#just a small room behind the museum where she occasionally spends the night | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years ago

Note

For Vampire Chris! What if he and Jake went to a museum and came across some of Tooley's paintings? And Chris has a panic attack! We would finally get some Jake comfort. And maybe Chris would reveal more horrible things that Tooley had done to him.

CW: Discussion of death, blood, vampire whumpee, caretaker and whumpee

The sun sets early in the winter, and it's the only reason they can make this work.

Chris is barely awake even so, sipping from a coffee cup Jake filled with the contents of one of his blood packs, hoping he doesn't trip and spill and lead to Jake having some very awkward, panicked explanations to make to anyone nearby.

He'd slept in the truck Jake borrowed from Nat most of the way over here, curled in the passenger seat. He looks for all the world like any high schooler who stayed up too late the night before, dragged out by his family, forced to go learn when all he wants is rest.

Chris is draped in a hooded sweatshirt pulled on over his head, hair mussed from sleeping in the closet in the little nest-bed he made for himself in there. It sticks out like stray from beneath the hood he's pulled up, coppery strands occasionally covering his eyes and making him shove them out of the way with a snort that has no right to be as adorable as it is, considering the monster who makes the sound.

Not a monster, no. Not really.

Or his monster, anyway, the same way his mother is his mother. Jake is starting to understand the little vampire - more than three times his own age - has chosen him for family now.

The sweater he wears is kind of a joke, actually. Jake bought it weeks ago from a website that puts the covers of books on clothes, and it's an old cover image from Dracula.

Jake thought it was funny, anyway. Nat was less amused. Chris only smiled and said something about being happy the hairy palms thing isn't true.

The air is chilly, and Jake shivers a little as they head in from the parking lot across a small sidewalk next to a park and toward the museum itself, but of course Chris doesn't even notice. He seems to be enjoying it, the way it blows around his hair as they make their way slowly up the steps and past the row of Grecian-style columns that mark the entrance.

Jake has to visit for one of his classes, an extra-credit something-or-other, and Chris had asked to go along with him.

Jake had been hesitant, but seeing the way the vampire's green eyes sparkle as he moves around in public like any other person, well... he feels like he made the right choice to bring him along now.

"Finish up your drink, you can't take anything in once we pay and get past the lobby," Jake says, and Chris nods, gulping the last of the blood as fast as he can as they push through wide double-doors. Jake tries not to imagine how it must feel, swallowing thick congealing cooled blood. Someone's life, someone's heartbeat, down your throat...

Really, is he that much different? Jake has eaten a dozen cows' worth of beef in his life.

Does Chris see them all as just livestock? He doesn't act like it, but then, there are people who treat pigs or cows like pets and not like food...

His stomach flips a little and he forces himself to look around, up at the chandelier at the high ceiling, the heavy wooden desