are so fucking condescending. And please call me Tim, you’re sounding even more like my grandmother.” When Jon brightened, Tim - Tim! - quickly said, “This does not mean we are friends.”

Granted, Jon had never once in his life gave a shit about making friends, but he felt as if he should be making more of an effort with Tim. He was a sort of supernatural brother in law, wasn’t he? Although Sasha perhaps Sasha was more of a favored niece. At least, he would be, if today’s generation found some morality and stopped living in sin.

Good lord. Now he was sounding like Jonah. Georgie used to joke that he was born in the wrong generation - he should have been born a 17th century Puritan instead. Jon found it a very funny joke. Jonah did not.

“Are there any other shopping websites?” Jon asked finally, after Amazon failed them. He’d have to call up Jeff later and complain. “Or is this the only one?”

Tim sighed. “Let’s check Google.”

Quickly and efficiently, yet with many lightning fast detours, Tim found another site called ‘eBay’ - pronounced ‘e-Bay’, not ‘ehbay’ - that listed off exactly what they needed. They weren’t under the toy section, instead listed as something called ‘cosplay’, but Tim seemed highly resistant to explaining that one, so he dropped it.

They picked a likely looking white toy gun that looked the most similar to the one that Martin had liked and Tim talked Jon through punching in the numbers on his card into the website and sorting through the billing and shipping information. Tim helpfully took down the numbers on his card to file later.

“And...done!” Tim said, pressing a button and leaning back. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It was ten times as complicated as I thought it would be,” Jon assured him, “but also much more fun. What else can you buy online?”

“Oh, god. What can’t you buy.”

Jon brightened. “Can you buy books?”

“Old Gertrude used to buy Leitners on eBay,” Tim said dully, “so yeah, sure, why not.”

Jon stared at his computer. He carefully navigated the mouse to the big red x and clicked out of the internet browser. “That’s enough of eBay, then, I think.”

Guess he would have to stick to buying Leitners in person. It was no good buying fucked up books from sketchy sources. Always stick to people you trusted, or at least trusted to be themselves. Mikaele was Jon’s favorite supplier since the kid Leitner disappeared, and they had a pleasant working relationship. Mikaele shared his grandfather’s stories about the history and culture of the Maori, and Jon told him which of his haunted artifacts would be the most helpful in the imminent apocalypse.

“Well,” Tim said finally, gently pushing Jon’s laptop away, “that was...something, great bonding session with my local supervillain, please run back to Elias and bother him instead.”

“You were very helpful, Mr. Stoker,” Jon said, as professionally yet paternally as possible. Tim was six years older than his body, so he’s not sure how it came off, but the touch of grey at his temples helped with the dignified air. “And as soon as you start acting like a man and propose to my Archivist, you’ll make an excellent brother in law -”

“Uh, excuse me?”

Jon spun around in his chair to see Sasha and Martin standing at the door, holding doggy bags and looking somewhat flummoxed. Probably confused at the sight of him and Tim having a civil conversation, which admittedly had never happened before. Possibly also confused at how completely mortified Tim looked.

“Who said anything about proposing?” Sasha asked incredulously. “Tim, are you -”

“No! No, god no!” Tim stood up quickly, holding his hands out as if he was placating a raging bull. “Nobody’s been saying anything - I would never do that to you -”

“Oh,” Sasha said frostily, crossing her arms and letting the bags swing, “would you.”

That was a domestic Jon should stay out of, even though he definitely caused it. He and Martin sidled away in tandem, huddling near the back of the Archives as Tim frantically pled for his life.

Sneakily, Jon glanced at Martin out of the corner of his eye. He looked happy. Happy, and just as stressed as he always looked - Jon had never known Martin when he wasn’t constantly stressed out, and he was more than aware that it was his fault.

He looked good, too. Really nice, broad jawline that gave his face a friendly round shape. Just friendly and round in general, it was really handsome. His hair was as nicely short and ruffles as ever. The big glasses were super stylish, and really framed his face well. Really big, broad hands. Jon, who had always been so poky and tall and thin and gaunt, like some kind of haunted scarecrow that lurked through the corners of time, was envious. He wanted some of that softness and gentleness. Really, he wanted some of Martin’s -

“So what were you and Tim doing?” Martin asked. “I didn’t know you knew he existed.”

“You told me his name,” Jon said anxiously. “I don’t forget the things you tell me, you know.”

Martin smiled shyly and him, and Jon found himself smiling back. “It’s pretty good for my ego to hear that I have something to teach the immortal genius.”

“I don’t know,” Jon said, as Sasha yelled in the background, “I’ve been learning a lot lately.”

“Really?” Martin teased. “Anything interesting?”

“Oh,” Jon said, watching the yellow fluorescent light cast Martin’s dim smile in soft relief, “I can think of a few things.”

#my writing #jonathan sims #tim stoker #archivist!sasha #martin blackwood #sasha james #mild homosexual activity and massive old man activity inbound #tma #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fanfic #im posting this at an awkward time so prep for a lot of self rbs

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misora-msby · 4 years ago

Text

花火 | chapter one : moon

花火 (fireworks) | chapter one : moon

themes / warnings: medieval japan au (sengoku era), supernatural au, death, fluff, angst

pairing: kitsune!suna x fem!reader

word count: 7.0k

notes: part one of a series! it’s not 100% accurate to shintoism and japanese folklore but i did my best to research it and change as little as possible! still, i hope you enjoy this and stick around for the next parts too!

edit from the future : part two can be found here

Rintarou doesn’t remember how he became a kitsune spirit.

It was just that one summer day he found himself sleeping in front of a manmade structure (a shrine to the god Inari as he would later learn) with a boy of preteen age standing over him.

That boy, Shinsuke, would teach him and two other foxes, Atsumu and Osamu, how to do their jobs - protecting the priests, priestesses, and shrine maidens living nearby, and delivering the prayers of visitors to the god. It wasn’t an overly difficult job though, and more often than not, Rintarou found himself either running around the shrine grounds with the other two or sleeping in a comfortable spot he found.

A few years later, the three of them even gained the ability to shapeshift into humans. They were completely amused with how similar Atsumu and Osamu looked, and how Suna’s eyes looked almost the exact same as his fox form, though it greatly upset them that their human forms were much shorter and younger than that of Shinsuke’s. He had to reassure them that someday they were likely to grow to his height or even taller.

It was just a matter of time, similar to how they had to wait to become strong enough to become human.

Time, Rintarou would eventually learn, was rarely ever on his side.

It was a perfect day for a nap on the roof; a cooling wind blew through the air, preventing Rintarou’s robes from sticking to his skin. The sky was cloudy enough to block out the sun while not being abundant enough to make him worry about a sudden downpour, and the sweet scent of flowers blooming filled the air. Though there weren’t many bouquets in the area, a fox’s strong sense of smell could detect the scent of wisterias carried on the wind.

After a bit of twisting and turning to find the perfect position to sleep in, Rintarou was woken by the sound of footsteps and chatter. Shuffling to the edge of the roof, he narrowed his eyes upon seeing a family of six walking in.

“Today, your mom and dad are going to teach you how to pray. We want to pray for your mom and new sibling, okay?” a man spoke to the children who replied with a chorus of “Yes”s.

“Ah,” Rintarou remembered, “Inari-sama is the god of so many things… Foxes, rice, sake, fertility, agriculture… Why couldn’t they give some of the work to the other gods… we have so much work to do.”

He figured he might as well do his job while the other three were doing other jobs around or out of the grounds and began to inspect them carefully. Fortunately there were no malicious spirits attached to them, nor could he sense any by the red torii gates at the foot of the mountain slope on which the shrine resided.

But as Rintarou inspected them from atop the rooftop, he noticed the youngest child of the family, the only daughter, was rather pretty. She looked to be about his age, though he knew she had obviously seen far fewer winters than he had due to the way time progressed for him as a spirit.

Dressed in a red kimono with her hair just reaching her shoulders in a simple bob like most girls her age, he thought she was the prettiest girl who had ever come to the shrine. He couldn’t understand why his stomach suddenly felt funny, like it was jumping around inside his body.

Suddenly, their eyes met and that feeling spread to more parts than just his stomach. Big glossy eyes stared up at him in awe while his own fox-like eyes widened. An awfully warm feeling came to his cheeks and the boy quickly scampered away from the edge of the roof, towards the back of the building where they wouldn’t be able to see him.

Rintarou sat still for a moment, knees to his chest. He took in deep breaths while keeping his cool hands pressed to his cheek and chest. Was she a malevolent spirit?! He thought that could be the only reason for nearly every part of his body to be tingling and causing his heart to want to jump out from his throat.

And yet he wanted to keep his gaze upon her. To look once again into those bright eyes and to memorise her pretty form.

He decided to do just that.

With graceful steps, Rintarou hopped off of the roof and onto the stone tiles. His feet made no sound as he ran over to hide behind a tree and watched as the family made their prayers. He watched as she reached up, struggling to drop her coin into the offering box while his dainty but pudgy fingers gripping onto the bark tightly to prevent himself from running forward and tossing it in for her.

But surely an evil spirit wouldn’t go through that trouble with praying right? She had to be a regular human. Even the head priest was smiling at the entire family. But he still couldn’t understand why she gave him such a funny feeling.

Before he could be spotted again, he ran off into the forest to avoid her gaze which caused all these problems in him in the first place.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

A few moons had passed, the cool breeze had become warmer and the pink petals floating in the wind had been replaced by green leaves. The song of young animals had also left, the nights now being filled with the loud croaking of cicadas and the much quieter buzzing of fireflies. The air had become thicker and warmer too, which wasn’t quite something Rintarou enjoyed. But what he did enjoy was the festival occurring tonight.

Every year the humans would hold an extra special festival in the summer and launch fireworks. Though he didn’t care too much for the spirits of humans, aside from that one girl who he had never seen again since, he did care for their aesthetics. Whether it was the pattern on the fabric of a woman’s kimono, or the design in the pendants and amulets that humans wore around their necks or held in their pockets, he thought they were all rather fascinating. But as much as he wanted to go down and look carefully in person in his human form, hiding his tail was still too difficult for him in the sea of humans, and even if he tried to make himself invisible, children were so painfully receptive to spirits that he wouldn’t be able to get away with it.

Strangely, he could hide his ears if he wished. He guessed it had something to do with the fact that their tails were directly representative of their level of power so they were harder to hide.

As he sat atop a lone rock in the forest, he could smell the scent of hot snacks wafting up the mountain. Perhaps he’d make an appearance as a fox and hope that some kind humans would give him and Osamu some snacks. They always loved to treat the three little foxes running around the shrine. He was lucky he still only had one tail, otherwise it would gain many stares. He guessed that must be a problem for someone like Shinsuke-senpai who already had three tails.

Rintarou hopped off of his rock, ready to head down and check over the festival with his friends, when he heard sobbing from somewhere in the forest.

With the way the orange sun had already gone to sleep, he knew that he had to look for the source of the sound. He was meant to be a zenko after all, a celestial fox associated with the god Inari. So while he wanted to just go down and have fun with his friends, he had to first attend to this matter.

Using the speed granted to him, it didn’t take long for him to locate the source. His senses were too strong to not be able to.

What he found was someone who he had never expected to see again.

“You…” the word left him in a near gasp.

You were the girl from a few months ago, crouching under a tree and sobbing. Your hair had grown a bit longer and this time you wore a light pink yukata with a dark pink obi. The eyes that had captivated him so easily last time were now red and puffy as your little hands rubbed at them to rid them of the tears which poured.

Rintarou crouched in front of you who hadn’t noticed him amongst your crying. “Why are you crying?” he asked in his quiet voice.

You looked up and gasped before quickly wiping away your tears and snot.

“I- I was playing hide and seek with my onii-chans… but it’s been so long and it’s scary and then I fell down and it hurts…” your shaky voice hiccuped as you revealed your scratched up and dirty palms. Looking carefully, Rintarou realised the front of your yukata was dirty too.

“Oh… Should we go find them?” he asked.

You shook your head quickly, “I don’t wanna go to them! Then I’ll lose!”

Rintarou pursed his lips slightly, wondering why you wouldn’t want to be found when you were injured. Was hide and seek that important to human children? He had played it a couple of times with the twins but it was merely a way to pass time to them.

“Then… do you want to fix your hands?” he asked.

You replied with a nod, your sniffling ceasing.

In reply, Rintarou untied the inro from the obi on his hip, a small container made of lacquered paper in which he kept healing salve, cloth, (and a snack or two) in the case of an emergency.

“Show me your hands.” he said, to which you obeyed and held out your dirty hands. The kitsune carefully took your hands and began cleaning them off with a cloth, taking note of how warm you were.

“Your hands are cold, are you sick?” you asked.

Rintarou looked up at you for a moment, wondering how he should reply. He knew it had something to do with him being a spirit, but he didn’t want to say that. “I’ve always been cold.” he simply said and applied the salve to your skin. After wrapping them up in a new strip of cloth, he tied the inro back together and hung it on his hip again.

“Wow, thank you…?” You exclaimed before trailing off as you realised you didn’t know his name.

The kitsune narrowed his eyes, not understanding you. After all, he had lived the past few decades around the same few people and had no reason to give his name.

“Um… what’s your name?” you finally asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Oh… Rintarou,” he said upon finally understanding.

“I’m (Y/N). Thank you for fixing my hand, Rintarou-kun! It already feels better!” you grinned and squeezed his hands to show you were already regaining your strength.

Though upon hearing his name from your lips and coming to the realisation that he had been holding your hands for so long, a blush crept up his cheeks. His eyes widened for a second though they quickly returned to fit his near emotionless state. “It’s nothing,” he quickly said, looking to the side to avoid your gaze, “Anyways, what do you want to do now? You don’t want to go find your brothers yet, right.”

You thought for a moment before asking, “Do you want to play together?”

“Play?”

“Yeah. We can go to the festival!”

At that, Rintarou immediately shook his head, “I don’t like crowds.” It was a lie, he couldn’t care less about crowds if he were in his fox form but if he had to stay a human, he couldn’t bear to spend so much energy in hiding his tail which still had a chance of being seen.

“Then… what do you want to do?” you asked, pouting slightly.

He thought for a moment. What could you two do?

Then he sniffed the air. There was the smell of a match being lit but the absence of incense. His sensitive ears could also hear the sound of people gathering and shuffling about in anticipation.

“Come with me, I’ll show you something cool.” He took you by the wrist and you two ran side by side into the forest. Though he had to annoyingly slow his pace for you, you both managed to reach his intended destination in time:

A small glade in the middle of the forest where he assumed a ritual must have taken place decades ago. It was surrounded by purple wisteria trees, as if they created a natural veil to this secret world where fireflies floated on the grass surrounding a single tall boulder. The sounds of the festival were far away now, Rintarou was certain that his guest could no longer hear them with how far up the mountain they were.

“Quickly, climb up the rock.” He helped push you up the rock, slightly polished yet rough from years of rain and animals scratching upon it. The fireflies in the vicinity had become startled and gathered at the fringes of the glade instead of around the rock, but he figured it was a consequence that came with bringing a human for once to his secret place. Once he had confirmed you had a stable seat, he jumped up and took a seat beside you.

“What are we doing here, Rintarou?” you asked curiously.

“Wait a bit… there.” He pointed up at the sky where a flower of red and yellow burst among the stars. The loud bang followed two seconds later, making the girl beside him almost jump in fright before becoming entranced at the sight of more fireworks following the first to bloom in the sky.

Reds, yellows, pinks, oranges, whatever colour you named could be found in the starry sky. Bursting and blooming with brilliance, providing just a fleeting amount of beauty before wilting just like a flower whose time had come to be picked from the garden.

If you asked Rintarou yesterday what the most beautiful sight was, he would have said that it was sitting alone on his favourite rock while the wind blew on a spring day, watching the clouds swim by while joined by floating wisteria petals. It was a sight he spent every day of spring trying to recreate. But if you asked him today what he thought the most beautiful sight was, he surely would have said it was this very moment; sitting beside the only human who he had ever talked to, and who had caused him to feel absolutely captivated, watching the quickly disappearing and reappearing garden in the night sky.

However, all good things had to come to an end, and before he knew it, the night had been filled with a deafening silence, and the sky had become nearly pitch black with the new clouds of smoke.

“I think it’s time to go back,” he stood up to face you, “You definitely won the hide and seek game if you’ve been missing for this long.”

You nodded in reply and carefully scrambled down the rock, landing on the grass with a soft “oof”. Rintarou jumped down, landing with barely any sound before holding out his hand. “Let’s go,” he said and took your hand as you two carefully walked through the forest.

Though it was dark and late at night, the bright moon was kind enough to allow you to not trip over your own feet as he led you down the path to the shrine which he had already memorised with ease.

“Can we come back here next year?” you asked while squeezing Rintarou’s hand, “It was really pretty.”

“Next year? Sure. Actually, I live at the shrine so you can come visit any time.” He didn’t know why he just said that. He never really talked to people, so why did he want to do this now?

“Okay! I’ll see you then!” you grinned, and Rintarou gave the slightest hint of a smile back.

“(Y/N)! There you are!” a woman cried the moment the two had stepped foot onto the stone shrine floors, running over to give her daughter a great big hug. “We were looking for you all over! Don’t go missing like that!” she sobbed, stroking her hair and dusting off the dirt from her clothes.

“Sorry, mama. I was playing hide and seek with nii-chan.” you mumbled, allowing your mother to straighten up your looks.

“I know, he told me. But don’t hide in the forest, ok? It’s dangerous and dark and you never know what might be- Oh dear, what happened to your hands?!” the woman asked, inspecting the bandages.

“I fell down and Rintarou put medicine for me! Rintarou, do you wanna-” you turned to wave the boy over but found he was no longer there. “Huh?”

Right then, a shrine maiden hurried over. “Oh! (L/N)-san, I’m glad you managed to find your daughter!” she smiled.

“Onee-san, where’s Rintarou?” The shrine maiden cocked her head at the question from the little girl.

“Rintarou? I’m afraid I don’t know who you’re talking about…” she replied in confusion.

“Eh… but he said he lives here! Um… he’s like… just a bit taller than me, and he has black, no, dark brown hair. Oh, and his eyes are yellow and like… they look like a fox!” Despite your explanations, the shrine maiden still had difficulty in knowing the identity of this person until an idea popped into her mind.

“Since this is a shrine to the god Inari, do you think you met a kitsune spirit?” she asked, “Though kitsunes rarely appear as young boys, there is the possibility.” The young girl gasped and thought for a second.

“Maybe…” you glanced back at the trees before turning to your mother. “I’m sleepy…”

“Alright, alright. Let’s get you home, dear.” The woman held her daughter’s bandaged hand and waved goodbye to the shrine maiden before turning to head down the stairs of the shrine and to go back to the main festival.

While this happened, Rintarou had watched it all from behind a large tree trunk, just out of sight. His heart felt funny and he wished you didn’t have to go. Even if you said you would come back, he wished you didn’t leave in the first place.

“Hey, Rin! Where were ya? We waited for so long next to the okonomiyaki stall!” Atsumu’s boisterous voice spoke, nearly frightening the boy who had been so deep in his thoughts.

“There was a human lost in the forest so I had to help them,” he replied in his usual calm voice.

“Ya never miss the chance to walk with us in the festival though.” Osamu pointed out while taking a bite from one of the many toriniku sticks he held. Rintarou stiffened slightly, knowing that he was right.

“She was hurt.”

“‘She’?! A girl? Yer kiddin’ me, did ya get a girlfriend, Rin Rin?!” Atsumu grabbed his friend’s shoulders tightly.

“Nothing of that sort…” Rintarou replied though his cheeks turned pink.

“Maybe,” he realised, “maybe my feelings towards you are in that sort of way…”

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

Ever since your first meeting that summer, you would visit rather often. Most of the time was either spent idly walking in the forest while talking about various topics, or laying on the grass of the clearing while watching the clouds pass.

Many moons passed and Rintarou was starting to despise the time he would have to see you walk down the road from the shrine, back to your family’s house in the village at the foot of the mountain. Oh if only there were a way to keep you with him forever, he wished.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the soft footsteps on dirt approaching him.

“Rintarou! Over here!” the voice he had missed so dearly spoke up. He jolted out of his thoughts and almost fell out of the tree he sat in, but he quickly regained his composure and hopped down.

“(Y/N), you surprised me.” he asked nonchalantly, as if being alone with you didn’t make his heart feel like it wanted to jump out of his chest.

“Really?! That’s a first!” you giggled before squinting your eyes at the top of his head. The kitsune became worried, were his ears visible? Even though you two had been friends for almost a year now, he still hadn’t told you of him being a spiritual creature. He was worried that you would become scared and that you would never talk to him again.

Though those fears were dismissed for now as you began to grin cheekily, “Heh, looks like I’m taller than you now!”

Rintarou narrowed his eyes and stood up straight so your heights matched. “No we’re not, I was just slouching.”

“You’re always slouching!”

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

“Whatever you say. Don’t you have prayers to do? I’ll de- I’ll wait for you to finish,” he asked, rather relieved that he didn’t accidentally admit that he would deliver your prayers to Inari.

“Mm… I’ll pray later! I wanted to play with you right now!” you spoke, pleasantly surprising the young kitsune. “And I wanted to check something…”

Rintarou’s eyes widened in a mix of fear and shock as a hand suddenly lunged to his side before he felt dainty fingers stroke the fur of his tail. A flame burst from the tail in reaction to the surprise, and he could feel his stomach plummet to hell when he saw the look on your face.

You knew.

Instinctively, he jumped back about three metres, his body sliding on the dirt. His hands made contact with the ground, his lengthening nails digging into the soft soil. Unknowingly, his golden eyes turned a shade of vermillion while large brown ears sprouted from his head, no longer invisible, and his tail waved menacingly behind him. If it weren’t for the human form he still had, one would have thought he was a fox preparing to attack.

It was then that he realised that your body had begun to shake. Your hands trembled in fear and your eyes were watery. There was a light thud as your knees buckled and you fell to the floor, face pale as a sheet.

What had he done?

Rintarou quickly relaxed his body and stood up, embarrassed. His eyes faded back to their usual golden colour and his long nails returned to their usual length. Seeing no reason to hide his tail or ears, he kept them in view.

“Why?” he asked softly.

“I- I didn’t actually...“ Words couldn’t leave you, they only stumbled out from your shaking lips. You were still frozen on the floor.

“Now you know. And you’re scared.” he mumbled.

Oh Inari-sama, why did he have to fall for her?

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” Rintarou spoke and reached a hand out, hoping you would take it and stand up like you had on that summer night.

But you only flinched.

Seeing that, he knew your friendship had changed.

Rintarou turned around, his tail swishing with his movement before he sprinted off into the wood, fists clenched tightly in frustration.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

It had been three hours or so. Perhaps he could return to the shrine now, he thought. You must’ve finally gotten up and went home.

He had fully exposed himself right then and though he wished he hadn’t, he knew he couldn’t change it. All he could do was sit on the rock and wish to visit that night once again.

“Rintarou.”

Shinsuke’s voice, albeit calm, had never sounded scarier to the younger kitsune.

“That girl has been waiting for ya.”

“You don’t know that. She’s probably gone home.”

“She has not. (Y/N) has been sittin’ on the shrine stairs for two hours now, waitin’ either for you or for the sun to set.” Rintarou was surprised to hear that from Shinsuke. Especially since he had never mentioned your name to the other kitsune before.

“And judging by the time,” Shinsuke started, “Ya better hurry. She’s got some things to say that I think’d sound better from her mouth than from this senpai.”

With a nod, Rintarou immediately sprung to his feet and took off down the mountain, letting both gravity and his desire to talk carry him with a speed he hadn’t felt before. He came to a screeching halt as he came out of the woods, seeing you sitting on the stone stairs while fiddling with your little drawstring bag.

“(Y/N),” he called out, making you jump slightly in surprise to see him again.

You quickly stood up and began to apologise, “Rintarou, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that and I know I should’ve asked but if I did then I know you’d say you weren’t a kitsune. It’s just that I’ve been suspecting since last year but was always too nervous to ask and I know it was really stupid of-”

“Wait a second.”

The phrase made the avalanche of words stop immediately.

“You knew?”

“Well… yeah,” you admitted, “I saw your tail a couple of times and sometimes you jump really high, or jump from a high place and you’re fine. And you always make sure I don’t see your back, I guess because of your tail.”

Well. Rintarou hadn’t realised how many mistakes he had been making.

“I see… You don’t hate me or anything?”

“No way!” you spoke with a big smile. “I think it’s so cool! I’m friends with a kitsune. That’s just... woah!” you waved your hands exaggeratedly to show your emotions which you couldn’t put into words.

“I always thought you’d be scared so I didn’t say anything.” Rintarou admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. His cheeks had become a dark shade of pink now.

“Mm, I wouldn’t be scared of you. You’re nice to me, and you’re a zenko so you wouldn’t do anything bad. The thing just now scared me a bit though, but I know that was because I suddenly touched you when I shouldn’t have.”

There was a pause as you two thought for a while, figuring out what to say next.

“Then… can we still be friends?” the kitsune asked shyly, his heart beating with joy to know he hadn’t lost his friend and the girl he had feelings for.

“Of course.”

The two of you smiled toothily at each other as the sun began its descent.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

“Rin, let’s go to the rock again today!”

“Mm, sure.”

The summer festival had come again, marking one year since the day you two properly spoke. To Rintarou, it felt unbelievably short and long. Because of the way you visited almost daily, it felt like you had been an integral part of his life. Days you didn’t come to the shrine were spent lazily running around the forest with the twins or acting as Inari’s messenger while thinking about the next day you were meant to come. Yet knowing that you had only been there for one winter of his life versus the many he had experienced made him realise how short of a time you had been there for.

It was funny to think despite the relatively short time he spent with you, he felt like you were the most important thing to him these days.

So even though he would have to miss another year of the summer festival, he didn’t mind spending it with just you in quiet instead.

Light footsteps made their way through the forest, the loud laughs and shouts from the crowd below shrinking until they were no more than far off echoes. The path was no longer lit by the warm yellow festival lights from below but rather by the stars and moonlight.

“It’s just as pretty as last year,” you hummed, admiring the fireflies as you pushed back the flowers of the wisteria tree to enter the glade. While you had both visited this place often on your many visits to the shrine, you always had to go back before dark, so this was the rarest sight for you.

After climbing up the rock with ease, an experience you had gotten very used to after multiple times, you waited for Rintarou to jump up before settling yourself comfortably.

“Oh! I bought these before coming up!” you pulled out two small paper packages from your kinchaku, a small drawstring bag your mother made for you with flower-patterned cloth, and unwrapped them. In the first were four pieces of daifuku, and in the other were six small pieces of warabimochi. “I thought we might get hungry!”

Rintarou smiled and quickly picked a piece of warabimochi before tossing it into his mouth. It bounced on the edge of his lip before entering though, causing the roasted flour to form a little cloud, making a small mess on his face. You giggled at the sight of him coughing a little on the confection. The thought that even yokais like him could be dorky and mess up amused you greatly.

The evening passed quickly, far too quickly for either of your likings. As the moon and stars took their position in the dark blanket above, you two laughed and ate your snacks. It wasn’t the most filling but you two felt happy enough just talking to each other.

Though your laughter eventually died as the topic of what you were doing tomorrow came up. The once bright smile on your face faded and your gaze couldn’t meet Rintarou’s.

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” He asked, “Do you want to go to get more food?”

“My um… my parents said I can’t come back to play anymore. They said it’s no good to simply talk with boys anymore. And I have to start studying.” Your voice was soft, the topic scaring you, but the kitsune could easily pick it up.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“They said I’m growing older and someday I have to be married. Before that I have to learn to cook and do a bunch of tasks to run the household and well… They say the war’s gonna reach us soon and my family has a little land but we aren’t super influential so it’s especially important I marry someone good.”

He had heard of the war. A few domains away the territories were being fought over by some big warlords and while he didn’t know the details, he remembered Shinsuke saying it would likely change the course of history.

But to think that would affect you who were merely a child. You had only turned 10 this year… the thought confused and saddened Rintarou.

“They said I have to prepare properly to become a woman,” you explained, “So I can’t waste my time running around a forest with a boy from the shrine.”

“You’re getting married?” he asked. Why did he want to know that more than anything else you mentioned?

“Huh? No no! I’m just preparing to. But I really don’t want to. I hate it so much. I won’t get to see you in forever, Rin!” Tears came to your eyes as you threw your arms around his shoulders.

The boy awkwardly wrapped his arms around your body and patted your back, letting you cry onto his jinbei. He just had no idea what to say, what was right to say, or what you wanted to hear. Even if he had surpassed you in years he had lived long ago, his mental age was roughly the same as yours if not younger.

“We’ll see each other again, I’m sure,” was the only thing he could think to say right now, “Even if it’ll be a while.”

You sniffed and looked up from his shoulder. Your eyes met, staring at each other in silence.

“Really?” your voice squeaked, body still tense until Rintarou gently stroked your hair. Strangely your body immediately untensed and you felt at ease. Maybe it was a power of his, though you were sure it was just him.

“Yeah. I promise.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever even get to come back.”

Rintarou thought for a moment, what could he say? He was never that great with words.

“If you’re lonely then… look at the moon. And the sky. I’ll be looking at it too, just like we always do.” he replied, cheeks turning just a bit pink. He was glad you couldn’t see his face right now. It sounded funny, but he remembered hearing something like that from a storyteller at one of the summer festivals.

You seemed a bit hesitant at first but eventually you smiled and nodded. “Okay, I’ll do that, Rin.”

He let go of you just as the fireworks began to burst in the sky, prompting you to do the same. The two of you turned your gazes to the sky to watch the performance in the sky just as you had one year ago.

But this time, he noticed that your hand rested on top of his and your head was on his shoulder.

He never wanted this night to end.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

Rintarou thought about that night often.

Even if nearly seven summers had passed and he had not seen you once.

He wondered if he would ever see you again, he wanted to see you again. You were someone he could never forget so he hoped you hadn’t forgotten him too.

He wondered where you were, maybe you had moved to a different village and visited a different shrine. Maybe you were living as a servant in that new shogun’s castle. Maybe because of the war you had…

Rintarou shook his head, that couldn’t be the case. He refused to believe it. He just hoped you were okay wherever you were.

As he sat on his rock, gazing up at the sky once again in hopes of today being the day you would return, he sighed to himself. The shrine was being quite noisy these days and he couldn’t be bothered to be around all the sound so he had stayed away. There was some sort of event they were preparing for, he wasn’t sure what exactly but he didn’t care that much. He’d deal with the prayers and such afterwards.

Until he sniffed the air and smelled your familiar scent.

Rintarou had never sat up straighter before practically propelling himself off of the rock to run down to the shrine.

He would finally get to see you again! He wondered if you had grown much taller than him in the years, as he hadn’t grown all that much since that summer day. He cursed his slow growth as a kitsune but in truth it didn’t bother him that much. Though he wondered if you had matured a lot and if you would still be willing to run around in the forest with him. You probably would, right? Just for fun? Rintarou would even slow down if you wished, so you would, right?

His heart was racing as he sprinted down the mountain slope towards the shrine before coming to an abrupt halt.

A wedding ceremony...

And you were the bride?

Even if you looked completely different, wearing a pure white shiromuku while your hair was done up and hidden in the white wataboshi veil, he could still tell it was you. Even with the heavy makeup on your now matured face, he knew it was you.

Rintarou felt his guts want to simultaneously drop out from him and to also come out from his throat. There was an intense pain in his chest and throat which made him just want to scream in utter agony but all he could do was stand among the trees, completely still and yet trembling like the autumn leaves falling around him as his eyes widened in a mixture of intense emotions.

“Look at that wedding, ‘Samu. We haven’t had one of those around in a while have we?” Rintarou turned to see the twins standing a couple metres away from them, watching the ceremony as well.

“Yeah. I guess with the war now people are getting married less.” Osamu replied to his older brother, “But that’s one of the shogun’s vassals’ vassals. Or somethin’ like that. So no wonder he can afford to.”

You were getting married to someone like that?

Rintarou stared at the man beside you - he was taller, stronger, and looked far older than he was, especially dressed in his plain black kimono, haori, and hakama set. The kitsune’s small hand crept up his chest and beat it lightly, as if trying to get his heart to restart itself but it just felt painful as he slowly crouched on the soil.

“You were waiting for her, weren’t ya?” Shinsuke’s calm voice spoke from behind the younger kitsune.

As much as he wanted to, Rintarou couldn’t turn away from the wedding. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the smile on your red lips despite how painful it was. Words couldn’t express how badly he wanted to hug you and ask if you remembered him, to wipe the makeup from your face in the same manner he would wipe the dirt from your cheeks after you tripped into mud on those days you played together, to ask you to even talk to him once more. But he knew there was a high chance he would never see you ever again after today.

“Yeah. I was.” the boy sighed as calmly as he could, though it wasn’t hard for Shinsuke to hear the shake in his voice.

The four spirits watched as you and your new husband partook in the san san kudo, drinking sake from the three cups and officially recognising each other as spouses. Your family and friends cheered to see the completion of the ceremony. Smiles could be seen on nearly every person on the shrine grounds and as much as Rintarou hated to admit it, you wore a smile too.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he could have been the one to put that smile on your face.

All he could do now was to wish for your continued happiness as he passed on your prayers to the god.

･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:•:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

Many years had passed. If he was correct, twenty summers had passed, though he wasn’t counting anymore. Twenty summers without you felt like an awfully long time, though time felt like it was flying these days. Certainly faster than the seven years before then where everyday was spent longing for you.

Rintarou noticed that the four foxes had grown taller too, though it seemed like he still had some time to grow. He had grown two new tails too. He wondered how you looked now. If he could he would have left the shrine to see you, but with the war going on more prayers were being offered than ever.

He wondered if it was foolish of him, but for nearly every day of the past twenty years, he had been clinging on to the hope that one day you would come visit him. Of course, your feelings would be different, but that didn’t matter. All he wanted was to be able to see you again.

Though he hadn’t seen you, he remembered seeing your mother come to the shrine about a year after the wedding to thank Inari for the safe delivery of your new twins. “That’s because of us!” Atsumu boasted once he heard the news (though Shinsuke insisted it was not). Aside from that, Rintarou never heard about you.

Until one day.

“Do you remember that samurai who got married to a woman from this village about twenty years ago?”

“Yeah, what about them?”

“The woman passed away last week from some sickness.”

“No way…”

“Yeah, I think the old shrine maidens said she used to come to the shrine a lot as a kid to play in the woods. They liked her a lot.”

“Then it’s good they aren’t around to hear about her either…”

“Mm, I think so too.”

Rintarou’s skin turned to ice upon hearing the news. Suddenly his usual position on the rooftop no longer felt so comforting. His head pounded and his heart felt like it had stopped, a feeling he hadn’t felt since the day he first saw you.

He didn’t know what to do.

He just continued to lie on the roof, hands folded over his stomach as the once soft sky suddenly became a glaring shade of blue and white. Even if he closed his eyes, it hurt.

Everything hurt.

He continued to lay there for the next few hours, mind empty as he closed his eyes and simply thought of the sky and of you. Memories of watching the clouds, of climbing trees, of fishing in the little lake, and especially of the fireworks.

By the time he opened his eyes, Rintarou noticed the moon and stars had already taken their place. It was a sky he had only shared with you twice but somehow looking at it always made him feel comforted; knowing even if you two were far away, you were still watching the same sky, moon, and stars. Just as he said all those years ago.

But that was no longer the case.

He blinked and the twinkling stars had become blurry. Suddenly they had multiplied and the kitsune felt liquid trail down the side of his face. He laughed to himself lightly and sat up to wipe away the tears.

The once cooling wind of autumn suddenly grew a chilling bite as it blew a cloud to obscure the pale moon above.

As he looked up at the sky, he thought of how foolish he had been to cling to the hope that you would someday come back to see him, or to have fallen for you in the first place.

And oh how foolish Rintarou had been to think of the most beautiful girl he had seen whenever he looked up at the once beautiful sky.

#suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna rintarou #suna rintarou x reader #suna #rintarou suna #haikyuu fanfiction #misoramsby

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backalley-requests · 4 years ago

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The Proposal | Chapter Two

The Proposal Masterlist

Summary: The Proposal™ au, where Ivar gets swept away in a lie about a fake engagement to stay in the country and needs to convince everyone (including his family) that he’s genuinely engaged to a woman he works with

Warnings: Mild swearing, dickish behavior

Word Count: 2,085

That’s how you found yourself sitting down for a meeting next to your boss, pretending the two of you were in love and set to get married. You were more outwardly nervous than him and your leg was bouncing. It made a quiet but consistant tap on the floor.

“Will you cut that out,” Ivar snapped.

You stopped bouncing your foot and glared at him. “I’m nervous.” It wasn’t a voluntary action but it helped with the nerves. Your head tilted up to the ceiling. The office was small and the two of you sat in chairs next to each other. Across from you was an empty desk. The case worker wasn’t here yet. Was this normal? It was 10 am but felt much earlier, and the silence was so loud. The two of you never had normal conversations.

“Don’t be, it’s annoying.”

Did he expect you to remain a calm worker under these conditions? It wasn’t like he could fire you. Both of you risked losing if you didn’t stick around. It felt like a sick game of chicken. “How can I not be? We’re here because you—“

The conversation was cut short by the metal door opening. It felt like a prison, as if the two of you were being detained and Ivar didn’t even want to discuss a game plan. He had actually rolled his eyes when you asked for one.

The man was dressed in a black suit and tie, his hair was short and his face shaven. “Shall we begin?” He lacked pleasantries and it only added to your growing paranoia. There was no handshake or introduction. The man jumped into it. Immediately you felt yourself zoning in and out. Half the time you were thinking too much to listen and the other half was spent committing it to memory.

Ivar nodded confidently, evening out to a neutral. How were you supposed to project that same level of confidence? He appeared so unbothered and you stuck out like a sore thumb. The interviewer took notice. “Step one will be a scheduled interview and I’ll ask you every little question a real couple would know about each other.”

That was easy. You already knew way too much about the man. He shoved off too much personal responsibilities onto you that he didn’t want to do. You even wrote his Christmas cards at this point.

“Step two, I dig deeper, I look at your phone records, I talk to your neighbors, interview your coworker.”

The two of you didn’t have a story. The two of you communicated often for work but they weren’t out to anyone. Well— technically the two of you didn’t have a relationship to be out about. You glance over at Ivar who didn’t bother to look back at you. He seemed so eerily calm while all you could do was panic.

You were pretty sure you missed something important by the time you glanced back to the interviewer. Did you miss his name? Did he even offer one? Your leg began to bounce again.

“If your answers don’t match up at every point. You will be deported indefinitely,” he looked at Ivar, “and you will have committed a felony. Punishable by a fine of 250,000 dollars and a stay of 5 years in federal prison.” His gaze turned to you and you froze.

The sound of your heart beating drowned out whatever the man said next. It didn’t take long for both men to notice. You were in too deep. You couldn’t do this! Why did you even bother agreeing?

“Y/N?” The interviewer asked.

You couldn’t handle prison. You never even got into a fight before in your life. You’ve seen prison shows, they’re always fighting. They’d eat you alive.

“Y/N, do you want to talk to me?”

Ivar elbowed you harsh but discreetly. His blue eyes were intense and it brought you back to your reality. You had already spent three years working for him. Another two at the company. Being fired wasn’t an option and you’ve been dying to get promoted since you came there. If you could pull it off... what’s three years on paper? You blinked and nodded your head.

“You do?”

“Wait no— I mean I don’t.” You took a deep breath and held it. This man had to see right through it from the moment he walked in.

“The truth is…” you glanced at Ivar, “we’re just two people who weren’t meant to fall in love. But we did. Six months ago. We weren’t going to come out to our coworkers, not until we didn’t think they’d judge us,” your face was red and you found yourself staring down into your lap as you played with your fingers. “Especially with my promotion coming up.”

You paused, trying to see if what you said convinced him at all. “So, have either of you told your parents about your… secret love?” The interviewer wrote down notes onto a notepad.

“Oh, um, impossible. My parents are dead,” you admitted casually with an awkward laugh. “No brothers or sisters either. You can check if you want—“

“I will.”

The silence was deafening.

“What about you, Ivar? Are yours dead?”

Ivar scoffed at the mention of his family. It was clear to you that on some level he truly thought he was above being here. How could he be so casual?

You decided to cut in, “no. We were going to tell them this weekend. It’s his father’s birthday. The whole family is coming together. We thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

Once the lies began it was hard to stop them. But the event was true but Ivar’s attendance wasn’t. He had you tell them he wasn’t going. But as you spoke you got more confident.

“And where exactly is this going to take place?” The man was quizzing you.

“Aalborg, Denmark. It’s located along Kattegat Bay,” you replied. Ivar’s face twitched in surprise that you knew it at all. Your face never quite calmed down and kept a pinkish hue.

The interviewer stared intently at you, searching for signs.

“That’s right,” Ivar cut in, trying to save you.

“Isn’t Denmark a little far?”

“Well it’s not like I have a visa to lose at this point,” Ivar rolled his eyes.

The interviewer shrugged. “Next Friday at 10am, I expect you both to be here for the scheduled interviews.”

—

“What was your fucking problem? You may as well have worn a sign that we’re trying to commit a felony?”

You were floored. Did he actually want to start things off like this. “Like you were much better? You looked pissed off and detached! If you wanted better results maybe you should’ve interjected more.”

“It was fun to watch you flounder until I realized your actions have consequences,” he shrugged casually. What was wrong with him? “And now Mr. Harold Millington is going to be lurking through my family.” Oh that’s what the man’s name was. Had it shared that? Did you actually miss it?

“Just tell your family then. Have them lie.” If they were anything like Ivar then being manipulative should be in their nature.

Ivar rubbed the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “They wouldn’t agree to it.” It meant they had to go. That created the new fact that you had sentenced the both of them on a trip to Denmark. It was that or he gets sent home forever and you’re in federal prison. “How did you even know that?”

“Know what?”

“About my father’s birthday.”

“You had me send them condolences,” you crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your eyes. “I actually know a ton of things about you. It’s you who has a week to learn everything about me.”

He stood before you in his bitterness. He didn’t deny your statement. It was one thing to have marriage papers and never speak of it again for three years and another to pretend to his family that he was in an actual relationship. His mor had wanted it forever now. “Book the flights, since you’re so used to doing everything for me.”

You had a laundry list of people to contact and he expected you to book flights? Your gut instinct was to tell everyone the truth and convince them to lie to the authorities, but that seemed a little much to ask. “It’s your home, why don’t you book them?”

The two of you continued to bicker when the interviewer from earlier stepped out of the building. The two of you immediately silenced as Millington walked by, “remember. Deportation and federal prison. It’s not too late to come clean.”

The smug look on his face pissed you off. You watched the man walk further away and down the block. “I may not like you, Ivar, but I like you more than that guy,” you said bitterly as your eyes remained trained on the agent in the distance.

“At least we agree on that.”

“I want him to feel like a moron.”

“So then let’s do that,” Ivar’s words caught your attention as you glanced back to him. “He knows the truth but if we make it rock solid he’ll have no choice. It’ll drive him insane.”

You laughed, “I probably should’ve guessed your favorite pass time was belittling people and making them regret their life choices.”

“I liked you better when you just delivered coffee,” Ivar responded. The same anger from earlier was gone but that didn’t stop Ivar from starting to walk away from you. You were left standing, irrationally angry at that decision. Civilities were out the window. He had nothing over you anymore. Neither could pull the plug. And he’s been on your nerves for a while. How did you ever find that man attractive?

“Goodbye to you too, asshole!”

—

“I’m coming back for the week,” Ivar held the phone to his ear, waiting for his mother’s response. If he was being honest he was actually a little nervous about it. He actually loved his mother. The rest of them were hit or miss. But he hadn’t been back home in a long time.

“Really?”

The excitement in her voice got to him, not that he’d confess it. “I was going to introduce my girlfriend to you guys.” He hated lying.

“You have a girlfriend?” He hadn’t even mentioned the idea of one to her in forever. Not since he left Denmark for the last time. She’d been pestering forever. “Since when did you get a girlfriend?”

“Mor—“ he took a deep breath and sighed, “she works for me.”

“Oh— so it’s one of those situations.”

Was she judging him already? “Just be prepared for her.” He noticed the dip in her voice and he bit hard on his bottom lip.

“Your father is going to be so happy to have you home.” Aslaug started to talk more about it. He was surprised she wasn’t fuming at the mention of his old man. It occurred to him then that maybe his family missed him more than he realized. She was already making plans, doting on him for finding someone and talking about how relieved she is that her son found someone. “Hey Ivar— is she beautiful?” He was brought out of his thoughts by the question.

Were you? He already knew the answer. You were. It wasn’t a crazy thought. Ivar always thought you were beautiful. From the moment you walked into his office the first day holding a cup of his favorite coffee— how you ever found out before meeting him he’ll never know. It’s what told him you were beyond him. There was a hint of too much perfection that he had immediately felt anger. That anger eventually settled to annoyance.

But if he actually hated you he probably would’ve fired you by now. The issue is that you’d never genuinely go for him. He had his own love life of sorts, money speaks for itself, he could get laid. What he couldn’t get was more, who would genuinely date him? It was easier to resent than pine.

“Yes.”

Aslaug laughed on the other end, “you took a little long there to respond, Ivar.”

“Sorry— she is, mor, I’m just busy with some work. I’ll call you before the plane leaves.”

“Please do. Oh, and Ivar, dear. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

—

Taglist** @youbloodymadgenius

#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless #Vikings #the proposal #I feel like it’ll have to start picking up soon #but I kinda like some moments #I really woke up at 5pm today huh....

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taehyungs-perm · 4 years ago

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midnight love - ch.2

midnight love collab w @jimins-filter

jimin x reader; superhero au; childhood best friends to lovers au; ceo, billionaire philanthropist, playboy!jimin

genre: angst; lowkey funny; eventual smut

summary: playboy park jimin comes back to seoul city after disappearing for six years; too much has changed, especially you. living out your nights as nyx, seoul city’s dark knight, is a secret you’ve kept for as long as jimin’s disappeared. but what happens when a new hero named eros comes into town just as park jimin shows up at your front door...

teaser

chapter 1

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 2 Sixty-six, sixty-seven, sixty-eight, Jimin counted in his mind, pulling himself up to the bar. His muscles tightened with every pull and he let out a groan as he finally finished his last rep. He wiped the sweat off his brow, panting as he dropped from the pull up bar. Grabbing the towel hanging from the hook, he wiped the dripping sweat off of his body as he made his way to the bench to retrieve his water bottle. Distantly he heard the doors of the gym open with an unmistakable creak, but he paid no mind as he chugged the water, appreciating the cool liquid against his throat.

“Long time no see,” he heard a familiar deep voice echo through the room.

Jimin quickly whirred around to see who entered the gym. It was Kim Taehyung, his childhood best friend and most trusted advisor (and on most occasions, his drinking buddy). Jimin immediately broke into a smile, his eyes squinting, at the familiar sight of Tae’s curls and his expensive fashion taste. He ran to his friend, ready to engulf him in a koala hug.

“Taehyung!” Jimin embraced his friend, feeling the most happy he’s been in the while.

“Jimin, this is Gucci! Take a shower first,” Tae said, attempting to push Jimin away, laughing all at the same time. He ruffled Jimin’s soft black hair affectionately. “I see you’ve grown a little.”

“Shut up. I could still beat up your ass.” Jimin jokes, batting Tae’s hand away.

“No doubt,” Tae said, inspecting Jimin’s abs with a raised eyebrow. “Wherever you’ve disappeared to in the last six years has prepared you for an apocalypse.”

“On a serious note, thank you Taehyung. For taking care of Park Enterprises while I was away.”

“Of course man. Park Enterprises is everything to me, to you, to your family. I would do everything in my power to keep it going.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.”

“But I suspect you didn’t call me here just to say thanks.” Taehyung said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his brown trousers.

“Well I was hoping to see you at my party a few days before, but…” Jimin trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Not all of us can be playboys, Park. Some of us got jobs. Some of us have to do your job.” Taehyung smirked.

“I’m turning over a new leaf, Taehyung.”

“Good one,” Taehyung laughed.

“I’m being serious. I need your help.” Jimin said solemnly.

“What sort of help?”

“You still design suits?”

“Of course. The other day I designed a 3 piece velvet suit complete with a waistcoat—”

Jimin chuckled nervously, “I’m not talking about that kind of suit.”

Taehyung wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion, “Jimin, what exactly are you planning?”

“Seoul needs my help.”

“Your help? As Park Jimin, CEO of Park Enterprises?”

“No, Seoul needs my help as someone else.”

Taehyung sat down on the workout bench slowly, trying to piece together the full meaning of what Jimin wanted, “You’re not a vigilante.”

“I could be. And I don’t want to think of myself as some lawless criminal.”

“But that’s exactly what you would be Jimin! You’re not seriously thinking about putting on some jumpsuit and beating up random people!”

“I’m not going to be beating up random people. I’m taking care of the people of Seoul. That’s what Nyx is doing and the city loves her!”

“One vigilante is enough. Seoul doesn’t need someone else running against the law.”

Jimn paused, “I just...think this city needs some help.”

“What? You don’t think Nyx is doing enough?”

“I think Nyx is one person against an entire corrupt city. She needs help.”

“What if she doesn’t want it?”

“It doesn't matter what she wants. It’s about what the city needs.”

“From whom does she need help from exactly?”

“Eros.”

“Eros? As in the god of love?” Taehyung questioned, cracking a smile.

“Shut up man. The dude’s a beast with his arrows and shit.”

“I assume this is what you’re training for? What you have been training for?”

Jimin crossed his arms and nodded, “It wasn’t my intention at first I guess. But once I left Seoul I realized what a mess it was, how it was infested to the brim with criminals and dangers. I want to save Seoul. I want to be a hero but I don’t want anyone I love to get hurt so I have to keep my identity a secret.”

Taehyung went silent for a few minutes before breaking the silence, “Told ______ about your little plan?”

“Fuck no. She would lose her mind. I just got on her good side, I’m not about to mess it all up.”

“How did you manage to get on her good side already? Last time I talked to her she was pissed as hell at you.”

Jimin smirked, “Guess it was that classic Park charm.”

“You do know she has a boyfriend?” Taehyung looked at Jimin with apprehension.

“I know.” was all Jimin said. He didn’t want to add the tiny, embarrassing detail that she told him when he was about to kiss her.

“That’s rough buddy.”

“Have you met the guy?” Jimin asked with a jealous tone.

Taehyung nodded, “He’s really cool. And he’s really good for ______.”

“Is that your not-so-subtle way of telling me to fuck off?”

“I’m just saying man, you’ve been gone a long time. People change. ______’s changed. You had your chance back in college, but you were too busy caring about your fuckboy reputation. Just be her friend, it’s what she really needs and it's what you really need.”

“I hate when you're right.”

Taehyung stood up and patted Jimin’s arm comfortingly, “So, tell me a little about what kind of suit you’re looking for.”

Jimin smiled then led Taehyung over to his workshop desk with various blueprints, “I need something functional yet fast. I need to be protected but be able to move quickly. Something made out of carbon fiber?”

Taehyung scanned the blueprints, different designs of suits that were in shades of black and red. Taehyung rubbed his chin in thought, “When do you need this by?”

“This weekend?” Jimin asked hopefully.

“I can make that work, but you gotta do something for me in return.”

“What is it? I'll do anything.”

“You gotta show up at your fucking job.” Taehyung said smiling as he rolled up the blueprint, tucking them at his side.

“Taehyung, thank you. I mean it.” Jimin said, earnestly.

Taehyung winked at him as he opened the gym doors and left.

True to his word, Jimin showed up to work bright and early. As he walked into Park Enterprises, he swore he saw a few of the employees fall out of their chair at the sight of him alive and well. That, and the fact that he showed up to work for once. He opened the door to his office and saw that it remained relatively untouched. One wall was taken up with floor-to-ceiling windows while another was decorated with an array of sleek black cabinets.Jimin made his way to the big, glass desk in the middle of the room and logged onto his computer (he couldn't believe his account hadn’t been deleted after all these years). It had been far too long. He didn’t even know where to start but he decided maybe going through his overflowing inbox was a beginning. After staring at his computer screen for what felt like hours, Jimin’s attention was caught by the sound of his office door opening. He was completely shocked at the figure in his doorway.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Jimin quickly bowed, remembering his formalities and the respect he had for his mentor. He was after all the one who had taken Jimin under his wing and trained him, taught him what real fear was. Jimin was taken aback at Yoongi’s appearance; he had only seen Yoongi wearing the traditional hanbok yet here he was in a full beige three piece suit, handkerchief and all.

Yoongi walked over cooly with his hands in his pocket, a clear demeanor of confidence, “Nice office you got here Jimin. I see why you left.”

A spark of nervousness flew through Jimin’s body, “I wasn’t aware you were stopping by or that you were even in the city,” he replied levelly.

Yoongi slowly sat in Jimin’s chair, crossing his legs, “I just came to see the city you’ve talked so much about. I wanted to see how you are doing. Adjusting well, I presume?” His voice had a tone of sarcasm layered underneath it, but that was typical of Yoongi.

Jimin decided to play along with his game, his steely gaze locked on to Yoongi, “Yes, I’ve missed my city and my home. It’s good to be back.”

“I hope you haven’t returned to old habits.” Yoongi looked at Jimin with a glint in his eyes, a sly smile playing on his lips.

Under normal circumstances, Jimin would’ve buckled under Yoongi’s intense stare. But he’d spent the better part of the last six years under Yoongi’s guidance, and he was well trained from not shying away from his old mentor.“Of course not Yoongi-ssi.” Jimin replied coolly.

“Lying is not tolerable in our mantra, if you recall.” Yoongi said sternly.

Jimin’s face flared in embarrassment, “I’m sorry, Yoongi-ssi. I wouldn’t count it as old habits to be honest. One night of fun is hardly an indicator of me going back to the old days.”

“I guess. So, with the knowledge and training you’ve been given, what exactly is your plan?”

Jimin’s entire body went stiff. As much as he respected his mentor, there was something off about his behavior: the way that he just suddenly appeared in Seoul, in Jimin’s office. Yoongi had always been a bit standoffish but never cold towards his mentees; something strange was going on. Jimin needed to figure out why Yoongi was really in Seoul

.Ignoring Yoongi’s question, Jimin cleared his throat, “Yoongi-ssi, what are you really doing here in Seoul?”

Yoongi smirked at his pupil’s clear avoidance of his own question, “Nothing really, some sightseeing, some investing. There is some great property here in Seoul.”

Jimin egged him on further, “Are you thinking about purchasing an apartment or..”

“Perhaps. Maybe some buildings as well. I’ll have to do some more research.”

Jimin narrowed his eyebrows, confused. Yoongi had never expressed any interest in buying property in Seoul before, not once in the six years Jimin knew him.

“Why?” Jimin asked lightly, trying not to tip Yoongi off of his suspicions.

Yoongi picked up a pen laying on Jimin’s desk. He twirled it around in his fingers and spoke nonchalantly, “Just diversifying my income.”

Suddenly Yoongi’s phone started to ring. Yoongi pulled his phone out of his inside coat pocket and stood up, “I have to take this. But it was nice seeing you Jimin. I hope we can sit down and have a proper chat later.”

Jimin bowed again at his mentor as Yoongi left his office. The moment the door closed, Jimin sat down and exhaled a deep breath. What was Yoongi-ssi doing here? Why is he investing property in Seoul?

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

When Jimin returned to his empty apartment that night, the last thing he wanted to do was be alone. For a moment, he thought about calling ______. But after his last encounter with you, he thought it best to give you space. Instead, he dialed Namjoon to tell him to come over (and to bring food as well).

When the elevator doors clicked open, Jimin saw Namjoon stride over to him, holding a bag full of Korean takeout. Namjoon was wearing his regular attire: an oversized jacket with a cap nestled on his soft brown hair. He smiled as he saw Jimin, a deep dimple forming on both cheeks.

“How was the first day of work?” Namjoon said, plopping down on the couch across from Jimin.

“Sucked ass. I have literally no idea what I’m doing. How the fuck have you and Taehyung been doing this for six years?” Jimin said, laying his head back on the couch.

“I ask myself that question everyday,” Namjoon laughed as he began taking out plastic containers of food.

Namjoon handed a pair of chopsticks to Jimin and pushed a container towards him, “Eat. You’ve had a long day.”

Jimin smiled at his friend and began to eat the bowl of japchae in front of him, “Have you talked to Taehyung?”

Namjoon nodded, “I think he’s honestly trying to wrap his head around it still but he’s working on your suit and it’s coming along pretty well.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Just the rough model of it but it looks great so far.”

“I can’t believe that he agreed to it.” Jimin said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe you convinced me.” Namjoon added, taking a bite of rice.

“Honestly I thought you were going to be way harder to get on my side.”

“I mean as much as I hate the idea of you going out and doing vigilante shit, you’re right. This city needs all the help it can get and Nyx can’t do it alone.”

“Speaking of Nyx, who is she?”

“No one knows.”

“You’re telling me no one knows anything about her? She’s been active almost six years and no one has found out anything about her?”

“She keeps a low profile. The only thing I could tell you, which really isn’t a secret, is that she works with SCPD.”

Jimin leaned forward, interested, “Who does she work with specifically? She can’t be coordinating with the entire police force.”

“I believe she works with Detective Jin. But I’m not 100% sure. I can do some research on it and let you know.”

“Thanks man. Another weird thing happened today, Yoongi-ssi came by my office.”

“Your mentor from that weird ninja group?” Namjoon’s voice had a tone of clear sarcasm.

Jimin corrected him, “The League of Shadows, but yes.”

“Why?”

“That’s my question too. He said some bullshit about buying property or something, but I don’t believe him. Hey, could you do me a favor and look into which properties he’s bought or is going to purchase?”

Namjoon nodded, “You think he’s up to something?”

“I’m not sure yet but something weird is definitely going on.”

“I'll look into it and the Nyx stuff. You got the computers set up in the basement, right?”

Jimin nodded, “I’ll text you the passcode but it's on B4 in Park Enterprises.”

“I don’t trust him,” Namjoon said, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Jimin asked, confused.

Namjoon nodded, “That entire League of Shadows business is just so….suspicious.”

“I mean, it is called the League of Shadows for a reason. We work in the shadows.” Jimin chuckled.

“I don’t ask you too many questions about your time away Jimin, but you’ve changed. A lot”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I haven’t decided yet. But I just know the old Jimin wouldn’t have turned his back on his friends for six years.”

“I told you Namjoon, I couldn’t call anyone.”

“But why? You’ve never told me why. ‘Couldn’t’ implies it was out of your control. So doesn’t it make you question why you couldn’t call anyone?”

“It’s for protection.”

“Who’s? Yours? Mine? The League’s?” Namjoon said, a bit annoyed.

Jimin went silent. He hadn’t really questioned who’s protection his silence was for. Yoongi-ssi made it clear from the moment Jimin stepped into the dojo that there were two rules: obey the mantra and swear to secrecy. But why? Did the League have something to hide? Did Yoongi have something to hide?

Namjoon flipped on the news as Jimin simmered in his thoughts. The headlines blared ‘JUST IN: BANK ROBBERY AT SEOUL UNITED’. Jimin and Namjoon exchanged weary glances, worry sinking into their stomachs.

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

You pushed through the revolving doors of her parents’ building. You hated going here, you could almost taste the despair in the air. Too many memories of missing out on hangouts with friends, missing recitals and performances all because your parents were too busy to take you. Good thing you weren’t here to see them. You saw them exclusively on Sundays; you couldn’t handle anymore than that. You tried to get past the front desk but of course you heard the familiar shriek, “Ms. ______, welcome!”

You gripped your leather messenger bag tightly, trying to control your anger, “Hello”

“Are you here to see your parents? I’m afraid they are both in meetings curr-”

You cut off the secretary, “I’m not here to see them. Just here to meet a friend.”

“Oh, alright. Have a nice day then.”

“Thank you. Also, please don’t tell my parents that I was here. I wouldn’t want to bother them with this.”

The secretary nodded and you quickly walked to the elevators, hitting the down arrow a couple of times impatiently. The elevator doors opened with a ding and you hopped in, pressing the B8 button. After a few seconds and a feeling of weightlessness, the doors re-opened and you stepped out, heading down the same path you had been going down for the past six years.

You walked up to the familiar cubicle and saw a figure with unmistakable tousled black hair focused on the computer screen in front of him, his tattooed hands flying across the keyboard . When you peered a little closer to see what he was working on, it became evident he was fully immersed in a PVP video game. You sneaked up behind him, getting as close as you could without alerting him.

“Hey Jungkook,” you whispered, giving him a little push.

Jungkook immediately jolted in his seat, clutching his shirt where his heart would be. “Never do that again, you scared me!”

He swiveled around to face you, while you were silently laughing at his reaction. He clearly didn’t expect your presence.

“You’re here! I didn’t know you were coming,” Jungkook pushed up his glasses that had been knocked awry by his jump and adjusted his tie nervously. You couldn't help but smile at his shy behavior.

“What’d you expect?” you chuckled, you would be lying if you said you didn’t have a soft spot for Jungkook. “I texted you this morning that I would swing by lunch to see if the tr-”

Jungkook nodded excitedly, “Yes, yes of course. I have it ready.” He pulled open his desk drawer and handed you a handheld remote.

He pointed to the disc, “This is the tracker. First thing, just pick up one stack of bills, scan it using this remote and a digital marker will be recorded. Once you are trying to actually track the bills, just click the button on the remote. It will connect to the maps on your phone via bluetooth and allow you to track where the money is physically going.”

You turned over the small remote in your hand, analyzing the careful craftsmanship, “This is amazing Jungkook. You’re a genius.”

A light blush bloomed over Jungkook’s cheeks, “Oh, really it’s nothing. I just was messing around with some stuff and it ended up coming together well.”

“Thank you so much,” you smiled, ruffling his already messy hair.

Jungkook nodded, “Just be careful out there.”

You winked at him, “Nyx always is.”

With that, you raced to your car, driving to your apartment as fast as possible. You needed to get the tracker on the bills before anything else happened. After a quick change into your Nyx outfit and grabbing your motorbike, you were on your way to Seoul United.You found Detective Jin’s team surrounding the bank. After speaking with the officer in charge, you were able to get access to the vault and place the necessary tracker. You zoomed back to your apartment, trying to get out of there as quick as possible. Nyx worked in the nighttime; daytime excursions were a risk to your identity. In the evening, you tried to focus on the case files pulled up on your laptop, but an unmistakable feeling of anxiety was creeping up your neck, like something horrible was just about to happen. Then, as if right on cue, your phone pinged with a text from Detective Kim.

DK: Seoul United has just been robbed.

You: What? When?

DK: 5 mins ago

You: I’ll be right over

You threw on your Nyx outfit and raced on your bike over to Seoul United Bank. Already there were police cars and news vans surrounding the area. It was hard to see anything past the blue and red sirens and the constant flashes of the journalists’ cameras. You managed to make your way into the bank, finding Detective Kim standing in the entryway. He was talking with someone on his team, his hands on his hips, clearly exasperated. You cleared your throat and Detective Kim turned around.

“Nyx,” he said, seeing your arrival. You simply gave him a two-fingered salute, before following him into the empty bank vault. It was a big, metallic thing with a complicated lock pad on the front. Although the inside of the vault was void of the thousands stacks of cash, there were stray dollar bills littering the floor.

You looked up at Detective Kim, annoyed, “I thought you had your team here.”

He signed, rubbing his forehead, “I did. They were here all night.”

“Then, how did this happen?” you asked suspiciously.

“I don’t know.” He paused then spoke slowly, “I wasn’t here. It was just my team.”

You pursed your lips, thinking about the situation. You stood up, scanning the empty vault, before looking directly at Detective Kim’s eye “Whoever robbed this bank was tipped off. You have a mole in your team.”

“Excuse me?” Detective Kim’s jaw dropped.

“This wasn’t a coincidence Detective. Whoever robbed this bank knew about our plan. There is no way this should have happened if your team was actually prepared. Either your team is incompetent or there’s a mole.”

“There has to be another explanation.”

“I suggest you thoroughly re-evaluate your team.” you looked at him levelly.

Jin hesitated for a moment, “Fine.”

“There’s only two major banks left in Seoul.” you said, walking around the vault to see if there were any clues left behind.

“Seoul Credit Union and Republic of Korea Trust Corporation.” Jin said, flipping through his notepad.

You said nothing in response, but kept walking back to the end of the vault where a glint of red caught your eye. You moved closer and found a card stuck between one of the tables and the wall. You pulled it and recognized it immediately; it was the card you found in the folder Detective Kim gave you a few nights ago. The blood-red smile stared back at you in mockery.

You turned to show Detective Kim the card, “Same card,”

Detective Kim nodded in agreement, taking the card from your gloved hand and studying it. “It appears so. I guess this means the robberies are done by the same team.”

“Any leads with the ink?” you asked, remembering the conversation you had with Detective Kim that one night regarding the ink of the smiley face on the card.

“Nothing of interest came up,” Detective Kim said, shrugging, not exactly meeting your eye.“

What’s your plan?”

“Same thing I guess. But with a smaller team.”

You nodded, picking up one of the stray dollar bills scattered on the floor.

Jin looked at you, “What’s your plan?”

“Unlike you, I was prepared.” Pulling out the tracker Jungkook made for you out of your pocket, you scanned the dollar bill with the tracker. After a few seconds, your phone began to beep. Immediately, a maps app pulled up with the word “TRACKING” flashing. After a moment, the location popped up: 14-5, Donam 1-dong, Seongbuk-gu, Seoul.

“I put a tracker on the bills earlier today.” you showed your phone to Jin, “This is where the money is currently.”

“Nyx…”

“I’m not going to do anything. Just a reconnaissance mission. Observe and I’ll tell you what I find.”

Jin sighed a breath of relief, “I’ll keep you posted on my side as well.”

You nodded, and quickly left the bank, heading to the location on your phone.

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

Jimin walked into the basement of Park Enterprises, his steps echoing through the concrete room. He felt a sense of nostalgia walking through these halls. Back when Namjoon, Y/N, and Jimin were younger they would run around here, playing hide-and-seek and tag, while his father would work diligently upstairs. Now, Jimin walked down these halls with a different purpose, while his father laid six feet under, never to breathe again.

Jimin slowed his pace when he came near a metallic door and entered the passcode in the keypad to the side. The door opened with a defined clang and he saw Namjoon clicking away on a keyboard in front of several computer screens. The screens were filled with an array of statistics, new articles, and property reports.

“What’s up?” Jimin asked, leaning on the headrest of Namjoon’s chair.

“So I was doing some research into what we spoke about the other day,” Namjoon started, clicking away from an article.

“Did you find anything about Nyx?” Jimin asked excitedly.

Namjoon slowly turned his head, looking at Jimin above his shoulder, “Um, no. I was thinking the Yoongi stuff was more important.”

“Right,” Jimin said, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Anyways, I got ahold of some of the listings Yoongi is looking into, but he’s actually only bought one apartment building so far.”

“Where?”

“It’s actually not too far from here.”

“I can go check it out tonight. See if there’s anything weird about the building, or inside of it.”

“Did Taehyung finish your suit?” Jimin nodded, walking to the end of the room where a black panel lay embedded in the wall. Jimin pressed his hand against the scanner to unlock the panel. It moved to the side, revealing a sleek, black suit with red accents made of carbon fiber. Next to the suit, was a titanium black bow and arrow encased in a clear case.

Jimin stripped of his clothes and stepped into the suit. It fit seamlessly, providing him with protection as well as the ability to move around stealthily. He pushed the eye mask against his face and threw his hood over, casting a dark shadow over his face.

“Address?” Jimin called out as he put on the quiver and adjusted the strap so that it lay comfortably on his body.

“14-5, Donam 1-dong, Seongbuk-gu, Seoul,” Namjoon said reading off the computer screen.

Jimin nodded, punching the address into his phone. He bid Namjoon a goodbye before exiting the building and heading to the garage. He summoned his car to him by pressing a button on his keys. The car came to him in a flash, a sleek black car with the state-of-the-art weapons attached to it and a computer interface at his disposal. Not to mention, the seat heaters feel amazing. Jimin hopped in the car, determined to solve this mystery and figure out what Yoongi was up to.

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

After 15 minutes of driving, you finally arrived at your location. It was a tall, red brick building that was supposedly an apartment complex, according to Google. You stashed your bike a block away from the building, hiding it in an alleyway. There was a fire escape leading to the roof of the apartment building, perfect for preliminary surveillance. You made your way to the roof of the building and perched on a ledge, scanning the terrain. You could hear drunken shouts and laughter from below, but you didn’t see anyone entering or exiting the building.

On the roof itself, there were a few camp chairs with old glass bottles and plastic cups littering the floor. There was also a door which you presumed led inside of the building as well as a water tower a few feet from you. You were a bit frustrated by the lack of places to hide on the roof, but you’ve dealt with worse.

You studied the layout of the building. It would be useless to walk through each floor in hopes of accidentally stumbling upon a room full of bank vault cash. You racked your brain for a better solution before deciding you should call your team to help you locate the most probable floor that the cash could be on.

“Hey,” you said, pressing the button on your earpiece to talk.

Jungkook excitedly answered, “______! I mean, Nyx!”

“What’s up?” Sana asked, much more calmly.

“I’m at the address. Pretty sure it’s an apartment building, judging by the layout, but I have no idea where the money could be. Maybe there’s some sort of hidden room or basement where all this money could be stored. Can you guys pull up the specs of the building?”

“You got it,” Sana said, clicking away on her keyboard.

You waited patiently for a moment before you heard something, a light clank sound. You immediately ducked behind the water tower, highly alert. You could feel your heart beating very fast. Could it be the person behind the blood-red smiley face card?

“Someone’s here,” you whispered softly into your earpiece.

“Who?” Jungkook and Sana asked.

“Not sure.”

“Be careful,” Sana cautioned.

You turned off your earpiece so you could hear what the intruder was doing. You heard soft footsteps crunching on the gravel. You tried to peer around the water tower to see but it was pitch black, too difficult to make out clear movement. You saw a figure moving, you squinted trying to see better. You almost felt scared for a second. You shook yourself out of it. C'mon you’re Nyx. You’ve faced off the mob for crying out loud. Whoever it is, whatever it is, you can handle it

You gripped your pronged knife, unsheathing it, getting in battle stance. You peered once more to see any movement, trying to get the upper hand on whoever this mysterious person was. Part of you thought it might be a random civilian, just wandering off but your instincts told you otherwise. Based on the movements of this mystery person, the soft footsteps and indiscernible breathing, this was clearly someone who knew what they were doing. You looked over, trying to see any motion in the darkness but when you squinted, you couldn't see anything. You sighed turning your head back around to find an arrow pointed right at your forehead.

Your eyes immediately went to the beholder of the arrow. A man, you guessed, his face was covered by a large hood but you could make out that he was wearing an eye mask. Another vigilante? Another villain? Was he the one behind the bank robberies?

He was good, good enough to sneak up on you. You forced yourself to calm down, and you gripped your knives tighter trying to formulate a plan. Fighting him straight up wasn’t the smartest move, not yet. You needed some answers first. Keep him busy while he’s talking then attack. Distraction was always the best mode of offense.

“Who are you?” you asked, not taking your eyes off of the man and the arrow pointed at you.

“So curious,” he murmured, titling his head to the side. His grip on the bow never wavered.

If anything his answer made you more furious rather than the fact that he was holding a literal arrow to your face. Stay calm Nyx.

“New in town?” you said, mind racing.

“Not really.” His voice was soft and melodic, almost like he was teasing you. “I’ve never seen you before.” you strengthened your stance, preparing to attack.

“Maybe you have. Maybe you’re just not observant enough.” He said with a chuckle. Then for a moment, his bow wavered. Bingo. You immediately launched a kick at his arm, momentarily surprising him, causing him to drop both his bow and arrow. You twisted his arm so that it was no longer directed towards you, switching places and forcing him against the water tower as you pushed one of your knives against his throat. The man’s adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped at the prospect of getting his throat slashed at any moment.

It was now your turn to torment him.

“Relax cupid I won’t hurt you. Yet.” Your eyes narrowed. “Now tell me, who are you?”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” He smirked. With his free hand, the man turned away your knife holding hand and swiftly kicked your feet out from under you. But you’ve had years of experience and saw this coming. At the last minute, you rolled over so that he was now trapped under you. You had your knees planted on either side of his narrow waist with one arm pinning down his hands. Your knife had clattered away during this, so you decided to press your forearm against his throat.

The man chuckled, sending shivers up your spine, “Usually the girl knows my name before she’s on top of me,”

You pressed your forearm down even harder, “You’re quite obnoxious, you know that?”

“I think you mean charming,” he choked out, struggling to breathe.

“Let me clear something up for you. I have Detective Kim Seokjin on speed dial. It would be so easy for me to simply tie you up and hand you to the Seoul City Police. But perhaps, if you cooperated and gave me some information, we could work something out.” You had no intentions of making a deal with this possible criminal but this was a tactic that always worked in the past.

“Eros,” he gasped out. “My name’s Eros.”

Intrigued at this outburst, you lessened the pressure against his throat. Funny. A name of a greek god. Like yours.

“Eros,” you repeated. “The Greek god of love. What an odd name for a villain.”

“Vigilante,” he corrected. You could see his eyes more clearly now, a dangerous obsidian color.

“Vigilante, is that right?” you mused, “Sounds like some bullshit a lowlife criminal would say.”

“I’m being serious. But of course that would mean you would have to trust me.” His voice became low and sultry. There was something familiar about him, about his voice, his mannerisms but you couldn't place it.

“Fine. Be honest. Why are you here?”

“I’m following a lead.”

“From who? About what?”

“C’mon darling. Do you really think I would give up all my information to someone I don’t even know?”

“I guess you’ll just have to trust me.” you said repeating his own words back to him.

“Maybe we can start by you getting off of me. Don’t get me wrong darling, I would love for this to continue, just under different circumstances maybe.” He whispered, sending shivers up your spine.

Immediately your face flushed. You quickly got up and offered a hand to Eros. He stood up and grabbed his bow and arrow that had clattered away during your fight, walking to the ledge.

“I’m here because I have suspicions about someone I don’t trust. He owns this building, recently purchased and I want to know why. But I’m guessing since you're here too, you have a lead you're following.” He turns to face you, “which makes me think , maybe we are on the same side.”

“Maybe, but I still have no idea who you are. I can’t blindly trust you.”

“Nyx, if I wanted to take you down, I would have already. Now why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here.”

He had a point, you thought. He was strong, you had felt his rock hard abs and strong muscles when you were on top of him (you were only noting it just in case you had to take him head on, no other reason of course). Eros could definitely put up a good fight; he could possibly take you down. Right now, your instincts were to trust him, see what information he had, and possibly work together.

You sighed, “I’m here because of a lead Detective Kim gave me.”

You saw his lips turn into a smirk, “Close with Detective Kim?”

You continued on, rolling your eyes at his unprofessional banter,“Anyways, I’m following a lead from the robberies.”

“The bank robberies?”

You nodded, “There was a connection between all of the recent bank robberies. I found this card at two of the robberies”

You handed him the card that had the smiley face drawn on it with the blood-like ink. The very one that had plagued your dreams and brought upon many sleepless nights. Whoever was behind the bank robberies were obviously very confident that they would get away with it, especially since they left behind a mark of theirs. Now you just had to find out who.

You studied Eros’s expression carefully when you handed him the card and you saw his eyes widen at the sight of the card, a flash of recognition. “I’ve seen this symbol before, I just can’t remember where,”

You eyed him uneasily. Was he just lying to you or was he being serious? Regardless, Eros knew something about the bank robberies, which was suspicious on some level.

Eros caught your gaze and spoke in an easy tone, “I promise I’ll look into this and remember where I saw this.”You nodded, feeling a wave of security and gratefulness rush over you. The nagging voice in the back of your head was getting harder to ignore though: Why were you already so trusting of this man you have never met before?

Eros chuckled softly, “Guess I’m gonna need your phone number.”

You paused for a moment, once again ignoring his overly flirty comments before remembering. You pulled out a burner phone lodged in one of your pant pockets. You had used it in a prior mission and forgot to give it back to Jungkook. You tossed the phone to Eros who caught it with ease.

“You call me. No need to exchange numbers.”

“You’re killing me, darling.” Eros said, safely storing the phone away.

You ignored him and continued with what you knew about the bank robberies, “I placed a tracker on the bills and I tracked it to this apartment.”

“The money is here?”

“Who owns this building?”

“My mentor...” Eros said hesitantly.

“Your mentor?”

“Yeah. But why would the money come here? Unless he knows about it?”

“Do you think he could be behind the robberies?”

Eros shook his head, “I highly doubt it. He was always preaching about not getting attached to the material world.”

“Here’s the plan, granted you don’t try to surprise attack me in the middle of it. I’ll pull up the specs of the building and we can see what’s here and what’s not.”

Eros nodded, “We should split up, cover more ground.”

“No way. I don’t trust you. What if you find the money and take it all?”

“I mean I wouldn’t, but if you really just wanted to spend some more time with me, then all you had to do was ask, darling.” Eros said, smirking at you.

“Just keep your eyes peeled,” You said, shaking your head and scoffing.

You pulled up your phone and found a message from Jungkook, an attachment for the blueprints of the building. You clicked on the attachment and glanced through the drawings.

“Okay, so it looks like there are apartments on every floor except the basement and the 8th floor.” You announced. “Although I’m not sure why the 8th floor doesn’t have any apartments.”

“Let’s head there first then.” Eros said hurriedly.

You swiftly picked the lock on the door on the roof and headed down the dimly lit metal staircase. The chipping paint on the wall stated “18th Floor.” It was going to be a bit of a walk; the elevators were too much of a risk for civilians to encounter you. Eros tried to make conversation asking about your past endeavors but you were in no mood to be friendly with someone you didn’t know. Once you reached the 8th floor and opened the door, you found yourself in a completely empty room. You unsheathed your knife while Eros steadied his bow as you both scanned the room, looking for potential threats.

“Nothing,” Eros said with a tone of disappointment.

“Why would this room be empty?” you said, utterly confused.

“Well, my mentor just bought this building so maybe he has plans for this room. I dunno, this is all very weird. We should hurry up to the basement though. We don’t wanna get caught.”

You nodded in agreement and went back into the stairwell with Eros following behind. It didn’t take long to reach the basement but once you both were battle ready, you slowly opened the door to the basement. Your eyes widened in shock. The basement had been transformed into some underground factory, machinery everywhere, metal tables, and boxes piled high.

“What the fuck?” Eros muttered under his breath as he gripped his bow tighter.

You walked around analyzing what was laid out in front of you. You headed to the pile of boxes stacked on the furthest wall. You sliced open the box that was about your eye level using your pronged knife. Purple powder started to spill out of the box and you could see some clear plastic peeking through. Confused and curious, you cut through the tape of the box to properly examine its contents.

“Holy shit.” you whispered, your voice echoing through the room.

Eros jogged over to where you were, “What? What happened?”

He peered over your shoulder and inhaled sharply. Laid right in front of you was a box with packets of packaged purple powder. You looked around the room again, seeing the machinery and tools in a new light. This building was holding an illegal drug factory.

author’s note: the long awaited ch 2!! it took awhile bc of school, exams, and also thinking through the plot. anyways hope you all enjoy and lmk if u would like to be added to the tag list :)

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ad1thi · 4 years ago

Text

2020 fic recs!! [Part 1]

this idea was stolen from @iam93percentstardust cuz i just,,,thought that this year was absolute shit and it would be nice to make a fic rec list of fics from this year that helped me through it. this will be over a range of fandoms and ships, but all fics were written this year.

fics are ordered by the month they were published. ive tried to keep to five fics per month, but this is not obviously all the fics ive read that month - i just didn’t want to make this insanely long.

im releasing the first half of this on the 1st of December, and the second half on the 1st of January 2021 - because otherwise it would just get so long (and also so i will actually have fics for December)

happy reading!! hopefully you find fics on this you haven’t read yet

***

January

The cat is mighty dignified (until the dog comes by): @five-wow

Steve and Danny find them on the pillow in the corner of the dining area, where Eddie is on his side, ass half on the floor because the pillow is more cat-sized than lab-sized, and Pickles is nestled between Eddie’s front legs, essentially being spooned and looking very I-got-the-cream about it. Pickles’ head is tucked into the crook of Eddie’s neck and Eddie’s head slots perfectly on top of Mr. Pickles’, like a furry jigsaw puzzle.

“They’re cuddling,” Steve points out, unnecessarily.

Or: There is a love story unfolding under the McGarrett roof.

Captain ‘Socialist Rage Muffin’ America: @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

It takes three months of dating Steve Rogers for Tony to understand why Aunt Peggy once shot at him in sheer frustration.

Alternately titled, Honey, I committed treason again.

The Best Laid Plans (Of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

Fourteen Million to One: @tunastorks

Six months after Thanos, six months after Tony’s death, six months after Steve returns to his own timeline, Tony Stark turns up on their doorstep.

Brewed Awakening: @iam93percentstardust

Two years after he comes out of the ice, Steve is drifting through life. On his teammate's recommendation, he decides to go back to school where he meets the grandson of an old friend. He finds happiness with Tony but Steve won't be in Boston forever and someone is out to hurt the Starks. Will Steve and Tony be able to reach their happily ever after?

February

the young, the reckless and the foolish: @bruciewayne

In most universes, they don't know each other, not in the slightest, or they hate each other, in a way that's perfectly logical for anyone who were to find themselves in a similar situation.

In this one, they've known each other since they were four years old and naively idealistic.

This is them over the years, against the odds.

a giant sign: @areiton

“Think you can get him to open the weapons division up again?” his CO asks, his voice hungry and Rhodey laughs because this--

“No. Tony hung up his weapons.”

“That’s not what the suit says,” his CO objects, and Rhodey shrugs.

Tony has always had rules, rules he expects the entire world to live by.

And then there was Rhodey, slipping under them.

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast: @nethandrake

Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual.

He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either.

What is unusual is that the stranger is silent.

(One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Just A Cold: @/delighted

There’s a new text waiting for him. It’s from Steve of course, and it’s vaguely threatening as most messages from Steve are these days. Still Danny ignores it, and now he’s really playing with fire. Maybe it’ll burn the cold out of him.

Or, Danny’s sick, and Steve can’t stay away. The usual comfort fluff. With a little cameo from a gently meddling Grace.

An Unexpected Guide: @/Rachel500

Danny Williams has hidden his Guide status to keep being a detective, but his time of hiding is up when he unexpectedly finds his Sentinel, Steve McGarrett in the midst of a tragedy.

March

Why don’t we (Collide the spaces that divide us): @five-wow

When they finally catch sight of each other again through the milling crowds, they’re both a little worse for wear. Danny’s left side is covered in glitter and every time he brushes a hand over his hair, more blue and purple confetti rains down. Steve is- Well, Steve is randomly shirtless, which is all things considered not excessively remarkable, but he’s also covered in smudges of colorful paint and has a very nicely printed bloodred lipstick kiss mark on his cheek.

“What did you do?” Danny asks, because it looks like Steve had a lot more fun than he did.

Or: Steve and Danny accidentally end up in the middle of something entirely new.

A Little Unsteady: @finduilasclln

Written for the Tumblr prompt meme : "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

Tony lashes out at Bucky for eating his dessert. Only, it really isn't about the dessert.

a national treasure: @starklysteve

Steve isn't looking for an apple and Tony decides his passion is to inspire young souls. -x- OR: the AU where Tony is a Youtuber and Steve is Captain America and somehow they still save the world together.

April

cycle through: @ambivalentmarvel

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Stark disappeared from his family home a month after the tragic deaths of his parents, Howard and Maria Stark, leaving a billion-dollar tech conglomerate without an heir and the world wondering what happened.

Twenty-three years ago, HYDRA gained another super soldier.

Ten years ago, Peter Parker’s parents died in what is ruled as a home invasion gone wrong but he knows was murder, plain and simple, because he spoke to the killer.

And in the present, Project Insight fails, and the Iron Soldier pays the price.

FOREVER-LOVE YOU-I: @/Eudoxia

Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

Especially for Tony's soulmate.

Companion piece to my fic Thumb, Index, and Pinky Extended. This is Steve's POV, with a few extra scenes, as a treat.

(Edit: Sorry if you guys get multiple notifications for this. I just realized (about two hours after posting it) that I fucked up the grammar in the title and I HAD to fix it. YOLO, I guess.)

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

i don’t have a choice (but i’d still choose you): @nethandrake

There’s a name inked onto his chest, a name written in an all-too familiar scrawl. And it’s— It’s—

Steve doesn’t realize his body is quaking until he’s tracing the tattoo with a shaky finger.

Because of course that is the name etched into the skin. Like a brand, a reminder for everything he has done. An appropriate retribution.

Anthony Edward Stark.

(When Thanos snaps half of the universe away, he unknowingly leaves the other half with soulmarks.)

ua haʻalele ʻoe iaʻu (a ua hoʻomālamalama ʻoe iaʻu): @just-fandomthings

"The truth is, I was shot in the chest and nearly died, and not even three days after I was released from the hospital, you up and left-- and of those two, I'm not sure which one hurt me worse!"

(Coda to 10x22 because come on, we all need a better ending than the one given to us.)

Title loosely translates to: "You left me in the dark (you lit me up)" -- inspired by the brilliant song "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur

May

A Piece Of The Past: @hddnone

It had been so many years since Bucky had gone undercover in the Stark family's mob, he thought he'd gotten away clean.

Then Tony Stark slid into the seat across from him at his breakfast diner, and Bucky's boss has a new case for him.

the privilege of loving you: @starklysteve

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It’s a desperate plea, half-shouted and half-whispered, Steve’s voice cracking at the end. Tony stops in his tracks, halfway to the stairs. He doesn’t dare to turn back, and he really doesn’t want to fight, or to leave, to spend the last month of his life away from his husband and their son. But Steve can’t know, can he?

-x-

Or: Tony has palladium poisoning, but he doesn't tell Steve and Peter

your pillow feels so soft now (but still you must advance): @firebrands

When Bruce is 13, he decides to go to boarding school. It's an opportunity for him to learn about other people, and how to interact with them.

Bruce has the misfortune of meeting Tony Stark upon his arrival in Roxbury. Bruce is moving into his room, and Tony opens the door of his room to watch. He looks a bit younger than Bruce, hair wild and eyes bright. Bruce has never seen a boy like him before—handsome and confident.

Bruce doesn’t like it.

IMPORTANT: This fic has them meeting at 14, then progresses slowly until they’re 17. Includes underage drinking and kissing.

This is set before Bruce becomes Batman and Tony becomes Iron Man and I have no explanation as to how or why they just DO Canonically, Bruce is 17 when he finishes school and goes around the world to train, so we're sticking with that

The Real MVP: @sword-and-stars (part of a series)

[“I have saved this Tuesday!” Sokka announces, rattling the bag upon reentry.

Zuko doesn’t even look up from his phone as he deadpans, “It’s Thursday.”

Okay, so Sokka is still having trouble getting his days right without checking. At least he’s gone back to sleeping at night! Going to bed at night is way easier when you have a cute, cuddly boyfriend who starts falling asleep around eleven o’clock. It also helps that he and Zuko are on solid gold butt-touching terms.

It’s been a while since Sokka has been on butt-touching terms with someone and it’s amazing.]

Or,

Sokka knows a guy, gets laid, and introduces Zuko to the merits of an afternoon delight.

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it): @riotwritesthings

There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch.

And one tiny little bed.

June

Nice Fingers: @anthonyed

A single compliment given by Tony stirs Bucky restless until he caves in and asks him out on a date.

With Steve’s help of course (whether he likes it or not).

The Darkest Touch: @starkrogerrs

This is the story of how Steve finds that it has been ordained that he is to marry a monster he cannot resist aka the God of Love himself, Tony.

It's Cupid x Psyche retold, but with thrice the amount of porn.

The Night Shift: @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Wind Beneath My Wings: @iam93percentstardust

Sam first meets Tony Stark in 2005 when he joins the EXO-7 Falcon program.

In jest: @/apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

#adi's rec list #mcdanno #stevetony #buckytony #brucetony #rhodeytony #zukka #samtony #january - june #there's so many different ships on this #and different authors #and it spans three fandoms #so hopefully you guys enjoy this!!

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percywinchester27 · 4 years ago

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-22)

Word count: 5.2K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Anxiety, feels, light flirting?

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: Hey peeps, just wanted to thank you guys for all the love. Y’all are awesome! <3

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23. Thank you, babe <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“Jesus, kid! Don’t you ever pull that one on me again, okay?”

Max was trying to escape his embrace, but Sam didn’t budge. His heart was still beating out a disjointed rhythm.

“I didn’t do anything!” Max protested.

Alex was quick to interject. “You ran out on me.”

Max turned in the circle of his arms glaring at Alex. “Only because you fell asleep.”

Alex’s face got all red and she sneaked a nervous glance at Sam.

“She’s got school in the morning,” Sam told Max. “She was tired. That doesn’t mean you can run out on her.”

“This isn’t the first time either,” Alex put in, emboldened by Sam’s support. “He ran to her on Sunday as well.”

“What’s this, Max?” Sam didn’t want to make his voice stern, but the fear wasn’t helping. Alex had called him towards the end of his meeting to tell him she couldn’t find Max. Sam’s heart had dropped through the ground at the mere thought. By the time he could ask Chase to pull out his car- Sam’s was still parked in the campus- a second call from Alex had already informed him that Max was back and okay. But Sam couldn’t stay put. He’d made Chase drive him back anyway.

“She’s my friend.” Max muttered.

“You’ve only met her twice!” Alex accused.

Max threw Alex a betrayed look, mumbling to himself.

Sam rubbed his face with his hand. “What’s happening?”

Alex started to say something, but Max interjected. “I want to tell him!”

“Alright, go on.”

Max told him about a new friend he’d made in one of the buildings along the playground, and that he was going to see her on Monday again.

Sam shot a look at Alex to confirm and she nodded encouragingly. Falling asleep on the watch might have been a one time thing, otherwise Alex was both smart and thorough. She wouldn’t have agreed to anything that wasn’t safe for Max.

“I can go, right?”

“Only if you promise to never go out by yourself.”

Max made an excited sound. “Yes!”

“Okay, enough of this moping,” Chase announced. He had been standing uncharacteristically quiet, watching the drama unfold. “Alex gets to sleep, Max gets his date and Sam gets to chill. What does Chase get?”

Sam turned to him. “What do you want?”

“Food. I want food.”

Alex waved to Max, who didn’t acknowledge it. He was still mad about ratting him out. “Bye, Sam. Bye, Mr. Lincoln.”

Sam nodded, and Chase waved at her cheerfully.

Sam let go of Max, not really looking him in the eyes, lest he should sense just how freaked out Sam was. That’s not what kids should see in their parents- the fear of being incompetant. Sam had learned as much from Dean. His older brother had been absolutely confident in every decision he’d made for Sam. It was only in the later years that Sam realised how freaked out Dean must have been attempting to raise Sam, even with Bobby and Karen’s help. They were all always second guessing themselves.

The next hour was spent on a call with Stacey. She debriefed Sam about the end of the meeting, promising to forward the transcripts after she was done with editing them. He was lucky to have found someone as efficient as her. She was a blessing. Sam appreciated that her first words were of concern for Max. Stacey had designed Sam’s schedule in such a foolproof manner that Max was never neglected. He couldn’t have been more grateful. To think that they had started their work relationship disliking each other.

Sam took his time in the shower, letting the hot water wash away some of his anxiety. Just the very thought of losing Max was enough to decapitate him. Later, as he diced the bell-peppers, his eyes kept going to the sofa where Max was playing connect four with Chase, who was sucking bigtime. It was something they did at least once a week. Right now, Chase was going on at length about how awesome the cookies were, that he was stealing from a jar. Sam didn’t remember buying any cookies at all.

A sting in his finger made him hiss. Looking down, he saw blood spreading into the bell-pepper pieces and the surface of the chopping board.

The next minute small hands were taking his finger, blowing on the cut and guiding him towards the sink.

“You never pay attention!” Max admonished.

“What do you care?” Sam muttered, washing his finger under the steady stream. The cut wasn’t too deep. “It’s not like you don’t love worrying me.”

Max huffed. “You’re being melodramatic.”

“No, I’m not. Seriously, Max, do you want me to stop going to work? How am I supposed to concentrate on anything if you’re going to be a flight risk?”

“I wasn't running away from home, okay? I just went to see my friend.”

Sam knew he was overreacting but what else was there to do? Alex had sounded so frantic on the phone.

“Who’s this girl anyway?” Sam eyed his son, turning off the tap. “Is it Lucy from school?”

“Ewww nooooo!” Max cringed, making a face. “I don’t like Lucy!”

“Of course you don’t,” Sam grinned. He added more seriously, “Don’t push Alex, okay? She might decide to not babysit you anymore.”

“It’s your fault really,” Max shrugged. Chase who had gone to retrieve the first aid box- it was ridiculous he even knew where that was in the house- handed Sam a bandaid.

Sam gave Max an incredulous look. “How is any of this my fault?”

“If you got me a mom, we wouldn’t need a babysitter!”

Sam barely even had the time to pick his jaw up when Chase started howling with laughter. He raised his hand and Max high-fived him.

“Wha- what?” He spluttered. “Where’s this coming from?”

“I told you, you had this coming, Samuel,” Chase chuckled, superior. “Even your boy seems to be scoring more dates here. And look at the little daredevil sneaking out to get em. What’re you waiting for? Divine intervention?” He lowered his voice just for Sam’s ears. “Even Steve from HR gets laid more than you. And he smells like Kleenex!”

Sam glared at his friend. “That’s it. Get out of my house! I’m not responsible for feeding you.”

“Now, now,” Chase placated, putting his hands on either side of Sam’s shoulders from behind and giving them a squeeze. “Look at these muscles. Such a waste to not have beautiful arms draped around them.”

“Well, there’s always you!”

Chase huffed, drawing back. “You don’t pay me any attention.”

Max giggled.

Sam turned to his son. “Max, having a mom doesn’t mean you won’t have a babysitter. Working mothers are a thing!”

“He’ll, at least, have quality food,” Chase put in. “All you feed him is vegetables.”

“You know what? I’m done with the both of you. Go back to that game you were playing.”

“No,” Chase shook his head. “This is more fun. Why aren’t you asking Jess out?”

“You know why.” Sam wasn’t as patient this time as he had been the last ten times, since Chase had been badgering him every damn minute. “Go wash your hands, Max. And help Uncle Chase set up the table.”

Max knew he was being dismissed, so he made a whole show of slowly dragging himself from the kitchen counter and heading upstairs at the speed of a snail. Once he was surely out of earshot, Sam hissed at his friend. “Drop it, Chase! You know it’s not going to happen. Besides, the last time was embarrassing enough. I don’t know how to face her.”

Chase rolled his eyes. “She’s a grown ass woman and super hot. You’re lucky she’s into you,” He paused, the sly grin dancing in his eyes. “That was like three or four years ago. She must be long past it.”

“I sure hope so.”

“I don’t know how else to convince you,” Chase sighed, dropping all the teasing at once. “Jess is successful, beautiful and so damn smart. If a girl like that can’t move you, I don’t know what else to do for you.”

“You can always give up.”

“No chance.” Chase ran his fingers through his hair. “I just keep trying to understand what’s holding you back.”

It was Sam’s turn to sigh. “I’m married.”

“No, you’re not!” Chase argued, with more emotion than Sam had expected, enough to make him face his friend. “This isn’t marriage, Sam. This is you holding on to something dead with both your hands. Let go before your hands start decaying.”

“Don’t say that.” The pain in his own voice depressed Sam.

Chase grimaced. “What would I not give to see this girl! Who is she? Some supermodel? Is she gilded out of diamonds or something?”

It was no point going in circles with Chase over this. Sam knew from years of experience that he wouldn’t give up.

“What was her name again?”

“It’s-” Sam’s gaze shifted to the base of the staircase and found Max standing there, face blank. “We’ll talk later,” Sam whispered, wondering how much Max had heard.

The dinner was a quiet affair. Sam knew it wasn’t so because Chase and Max were appreciating the sensory overload of how amazing his stir fry was. Chase was sulking and Max was lost in thought. After Chase had left for the night, Sam set to cleaning the kitchen. Max came to sit by him on the island counter, picking out a cookie from the jar Chase had abandoned.

“How was your day?” Max asked and despite himself Sam chuckled. There was something so odd about the question coming out of a six and a half year old.

“T’was alright,” Sam told him. Most of it had been very boring, except for the evening scare and the morning lecture in which he was mere feet away from Y/N, every cell in his body hyper aware of the fact that she was there. It was pathetic and Sam knew it. “I do have a hearing tomorrow. I think we’ll win this one.”

“What’s it about?”

“Property fraud. Very interesting.”

Wiping the kitchen top, and hanging the rag on the hook over the sink, Sam came to sit by his son. “How was your day?”

“Very interesting.” Max smiled, but didn’t elaborate. Not wanting to flare up his earlier irritation, Sam didn’t ask him for the details either. Instead, he dipped his hand in the jar and drew out a Choco chip cookie.

“Is it because of me that you don’t go out on dates?”

Max’s voice was small, diminished even and it made Sam draw in a quick breath.

“Max!” He exhaled. “Why would you say that?”

His boy wriggled his fingers. “I don’t know. Uncle Chase is right. You don’t have any fun. I know it’s because you have to spend all your free time with me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Sam stated outright, shaking his head. “I know you don’t because not one second of the time spent with you has been a sacrifice. You’re my son. You’ve got to know that I would do anything for you.”

“Except get me a mom.”

“Mom’s don’t grow on trees or fall out skies, Max.” Sam reasoned trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “And don’t you ever say that I don’t have fun in life. We have fun, don’t we? I love that and wouldn’t change it for any girl in the world.”

“Not even for Y/N?”

Sam faltered, aghast. Maybe it was because he was thinking about Y/N so much already, or because Max didn’t usually bring her up, but somewhere inside him there was a nagging feeling that he was missing something here. Max’s question was natural in the context of the conversation… but the very conversation felt out of context. Max knew very well what he meant to Sam, and even if a part of him thought that Sam was sacrificing for his sake- Sam fervently wished that wasn’t the case- the Max he knew would never bring it up this conversationally.

So he answered with complete conviction. “No. Not even for Y/N.”

“And you get this through your head, Max,” he continued, voice pained despite his efforts. “You and I are already a complete family. I love you with everything that I have. So long as we are together, you’ll make do with just me, won’t you?”

“Mhmm.”

Sam ruffled Max’s hair, and kissed his brow, rankled by his words. Regardless of what Sam had just said, wouldn’t it be nice for Max to have a mom? Even in his imagination the face was perfectly clear, the vision already there. He’d be lying to himself if he said that over the years he hadn’t thought about her holding Max, laughing with him. There was only ever one face that completed Sam’s daydream- Y/N’s. But Sam also knew just how impossible it was. Y/N wouldn’t even think of the aftermath of an accident, imagining her as a motherly figure was simply cruel. So much that the whiplash of it hit Sam’s conscience. It was why he hadn’t mentioned Max to her.

Trying to reign in his thoughts he absentmindedly took a bite of the cookie in his hand, chewing as he tried to dislodge the idea of Max and Y/N. Impossible… too painful, his mind screamed.

Abruptly, he stopped.

“Hey, Max? Sam asked slowly, “Where did you get these cookies?”

“Umm, those girl scouts came over this afternoon,” he said, not meeting Sam’s gaze. “I asked Alex to buy. Is that okay?”

“You sure these are girl scout cookies?”

“Yep.”

Eating the rest of the cookie in one bite, Sam jumped down from the counter and turned to his boy. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t think like that again,” Sam pleaded. “That you’re keeping me from anything. You saved me, kiddo. I would have been barely worth anything without you.”

“Same,” Max quipped. And despite the absolute horror of the situation, and how true both of their words were, Sam found himself snorting.

“Enough with the black comedy,” he ordered, “Lets go brush your teeth.”

“Yessum.”

Max leapt into Sam’s arms, and he carried his boy out of the kitchen. Sam eyed the jar of cookies one last time before switching off the lights.

Friday, first day of Induction fair. It was going to be one long day tomorrow.

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

“Alright, everybody clear on what they’re supposed to be doing tomorrow?”

“It’s 11:30 in the night, Y/N,” Seth complained, “We aren’t going to be any more ready.”

“I’m sorry,” you waved apologetically. “You guys should go home, I’ll wrap up the rest. I’m just nervous.”

“It’ll be okay,” Madison came to your side, putting her arm around your shoulders. “Seth’s just kidding. Aren’t you?” She turned on the poor guy who shook his head and you snickered.

“Okay, pack up y’all!” You called out to the people in the background busy with the last checks on the sound system. “We’re going to have a blast tomorrow.”

Cheers went up around you. One by one everyone clapped you on your back, offered smiles and went their way; only Madison, Brad and Rebecca remained.

“Who are you taking with you to the Saturday night dance?” Brad asked.

Well crap! “A friend of mine,” you answered. You’d have to ask one of the guys if they were free Saturday evening.

“Hmm… Does this friend happen to go to Law school?”

“Nope!”

“We’ll at least have time for one dance,” Brad insisted, leaning next to you as you packed your bag. “Your friend won’t mind, will he?”

“Brad,” you sighed. “I’m clearly not your type.”

He put his hands up. “Hey, I’m not implying anything here, but if that’s what you got out of it…”

You ignored him, walking back towards Maddie. He kept up with you easily. “What about the dance? One dance is well deserved.”

“Okay, fine!” Better to just agree and get it done with. Brad left with a superior smirk and you wondered what was the deal with him.

“Brad’s a great guy,” Rebecca said. “I don’t know what kind of Prince Charming you’re waiting for that you keep turning him down at every opportunity.”

“I’m not waiting for anyone.” It was true. You had found someone who could put Prince Charming to shame and then you had lost him. Now, the most you could hope for was his friendship. The thinly veiled bitterness and longing in Rebecca’s voice when she spoke of Brad led you to believe that her dislike for you wasn’t reasonless after all.

At the quad, you stopped, letting the girls know that you’d be heading towards the library, to relieve Molly from her shift early. It was supposed to be your shift anyway, Molly was doing you a favor by subbing.

“I’ll come with you,” Madison quipped. She waved a goodbye to Rebecca and the two of you set towards the library, your footsteps echoing in the night.

Once Molly had left, Madison logged into one of the records PC’s and started working on the case studies for professor Whitman. Meanwhile, you logged into your mail to print out the schedules and itineraries for the speakers tomorrow.

Just as you were printing out the last set, your email pinged, alerting you to an email from Sam. It was ridiculous that your heart should leap out of your chest, especially when it was merely a reply to your assignment. It was past one, and Sam was still up checking coursework.

Oh, how you wanted to reply back, ask him why he was up this late. But this was an official email ID. It would be wrong to get personal here. Unreasonable as it was, you were miffed that you didn’t have Sam’s phone number. Friends should be able to call each other, right? You could always find it out from the directory, however, you were stubborn about getting it from him.

“Hey, I just heard back from Professor Winchester,” Madison whispered, even though there wasn’t anyone else in the library. “I scored a 21.5!”

“That’s great!” You smiled.

“What about you? Did you hear from him yet?”

“Just. Scored a 23.”

Madison scrunched her nose, “I bet that’s the highest.” She sounded rueful, but you knew she didn’t mean any ill. “You mind if I take a look at your paper?”

“Course not.”

Madison read through your document carefully. “I can see why he rated you this high. This is great work, Y/N! I wonder…”

“What?”

She looked bemused. “In my email, he’s specifically pointed out all the good things and complemented me for my good work. In your reply he’s only pointed out the one flaw that cost you the two marks. He’s not said one good word about the rest.”

Maybe he thought you would understand, or maybe he was just too tired. If not commenting on your essay earned him ten extra minutes of rest, you were very glad that he hadn't.

You shrugged at Madison. “Maybe he forgot.”

“That’s not done,” she frowned. “You should ask him tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

A glazed look came over Madison’s face. “Remember the first time we were alone here?”

“We’d been trying to research for Mr. Winchester’s first assignment,” you smiled.

“And ended up stalking him instead,” Madison winked. “After I went home that day, I read up more about that sensationalised case of his. Really gruesome, the whole deal. Never pinned him for the type of lawyer to take up a criminal law case, let alone homicides.”

“What’s there to fight for in a criminal homicide?” You wondered. “Isn’t that DA’s job?”

You remembered a little from what you had read with Madison that day, over a month ago. Twin homicides followed by a legal battle over property inheritance. The deceased’s brother vs. the deceased son. There were also connected matters of custodial rights, abuse charges and adoption.

“It was really scandalous, Y/N,” Madison said. “You wouldn’t know because you didn’t live in California. It was all over the papers and news in LA. Ralph Simmons was this bigshot producer, and his on and off girlfriend- both of them shot by some drug pimp. A whole big racket came out with it. I think Mr. Winchester moved out of LA to avoid the fanfare that followed him everywhere afterwards.”

“When was this?”

“Ummm… about two and half years ago,” Madison said.

So before he started teaching at Stanford, and before his job at Acton Griswold.

“Why would he leave a successful firm in LA and move base to SF?” You asked out loud. “That too after a successful stint? It doesn’t make sense.”

To your surprise, Madison laughed. “Oh, firms must be dying to have him. Even my dad offered. Apart from offering a junior partnership, Acton Gris must have paid him a ton of money. Besides, his working hours are more like a consultants, so he can manage classes. That’s a lot of relaxations- only someone with that sort of fanfare would have been able to negotiate a deal.”

It wasn’t the money. That much you knew. Something else had made Sam uproot his life in LA and move here.

“Uhg! I really want to work with him, Y/N,” Madison let out. “I really want the summer internship at Acton Gris.” Seeing your expression, she quickly added, “It’s not why you think. I mean sure he’s super hot and all that, but I’ve looked up to him for his ethics, and the way he thinks. He’s just such a great lawyer.”

“Sure is.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” She said in a defeated voice. “Rich girl with a firm to her name, who could get in Acton Gris by recommendation as a favor. What’s the big deal, right?”

“Maddie, I wasn’t thinking that-”

“It’s alright if you do. Everyone does.”

You placed your hand on top of hers. “I don’t care what everyone else thinks. I care about you. The Madison I know is intelligent and hardworking, who deserves whatever she sets her heart to. Law is a lucrative practice. As long as you aren’t screwing over someone else, you should use whatever means you can.”

Madison’s eyes welled up. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N. Sometimes… sometimes I wonder if I even have any real friends who care about me. Becca… Lace, Mer… they all feel like friendships of convenience than actual substance. You’re the only one I’m sure will be happy to see me succeed in life.”

Your heart reached out for Madison. She was a good person who didn’t deserve to feel this way. Slowly you reached out and put your arms around her. “Maddie,” You breathed in her hair, not knowing what else to say. You had always known she was hurting inside without her having told you. Her relations seemed frivolous to you, but by the looks of it, her family life wasn’t much good either. Deep down she was convinced that her parents, her brothers didn’t love her. What must it be like to live that way?

You’d never been rich in your life except for those short married months, but not for a minute had you questioned the love of any person you called family. How was one supposed to live on without having the assurance of being absolutely loved?

The way you’ve lived for the past six and a half years, a small voice whispered in your brain. You quelled it immediately.

“Madison,” you said firmly this time. “I love you. And I’ll always support you. To hell with anyone who thinks otherwise.”

She hugged you closer, and you felt her broken breaths against your body. She didn’t want you to see her cry, so you held on till all her tears had dried.

********

You probably looked exactly how you felt- sleepless and exhausted. The first half of day one had gone smoothly with all introductions in place. Over two hundred and fifty alumni had RSVP’d for the event and forty two had agreed to speak or participate in panel discussions. You had been told this was one of the biggest turnouts ever. Instead of feeling like you had succeeded, you just felt more scared. Organised activity wasn’t your cup of tea. Right about then you were questioning how you even ended up heading this committee.

Everyone seemed to be asking for you, everyone had some or the other work with you and the tasks were never ending. The first time that you got a minute to sit was towards the end of lunch break. You dropped into the seat at the far end of the auditorium, head in your hands.

“Here!”

You turned your face to see Sam sitting next to you with a bottle of water in his hand. Unlike his usual self, he was dressed in a light knit grey sweater and jeans today. His glasses hung from the V-shaped neckline, revealing just enough for you to see the glint of his chain. You were so exhausted, all you wanted to do was fall against his shoulder and close your eyes for just two seconds. Sighing, you took the bottle from him and drank to your heart’s content.

“Maybe doing the late night shift at the library wasn’t the best idea, huh?”

You frowned. “How do you know?”

“The register,” He said. “I went to the library in the morning to return my book.”

“I thought you were avoiding the library like the plague.” The words slipped out before you could think them through. You hoped the bitter edge in them wasn’t very obvious.

“I would come if I could, you know?”

“What’s stopping you?” You asked, belligerent, “Too scared to go back home in the dark?”

You knew it was unfair to put him in a spot like this. He had a home, his own bed. Why would he spend his nights at the library just because you worked there? Just because he hadn’t talked to you all that much lately, or given you his phone number, didn’t mean you had the right to be irritated at him.

“Y/N-” he sighed, and before he could add on to that, he was interrupted.

“There you are!”

Chase Lincoln put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

You straightened your expression under the pretense of drinking more water, and handed the bottle back to Sam.

“Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” you said, standing up, “I must hurry back now. If you’ll excuse me.”

Sam stood up with you. The errant thought of resting against his shoulder made an appearance but you shoved it away violently.

“Wait,” Sam put his hand out to block you. You looked around you to see if anyone else had noticed. No one but Chase.

“Let me introduce the two of you,” he said.

“Wait, I know you,” Chase interjected. “You work with Molly, right? And you’re heading the organising committee.”

“Chase,” Sam said with gravity, making his friend focus, the green eyes sharpened on you.

Exhaling slowly, Sam turned to you. “This is Chase Lincoln. He works with me at Acton Griswold.” You heard the unsaid words- ‘He’s the one I was talking with that day in the coffee shop; my friend.”

“Chase.” Sam’s voice was heavy, the way Atlas’s might have sounded after a millennia of holding up the earth. There was defeat in it. “This- this is Y/N.”

Each time Sam uttered your name, a warmth settled in your chest. You suspected it was just your eternally besotted mind making up the idea that his voice grew softer when he said it. Apparently, that wasn’t the case, for Chase’s eyes narrowed as he took in the look on Sam’s face, then went wide in a split second. His head rapidly moved from you to Sam in a matter of moments, before his jaw dropped.

“S-... Your… “ Speech seemed to have temporarily evaded Chase.

“No diamonds,” Sam murmured.

“Y/N!” Someone shouted for you from two rows down. “There’s a problem with the mic. You need to check it out.”

“Ex- Excuse me,” you mumbled, hurrying away from Chase’s astounded stare. Maybe he knew it all, that didn’t particularly surprise you. What did surprise you was how Sam had decidedly made the introduction- as if Chase had to know.

As it turned out, the mic had only been disconnected. It was working absolutely fine. You were still grateful to have been removed from Chase’s presence, glad that you didn’t have to wait around to witness his judgement.

The rest of the day flew by faster than you could have guessed. Most of the heavy panel discussions were scheduled for the first day itself. You were blown away by the immense knowledge and expertise of those people, which was a good thing because you desperately needed a distraction.

You only saw Sam afterwards, once everything was over and the alumni were all catching up with each other, like old friends, reminiscing about the time they had spent together. Even though it was a lot of people there, your eyes kept going to Sam in his thin sweater, in a deep conversation with an aged man, who was laughing at something Sam had said.

“One down, two more days to go,” mumbled Madison. She was leaning against your back. “Can we just sleep here?”

“I told you to come home with me last night,” Rebecca stated, appearing out of nowhere. This time she had Lacey and Meredith with her. “Why did you have to stay up at the library?”

Usually Madison would’ve at least tried to answer. Today, her forehead and nose just dug deeper into your back. You pursed your lips so the smile wouldn’t spill over. She was taking a stand for how she deserved to be treated.

“Well, shit!” Lacey said. “Looks like I wasn’t wrong after all.”

Rebecca groaned. “Ugh she looks like an uptight bimbo.”

You didn’t pay attention to their conversation till Meredith said, “She’s definitely into professor Hotchester.”

Your head snapped up in Sam’s direction, but he was out of the straight line of your vision. Obscuring him was a girl, dressed in a pretty blue chiffon top and tight fitting pencil skirt. Her five inches long pumps caught the light of the setting sun and gleamed. She was tall and beautiful, statuesque in the way a swimsuit model is, her blonde hair fell to the middle of her back in perfect curls.

As you watched, she threw her hands around Sam’s neck and hugged him tightly. He willingly embraced her, too. You chanced a glance of the smile on his face as she disentangled and laughed, touching Sam’s chest lightly with her hand.

“Yeah, there’s something there,” Lacey whistled.

“Wonder who she is,” Madison whispered, so only you could hear.

You didn’t need to wonder who it was, you already knew. Jessica Moore. Sam’s Ex-girlfriend.

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

A/N 2: I kinda really like the next chapter. I think it speaks more about about the sort of writer and person that I am than most things I’ve written yet. Can’t wait to share it with y’all.

So any predictions? ;)

Thank you for all the reblogs and comments! Not gonna lie, life’s been kicking my butt a lot lately. Believe it or not, all of your love really helps <3

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jasperwhitcock · 4 years ago

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equinox | chapter 07 –– “a cruel god, a wrathful goddess”

here is chapter six of my bella as a vampire and edward as a human fanfic inspired by an au that @bellasredchevy posted. you can read the new chapter on AO3 or here. i post updates on AO3 or on tumblr using the #equinoxjw tag. but it seems 10/10 times my tag does not work, so that is a fun mystery for me to solve.

oof... sometimes u get distracted and then ur sister gets married and then u get unmotivated & d*pressed and forget to update ur fanfic for over three months... my bad y'all... sorry for the wait hehe. i hope it is worth it. again, i'm so thankful for the comments & i read them all. i get too shy to respond, but i WILL. i just need to talk myself up first. i love u. thank u. hehe. ♡♡♡ merry christmas/happy holidays if i fail u again before the 25th. i WANT to update more frequently. my catchphrase these days is "i'm trying my best," so... i'm trying my best.

this is for the sweet anons who slide into my ask box & ask me questions abt my fanfic. and for taryn, who consistently reminds me that there are people wanting to read this seeing as she is one of those people, kim, who i am so desperate to impress that i began working on a new chapter once she started to read my fanfic, and kae, because without her, this fanfic would never have existed in the first place. i love how i'm writing this as though it's the intro to an actual book when it's literally just chapter seven. ok, i will shut up now so u can read. love u. again.

07 A CRUEL GOD, A WRATHFUL GODDESS

In great contrast to the noisy ambience of the other students in the hallway, we were silent on our walk to our shared biology class. I wondered how conscious Edward was of the stares and whispers focused on our proximity to one another, but my guess was that he was very much conscious of it. I intentionally ignored glancing in any direction that I sensed one of my siblings’ presence, although I figured it was mostly paranoia driving me to feel as though we were about to cross paths. Holding my breath to more easily walk beside Edward left my senses impaired to the ability to pinpoint their location.

I was lucky that for the majority of my immortal life, I’d managed to escape unwanted attention. But now, it seemed that precious luck had finally run out. Maybe embarrassment had been creeping up on me, maliciously building itself up all these years, waiting until just the right moment to rear its ugly head and exact revenge that immorality had stolen its favorite object of humiliation to torment. But here it was, ensuring that I was finally catching up on feeling awkward and out of step, a feeling I experienced for what seemed like the entirety of my human life. I thought once I’d been changed, I’d never feel this way again, but becoming misaligned with my family made me feel bashful to parade my defiance in their faces. I had operated better under no scrutiny as a mortal and was surprised to realize that that still held true as an immortal as well. Because though there was now never a struggle of staying upright or a risk of tripping over my own feet, that didn’t prevent me from feeling self-conscious as I walked beside Edward. Although for different reasons –– it was too mortifying to consider what my family might make of what my actions suggested about my feelings towards Edward.

And yet still, I would put up with the ridicule and disapproval of my siblings if it meant I could listen to Edward speak his silly philosophical theology, his questioning of god and existence, for just a few more hours. If I were going to be teased over Alice’s visions regardless, I might as well find out what I can about this pretentious boy before I leave him alone forever. If only to understand why his moving to this small town threatened to warp my own future so much. In losing night and in losing death, there were so very little anomalies in the endless amount of time I’d been given. So what would it hurt to allow myself to fixate on this minuscule difference in my life for just awhile?

It could hurt Edward, a more selfless part of myself reminded me. If indulging myself was playing with fire, I was being justly punished with the way flames were efflorescing the inside of my dry, burning throat.

If a god did exist, why would it make sense for such a being to craft someone like Edward with his perceptivity, and send him off to this small town, home to a secret such as ours? If a god did exist, why it would be fair for such a being to craft someone like Edward, someone who tempted me both in bloodlust and in curiosity, and send him off to this small town, home to the very vampire who desperately wished to kill him most? If a god did exist, if our kind had fallen short of heaven, I could understand why sending Edward into our path –– and more specifically, my path –– could be some kind of punishment. But what I couldn’t understand is why a god would allow someone as innocent as Edward to be endangered for the sake of bringing a sinful, undead creature to justice. It seemed the only reasonable explanation would be that a god probably did not exist.

And how could there be? I was on the precipice of falling into temptation with every step further in the hallway and every question he asked and answered. I could never not be very much aware of the fact –– especially now with his body merely inches from my side and his sweet fragrance blooming both deliciously and relentlessly in the air. And even as I impossibly withstood the lure of his blood, how was I meant to ignore the irresistibility of his mind and how inexplicably concerned I was to understand it? It seemed like a very cruel experiment of free will and knowledge –– far too cruel to allow much room for the kind of god Edward hoped for.

I frowned as I realized that this experiment wasn’t that of a cruel god’s but that of a cruel vampire, and I felt very much like a vampire as the sound of his heartbeat was so appealing that it made my mouth water.

“Do the stares bother you?” Edward spoke quietly to me as we weaved throughout the hallway. Easily distracted, his question was able to pull the more civilized parts of myself together, though this was probably also in thanks to my choosing not to utilize my sense of smell. I found it funny that at least one of his thoughts had been in a similar vicinity. But of course, the rest of his thoughts were probably free of all consuming agony and struggle. For all his curiosity about morality, to inflict this existence upon him would probably devour him in misery. At least as a human, despite whatever conclusions he may come to, there was still some hope to be had for an afterlife. This thought should have been dark and depressing, but because it made Alice’s vision seem like a complete hoax, I almost found it funny. How would Edward ever end up like me?

“Oh, no,” I swallowed the venom in my mouth. “I live for attention.” I watched from the corner of my eyes as his gaze flickered over to me, the ever present half smile appearing on his face at my joke. My answer came out so comfortably as though I was used to this, when in reality, the student body for the most part had grown accustomed to ignoring me. And, of course, there was nothing comfortable about the demanding, aching dryness in my mouth or the burning in my nostrils. “How about you?”

“Likewise,” he joked, laughing. “This is interesting –– their fascination. I understood their interest on my first day because I’d guess a new addition to the student body in a town this small is something of a rarity, but today, walking by your side is garnering even more attention. Is it a once in a lifetime opportunity to have Bella Cullen walk you to class?”

“You’re just so observant, aren’t you?” I rolled my eyes, though the corners of my mouths pulled up despite myself. “And I’m not walking you to class. I’m walking to a class I just so happen to share with you, so don’t get the wrong idea. I think they’re just surprised because they’re probably under the impression that I don’t play nice with others.”

“And do you?”

“You tell me,” I replied, pausing to face him beside a wall of lockers next to the entrance of our biology classroom. As he stopped beside me, a gust of air from a passing student walking hastily down the hallway sent his scent reeling into me at an unfortunate moment where I’d chosen to breathe in. My muscles tensed to spring, and I desperately anchored myself to the floor as my mind fell into disarray.

“Nicely enough,” Edward winked naturally as though we’d been the best of friends since his first day. The demanding thirst was intruding on my awareness, and the desperation for something wet and hot and delicious in my desiccated throat was so dizzying that his voice sounded as though it were underwater. With an effort as though I were swimming through drying cement, I resurfaced, just barely proving my dominion over the desire. I focused on his voice so that it’d become clearer, forcing myself to take another excruciating breath in and exhale the fire out. “I will say I am honored to be the exception –– to be plucked from the masses by the renowned, reclusive Bella Cullen.”

With torturous effort, I snorted as though I wasn’t fighting everything within me to keep him alive. I breathed in again heavily, allowing my body to become a pyre so that I could speak. “Alright, that’s enough. Stop saying my name like that. And you’ve lost the privilege. I am never walking you to class again,” I rolled my eyes even though my joke could very much be the truth. The bunching of my muscles, the twitching of my hands, and the fierce pain in my throat reminded me of the fact. Before he could point out the contradiction of what I’d previously clarified, I sighed. “Let’s take this quiz.”

His pretty green eyes were alive with mischief and enlightened with what must be more answers to questions he hadn’t outright asked me as he turned to enter the classroom. I followed behind him towards our shared table.

Air from the vent rushed out, thrusting the scent of his blood wafting into my face again. I paused for an indistinguishable moment as I battled agony, murderousness, monstrosity. Holy fuck. What was I trying to prove! Was it really worth this? Swallowing hard, I sat beside him as though nothing happened. My suffering was so great that Emmett could have brutally ripped my arm off, he could have beat me with it, and I wouldn’t have noticed nor felt a thing. I could have been set on fire, and it’d feel like sinking into a cool pool of water on an even cooler day. I was already burning alive, my body acting as a furnace, and I was imprisoned inside it.

Without intending to, I sighed aloud, exhaling as though it would smother the flames. It was a stupid, attention seeking thing to do. Humans sighed to expel air or express some sadness or relief or exhaustion, so when my family emitted an audible breath, we did so as a means of blending in. But to breath out in a way to clue Edward into the fact something was plaguing me… it was a stupid invitation for more questions. And these were questions I had no intention of sharing the answers to. I felt his eyes on me, but before he could say anything, Mr. Molina began passing out quizzes face down on our lab tables as students continued to pile in from lunch.

“Alright, class. Today we have a pop quiz–– oh, come on, guys, don’t groan. You will have the opportunity to make corrections after these have been graded. This is just an assessment of what you’ve retained from this unit so far. You will have the entire period to complete–– thanks for joining us, Mr. Patterson, glad you could fit my class into your busy schedule. Why don’t you take your seat? –– You will have the entire period to complete your quiz. If you finish early, feel free to get a head start on this weekend’s homework! I’ve written the reading down on the board. Aw, I’m sure you’re all moaning because you’re disappointed at how light of an assignment it is because I just know how very excited you all are to continue your passionate pursuit of studying biology. Alright, now that everyone’s settled–– wait a minute––” Mr. Molina paused, raising his pointer finger in the air, his eyes squinted in anticipation. Three seconds later, the bell signaled the beginning of class. “Begin!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward reluctantly turn away from me. In an elegant script, he wrote his name at the top of the paper and began his quiz. I turned away from him to look at my own paper, preparing myself to uncomfortably hold my breath for the next hour. The difference this made in my thirst was almost insignificant, but enough so that it gave me a tiny more leverage in my control. I smoothed out the pucker on my forehead with the eraser from my pencil, accidentally snapping the rubber off against my face.

Absentmindedly, I began to breeze through the assessment, circling the correct answers, but my mind was more absorbed in the warmth of sitting beside Edward. Aside from the affliction of doing so, it was too pleasurable to have sat beside him so often and for so long today. I enjoyed the toastiness like a lizard basking in the sun. It made me recall the muddy human memory of laying out on a blanket in my backyard beneath my beloved blue Arizona sky, hiding beneath the small shade of a book. Not the blistering heat of a summertime Phoenix sun, but the warmth of the first day of spring. But the heat of Edward’s body alone was enough to fill my mouth with venom, so I tried to refocus my attention onto my quiz.

When I turned to the last page of questions, a motion beside me diverted my concentration once again. I peeked over, turning my head slightly in Edward’s direction to see what it was. As he thought over one of the questions, his right hand was moving peculiarly as he lifted and dropped down his long fingers almost as though he were impatiently tapping each digit one by one along the tabletop. Except the movement was more exact and calculatingly random. Engrossed, I watched as his his soft, fragile skin rippled over the muscle, the tendons appearing and disappearing with every bizarre movement. It took me a moment to make the connection between the large grand piano in his home and the motion of his hands. I realized he was miming piano movements while he thought through his answers. There was something both weird, funny, and endearing about this. I smiled to myself, not having the required oxygen to quietly laugh.

I felt his curious eyes flicker over to me and watched peripherally as he raised his eyebrows. I shook my head, biting down on my lip to unsuccessfully fight the smile, and returned to completing my quiz.

I finished a moment later and impatiently waited another ten minutes or so before I could turn in my work. I tried to ignore Edward for this small period of time at least, mentally reading myself the opening chapter to Wuthering Heights. Even though the words were committed to my memory, it was still never as good as actually reading from the book itself.

Once I’d decided an appropriate enough time had passed, I stood up to walk my quiz to the completed basket on Mr. Molina’s desk. Even having waited, I was still the first to finish the examination.

“Thank you,” the teacher whispered without breaking his focus away from the crossword puzzle he peered through his glasses at. I breathed in now that I’d placed some distance between myself and Edward, gladly facing the cool, fresh air from the vent.

“Neophyte,” I whispered back now that I’d replenished my oxygen supply.

“Excuse me?” He glanced up, his slightly aged face confused.

“Neophyte,” I repeated. “Eight across, two down.”

I took in one last clean breath and walked back to my seat as he tapped his pen across the squares of the space, mouthing his count of the letters to check if the word fit.

As soon as I took my place in my seat again, Edward stood up to walk his own quiz to the basket.

I wanted to watch him, but instead I forced myself to unzip my backpack and retrieve the biology textbook.

Busying myself with the assigned chapters, deciding to actually read them so as to not feed into my invasive Edward obsession, I couldn’t help but listen as Edward too placed his own textbook on the countertop.

I heard the scribble of pen on paper as he began to write what I imagined were notes until his large hand slid the paper over to me beneath the wall of my hair spilling over the desk. Well, I wouldn’t ignore him if he was the one deciding to bother me.

You know I’m pretty certain that cheating is a violation of the student handbook, but I’ll let you get away with it just this once.

I turned to glance at his face to see if he were serious. His eyes were warm and inviting, his mouth in the same crooked smile.

I took the piece of paper and looked around for my writing utensil that had gone missing somehow. My eyes zeroed in on a suspicious, tiny pile of wood dust on my side of the desk. When had I brutalized my pencil? He held his hand out to offer his own pen, and I accepted it, carefully plucking it from his fingers without making contact.

I wasn’t cheating. You were doing something funny. And what do you know about the student handbook? You’re new.

I slid the paper and pen back to him and watched as he combed a hand through his bronze hair, reading my response. The smile grew wider as he construed the biting tone of my note.

Can I be let in on the joke? Edward wrote, turning to look at me once he was done. Again I was prisoner, though this time not to my own body. I was momentarily held hostage by the beauty and warmth of his light green eyes. I was understanding more and more the attraction the other students had for him. If I had a soul, it was as though he were staring straight into it.

I recovered, placing my hand atop the desk and then wiggling my fingers as though I were weaving my way through a very complicated piano piece.

Oh, Edward mouthed, immediately understanding. He silently laughed and placed his left hand to his forehead briefly as if to hide his face in mock embarrassment. The ink from the pen spilled onto the paper as he began to write again.

In my defense, there’s research that supports classical music puts students in a heightened emotional state, making them more receptive to information and helping them focus.

That’s very nerdy of you. I scribbled back, the corners of my lips pulled upwards.

I know. As I read the words on the notebook paper, we both laughed a little too loudly for the quietness of the room.

“Please remain silent for your classmates still working,” Mr. Molina stage-whispered from his desk, his eyes still fixated on the crossword puzzle.

It’s a bad habit. Edward tacked on to his message. I beamed. I knew a thing or two about bad habits today. I was appreciative of this silent conversation on paper; it made it easier to be beside him without needing to breathe to speak aloud.

What were you playing? I scrawled.

Clair de Lune. Edward wrote back. His thick eyebrows raised as my eyes lit up, and he continued writing. You know Debussy?

My mother used to play a lot of classical music around the house. It was one of my favorites.

It’s one of my favorites, too. Edward’s eyes were a little sad and lost in thought, and he smiled softly.

I was shocked by the change in expression and weirdly desperate to return the brightness back to his eyes. The burn in my throat was almost forgettable in the face of my concern. Almost, but not quite. He turned his head down to write on the paper again.

You said Rosalie played piano. You never learned? He turned to look at me, his expression curious. I shook my head and shrugged, reaching for the pen.

I didn’t think I had the coordination for it. While this was true for the time I was human, it wasn’t true now. Still, even though my days stretched into endless nights, I hadn’t yet devoted time to any instrument as an immortal.

Edward read the paper, his long pointer finger tracing the line beneath the words as he did so. He held his large hand out, and I dropped the pen into it.

I’ll show you sometime. Edward half smiled at me, his eyes sweet and earnest.

Knowing I shouldn’t be allowing him to think making a plans with me was an option, I reached for the pen to tell him that it was alright, but I froze as he suddenly moved to drop the pen and take my hand. Though he should have been the one hesitant and cautious as though approaching a dangerous, wounded animal, I held perfectly still as though he were the danger, and I needed to play dead for protection. You can’t play dead if you are dead, I thought to myself.

My body tensed as my hand was enveloped in the heat of his much larger palm, uncertain as to what he was doing. My muscles screamed at me as I clenched my free hand into a tight fist, terrified of myself.

A shiver rippled through him as he felt the chill of my frozen fingers, and I twitched the hand in his possession, wanting to yank it away to protect him from the iciness but not wanting to alert him with the swiftness of the motion.

He smiled mysteriously at the spasm as though he somehow expected it. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking but didn’t want to risk breathing. My control could too easily be lost. Besides, I was scared that if I were to open my mouth, I’d end up screaming.

I felt him push slightly and realized he wished for me to curl my fingers, so with great concentration and the acute awareness of his fragility, I moved my stony hand into the shape he directed, my fingers curved slightly beneath his like a relaxed talon. I didn’t like the shape; it was odd and inhuman and made me think of the violence I could cause.

But it wasn’t a claw. Because once my hand was positioned the way he wanted, he began to slowly place pressure on my fingers, and I dipped and rose them accordingly to carefully move with his. I watched as the two of our hands together played what I imagined must be the opening chords to Clair de Lune.

The disconcerting emptiness in my chest soared at the bizarre pleasure of this touch, and a weird sensation tickled my scalp, moving swiftly down my spine to my entire body.

My muscles tightened violently and then relaxed, sending a shiver to ripple through me. It was too much pleasure and too much pain as my throat ached and I leaned into the warmth.

Embarrassed and not wanting to push my luck, I cautiously pulled my hand slowly away. He lifted his hand to allow me to escape as though I couldn’t just break his hand to do so, a half-smile pulling on his lips. I pretended not to notice the goosebumps on his arms.

See? he mouthed before deciding to whisper. “You could do it.”

I forced myself to smile and then turned away for the rest of the hour, trying to keep from doing anything stupid like looking at him or killing him. I’d completely forgotten where we were.

When the bell finally rung, I collected my things atop the desk hastily. Edward reached for my backpack and held it up for me.

“Thanks,” I murmured as I dumped my books into the bag. Before I could take it from him, he slid it onto his back and nodded his head once for me to go forward.

Feeling awkward, I turned and allowed him to follow me to the door. I was lucky to walk in front of him, taking the opportunity to breath again as the vent blew out in front of my face.

Exiting the classroom, I paused for a second when I saw Emmett waiting for me across the hallway rather than his typical spot beside the wall of lockers next to our shared Spanish classroom. Even though I was well aware of the fact I’d been dangling my irresponsibility in their faces all day, I still felt as though I was being caught in the act.

Emmett’s eyebrows raised as his golden eyes watched Edward follow behind me, carrying my backpack. I crossed the hallway reluctantly towards my big brother.

“Hello,” I greeted him, avoiding his eyes. I felt smaller than ever beside him with my head down, and yet not small enough as I wished to disappear.

“Hey, little sis,” Emmett began uncertainly, though I glanced up to see his full lips were beginning to stretch into a smile that I didn’t like. “Who’s that with you?”

“Uh…”

“I’m Edward Masen,” the lanky human boy introduced himself confidently as he stopped beside me. “And you must be––”

“Emmett,” my brother interrupted, grinning as though he always so comfortably interacted with humans. This was all too weird, but he looked to be enjoying it far too much. His desire to mess with me and his confidence in Alice’s visions seemed to override the abnormality of speaking to a student so amicably. I watched as he breathed in and shot me a meaningful look. I grimaced.

I opened my mouth to put an end to this torturously awkward interaction, but Emmett interrupted again.

“It’s nice to see you made a friend,” he began, an evil glint in his eyes as he watched my face. I was confused as to where he was going with this because our entire family would come across as misanthropic to the rest of the school, so why should it matter to him. He turned his attention to look at Edward who was closer in height to him. “You know, we worry about her––”

“Okay, let’s go to Spanish,” I cut him off quickly. “Edward, can I have my bag, please?”

Without looking at him, I reached for my backpack as he offered it and threw it over my shoulder, heading down the hallway. It was a massive relief to put some distance between myself and Edward. My thoughts were clearer, and I could breathe freely.

Emmett burst into laughter, his guffaws booming in the hallway. Several students paused in fear making me concerned about Edward’s reaction to my giant of a sibling, but I relaxed when I heard Edward chuckling along with him.

“Um, see you,” Emmett said to Edward before his steady, near silent footfall followed after me.

Even moving at a lethargic human pace, he caught up to me quickly.

“That wasn’t funny,” I grumbled.

“What the hell are you doing?” Emmett chuckled, ignoring my question.

“What the hell are you doing? What was that back there?”

“I don’t know. That was weird, but not as weird as you playing with your food.”

I hissed quietly.

“Damn, I’m kidding, Bells. But seriously, what are you doing? What happened to your high and noble speech about doing the right thing and staying away from the kid? I thought Esme was about to produce real tears. It even softened Rose.”

“Ugh, don’t talk to me about Rosalie right now. She’s been giving me dirty looks all day. It makes me feel awful. I already feel bad!”

“Well, I don’t really care what you do either way so––” I looked at him questionably. “I mean, sure, I want you to do the right thing, whatever that means. I don’t want you to feel miserable. But on one end, I didn’t really mind so much what happened to me.”

“Rosalie did,” I countered.

“Yeah, Rose did,” he acquiesced quietly.

“Anyways, I’m not having that conversation. I wasn’t talking to him today to test whether or not he’s worth it. That’s… unethical.”

“So what were you doing?”

“I don’t know,” I groaned in answer.

Emmett laughed.

“You’re weird these days, Bella.”

“You’re weird everyday,” I quipped back before sighing. “I don’t know. He’s weird, too. I guess… I’m not making any decisions, at all, but if Alice told you what she told me… wouldn’t you be curious?”

Emmett thought it over. “Yeah, I think so. But I also don’t think I’d have even made it to this point,” he admitted. I winced.

“It’s kind of unfair for me to care more about satiating my curiosity and dance with the devil this way, right?”

“Well…he may not know it, but isn’t it more so that Edward’s the one dancing with the devil?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, frowning as we walked into our Spanish class. “I guess it is.”

I made the decision to avoid thinking of Edward for the remaining hour of school. I paid very little attention in Spanish, returning to the familiar mind-numbing boredom that classes had been prior to the last few days. Now that it was in stark contrast to the sudden life breathed into my time at Forks High School by my fixation with Edward, the tedium was no longer something dealt with indifferently and sluggishly. Now, it left me feeling restless, and it almost pained me how laborious it was to sit through a life I wasn’t an active participant in. It was nowhere near the pain of dealing with the excruciating thirst I had around my bronze-haired lab partner, but it almost tampered with my thoughts more knowing I’d feel less miserable if I spent this time analyzing every word Edward shared with me, every fluctuation of his tone, every glint in his perceptive eyes, every expression on his pretty face… But I was becoming too obsessive. The same hunger for adventure that made me fall in love with reading must be what was leading me to so treacherously, so impetuously dive into exploring this insignificant and yet cataclysmic difference in my life.

As though it had a personal vendetta against me, time moved even more lethargically than it ever had before, but finally, the bell signaling the end of school rang. Emmett’s eyes shot a concerned look at me as I rose from my seat too quickly, and I immediately felt embarrassed again. The cautious reminder in his expression made me feel childish as Emmett was never one to care much about bending the rules.

“See you at home, I guess,” he shook his head, giving me one last look that seemed to suggest I’d lost it.

“See you,” I mumbled, slinging my bag over my shoulder. Leaving Emmett behind to wait for Rosalie, I weaved through the crowded hallway and out to the parking lot. Students were bundling together and squealing at the chilling air as tiny, fluffy snowflakes fluttered down from the overcast sky. The floor of the parking lot was almost as glassy as yesterday as the rain from this afternoon had melted into a thin layer of icy mush. Though there was hardly enough snow for a decent snowball fight, some of the rowdier students were bundling up a pitiful pile of snow to form pathetic snowballs in their fists.

I nearly skipped to the pearly white vehicle parked beside Rosalie’s overly conspicuous crimson car which was forming a small crowd of admirers. Leaning against the trunk of the car, I watched the front doors of the school to look for Edward.

The tangle of reddish-brown hair was easy to spot because of its strange metallic tint as he strolled out of the building with Naomi, the student who’d provided him with the information about my family on his first day. He had his coat folded over his arm, revealing how form fitting his light tan turtleneck was. He truly was a very attractive boy. It was odd that I hadn’t really paid much attention initially. With his dazzling face and tall, lean frame, Edward was pretty enough that for the vampires who searched for exquisitely beautiful humans to create into even more stunning immortals, he could probably be a contender for someone to collect.

Thinking of how Emmett questioned my motives today, I quickly banished the idea of Edward as an immortal from my mind, even if it was only a hypothetical inspired by my observation.

Edward paused, asking Naomi if she could hold on to his backpack for a moment. When she grabbed it, he pulled on his long black coat, and fiddled with the collar. Recollecting his backpack, he slid it onto one shoulder, then rubbed his hands together, blowing the warm air from his mouth to heat them up. Thinking of the sweetness of the smell of his breath made me remember to take in swallows of fresh air before he made his way over to me.

As he was distracted momentarily, I watched as a stray snowball flew towards Edward’s head. I was overcome with the urge to intercept it in the event it may hit him too harshly and knock him to the pavement, but flying across the parking lot inhumanly fast twice in one week was probably not the way to go about correcting my mistakes.

The soggy snowball crashed into Edward’s hair, exploding into shards of ice and water that slid down his prominent cheekbone. I laughed aloud at his shocked expression as the curtain bangs framing his face were immediately drenched, darkening his hair into a brown color. Once he’d realized what happened, his face broke into a good-humored smile.

“Holy shit! Sorry, Edward!” The classmate who had thrown the snowball with poor aim called out.

“No worries!” Edward called back. He shook his head, chuckling as he wiped the water from his face. As he laughed, his eyes found the space where I waited and brightened seeing that I, too, was enjoying the moment.

“Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told Naomi, who was too beside herself in tears of laughter to reply.

Edward sauntered over towards me, and I inhaled deeply as a fortuitous whisper of wind blew from the tree line. I held onto the notes of crisp eucalyptus, fresh snow, and cedar wood, trying to distract my mind from the offensively mouthwatering scents approaching me.

Edward was a coordinated human, but even he lost his footing on the icy pavement. His body slid forward for a moment, but I stepped towards him to close the space between us and caught him by the elbow.

He looked up from his boots against the frozen parking lot into my eyes, startled momentarily at the swiftness in which I had appeared. Then, his full lips lifted into a crooked smile that creased his astonishing green eyes into half moons. I let go immediately and took a big step back to ensure a safer distance between myself and the warmth of his fragile body. It had been a risky movement, but somehow in comparison to yesterday, it didn’t seem to matter as much. I figured our classmates were too involved in their gawking at the details of my sister’s car or their feeble, slushy snowball fight to notice, and oddly, I didn’t care that Edward had seen. It was beginning to feel too late to keep up certain pretenses.

Although, it wasn’t too late, and it shouldn’t feel that way. I reminded myself I still had every intention of leaving Edward alone once I’d figured out what was so compelling about our paths crossing that had Alice’s visions spiraling in a confusing jumble. I took another step back slowly.

“Thank you,” Edward said, his eyes humored with another secret he didn’t seem willing to share. “You keep saving me.”

“Well, let’s not make this damsel in distress thing habitual,” I snorted, turning so that he couldn’t see the smile forming on my face. I felt shy about showcasing any comfort or happiness in his presence now that I was reminded of how fleeting this experimental friendship was, but I wondered if subconsciously I wanted him to catch me in my misery and ask me to explain, though I wasn’t certain why I wanted to sabotage myself like that. I opened my door and turned to look at him again. “You coming?”

Before he could answer, I dipped into the driver’s seat, and breathed in one last time. Well, once this was all over, I could finally stop inhaling dramatically as though they were truly my last, dying breaths. The air was mostly clean of his scent, but I knew that regardless, the heat of his body would be enough to disrupt my comfort and control. As the thought crossed my mind, I painfully swallowed back the venom pooling beneath my tongue.

Edward swerved through the crowd obsessing over Rosalie’s car and opened the passenger door, sliding into his seat. As he placed his backpack on the floor and fiddled with his seatbelt, I made sure to adjust the air conditioning so that the heat could warm Edward from the frigid Forks air. Though for me, just being in his presence made the intimate interior of the car feel as though I were again sitting by his fireplace.

“That’s a beautiful car,” he murmured. “Is it an M8?”

“Uh, it’s a BMW?” I asked uncertainly as though he’d spoken another language.

Edward grinned as though he wanted to laugh but didn’t want to make me angry. Rosalie would have loved to answer all his questions if he too had an interest in cars. Would have loved to, if she wasn’t deeply offended by my actions or if I had any intention of Edward meeting any more of my family members.

“Ready?” I bit my lip as I forced out any inconsiderate plots of murder that threatened to distract me from being a defensive driver.

“Mhm,” Edward answered.

I reversed out of the parking slot slowly, but as I looked in the rearview once I’d straightened out, I saw the fleeting image of Rosalie’s exquisitely beautiful and exceptionally angry face. I quickly readjusted the mirror to remove my sister’s reflection and sped out of the parking lot in a way that could have taken out a few unlucky students if I didn’t have above average years of driving experience.

Peripherally, I watched as Edward’s thick eyebrows raised, but he decided not to question me. Once we’d reached the main road, I slowed my speed so as not to rush through this time, even though I knew for his safety and my sanity, I should. As I drove, his right hand moved in odd shapes again against the arm rest of the passenger side door as though he were playing piano once more.

I decided to bite and use up some of my limited air supply.

“What are you playing?”

“Clair de Lune again,” he replied. Then, he began to hum the melody aloud for me as he moved his hand.

I thought to offer to play the song for him through the speakers, but I decided against it as I listened to Edward’s soft, velvety voice hum beautifully through the song, breaking the silence.

The ugly, slush-like falling of snow transformed into a falling of rainwater, and Edward’s voice was orchestrated by a lovely symphony of raindrops.

Before his voice could weave into the more involved moments of the piece, Edward stopped.

I looked over at him, curious for the reason as to why. His face was turned away from me so that all I could see was his untidy bronze hair as he gazed out the window. I pulled in front of his driveway and parked against the curb.

Miraculously, I’d made it again. Carefully, I inhaled through my nose to experiment with my control. The sweet bouquet of the boy’s blood was potent and even more mouthwatering than usual from the snow turned rain that’d wet his hair. I hadn’t considered the possibility that he could smell better than before, and I kept myself from groaning aloud as I dug my nails into my own palms. The tingling sensation in my nose was as though I’d sniffed some powerful chemical, the burning sensation in my throat as though I’d taken a long drag of a cigarette. But more painful. More demanding. Desire, need flew from my core out towards my extremities, and the beating of his heart pumping the blood through his body drummed loudly in my ears. It seemed to move through me, my frigid body almost twitching with every pulse, ready to lunge forward and crush his neck to my lips.

“What was your mother like?” He asked me suddenly, his voice soft. Edward turned from the window to face me, and I was bewildered by the intensity of his expression. His eyes were light and beautiful against the gloomy grey of the sky, and they squinted slightly as though studying my face like this information was absolutely essential. But this was not what stunned me, as I’d already seen the severity of this expression before in our ephemeral time together. It was the unexpected vulnerability of his stunning face. The more time I spent looking at him, the more I realized how beautiful this human boy really was. And it seemed a great tragedy for this beautiful boy to harbor such devastation in his eyes.

Whereas previously in his presence, my thoughts had become incoherent due to a lapse in control, now my thoughts were incoherent in distress and desperation to understand what had gone wrong and how I could fix it. I was momentarily dumbfounded, but I pulled myself together after the soft sound of a few droplets of rain against the roof reminded me that he was waiting for an answer.

“Well, she looked a lot like me, but prettier,” I began stupidly. He raised his eyebrows. “Or at least, she used to look a lot like me, and I used to look a lot like her. I don’t so much anymore.” It’d been so long since I’d really spoken about my mom, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. I knew I should have made some comment about whether or not she looked like Esme or Emmett since our story made us siblings, but I didn’t want to taint the rarity of sharing who she was with a lie.

“She was more outgoing than I am,” I continued, thinking through the foggy memories I held onto from my human life.

“That’s difficult to believe,” Edward teased quietly, his lips curving into a half smile.

I laughed, listening to the melodic sound of it, thinking of how it symbolized how very much different I was now from the human girl my mother knew.

“I was always very shy,” I smiled, before speaking up again, caught in the echoes of my past. “She was brave and irresponsible and slightly eccentric. And she was a very unpredictable cook!”

I laughed aloud again thinking of some minor explosions in our tiny kitchen and some questionable dishes. Edward laughed too, but when our laughter faded into the falling of the rain, my smile faded.

“She wasn’t perfect,” I admitted. “I think I recognize now that she was very fallible. I worshipped her when I was younger, but when I think back, I do see how in some of the ways she raised me, I was done a disservice… I grew up too fast. When she died––“ I sighed, feeling insincere and guilty about perpetuating this lie when I really should have said when I died, “––Esme became more of a mother to me, and even Rosalie’s been more traditionally nurturing than my mom ever was… But still, she was my best friend.”

“You miss her,” he murmured simply. I met his gentle eyes.

“Yes,” I bit my lip.

“How old are you, Bella?” Edward asked. “And not the formulaic, theorized version where you were born in your thirties. How old are you really?”

I tensed, wondering if he was asking this again because he’d taken note of how I didn’t directly answer this question the last time he asked.

“Seventeen,” I answered automatically.

“You don’t seem seventeen,” he responded, reproachful.

The tension left my body at the tone of his voice. I smiled again easily.

“Sorry?” I asked, biting my lip to hide the smile, unsure of how to respond.

Edward chuckled and the subtle crinkles by his eyes lit up his face. “Well, I wish you’d been given a happier, normal childhood.”

“I’m fine,” I shrugged, brushing it off. “I hardly remember most of it, and what I do remember reminds me that I probably didn’t have much chance at a normal childhood to begin with. I was terribly shy, remember.

“I did do girl scouts, though….Oh, and ballet briefly,” I admitted, unsure as to why I was volunteering so much information about myself. Wasn’t the purpose of me sitting here to uncover information about him?

“Why does that make you… embarrassed?” Edward’s eyebrows pulled up.

For an odd moment, I felt betrayed by the flush of my cheeks before I realized there was no blood rushing to my face. I blinked, bewildered by the peculiarity of this long buried instinct to become frustrated with my easy blushes when I hadn’t blushed for years. I felt self conscious as I wondered what Edward saw reading my expression to so perfectly decipher my feelings.

“I was very uncoordinated,” I dismissed his question as I fought the urge for my hand to flutter to touch my cool cheek.

“Now that truly is difficult to believe,” Edward half-smiled. “I can’t imagine I’ve seen anyone as graceful as you.”

I laughed aloud at his compliment, though I didn’t doubt his sincerity. I knew this was true of myself. It was true of all of our kind to appear fluid and effortless, but still, no one had ever applied the word to me. My vampiric poise was irrelevant and unimpressive to my family, and the very few humans brave enough to overcome their nerves to compliment me typically found their words to fail them.

“You’re very odd,” I beamed.

“What do you mean?” The bronze-haired boy asked, again wanting to be let in on the secret. While I had an insatiable thirst, it seemed he had an insatiable curiosity.

“How old are you really? Your word choice is bizarre for someone your age, you know.”

“Oh,” he laughed easily. “Well, I’m actually not seventeen. I’m eighteen. But I’ll try to strictly adhere to a more teenage vernacular, so I can compliment you in a more acceptable way from now on.”

I looked out at the dim light of the brewing storm, my smile fading as I decided that I should probably allow him to escape me before I did something I’d regret. But I knew I wasn’t resolved enough to completely leave him alone. He made me monopolize too much of the conversation, and I wasn’t satisfied with what I knew about him yet.

I sighed aloud, and Edward, too, looked out at the rain darkened sky.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked hopefully, making the assumption that our conversation was coming to an end.

“Yes,” I promised reluctantly. My eyes flickered back over to his pretty face, studying the lines of his strong jaw, his chiseled cheekbones, his full lips, committing this inconsequential face to memory as I silently resolved that this should be –– and would be –– one of the last times I’d allow myself to be this close to him. Tomorrow may well be the very last.

Likewise, as though his thoughts were in the same vein, his beautiful green eyes studied my face as well, though he did so in that mysterious way of his where he looked at me as though hoping to read my mind.

He sighed, then collected his backpack. Edward opened the door, stepping out into the bitterly cold weather. A shiver ran through his lanky body, making my body tense with perverse excitement. I cringed away from the deadly instinct and swallowed against the dryness of my yearning throat.

Edward’s tall, lean frame leaned down to peek into the car.

“Goodnight, Bella,” he spoke softly.

“Goodnight, Edward,” I almost whispered, gazing into the beauty of his dazzling green eyes.

Edward smiled his half smile, and closed the door, escaping into the building torrent of rain.

I gasped in relief at his absence, then stiffened realizing how the cab of the car was still heavily perfumed with his scent. I took in another deep breath, forcing myself to confront the burning thirst again, willing myself to manage it. I sighed as I hit the gas, making Edward disappear behind me.

Both my control and the rain pour strengthened significantly as I turned onto the long drive leading to my house. I grimaced as I wondered how I’d face my family and explain the complete reversal of what I’d promised to do. I didn’t have time to consider for much longer as suddenly, a figure appeared instantaneously in the drive. I slammed my foot on the brake immediately in shock at its appearance, not wanting to total yet another car against one of my siblings.

I peered through the windshield, unable to see through the complete downpour that submerged my vehicle as though it were underwater. It was annoying for my perfect sight to be obstructed by anything, rainwater or even the transparent windshield because of my eyes’ desire to focus on the microscopic scratches.

The car violently screeched against the muddy pavement, and it looked as though we would have to bid this car goodbye until the figure hidden by the storm placed their hands out on the car roughly and forced it to a stop. The tires screamed in protest, and the metal groaned as it warped into the shape of the palms. I listened as it unnaturally bent again in a piercing moan as the figure fixed the indentions they’d created.

My windshield wipers swatted away a flood of water. Finally, I could make out my sister Rosalie, her hair dripping wet down her back like a supermodel who’d just emerged from a pool on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Her exquisite face was absolutely furious.

I gulped, feeling like a child who’d just been discovered sneaking home past curfew.

I felt uncertain as to what to do and why she’d chosen to stop me here. Surely she could wait for us to be under the cover of the garage before she chastised me. Not wanting to be drenched by the rain, I revved the engine to ask her to move aside, but the car didn’t inch forward against her strength. Beginning to feel annoyed, I revved the engine again loudly and for longer, but still, she didn’t move.

“Rose,” I hissed as I hit the brake again so that the car could roar viciously in the storm, only to be cut off by the voice of my adopted mother.

“Girls!” I couldn’t see Esme through the obscured glass behind the downpour, but even with the barrage of the rain, I could hear her lithe steps run furiously to the front porch. “Please!”

Rose’s head snapped up to look in Esme’s direction before turning to glance unhappily back at me. She stepped aside, and I sped into the garage, parking the car hastily.

I exited immediately and went to expect the damage to the front of the hood. It was only a minuscule bend from having been pushed and prodded back and forth, and I was positive Rosalie could make it look like new, though why it had been necessary to punish the car was beyond me. It wasn’t even mine.

I wheeled around once I’d heard the near-silent steps of her run, a wave of anger making me forget my guilt.

“Are you insane?!” I demanded.

“I could ask the same of you, Bella!” Now free from the obscurity of the rain, I could see in perfect detail the stunning fury of her glorious face. Her golden hair had been darkened by the rain, and it was slicked back effortlessly, like a glittering waterfall down to the middle of her back. She looked like a wrathful god, but I couldn’t find it in my stubbornness to care about how valid her anger may be.

“Okay, but did you have to take it out on the car? What did it ever do to you! You couldn’t have waited another twenty seconds to confront me? Well, you have my attention now, Rosalie, so say whatever it is you want to say!”

“You’re just unbelievable, Bella!”

“He’s not going to say anything, Rose! We already talked about this yesterday. You heard Alice! He’s not a threat to you and Emmett, so I don’t understand why you’re taking this so personally.”

“Exactly, Bella. I heard Alice. Which is precisely why I fail to understand as to why you wouldn’t understand why I’d take it so personally. After all these years of sisterhood, how can you not understand how I feel about this?”

I frowned, my forehead puckering, but still, I retained my anger. She huffed, continuing.

“If it was an inevitability, I’d understand. However, it hurts me deeply that you recognize the choice that you have. The choice that Edward has. And still, you’re willing to play with his mortality as though it were a game, when I never had that choice.”

I froze, the realization dawning on me that she was right. No matter the ways in which I tried to justify my actions or spin my intentions, she was right. Another part of my mind acknowledged that while I was aware of right and wrong, I wasn’t certain that what was right would be enough to keep me away anymore.

We stared each other down much like we had yesterday. Only today, rather than anger, her face was contorted in hurt, and mine was contorted in hopelessness.

“But… you found Emmett when he was still human…” I weakly protested, selfishly trying to highlight the irony, though I knew it was pointless as I wasn’t advocating for Edward to be changed either. That was too complicated a thought to wrap my mind around. But whatever may happen –– and I was still very much aware of the worst of possibilities –– I didn’t want my sister to hate me for it.

“He was dying, Bella,” Rosalie whispered. The anger on her face had completely faded, and in its place, pain marked her eyebrows, her full lips, her golden, sad eyes. In her sadness, she looked like a work of art, like one of those paintings of a weeping saint. “It’s not the same.”

I didn’t have a response to that, and I felt as though I was at an impasse, both with myself and with Rosalie. Because I knew the promises I’d made and broken, but I knew the promise I’d made to Edward today, and I had no willpower, no desire, and no intention to break that promise.

“You may not feel anything for him now,” Rosalie began, her eyes intently fierce as they bore into mine to warn me. Only this warning felt significantly more horrible than I’d imagined it may be, because it wasn’t made in anger, but in desperation and love. “But if Alice is right, you will. And it seems to me a horrible way to repay someone you love to steal their life, their future, their soul from them. You should leave him alone now while you still can, because once you love him… it’ll only hurt more one way or another. And you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your existence. I know I have.”

And with that, Rose turned, her face cold and sad, and she left the garage.

#equinoxjw #twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #twilight au #twilight fanfic #the twilight saga #twilight saga #twilight #edbella #edward cullen #bella swan #edbella fanfic

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taeyongdoyoung · 4 years ago

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summary: the forest is your only escape from the everyday troubles with your family until you find danger lurking behind the trees. or rather, danger finds you. your fateful encounter with the vampire ravn leaves you wishing for a different life. you strike an unexpected deal with the stranger that will soon turn into something more…

pairing: vampire! human ravn x reader

side characters: seoho, xion, non-binary oc named robin inspired by the wonderful @byccn 💜

genre: vampire!au, romance, humour, FLUFF

warnings: i don’t think there are any?? just sweet tooth-rotting fluff, some biting, a few shakespeare references, some swear words and a lot of cheesy lines, i mean, they’re eating pizza in italy and it’s valentine’s day soo...

word count: 2.3k

author’s note: the final chapter of twilight has arrived, i just want to thank you all so much for embarking on this journey with me, for reading it and for leaving your comments, it truly feels like the end of an era but i hope everyone enjoyed reading my story as much as i enjoyed writing it, i don’t know what else to say other than “parting is such sweet sorrow” 🥺🥺💞💞

part one 🌙 part two 🌙 part three 🌙 part four 🌙 part five 🌙 part six 🌙 part seven 🌙 part eight 🌙 part nine 🌙 part ten🌙 part eleven 🌙part twelve

You felt like you were dreaming but no matter how many times you pinched yourself, you didn’t wake up, because this was reality. Ravn was safe and sleeping soundly, his arms wrapped around you. And he was so warm you’d have a difficult time getting used to it. But it didn’t matter, because you loved him for him and that was all that mattered. You ran a gentle hand through his dark hair. He was still so beautiful, still so soft, still your Ravn. And despite the fact that he, too, was mortal now, you had the strange feeling you had all the time in the world. And in a way, it was true. You were so far away from any dangers that this newfound sense of freedom seemed eternal.

“Are you watching me sleep?” Ravn murmured curiously.

You attempted to withdraw your hand, but his reflexes were still fast enough to catch you.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he opened his eyes and smiled at you fondly.

“I just can’t believe this. You’re alive,” you pointed out.

Ravn chuckled.

“Me neither. I’ve wished for this for so long that now when it actually happened it seems unreal.”

“Well, no use questioning it, let’s just enjoy ourselves,” you quickly kissed his lips and intended to get out of bed to brush your teeth, but Ravn stopped you by holding onto your hand and pulling you close.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He kissed you once more, this time more deeply and not willing to let go.

“Mmm, Ravn, darling…” you tried to argue.

“Stay a bit longer,” he pleaded sweetly.

“You’re impossible to resist,” you laughed and started kissing his neck, occasionally biting him gently, which amused him immensely.

“Oh, no, I’ve corrupted you entirely,” Ravn wailed.

You rolled your eyes and pressed your hands against his cheeks.

“I love you,” you said seriously.

“I would not wish any companion in the world but you,” Ravn replied and your eyes filled with happy tears.

“My favourite Shakespeare nerd,” you stroked his chin.

“Am I not the only Shakespeare nerd you know?” he challenged.

“Well, he will never admit it, but Seoho is secretly as much of a Shakespeare enthusiast as we are,” you joked.

“But you like me more, right?” he had to make sure.

“Of course, silly, is this even a question?”

“Let’s get up and annoy him about it, then!” Ravn suggested excitedly.

“Unbelievable,” you giggled and sneaked out of his arms. “Bathroom’s mine first!”

Ravn hurriedly chased you but to your complete amazement, you beat him to it. Now that he was human, too, it was all fair and square.

“Come on, sweetheart, let me in!” Ravn complained, knocking on the door.

You smirked triumphantly as you were putting toothpaste on your new brush.

“What will I get out of this?” you bargained, suddenly remembering one of your initial encounters. It felt like a century ago.

“More kisses? My undying affection? Anything you wish, I just really need to…”

You quickly opened the door upon hearing the desperation in his voice. He was only human, after all, the thought making you laugh.

“Thank you!” Ravn rushed inside. He was obviously on a mission.

A couple of minutes later, you were both out of the bathroom and dressing up for the day.

“Being a human is so hard,” he complained. “So many needs.”

“Come on, you’ve been human before,” you reminded him.

“How do you deal with all this?” Ravn asked, overwhelmed by everything new.

“It’s just life, I guess,” you shrugged. “Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it soon enough. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“Unless when you lock me out of the bathroom,” he teased you.

“A mistake I won’t repeat again,” you chuckled. “We’ll have to share.”

“I can live with that,” he winked. “For the rest of my life.”

These were words you’d never expected to hear and yet, they’d somehow turned into the much needed reality.

🌙🌙🌙

“Now that Ravn’s human, you won’t say stuff like ‘all humans are trash’, will you, Seoho?” you joked over breakfast as you were spreading jam over a slice of bread.

“Unfortunately, I’ve been forced to change my mindset,” Seoho groaned and added under his breath. “Ugh, humans.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Ravn scolded him.

“I thought your super hearing was gone?” Seoho asked awkwardly.

“It is, but I can still hear shit,” he punched his friend playfully.

“Fine, fine, I’ll try not to be a dick.”

“Thank you very much,” you said. “I’m thinking of checking out the local bookshops today. Ravn, do you want to come with?”

“You know it,” he gave you a high five.

“Seoho, do you want to join us?” you offered politely, because after all, if it hadn’t been for Seoho’s magical abilities, you probably wouldn’t be here, in Verona, alive.

“So I can watch you lick each other’s faces between the bookshelves? I’ll pass,” Seoho scoffed.

“Hey, if it makes you uncomfortable, we’ll stop doing it in front of you,” you promised.

“Nah, it’s fine. I have other plans, anyways.”

“You do?” Ravn eyed him suspiciously.

“I’m not telling you anything,” Seoho finished his juice, got up from the table and grabbed his jacket. “Have fun, nerds!”

Before you could register where he was going, Seoho had teleported himself out of the room.

“Okay, that was weird,” you pointed out.

“Definitely. We’ll grill him for more information when he comes back,” Ravn vowed. “But for now, let’s finish our human breakfast and explore the town.”

“It would be my honour,” you smiled.

🌙🌙🌙

Seoho’s POV

Was I being too obvious? I knew that sooner or later I’d have to inform Ravn and Y/N what this was about, but I didn’t want to jinx it. After all, there wasn’t much to tell. Not yet, at least. The truth was that yesterday when I’d gone to buy pizza and pancakes for my friends, I’d seen someone that grabbed my attention rightaway. They had beautiful short hair, a vibrant smile and they were selling ice-cream. At the time, I couldn’t muster up the courage to talk to them, even though I was usually confident and carefree. There was something special about this person. And despite my previous distrust of humans, I realized I could no longer be so prejudiced about them. My best friend was now human and his girlfriend had proved me wrong countless times. Maybe it was because I was in a new town, where no one knew me. Maybe it was because after almost losing Ravn, I had realized that life was too short and precious and I had to make each day count. I don’t know what exactly came over me but when I lied to my friends about having plans, I decided I want to see the person selling ice-cream again. And this time, I would talk to them.

Luckily, I was good at finding my way around. I quickly remembered where the pizza place was and that the ice-cream stand was right around the corner. I felt a bit nervous, but I knew that I had nothing to lose, so I approached it. They were there. The minute I saw their smile I forgot everything that I had planned I would say. How I wanted to play it cool and tell them I really like their style and their hair and…Before I could open my mouth, they’d spotted me and spoke first.

“Hi, would you like to order some ice-cream?” were the cheerful first words they said to me.

“Um, hi, yeah, what would you recommend?” I asked.

“My personal favourite is chocolate,” they replied.

“Alright, then, I’ll have that.”

“Sure thing,” they smiled and started scooping up a ball of chocolate ice-cream as I placed the money on the table. Now was my chance to say something dumb or remain silent and regret it forever. Or I could just come back again tomorrow. I wouldn’t do that, right?

🌙🌙🌙

I was a fool. I did come back again the following day. And the day after. I came back to that ice-cream place every day for two whole weeks, without succeeding to say much to the person I was obviously crushing on, other than the usual small talk surrounding the process of buying ice-cream. I tried all the different flavours until one day the unimaginable happened.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow,” I murmured instead of goodbye.

“Actually, I won’t be here tomorrow,” they responded sadly. “You see, this was just a summer job for me and I’m going back to college so I won’t have time to work.”

“Oh, I see,” I replied dumbly. “Well, in that case…”

“Can I get your number?” they beat me to it. “Or at least your name?”

Internally, I was screaming with joy. Externally, I attempted to maintain a perfectly composed expression.

“Seoho,” I said, already writing down my phone number on a napkin. “And yours?”

“Robin,” they chuckled. “Wow, you’re so old-fashioned, you could have just typed it in.”

I shrugged and handed them the silly napkin.

“Better not lose it,” I warned them.

“No worries, I’ll treasure it forever.”

“Well, technically, the ink will probably wear off with time…”

“Wow, way to kill the mood,” Robin laughed and I could swear, I would never get tired of that beautiful sound.

“Sorry,” I looked down apologetically.

“I can’t help but wonder what took you so long?” they further amazed me with such a straightforward question.

“Um, I’m shy?”

“Me too, but it had to be done,” Robin winked.

In that moment, I had already made up my mind. Maybe humans weren’t so bad after all…

🌙🌙🌙

One year later

You were sitting next to your fiancé, holding hands under the table at a pizza restaurant because you didn’t want your engagement rings to show. You intended to surprise your friends Seoho and Robin and had kept it a secret for a while. A week had passed since Ravn proposed to you. He had booked plane tickets to Paris for a weekend getaway and what you thought was simply a short vacation turned into the best moment of your life. Forever the romantic, Ravn had completely amazed you with the unexpected question. An evening walk alongside the Seine River and under the city lights, French music playing all around…You had been so overwhelmed by positive emotions that you burst into tears before managing to respond. Ravn had gotten worried that he’d upset you and you’d somehow succeeded in letting him know you were happy crying and that of course you’d marry him. It felt like a dream come true.

As you were waiting for your friends to arrive, you and Ravn exchanged a knowing look.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Born ready,” you replied, completely certain of your feelings for him.

He squeezed your hand in support and soon after, your friends showed up.

“Hi, darling,” you hugged Robin tightly. “Seoho.”

“We have news,” Ravn announced directly.

“Can it wait?” Seoho inquired. “We kinda have a surprise that’s waiting outside.”

“Oh? You got us a puppy?” you asked, guessing wrongly.

“Nah, it’s not a puppy,” Seoho chuckled. “Much better, actually.”

“Come on, tell us already!” Ravn insisted.

“Okay, stay here, I’ll get the surprise rightaway. Robin, keep them occupied.”

Robin rolled their eyes.

“So bossy,” they complained affectionately after Seoho was out of earshot. “Anyways, how have you two been?”

“Splendid,” you squealed. “We can’t wait to tell you the big news, but apparently Seoho’s going to steal our thunder.”

“Yeah, so rude of him,” Ravn joked.

“Oh, trust me, it’ll be worth it,” Robin promised, already aware of who was standing outside.

“It better be,” you laughed.

As soon as you’d said that, Seoho returned, holding a young-looking guy you’d never seen before under his arm. The first thing you noticed was his pale skin that looked so out of place next to Seoho’s flushed cheeks. And your limited experience led you to the conclusion that this was probably a vampire.

“X-xion,” Ravn stammered in shock and quickly rushed to get up and hug his friend he hadn’t seen in way too long, completely forgetting about the secret you were supposed to hide under the table.

“It’s been a while,” Xion replied. “Sorry for showing up unannounced…but I wanted to see you.”

“Of course, it’s not a problem,” Ravn reassured him. “This is Y/N, my…fiancée,” he introduced you, dropping the other big surprise for the evening.

“HOLY SHIT,” Robin exclaimed, finally noticing the rings. “Congratulations!”

Seoho didn’t seem shocked at all, the magical bastard had probably read your thoughts a long time ago.

“T-thanks,” you murmured nervously. “And it’s really nice to meet you, Xion. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

He shook your hand awkwardly and smiled.

“So, what brings you here?” Ravn asked his friend.

“Well, Seoho mentioned about…you know…how Y/N and you…and how you’re no longer…you know.”

“It’s okay, Xion,” Robin chuckled. “Seoho told me everything about the supernatural world, you don’t need to speak in riddles.”

The vampire scratched the back of his head bashfully.

“And like, I was wondering if it was possible for this miracle to happen to me, too. So I came to ask for advice.”

“You want to be human, too?” Ravn inquired. “Are you sure you’ve thought this through?”

You gave your fiancé and Xion an encouraging smile.

“There’s nothing I’d like more,” he confessed openly.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, it’s not like I was planning for this to happen.”

“Anything can be helpful,” Xion pleaded. “Just tell me the whole story. How you met Y/N. How you fell in love. Don’t leave anything out.”

“It’s gonna be a long night,” you teased.

“Well, it all started at twilight…”

The end

#oneus #ravn #ravn x reader #ravn moodboard #twilight #oneus fanfic #kim youngjo #seoho #xion #ravn fluff #romance #vampire au #vampires #writing

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meowmerson · 5 years ago

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Can you write a Tomione doctor AU? I’ve always thought it would be really cute if they were surgeons.

perhaps…………………a nurse/patient AU????????????? :)

(only because i was trying to think of a story for doctor tomione but my brain kept going back to this so i hope its ok, if it s not you can send me another ask DEMANDING A SURGEON AU and i promise i will brainstorm an idea)

(also uh im sorry i made it really long)

–

It’s the tail end of the night shift when she sees him, although the first time is fleeting. Fleeting, but not irrelevant.

He’s flanked by six guards from the prison. He looks like he’s in pain, and quite a lot of it. He’s wheeled in on a hospital bed to room 119 and she watches from the reception desk as he and his entourage of prison guards pass her by in almost slow motion.

“What timing,” Lavender said with a cheeky grin, “Your shift just ended. You’ll miss out on all the fun.”

“Your idea of fun,” Hermione corrected, completing her chart for the night, “My idea of fun involves going home, having breakfast with my daughter, taking her to school, and going to sleep,” She put her pen down and smiled in the face of Lavender’s pout, “But enjoy the day shift with the clearly dangerous criminal.”

“Tell Rose I said hi,” Lavender said.

Hermione went home and did exactly as she said she would. She paid the babysitter, laid down in Rose’s bed for a moment before gently waking her. She smiled at her 3-year-old daughter across bowls of cheerios and listened to her talk about what she dreamt about the night before. Then she dressed Rose, brought her to pre-school, kissed her goodbye, and returned home. She fell asleep in her scrubs, and didn’t dream about the man flanked by prison guards.

–

Hermione worked nights for a few reasons. The biggest one was the amount of time she got to spend with her daughter - she could always skimp on sleep to spend more time with Rose, but she couldn’t exactly skip work, and if she only worked while Rose was sleeping (save for a few precious hours at night) it meant she would never need to miss a school play, a birthday party, pancakes on sundays, or pillow forts in their living room. She could see all of that.

Nights were quieter too. No visitors, some patients slept but some didn’t, Lavender only worked day shifts so Hermione only ever saw her for an hour at most if their shifts overlapped which was about as much of Lavender as she could take. And no visitors, god Hermione hated visitors.

She worked 3 nights a week, sometimes 4 if she needed the money and they had an overtime shift for her. She was always tired, always a bit stressed, and her hair had never looked worse than it did in motherhood, but it was all worth it for the time she got to spend with her daughter.

She had to remember that, when she had nights like this one.

“Apparently he hasn’t urinated in a week,” Neville said, “He had a pretty severe blatter infection and sepsis but is steadily getting better,”

“Why hadn’t he urinated?” Hermione asked, and Neville shrugged.

“They think it might be an escape plan, so uh,” he none-too-subtly leaned to the side to peer at the guards outside room 119, “They’re keeping an eye on him.”

“How is he?” She asked.

“Horrible,” He answered, “Right bastard, gave Lavender hell all day on his first day in, didn’t sleep all night, then we gave him to Minerva–”

“Well, surely she set him straight,” Hermione interjected.

Neville laughed, but there was no humor in it, “Yeah well, she handled it fine, but she also said if we give him to her as a patient again she’s going to retire.”

“Shit,” Hermione sighed. She thought of Rose, asleep in her bed and thought of seeing her in the morning and waking her up for breakfast, “So naturally you give him to me.”

“Well,” He shrugged, looking sheepish, “It was either you or me, so…”

“So you sweet-talked the charge nurse into giving you an easy night?” Hermione quirked a brow and Neville just grinned. Hermione sighed, picked up the chart, and turned to face Room 119.

There were only two guards now, not six, and they nodded at her as she entered.

Tom Riddle sat on the bed in a room of his own, he looked pale, with dark circles under his eyes, and he fixed his eyes disconcertingly on her the moment she stepped through the door.

“My name is Hermione,” She said, putting gloves on at the door, “I’ll be your nurse tonight.”

“Is that so?” He asked. His voice was deep, but gravelly. He must be exhausted, she thought, if he truly hadn’t slept since he arrived.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, but before he could answer she added, “I hear you haven’t slept since–”

“How can I sleep?” He cut her off, “Sitting in a hospital bed with a new nurse every few hours asking me the same inane questions?”

Hermione paused, observed him for a moment. She had dealt with plenty of difficult patients, was used to biting her tongue and slapping a smile on her face. He kept staring at her with dark eyes, his jaw clenched, and she knew what she was in for.

“Well, Mr. Riddle,” Hermione said with a smile, “I will endeavor not to ask the same inane questions, then.” She stepped closer, made a vague gesture in his direction and asked, “May I?”

He was receiving fluids, antibiotics, seemed stable, she just needed to check his blood pressure to be sure. The fact that he obviously hadn’t slept wasn’t a good sign and certainly wouldn’t help in his recovery. He nodded once, tersely, and she glanced back at the guards at the door.

“Is it because of the guards that you won’t sleep?” She asked as she took his blood pressure. His brow twitched, but he didn’t look away from her face.

“If I said yes, would you take them away?” He asked her. She looked up from her work to meet his eye and tried to figure out if he was making a joke.

Either way she laughed, shook her head, and said, “I think we would both love that, but no, unfortunately not.”

His blood pressure was low, but according to his chart improving. It would probably help if he slept. She met his gaze, he was still watching her. “Your blood pressure is low.” She told him, “You should sleep.”

“I should sleep?” He echoed, his brow rose like he was talking down to a child, “Close my eyes, and dream?” He looked almost crazed, she thought. She wasn’t sure if that was the lack of sleep, the time he spent in prison, or maybe it was just who he was. Either way, she didn’t move - it was always better not to react when a patient became angry. “Let the medication take effect, while the rest of you skirt around me like an animal in cage–”

“Sir–” She interjected, but he spoke over her.

“While men with guns fantasize about the possibility of turning those very guns on me while I sleep and while I continue to be denied visitors that I would typically be allowed to see simply because I am unwell–” She sighed and made to move away as he worked himself up, but he grabbed her arm. She met his eyes again “–Don’t pretend to be concerned for my health, nurse,” He spat, “Shut your mouth, treat me, and keep your inane thoughts to yourself, lest I lose my temper.”

“Hey!” A guard from the door called, took a step into the room. Hermione held out a hand to stop him, “Miss–”

“Please let me do my job!” She said, turning to hold a hand out more firmly against the guard at the door. He hesitated, shifted his weight on his feet. “Return to your post, please.”

The guard very pointedly looked at the place where Mr. Riddle’s hand was on her arm. Hermione looked at that same hand, then back at the guard, and she hoped she was communicating every ounce of annoyance she felt in that stare.

The guard returned to his post.

Hermione’s gently pried Tom Riddle’s fingers from her arm. “It was merely a suggestion,” She said and met his eyes with a smile, “Stay awake if you wish.”

He was stable, so she turned to leave the room. The guard stopped her at the door. “Hey, uh–” He said, glancing into the room and back at her, “Could I get a sandwich?”

She looked him up and down.

“It’s just, we’ve been here all day, I’m pretty hungry.”

“No,” She snapped, “We don’t give sandwiches to the guards, they’re for the patients.”

“Well, he’s not going to eat it.” He said, gesturing toward Room 119 with his head. Hermione, taken aback, glanced into the room and saw Mr. Riddle’s eyes fixed on her before she looks back at the guard.

“Don’t ask me again,” She said, and walked away.

–

That night, she had Mr. Riddle with the temper and the armed guards, Mrs. Sprout with the lovely disposition recovering from a severe allergic reaction, and Mr. Crouch the drug seeker in the hospital for a broken leg who wouldn’t stop screaming for opiates, and Mr. Riddle’s stupid fucking guard who kept asking her for sandwiches.

It was a long night.

“What is he in for, anyway?” Padma asked, looking toward Hermione for an answer. She didn’t have to specify who - obviously she meant the one with the guards. Hermione shrugged - she really didn’t know.

“Like everything.” Neville said, pouring himself a coffee while Padma patiently awaited her cup. “He’s in jail for life for everything from selling weed to killing people and chopping them up.”

“No way,” Padma said.

“Yes way,” Neville took a sip from his coffee and shrugged, “You heard about him - he went by Voldemort.”

Padma gasped, turned and faced Hermione with wide eyes and a wide-open mouth, “Hermione, you’re treating Voldemort,”

“I’m treating a very irritable prison patient” Hermione corrected, “And not for the first time.”

“He was all over the news last year!” Padma said, clearly distressed, “He’s crazy - and I heard he didn’t piss for a week to be sent here, this is probably all his plan or–”

“Padma, drop it.” Hermione snapped. “There are two guards outside his room, a guard at the lifts, a guard at each stairwell and at the front entrance of the hospital. Mr. Riddle is in a hospital bed recovering from sepsis.” She stood up, “I suggest we all stop panicking and help him to recover, like it’s our job to do.”

She left the break room and glanced toward Room 119 and saw only one guard.

“Excuse me!” She called, hurrying toward the singular guard, “Excuse me,” She said again, peeking into the room. Mr. Riddle was still awake, watching her as she appeared in the doorway. She looked at the guard, “Where the hell is the other one?”

“Miss, please calm down.” The guard said.

“Where is he?” She asked again, “Where has he gone - doesn’t he have a job to do?”

“He stepped away for a moment.”

“Stepped away where?” She demanded.

“Calm down, nurse,” A voice said, and she turned her head to see the guard approaching with a sandwich in his hand.

“Where did you get that?” She asked quietly, a familiar feeling of annoyance mixed with rage in her chest, the kind that only comes after a long night of work on very little sleep.

“The vending machine downstairs.” He said, shrugging. He started to open the package, but Hermione snatched it out of his hands.

“This nurse has a name,” She said, “It’s Hermione Granger, and I expect you to use it. And no one,” She lifted the sandwich to eye level, right in his face, “Is going to be eating any sandwiches here except for Mr. Riddle, as he is the patient. The rest of us will do our jobs and eat when we’re done.”

The guard laughed, “Okay, okay, just give me back the–” He reached for it and she snatched it away. His smile fell off his face.

She marched into the room, tearing open the package and thrusting it toward Mr. Riddle in his bed.

“He doesn’t want it!” The Guard protested.

“Yes he does,” Hermione snapped, and turned back toward Mr. Riddle in the bed, who was staring oddly at her. “Don’t you, Mr Riddle?”

He just stared at her. She thought maybe he would have another temper tantrum and start yelling. “Take it,” She encouraged gently, “Please.”

To her surprise, he did. He took the sandwich and took a bite, watching her all the while.

She smiled.

“There,” She said, turning back toward the guard, “Don’t leave your post again or I will inform your superior.”

She left the room, grateful that Mr. Riddle didn’t have another one of his outbursts this time.

Her shift was nearly over anyway.

–

When she returned home, she laid down in Rose’s bed minutes before she was meant to wake.

“Mummy?” Rose murmured.

“Good morning,” Hermione whispered.

“I dreamed you were a kangaroo.” Rose said. Hermione laughed.

“Were you a Joey?” Hermioned asked.

“No,” She said, “I’m a Rose.”

Hermione laughed again, “A Joey is a baby kangaroo,” She explained.

“Oh,” Rose said, and then, “Can we have cheerios?”

Hermione loved these moments more than anything.

She watched Rose over bowls of Cheerios again. She would gladly spend every morning, every moment like this. She thought of the loneliness she felt when she first found out she was pregnant, the boundless love she felt when she held her in her arms for the first time, the feeling in her chest like she was going to explode with happiness when the nurse handed over her baby, wrapped in a white blanket.

She dreamed of a life where she could have this always, no interruptions.

–

She returned to work the next night.

“Why the hell do I have Riddle again?” She asked when she looked at the assignments for the night. Lavender was there, the tail end of her shift, and she raised her eyebrows and looked away. “What?” Hermione pressed.

Minerve spoke up, “He asked for you.”

“He what?” Hermione balked.

“Fucking screamed about it,” Lavender muttered, “I tried to bring him something to help him sleep and he slapped it out of my hand and said he wouldn’t take anything from the hand of a whore.”

“He said what?”

“He’s crazy,” Lavender said, “Fucking crazy, good luck Hermione, you’ll need it.”

And she left like that, clearly furious. Hermione looked to Minerva, but Minerva said nothing, simply raised her eyebrows in the way she always did and left to start her rounds.

The guards outside the room were different than the night before. They nodded to her as she entered. Mr Riddle watched her, looking more tired than ever.

“Miss Granger,” He greeted.

“Mr. Riddle,” Hermione replied, smiling, “I heard you were asking for me.”

“You’re my favorite nurse.” He said.

“Already?” Hermione asked, “Well, it sounds like you aren’t giving anyone else much of a chance.”

“I liked seeing you with McLaggen yesterday.” He said. Hermione wasn’t sure what he meant, and that must have shown on her face, because he said, “The guard.”

“Ah,” She nodded, and added, “You know, this version of you doesn’t exactly match up with the man who apparently slapped medication out of a nurse’s hand and called her a whore.”

“That nurse,” Riddle said as Hermione read over his chart and set about checking his vitals, “goes between speaking to me like I’m a child, and speaking to me like I’m a war criminal.”

“Sometimes you act like both,” Hermione said.

Mr. Riddle snapped his eyes to meet hers, and it took that for her to realize he finally hadn’t been staring at her. But he was now. Hermione blinked, and then realized what she just said.

“I hope you won’t start slapping me and calling me a whore.” She said, a poor attempt at a joke.

He smiled then, and it struck her that despite the dark circles around his bloodshot eyes, despite his pale skin and gaunt cheeks he really was sinfully handsome. “You wouldn’t like that?” He asked.

“No,” Hermione said firmly, and trying to change the subject she asked, “Are you hungry?”

“I am,” He said, but before she could be too pleased by his cooperation, he continued, “But first I have a question.”

“Yes?” She prompted.

“How old are you?” He asked.

She smiled. Such a random question, such a strangely serene patient. “I’m 27.”

“You look older,” He said, and she couldn’t help but breathe out a short laugh. “I don’t mean any offense,” He continued, “I mean that you don’t hold yourself like most people your age.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.”

“The way you look. Like someone who has a large amount of responsibility and wisdom. A teacher, a scholar,” Hermione was taking her gloves off when he said, “Or a mother.”

She paused. She watched him for a long moment in silence. The guards stood silently outside the door.

“I apologize,” Mr. Riddle said, “I am only trying to make conversation.

“Are you a father?” She asked him, and he laughed. Twice she’d seen him smile now.

“No,” He said, “I never had time.”

She thought about what Padma and Neville said in the breakroom, thought about the armed guards at every exit. She wondered why he was asking her these questions, why he was here, why he had forced himself to become ill enough to end up in the hospital, she wondered…

“I have a daughter.” She admitted. Because here he was a man, receiving treatment, and she refused to treat him like an animal.

“Does she look like you?” He asked her, “Or her father?”

She smiled, a bit tightly, and didn’t answer.

He did a funny thing then - hie eyes narrowed just a bit, he tilted his head, and his mouth twisted in what wasn’t quite a smile but couldn’t be defined as anything else.

“I’ll get you something to eat.” Hermione said, “Do you want something to help you sleep?”

“Not yet,” He said, “I don’t want to sleep while you’re here.”

Her stomach twisted at that, and she a strange, nervous feeling made her hands twitch, as if there was something humming just underneath her skin.

“I’ll bring you some food.” She said.

“Thank you, Hermione.” He said.

The guards watched her as she left the room.

–

He was the easiest patient she ever had.

He let her run his IV, administer the antibiotics, check his vitals, all without any complaints, just a few odd questions. He didn’t ask about her daughter again, perhaps because he noted that she became uncomfortable when he did. Instead, he asked what her parents did for a living, he asked where she was from, he asked irrelevant things like her favorite flower and how she took her tea.

He was much chattier than she expected him to be.

“Miss Granger,” Minerva said in the break room, using her surname as if she was a patient. She always did that. “How has Mr. Riddle been?”

“Fine, actually.” Hermione said. “The guards are more difficult than he is, although the ones tonight aren’t so bad. They’re quiet.”

Minerva raised a single eyebrow and said nothing else.

Hermione gave Tom Riddle a sleeping pill at the end of her shift, and he took it with a smile.

–

“Do you have to go?” Rose asked.

It was 7:00pm. The babysitter had just arrived and Hermione was dressed in her scrubs ready to go to work for the third night in a row and Rose was crying. Hermione brushed her daughter’s hair out of her face and felt her heart wrench.

“I’m sorry, darling,” She said, “I’ll be back in the morning, just like always.”

“But I want you to read me a story,” Rose sniffled, snot running out of her nose. She wiped at it messily with the back of her hand. “I want you to read me a bedtime story.”

“I’ll read you a story in the morning, I promise.” Hermione said, “I’ll come back home, just like always, in the morning. When you wake up I’ll be right there next to you.”

She never once wished that Rose’s father was around - he didn’t even know he had a child, and Hermione would keep it that way - but in moments like this, she always wished she wasn’t alone. Maybe it would be easier that way.

Rose wouldn’t stop crying. Hermione had to shut the door on her crying and begging her mother not to leave.

–

“Again?” Hermione snapped as soon as she saw the assignments for the night. “Again? Seriously?”

“Stop complaining,” Lavender snapped, “Everyone knows he’s an angel with you.”

“Why are you still here?” Hermione snapped back, and Lavender glowered back at her.

“I’m just leaving,” She said, “He has given me hell ever since he woke up, so good fucking luck.”

She watched Lavender storm out, but the only thing she really took from that conversation was that he finally got some rest. She looked at Room 119, saw the guards outside the door. McLaggen, the annoying one, he still wasn’t there - it was the same guards from the night before.

She started toward the room, and the guards watched her closely as they always did. They nodded to her as she entered the room.

And she stopped short.

A tall, blonde man was sat by Mr. Riddle’s bed. He had one of Riddle’s hands clasped between his, and looked as if he was saying something quite passionately before Hermione interrupted.

Visitors weren’t allowed on the night shift.

Tom Riddle wasn’t meant to have visitors at all.

“What the hell is this?” Hermione asked, quietly, let the low tone of her voice fill the room that was silent except for the steady beating of Mr. Riddle’s heart monitor.

Tom Riddle blinked at her, and said nothing.

“No visitors.” She said firmly, and turned toward the guards, “Why the hell does he have a visitor?”

The guards looked at each other, and then her, and said nothing.

She turned toward the blonde man, feeling as if she was in a dream or on a TV show, something that couldn’t be real life, “Get out.” She snapped, “No visitors - what part of no visitors do you not understand? Who let you in here?”

“Nurse,” The blonde man snapped, holding up a finger as if to say ‘wait, one second, “Give us a moment.”

“No, I will not give you a moment.” Hermione snapped, “No visitors. Period. You need to leave.” She turned to the guards, “Excuse me?” She threw up her hands, hoping they would soon understand the ridiculousness of the situation. “Get him out.”

The guards walked in, finally, and said, “Sir, it’s time to leave.”

“No, it is not time to leave.” The blonde man snapped. He must come from money, Hermione thought, that was the only thing that would explain his tone. “We are having a private conversation, so if you don’t mind–”

“Abraxas,” Mr. Riddle interjected. “Do as Hermione asks.”

First, the blonde man - Abraxas - screwed up his face and looked at Mr. Riddle like he thought he was crazy. Then he looked at Hermione, and back at Tom. His expression changed, flattened out, like he suddenly understood something, then he turned his eyes back to Hermione and stared.

He just stared and stared, his expression unreadable, in a way that made Hermione acutely uncomfortable.

“Goodbye, sir,” She said, then turned to the guards and said, “Could you both do your job, please?”

“No need,” Abraxas said, his tone quieter, less snobby, less snippy. “I’ll see myself out.”

He reached down and clasped Mr. Riddle’s hand once more, but said nothing. Then he left.

Hermione shut her eyes and took a deep breath, tried to shut the anger away. She felt on edge tonight, it started with the way she left her daughter and was only made worse with all this bullshit. She turned on the guards again, who were returning to their post.

“No visitors.” She snapped, “At all.”

One of the guards nodded tersely. Neither said anything.

She turned back to Mr. Riddle, who was watching her patiently from his bed.

She shouldn’t mention it to him. She knew he could get nasty, she shouldn’t try his temper, she should try to have a nice night at work, but she couldn’t help herself. “You know you aren’t allowed visitors.” She said.

“I know.” He agreed, “I apologize. He always visited me in custody - it is a wasted effort to try and explain to him that anything should be different here.”

“Seems its a wasted effort to explain anything to him at all.” Hermione snarked, pulling on her rubber gloves. Mr. Riddle chuckled.

“You aren’t wrong,” He agreed, and watched her very closely as she approached the bed, “You seem agitated.”

“How are you feeling?” She asked, ignoring his observation.

“I am steadily improving,” He said, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing just fine,” She said, moving to take his blood pressure. He caught her arm, far more gentle than the last time he touched her.

“Hermione,” He said her name quietly, reverently, it made her stop in her tracks for a moment. “I can tell that you aren’t.”

She met his eyes then. She had no desire to entertain whatever delusions he was experiencing, whatever it was he thought was going on here. She wanted to get on with her job and return home to her daughter and let him be dragged back to prison.

“I am frustrated that the patients of this hospital are incapable of following basic instructions, and concerned about how incapable the guards outside your room seem to be at doing their job.” She said, “I would like to check your vitals, and then go about my job. I have patients other than you, Mr. Riddle.”

His jaw clenched. He let go of her arm.

She went about her business, and he let her. No questions, no comments, no interruptions. It felt strange, charged, she found that she preferred it when he asked her odd questions.

Abruptly, she felt guilty. Not because she felt like Mr. Riddle didn’t deserve to be told off, because she believed that he did. But it was her job to be his nurse, not anything else, and she had no business telling him off when he was being nothing but polite. She always hated the idea of someone being treated like a burden, or an animal, or anything other than a person in need of human interaction, and who was she to tell off the patient when it was the guards and the nursing staff who allowed it to happen in the first place?

“My daughter,” She said after a long stretch of silence, “She was crying when I left. I hate to leave her like that.”

“It must be difficult,” He said, not missing a beat, as if he was ready for her to break the silence. “Raising her on your own.”

“Yes,” She agreed, “It is. I wish I could be with her all the time.”

“You are a good mother.” He told her.

She stopped her work, raised her head to meet his eyes again. He was always staring at her so intensely, in a way that made her hair stand on end.

She couldn’t help herself when she asked him, “Why do you have armed guards all throughout the hospital guarding you?”

He smiled, “Because I’m a prisoner.” He told her.

“I can’t imagine you committing a crime so terrible you need to be brought in by six guards.” She admitted.

He smiled, and said nothing else.

And something about the way he looked away from her then, looked toward the guards, still smiling, like something about this whole situation was deeply amusing that made her think; it truly wasn’t so far fetched.

And remember the way he acted to people other than herself, remembering the way he somehow had a visitor with the permission of the guards and the nursing staff, she wondered why she had thought it was far-fetched, even for a minute.

She needed some air.

“Are you hungry?” She asked.

“Yes,” He answered, “But not yet.”

A strange answer, but Hermione just nodded and left the room.

The guards, as always, watched her as she left.

–

Hermione researched Voldemort on her break.

Neville wasn’t wrong, he was in prison for life. He was found guilty on counts of Assault, kidnapping, theft, robbery, murder, and multiple drug charges. He was the kingpin for the Death Eaters, which as Hermione understood from the news she read, was an organized crime unit that participated in predominantly drug and arms trading.

If the hospital was an escape plan, as was the original concern, she wondered how someone like him could take so long to carry out his plan. She wondered why he was still there, sitting in his hospital room surrounded by prison guards, sitting patiently, as if he didn’t have any plan but to get well again.

She called the babysitter to check on Rose. She was asleep in her bed.

Hermione took a deep breath and returned to work.

–

“You don’t work tomorrow night.” Mr. Riddle said when she was checking on him after her break.

“No, I’m not.” Hermione said, “Did you ask someone if I was?”

“Yes,” He admitted, “You’re my favorite nurse.”

Hermione smiled. “Try not to call any other nurses whores and you should be just fine.”

“I can’t help it,” He said, “It does make me angry when I have a nurse who isn’t you.”

“That’s rather childish, don’t you think?”

“You know, we’ve met before.” He admitted, and that abruptly caught Hermione’s attention.

“What do you mean?” She asked, quietly, as if they were telling secrets.

He lowered his voice to match her tone, “Once, you looked after a gunshot wound for one of my friends,” Hermione furrowed her brow, shaking her head, she was sure she would remember meeting him. “Before that, a colleague who nearly lost their leg,”

“Mr. Riddle–”

“But that wasn’t the first time.” He continued. His gaze was decidedly intense now. Hermione felt helplessly caught up in it. “The first time, I came to the hospital on business.” He reached out, wrapped his fingers around her wrist, “You were a patient, and I was in the wrong room.”

She didn’t know what he meant. She didn’t remember.

“I held your daughter in my arms,” Hermione felt something heavy settle in her chest, something cold, “You were half asleep. You asked me to hand her to you, you didn’t know who I was. I realized I was in the wrong room but I couldn’t bear to leave.”

“Why were you there?” She asked, her voice was shaking slightly, try as she may to conceal it.

“I was waiting for someone,” He said.

“To threaten them with their baby in your arms?” She guessed. He had that strange expression again, his eyes slightly narrowed, his head tilted, and she knew she was right. “What are you doing here, Mr. Riddle?”

“Right now,” He answered, his voice soft, “I’m looking at you, wondering how many more times we should cross paths before I finally begin paying attention.”

She moved away, feeling unsettled, afraid. She turned, and the guards were stood at the doorway as if nothing was happening at all.

“Mr. Riddle, are you hungry?” She asked.

“Yes,” He answered, “But I don’t want hospital food.”

“I’m afraid thats all I can offer you,” She said, “I’ll let you get some rest.”

She left him like that. She didn’t check him again for the remainder of her shift, and then she left.

She went home, and made good on her promise to Rose to read her a story in the morning.

–

Rose was coloring at the table while the TV was on that morning. Hermione stayed awake despite the long night shift before to have more time with her daughter.

No matter how many channels she switched through they all had the same message.

Voldemort escaped from Hogwarts Medical Centre at 8:22am.

Police had yet to make a statement.

No one knew where he was.

“Mummy,” Rose called, looking up from her coloring book, “Can we bake muffins today?”

Hermione tried to shake the uneasy feeling that had settled deep in her gut. She smiled at her daughter, and thought of the nurse that had so gently handle her daughter over to her that first night. The man who wasn’t really a nurse at all.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Hermione said, and she smiled.

She switched off the TV.

#bubblesbeemma #slightly inspired by a story someone told me abotu a patient they had who was a millianair murderer who held his pee for days #so he would be brought to the hospital #and they thought it was an escape ttempt #and i found it really funny #anyway also i wante dto write something #IM SORRY ITS NOT SURGEONS AT ALL #BUT ITS STILL A HOSPITAL AU #ilu hope u like it #tomione #i didnt proofread because thats my brand #i love typos #meow writes

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mordoriscalling · 4 years ago

Text

Life (of) Surprise (4/6)

Jaskier lies to his family about being engaged to Geralt for the second time… and there are way too many surprises involved.

Part 4 of the Singer and the Sailor AU that no one asked for but I wrote anyway (again). The chapter count went up again because I just can’t stop writing this story lmao.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

IV - A Surprise Discovery

Geralt is certain that a stag do shouldn’t involve this much crying.

The evening started innocently enough. They have had a room rented at a fancy club and they’re drinking, talking and playing cards. Geralt would rather do this at home but Lambert and Eskel told him not to be so “tragically boring”, hence the current arrangement.

Geralt’s been spending the day with “the guys”: Eskel, Lambert, Aiden, Vesemir, as well as his soon-to-be brother-in-law Silvio and not-quite soon-to-be brother-in-law Nasir. Jaskier, on the other hand, is away partying with “the girls”: Rozalia, Amelia, Triss, Essi and Yennefer.

Geralt hasn’t heard from Jaskier in a few hours, so he assumes his soon-to-be husband (only two months left to the wedding, and isn’t that a thought) is enjoying himself. Geralt, for his part, is having fun too; the stag do isn’t a disaster at all.

Then, it gets better.

Because Eskel is crying.

They were talking about Essi, commenting on what a lovely person she is. Although she’s not exactly Geralt’s type (he’s into people who are more... feisty), he still agrees that she’s a great woman – loving, warm, intelligent and beautiful inside out. Vesemir commented that there had to be many people mourning the fact that she was taken.

Eskel, upon hearing this, started weeping.

“Should we tell him?” Aiden, sitting beside Geralt, murmurs to Lambert.

“Nah,” Lambert replies gleefully.

They watch as Eskel sheds tears, mumbling about how much he’s in love with Essi but he wouldn’t dare to ruin her current relationship because she deserves happiness and –

To be fair, they have drunk a lot at this point.

Silvio and Nasir are clearly holding back their laughter. Lambert doesn’t even bother and guffaws freely, to which Eskel pays no mind, so lost he is in his despair. Aiden hides his face in the crook of Lambert’s neck, his shoulders shaking.

Vesemir seems more tired and sick of their shit than usual, though sparks of amusement dance in his eyes.

“I wasn’t aware this relationship makes you cry,” he tells Eskel gruffly, playing along.

“It does!” Eskel whines, “I should be her boyfriend.”

Vesemir’s lips tremor but he manages to keep his cool as he asks, “And what’s her boyfriend’s name?”

Eskel opens his mouth to respond but he says nothing. His brow creases in thought – it’s visible how the wheels are turning in his head – and then the moment comes when something clicks in his brain.

“Wait,” he says, understanding slowly dawning in his face.

At this, everyone at the table collectively loses it. Geralt is laughing so hard he’s slapping his thigh. Silvio and Nasir are in convulsions. Lambert and Aiden are leaning against each other, wheezing. Vesemir has to wipe the tears out of his eyes.

Eskel is too happy at the discovery to even notice the amusement at his expense. “I am her boyfriend!” he exclaims with wonder. Letting out a joyful chuckle, he repeats, “I’m her boyfriend!” He reaches for the bottle of vodka on the table. “We should drink to this!”

At the same time, Vesemir answers, “No.” and Aiden replies, “Yes!”

Vesemir plucks the bottle from Eskel’s hands and says, “You’ve had enough for now, pup.”

Lambert starts arguing and Geralt rolls his eyes. He then proceeds to drag his older brother to the side and force a lot of water and some food into him. While he does this baby-sitting, the phone in his pocket rings. As Geralt pulls it out, he’s surprised to find Jaskier’s name displayed on the screen. Slightly worried, he picks up.

“Hey, my loveliest sailor,” Jaskier slurs, his voice unsteady and watery. “Can I –” A sniff. “Can I come?”

Geralt frowns, bemused. “Shouldn’t we spent this night apart?”

“Fuck that,” Jaskier grumbles, “I miss you.”

“You haven’t seen me in five hours.”

“So?” Jaskier asks. “I just... want to see you. Please?”

Jaskier sounds downright miserable. Geralt has nearly come to terms with the fact that he may never master the art of telling Jaskier no but he's not fully resigned to his fate yet.

“Okay,” he answers.

“Are sure, darling? I won’t come if you don’t want to, you know,” Jaskier babbles nervously, “I don’t want to make you do anything you–”

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighs, “it’s fine, come here and bring the rest.”

Ever since their argument three months ago, Jaskier takes extreme care not to do anything without Geralt’s knowledge and consent. He keeps asking about every little idea, fretting and worrying whether he’s not overstepping. Most days, that’s the reassurance Geralt needs to keep believing in Jaskier's words. It does get tiring sometimes, though.

“All right.” Jaskier’s voice goes from resonating from the darkest depths of sadness to cheerful as the sun on a spring day in the span of those two words. “We’ll be there soon, my dearest.”

Geralt hums and hangs up.

After fifteen minutes more of trying to turn Eskel into a more or less functioning human being, Geralt witnesses the other stag do party members arrive. Jaskier opens the door to the room with a bang, his arms spread wide and a grin on his face.

“Geralt!” he exclaims and walks towards him with a prominent stagger in his step.

Before Geralt knows it, he has his arms full of drunk Jaskier. His fiancé peppers kisses all over his face and mumbles something nonsensical while Geralt holds him up, a smile tugging at his lips under all the loving attention.

In the corner of his eye, he can see the rest greeting each other, apart from Yennefer and Triss, who are watching him and Jaskier with a judgemental and an amused look respectively.

“Why are you here?” he asks Yen as Jaskier finally stops kissing him and embraces him instead.

“He was crying about how much he loves you,” she replies with an eye roll.

Triss snickers. “He was telling everyone about it, and I mean it. He wanted everyone in the club to know.”

Geralt stifles a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. Yennefer and Triss laugh. Jaskier raises his head and blinks up at him owlishly.

“Something wrong, my gorgeous sailor?” he asks.

Geralt really bemoans the fact that even a single look from Jaskier can affect him considerably.

“No, siren,” he sighs, “We should join the rest.”

They ask the staff to bring another table and more chairs, and soon, everyone is sitting comfortably, talking, playing and drinking. Everyone except Essi when it comes to the last part, at least; Geralt quickly notices that she doesn’t touch any alcohol. She claims that she simply doesn’t feel like drinking but Eskel, who sits beside her, starts fretting, concerned that she’s ill.

“I’m fine,” she assures him.

“You sure?” he asks, “You haven’t been feeling well recently. Maybe you should see a doctor?”

Geralt’s the only one watching the exchange, as everybody else is occupied with the ongoing conversation about the rules of Monopoly. He sees hesitation in Essi’s face. She bits her lip, seemingly considering something for a moment, but then looks up at Eskel and smiles. “I think I should,” she replies, “seeing that I’m pregnant.”

Geralt freezes in shock. Eskel’s brain visibly short-circuits.

“The fuck. But we –” he stammers out, “Why, I mean, how –”

“I don’t know,” Essi answers, her eyes wide and apprehensive, “I really have no idea.”

Eskel nods slowly, his expression still absolutely flabbergastered. “Fuck,” he says, with much feeling.

Essi looks at him closely, uncertainty colouring her lovely face. “I know this very unexpected and you never wanted a family but perhaps we can... talk about it? We don’t have to keep it but I –”

Eskel seems to finally snap out of his shocked state. “Essi, no,” he says quietly, taking her face in his hands, “I never let myself have a family, but now that the baby is here... Holy fuck,” he breathes out, one of his palms moving to touch her abdomen. “There’s a baby here?” he asks, his voice cracking. She nods with a watery smile, and he takes her into his arms. His whole frame is shaking now, and there’re tears in his eyes. “A baby,” he chokes out. His tear fall but his whole face is alight with joy.

Suddenly, Geralt’s throat is tight. He knows that Eskel never considered himself a father material because of all the issues he’s been battling since his childhood, just like Geralt and Lambert. Although he was quite a ladies man in his youth, he never allowed any relationship to get serious. Years passed like this, and Eskel’s now in his early forties, which is rather late to become a dad. Essi is six years younger than him, so it’s not early for parenthood for her either.

Yet, they both seem so happy now, and Geralt can’t get enough of seeing his brother like this, smiling and crying as he holds Essi and kisses her.

The rest of the table finally catches on that there’s something important happening. Then, the news is out, which brings their celebration to new heights. Jaskier is so happy and satisfied with himself that Geralt suspects his chest may soon burst from how much Jaskier puffs up with pride.

“See?” Jaskier tells Lambert, “I’m a better matchmaker than you!”

“I made a marriage happen!” Lambert replies.

“I made a baby happen! Beat that!”

Lambert scoffs, the picture of unimpressed. “Maybe you and Geralt are gonna have kids too.”

“We’ve already got two,” Geralt answers without thinking.

Jaskier lets out a shocked gasp, staring at him in disbelief, and Geralt slowly understands what he said.

It’s not that it’s not untrue – they do have two children under their care. The thing is that neither Ciri nor Dara is very likely to call Jaskier their dad. Technically speaking, Jaskier will soon become Ciri’s step-father, but Ciri sees him more as Geralt’s partner. In Dara’s eyes, Jaskier is a supportive, parental figure, but it'd be foolish to think that the boy could ever consider himself Jaskier’s child. Geralt knows that Jaskier realises how silly that wish is but he still seems to hope for it, deep, deep down.

“Geralt–” he says, tears welling up in his eyes.

For a stag do – even two of them at once – it’s too much crying involved.

***

“Shoes off, Geralt, honestly,” Jaskier complains, “Are you doing this on purpose every time?”

Geralt only grunts. His head is spinning, too much to be pleasant, and he doesn’t trust his mouth to form a dignified enough answer. Jaskier’s very drunk too, so he doesn’t comment on Geralt’s response, or lack thereof.

The two of them slowly make their way towards the bedroom. Jaskier’s house is rather large, though, and they’re many objects and corners they stumble into. The rucksack they’re causing makes them snicker but their amusement is cut short when walk by the living room – Ciri and Dara are there, sitting on the couch in front of the TV and observing the two of them with delight.

“What are you two doing up?” Jaskier slurs out, “It’s...” he looks at his hand, where a watch should be, but there isn’t. “It’s late.”

“We found an interesting show on TV,” Ciri replies innocently. Geralt doesn’t believe it for a minute.

“Well, sleep is important!” Jaskier exclaims, gesturing dramatically with the hand he doesn’t use to hold on to Geralt. “Go to bed!”

“Yes, Jaskier,” Dara answers.

“Young people like you should get a lot of sleep.”

“We know, Jaskier,” Ciri sighs.

Jaskier would go on about the significance of sleep for teenagers if he was allowed, so Geralt starts dragging him away. Before they disappear behind the corner, though, he turns back to Ciri and Dara, shooting them what he hopes is a withering look.

“Show’s over,” he growls out.

Ciri and Dara have the decency to look chastised.

Arriving in the bedroom successfully takes them a few more minutes. When they finally do, they go straight to the bed, not bothering to undress. Then, they’re kissing, messy and eager, but their bodies have a problem rising up to the challenge because of the copious amount of alcohol flowing through their veins. Jaskier breaks the kiss quickly anyway, saying that he’s about to be sick, and rushes to the bathroom.

After Geralt is left alone, he tries to process all the holy fucks of the day, primarily the reveal that Eskel is going to be a father and by extension, Geralt’s going to be an uncle. Then there’s the very fact that he marries Jaskier in two months. Geralt also has a memory of seeing Yennefer and Triss kissing during the party, and that is a lot to unpack as well.

The world is spinning as he lays in bed. He registers Jaskier returning and laying down beside him before he falls asleep.

It feels like no time passed at all when Geralt and Jaskier are waken up by noise. The loud thumping bores down into his skull, causing awful, throbbing pain. He sits up, groaning, and Jaskier does the same with a whimper.

Then, they hear Jaskier’s voice sing the first verses of Her Sweet Kiss and, suffice it to say, Geralt has had enough of that gods-damned fucking song and its techno remix especially.

“CIRILLA!” Geralt bellows.

“DARA!” Jaskier yells.

After a torturous minute, the music is turned off, but there’s no blessed silence. Instead, bright laughter reaches their ears. Geralt huffs, irritated, and checks the time on his phone. The fact that it’s one in the afternoon and that there’s a glass of water placed on his bedside table redeems Ciri and Dara slightly.

“Fucking hell,” Jaskier moans, messaging his temples, “I love my life.”

Strangely enough, there isn’t an ounce of sarcasm in Jaskier’s voice. Geralt turns to watch him closely, taking in his pale face, chapped lips and the grimace of pain twisting his features. “You do?” he asks.

Jaskier looks at him, the blue of his eyes as beautiful as always. “I do,” he answers softly, “My life is so much better with you in it.”

Warmth explodes in his chest and Geralt moves closer, kissing Jaskier on the mouth, the cheek, the nose, hoping to convey what he finds himself unable to say. Jaskier responds to the affection with a happy hum, angling his face so get more kisses. Geralt indulges him gladly, pecking him on his forehead, his brows, under his eyes, down his neck.

“So much better indeed,” Jaskier purrs.

Geralt chuckles. “That is thanks to Lambert.”

“Oh shut up.”

Jaskier’s grumble is so grumpy that Geralt can’t help but laugh. Jaskier carries on grouching about being better than Lambert, and it keeps making Geralt laugh.

He couldn’t be more glad that he’s stayed.

#myfic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #modern au #The Sailor and the Singer AU

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chaoticspacefam · 4 years ago

Text

2020 In Review: Wordcount Tag

I was tagged for this by @actualanxiousswampwitch , thank you! I’m not sure who’s already done or been tagged for this cause I am, once again, late to the party LOL but I shall (no pressure and sorry if you’ve already done it!) tag: @rainofaugustsith , @darth-bagel , @thatmmolesbian , @thelastenvoyyy and anybody else who wants to do this. Yes, I promise I mean you!

Words: 45,314

Published: 0 (I’m not counting the couple of Six Sentence tags I’ve gotten, they’re snippets of an unfinished piece & are included below instead :), or roleplay replies, cause that feels like cheating lol.) I actually wrote a lot more than I thought I had, this is a rough guesstimate as well, as my oneshot WIPs tend to be all over the place across something like 6 different documents, some of which have existed since 2018, so I had to guess at how far up to count from the end for some of them, but I think it’s a fair guesstimate XD I also have included lore/worldbuilding docs in this because that was a 3-month long Lockdown 1.0 Boredom/”Canon is a trash fire so I’m ignoring that and making up my own lore” passion project and I’m goddamn proud of how much I wrote for that. It’s the most I’ve written in one stretch (think I finished it over a span of 3 nights or so, once I’d done all the research and made all the notes ofc ^^)

Not Published: 45,314

The Breakdown:

swtor - 45,314

for creeping shadows (my main longfic/part one of the subterfugeverse series) - 1,553 - Aria, stop being difficult! *shakes fists* XD

oneshots - 16,223

lore/worldbuilding (for subterfugeverse naturally) - 23,001 (is this ALL tomato alien lore? pretty much, yes, yes it is :’D ~400 words is “the WIP reworked timeline to correlate my worldbuilding with the canon timeline that was released”, but 98% is just...me thinking way too much about Purebloods and how they deserved way better goddamn lore. I blame @fluffynexu ‘s amazing tomato worldbuilding posts, reading them when I went looking for “canon” lore one day for the rp is what got me started down that rabbithole (it’s awesome and if you haven’t already you should totally go check hers out too :DD), I had a “fuck you then canon I’ll do it myself too >:L” moment and once I started I couldn’t stop until I’d crapped out literally over 20k words on the subject *whispering* thank you LOL)

zephyrverse au bonus oneshots - 4,537 (stuff I wrote to fill in time gaps or “just cause I had a plot bunny”, relating to mine and k-christine’s zephyrverse au rp. None of these will likely be posted publicly, but they still deserve to be counted as words I wrote this year :’D

As you can see, most of my “muse” this year came from sporadic oneshots :’D The Ahaszaai twins also properly plot-bunnied their way into my brain in late 2019 and haven’t stopped making a nuisance of themselves the whole fucking year. Every time I tried to carry on with a chapter, one of the two of them would pop up like “Nooo write about ME! pay attention to ME!” - Yes, Ni’kasi, I will get to you this year, I promise XD

New Things I Tried:

Just Writing. Not worrying about whether “it wasn’t part of the next chapter” or “it comes from a part in the story that I’m nowhere near close to posting yet”. If I felt like writing something, or for a specific pairing/feeling/scene, whatever. I wrote until I ran outta muse juice. Yeah, it meant I didn’t technically “finish” anything this year BUT - the important thing is I wrote stuff. and that’s all that really matters, eh? :’D

Polyam ships! May not seem like a big deal but I spent a long time talking myself out of them because of internalised toxic monogamy and finally saying “you know what, fuck it! I can ship three or more people together and it can still be a perfectly wholesome, healthy and loving relationship and that’s okay” was a BIG thing for me this year.

Dialogue Scripts: which I didn’t count as wordcount because really it’s just word vomit of general tone/inflection and dialogue that I came up with right before falling asleep which I didn’t want to lose. Basically, if an exchange or a particularly punchy or moving line of dialogue popped into my brain but I wasn’t ready to write the whole scene that it fit into out, but didn’t want to forget the line(s). I wrote it out in movie script/script-style roleplay fashion e.g. Character’s Name: (emotion, hand gestures etc.) [Dialogue here] and so on. I know this is probably a well known trick of the trade, but I never took it seriously until this year. Seriously, do it. It’s great.

Favorite Thing I Wrote:

Hmmm, a snippet for Andronikos/Ni’kasi that I started this week which isn’t posted yet (saving it for this week’s Six Sentence Sunday so look out for it! :D) was pretty fun to work on, I love their dynamic and Kas is suprisingly fun to write for.

Also the Aria/Vano proposal scene that I posted a snippet for the week before last. I’m having great fun with that scene, and I really enjoy putting a non-serious spin on the classic “proposal scene” tropes. Can’t wait to finish it, though it may be a while before the full one goes up on AO3, as it depends whether it ends up fitting in as part of the mainfic or as an additional oneshot

And I have a D’leah/Kissai oneshot that I need to give another once-over before I finally yeet it onto AO3 and Tumblr for you guys to see :’D

Favorite Fic I Read:

@sleepswithvillains Eleanora/Quinn fic, Helplessly Hoping. I’m horribly behind on chapters and I gotta catch up and read the finale this week, but it’s been a helluva great ride and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the story! <3

Also The Invitation collab with @tishinada featuring Zas and Fiona had me squealing, I can’t wait to catch up on HH and see more of these two, they’re adorable ;-; @a-muirehen ‘s Relu/Merkara series of course! I’m a complete sucker for (friends to lovers to in Ariano’s case but yea pfpfpf) enemies to lovers ships and these two are just so good, I am on the edge of my seat every time we get a new snippet for them, ngl (grimace emoji) @darth-bagel ‘s Sylvas/Graz’zt and Sylvas/Liz/Rilfaen snippets which they’ve been spoiling me with on Discord @mercurypilgrim ‘s Ven’fir/Quinn AU oneshots, Cloudbank (Western was a particular favourite, but all are very good!) and of course @rainofaugustsith ‘s Lana/Viri updates are always fantastic, some personal favourites from this year were Almost There & Memory of Healing :3 (I totally still go back to read Commander & Advisor too sometimes, getting to see Viri be a little diabolical and messing with “MiNiSTeR LoRMaN!” was and still is my favourite thing XD)

If I’ve left you out I’m sorry!! These were the ones that stuck out in my memory, but I’ve loved everyone’s writing this year, it’s been great :3

Writing Goals:

to actually finish and post chapter 8 & 9 of Creeping Shadows. Then we’ll get to the meat and potatoes of the story and maybe Aria will stop being a brat and fighting me every time I try to stick to a semi-regular update schedule Get off my butt, finalise the name and get started on Ni’kasi’s part of the Subterfugeverse story. Maybe run the updates in-tandem with Creeping Shadows but idk if I want to wait till after CS is done before I start posting Kas’s side, or do them side-by-side yet, we’ll see ;) Keep writing! I know better than to pressure myself by setting a specific word count goal, that’s never worked well in the past

At least 2 chapters of each of the works mentioned above would be great though, more would be better! We’ll see how I go

Words of Thanks:

honestly, to everybody in the fandom I’ve met this year. Anybody that I follow, thank you for being there and engaging with me and/or posting amazing content for me to look at! I came over from deviantART where the SWTOR fandom is incredibly small and generally quite inactive and the contrast since moving over here has been incredibly uplifting. I very nearly cancelled Creeping Shadows and stopped posting fic for my SWTORverse altogether because I got next to no engagement on dA and it was very disheartening to the point where I felt I could enjoy the game and the rp partners I had, but the solo projects I’d put so much thought, time and love into already weren’t worth continuing. You guys took that spark and kept it going and I really don’t have enough words to say how grateful I am for that. Even if I haven’t published much this year, making posts on this tumblr, interacting with everyone and working on lore, plot points and so on for Subterfugeverse has kept me going through the Hellish Year of Nightmares that was 2020 <3

to the amazing new friends I’ve made in this past year, who have listened to me ramble about headcanons, character backstories, writing snippets (and rambled/sent some back), keep being awesome: @walk-ng-d-saster , @darth-bagel , @kyber-heart , @deepseacritter , @thedinalixlegacy to further friends and meme tag buddies, I get so excited every time I see a mention for a new meme or ask game in my inbox, so thank you!! : @mimabeann , @palepinkycat , @a-master-procrastinator , @raven-of-domain-kwaad , @actualanxiousswampwitch , @thatmmolesbian , @a-muirehen to my regular commentors/rebloggers/likers/askbox lurkers, I see every one of you and every time your users pop up I grin like a kid in a toy shop: @starlightjedi , @sparkles-and-rust , @wilvarin-chan , @sunsetofdoom , @ask-an-andalite , @thelastenvoyyy . @lyrishadow and more because Tumblr only goes so far back and I have the memory of Swiss Cheese. If you regularly comment, like, reblog, or anything, from me, know that I see you, and I love and appreciate you for it! <3

I couldn’t possibly remember to tag everyone and I promise if I missed you out it’s not because I hate you! Anxiety just sometimes be a bitch and I don’t wanna look like a clown calling someone a “friend” if I’m not explicitly sure we are, in fact, friends. I think you’re all awesome and I’m so glad to have moved over here and met you all <3

#long post #wordcount year review tag #elven's writing: stats #repost bc i goofed some links woops sorry everyone #^^;#will i eventually post any of this stuff? yes!#i will. i just...don't know *when* the time will be right for most of it hahaha #the only bits i won't post are the zephyrverse-specific oneshots cause i just don't feel like i want to #but everything else will (eventually) in some capacity be thrown into the void for all of you to read #shameless friend appreciation post #shameless mutual and follower appreciation post #<3 #swtor sort of

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aurora-australis-tumbles · 5 years ago

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Heey can you do 40 (exes) for phrack?

Oh Anonymous... this went in a direction I don’t think either of us expected. 😂Hope you enjoy it anyway and thank you for the prompt!

For the prompt, “exes meeting again after not speaking for years au”

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

There is a space, on the handlebar of Jack’s new bike, that is just wide enough, and just flat enough, to seat a person while it is in motion.

That is her spot.

Together they ride through the uncharted wilds of North Richmond, the jungles of Fitzroy, the shorelines of St. Kilda. And when he is with her, Jack feels like a true adventurer, a pirate of legend, an explorer of old.

(He isn’t sure who is the captain and who is the first mate, but he suspects they are trading roles with every voyage. He is surprisingly comfortable with this.)

She does a good job of holding on without impeding his view, but sometimes, on the really tight corners, he has to lean forward, his face precariously close to her breasts, so he can see where they’re going.

One those days he makes sure to thank Great Uncle Ted in his prayers.

Well, Uncle Ted and the ice cream man who wouldn’t take her IOU.

Jack had stepped in, offered to pay. She’d declined, told him she didn’t require assistance. He’d then suggested her could see her home, if she wanted, and one look at his bike had her accepting that proposal.

Six months later they spend all their spare time together.

They are an odd pair, from the outside. He’s relaxed, scholarly, funny, sweet. She’s skittish, shrewd, sarcastic, restless. He loves school and thinking about the future. She’s brilliant, but not studious, and can’t plan past the next hour. He’s respectful, she’s defiant. He laughs easily, and she doesn't, but when she does… oh when she does it is earned. He’s from a large, loving family who he speaks of often, but doesn’t even know if she has relations other than a cousin she mentions with a kind smile. He is an open book. She’s never even told him her surname.

But they share a wicked sense of humour, care about the same causes, are both explorers at heart.

They see each other.

His mates think her wild, but she’s not. What she really is is unconstrained, and the distinction may be lost on his friends but to Jack it is everything.

She is everything.

He thinks he might love her but he’s both too juvenile and too precocious to commit to the term. He doesn’t even know if he’s her only… friend. But he would gladly be her boyfriend, her proper boyfriend, if she’d let him.

Not that they’re always proper. He doesn’t lose his virginity to her, but he comes awfully close.

He is just working up the nerve to ask her to make it official when she tells him she is going away. She is only 16 but there are many more years of sadness in her eyes as she says it.

“Where?”

“Europe,” she tells him, but doesn’t elaborate.

He feels like he’s been sucker punched by an entire continent.

“Maybe I’ll see you there,” he manages through the hurt. “I’ve been thinking of enlisting.”

They meet one more time after that, and he gives her a gift. Something he’s been holding onto for a while.

“I can’t take this,” she tells him, knowing its value instinctively.

“You must,” he replies. “How else will you get away with it?”

“With what?”

“Everything.”

She laughs, truly laughs, and then she cries and he holds her and kisses her goodbye.

The poets make this part seem much more noble.

“Will you… do you think you’ll write? I’d like it very much if you did.” It is murmured into her hair, but she doesn’t answer. He knows she doesn’t make promises she can’t keep, but in this case...

“Just one then,” he negotiates. “When you arrive. So I know you’re safe and alright.”

“Jack… I’m not.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that so he just holds her tighter, and eventually she leaves.

His handlebars always feel empty after that.

The world has changed, though, and he feels duty bound to change with it.

He enlists, asking his parents to please pass along word if he receives any letters from Europe.

He doesn’t.

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

The years pass, eventful and mundane, and he never hears from her. Assumes he never will. So when he next lays eyes on her, two decades later and at a crime scene no less, it is a shock to all his senses.

He is trying to keep up as she spins her theories like spiderwebs around the room, but in the end he is just caught in them himself.

She plays the whole thing so coy he’s not even sure she knows who he is.

The idea hurts more than he thought it would.

Still, it would be understandable; Jack feels like several lifetimes have passed in the intervening years.

He eventually finds his footing though, manages to evict her from the room and avoid her as much as possible after that. Calls her Miss Fisher to maintain distance and propriety despite the fact that he once had his hand clumsily up her skirt in the middle of the Fitzroy Gardens.

And then the case is over and good thing too because he’s not sure his nerves can handle much more of this.

When she announces her new occupation he actually spits out his champagne.

He goes to see her in her hotel room that evening, not even caring if she remembers him or not.

She answers the door with a smile and welcomes him inside. As he’s removing his hat, she leans back against the door and crosses her arms.

“You know you used to throw pebbles against my window. I don’t know what to do with this knocking on the door nonsense.”

Oh. So she does remember.

He shrugs without turning to face her. “You’re staying on the top floor,” he reminds her. “And my arm is 20 years older.”

She laughs, easily he realizes with a twinge of something he can’t quite name, and asks him to remove his coat and have a seat.

He does, but keeps his coat on; some situations require armor.

She sits across from him and he gives her a nervous smile. “So…” he begins, uncertain how to actually begin.

“It’s been a while,” she says, saving him a little, and he barks out a laugh.

“Yes,” he agrees.

“It’s good to see you,” she says, and he can see she means it.

“It is. I’ve often… I wondered how you were. I’m glad you’re…” He huffs out a sigh, annoyed at his own tied tongue. He feels seventeen again and not in a good way. “You seem well,” he finally settles on.

“I am. As do you. A Senior Detective Inspector. Impressive.”

“Uh, yes. Yes. Thank you.”

“And useful.” She gives him a gleeful grin, and that look hasn’t changed since they were teenagers. “Looks like we’ll be working together.”

“Yes, about that.” Beguiling smile or not, this is his opening and he has something to say. “Have you thought this through, Phryne?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you don’t have the best track recording for sticking with things.”

“Excuse me?” She seems piqued and he rushes to continue.

“You’re… don’t get me wrong, I know it seems fun. And you always did like a lark. But crime — victims of crimes — they’re not just a distraction.”

She fixes him with a serious look. “And I would never treat them as such.”

“Oh come off it. You’re flighty. Which is fine. Charming even. But this line of work… this isn’t another book you’ll never finish or scarf you’ll never complete. I know you and — ”

“You do not.”

Now it is his turn to be affronted. “Excuse me?”

“You barely knew me at sixteen. You do not know me now. And I’ve really outgrown lectures from men on who I am and who I am not.”

She stands up and walks over to the door, opening it and making it clear he is no longer welcome in her residence. He nods and puts his hat back on. As he passes her he gives her one more long look and that’s when he really sees it. The change in her. The skittishness is gone, replaced with pure resolve.

He leaves, assuming, once more, he’s unlikely to see her again.

And then he gets a call from an irate local sergeant.

He tells himself her involvement is not the reason for his, and for a while he even believes it. He certainly has no plans to use her, except this kid is being so recalcitrant and has obviously been through the ringer and he remembers this one time back in Collingwood, when they came across a lost little boy and Phryne had been so gentle with him. She’d known exactly what to say to calm him and he figures what the hell, maybe she’s still got the magic touch.

What she actually has is a car she uses to kidnap the victim's daughter and one of his suspects.

But when he goes to welfare, and speaks on her behalf, it is with the memories of both that lost little boy and Jane’s smiling face in Phryne’s kitchen.

He gives up on avoiding her. It isn’t worth the effort or bromo-seltzer.

Her intervening years are revealed to him in bits and pieces, and he responds in kind. An ambulance driver and a digger. A pilot and a picketer. Still single and still a marriage.

When he sees her portrait, the first thing he comments on is her hair.

“You still had it long then.” He’d always liked it long.

“Mmmm. Sometimes I miss it.”

He looks up at her and offers a small smile. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think this suits you now.”

When he finds out about her sister, he’s devastated. So many puzzle pieces fall into place, so many odd moments from their time together then that make sense now.

He wishes she’d told him, of course, but he understands why she didn’t. All he can do is be here for her now.

And when she reaches for his hand at the grave, he is.

All in all, he is genuinely enjoying their time together. Thinks she is too. It gets a little more complicated after his divorce, but it’s mostly just innocent flirting. He remembers that from the early days of their first acquaintance and relishs it just as much this time around.

Until she goes too far. Withholds evidence, shields a murderer, lies to him. He’s had it and he tells her as much.

He semi-apologizes, admits he’s giving her up. Hopes she doesn’t cry.

She doesn’t.

“You’re not sorry, you’re a coward,” she accuses.

The words sting and he lashes out in kind. “Why, because I don’t let you get away with everything anymore?”

She glares at him. “I don’t need your protection, Jack. I’m not a child!”

“Well you could have fooled me. This is suddenly feeling very familiar.”

“Stop it. This isn’t the same at all.”

“Of course not; this time I’m the one leaving.”

“And ask yourself just why that is. This isn’t about a stocking or a car crash. You look at me and you see all the possibilities of your youth and you’re angry because you just had to confront losing them for a second time.”

It’s an astute observation, but not quite accurate. Doesn’t account for what he actually cares about losing. Doesn’t account for her.

“And what do you see, Miss Fisher? A safety net? Something to be taken for granted, a distraction until the next adventure without even a letter to let me know you’re alive.”

“Fuck off,” she spits out.

“Gladly.” He turns to leave, and she shouts at his still turned back.

“I never promised I’d write.” He pauses in the parlour doorway, but doesn’t turn around.

“You never promised anything, Phryne. That would have been too much like something real.”

He leaves, for the first time hoping he won’t see her again.

The case at the college is excruciating. They get through it, but it's a close thing, and the irony of it ending with them both on a bike is not lost on him.

But he finds he does not wish to never see her again after all.

They share an alcohol-fueled accord after it is over, negotiate the new terms of their fractured partnership.

She makes the suggestion after the third glass.

He agrees after the fourth.

He meets her on the airfield the next morning, and is ungenerously pleased to see she is just as hungover as him. They share some of Mr. Butler’s tonic in companionable silence and wait until they are both fighting fit.

And then they fly.

It is an experience unlike any Jack has had before. He finds he rather agrees with Mr. Hugo as they dip and swoop in the air; he feels the thread of the infinite and he loves it.

Eventually they land and Phryne grins. “So how did you like my handlebars, Jack?”

“I liked them very much, Miss Fisher. Very much indeed.”

He walks her back to her car, and she turns to face him. Takes a deep breath. “I did write,” she confesses and he is literally stunned silent at the revelation. “Heaps of letters. I just couldn’t bear to send them. You said you were enlisting and… I was afraid they’d be returned. And I found the thought unbearable. I decided it was better to live in hope.” She reaches into her pocket and hands him a small wrapped item.

A beaten up sheriff's badge.

He never thought he’d see that again either.

“It was real, Jack. It was. But so is this. It’s different and it’s new but it’s real. And we’re missing it.”

He looks at her. Really looks at her. Not the distant, foggy memory of his first maybe love, but the living, breathing, remarkable woman in front of him.

What memory could compare to that?

He returns the badge to its rightful owner and asks her a question.

“Miss Fisher… may I buy you an ice cream at the foreshore?”

“No,” she tells him for the second time in their acquaintance. He nods. Accepts her answer this time as he had the first. “But I’ll buy you one.”

He smiles and it feels lovely and odd in the sun. “It’s a date.”

It is.

The first of many.

So much has changed in 20 years. They have changed. But they get to know each other again, anew, and find that much has not.

They still share a wicked sense of humour and care deeply about justice.

They still see each other.

Jack’s virginity hasn’t been an issue in a long, long time, but eventually what he does give her is his heart, and when he does he knows she will protect it. (She still has the badge after all.)

And now he knows he loves her.

There is a space, on the corner of Jack’s desk, that is just wide enough, and just low enough, to seat a person while he is working.

That is her spot.

It always has been.

| Short Fic Ask |

#mfmm fanfic drabble #mfmm fanfic #ask meme #exes

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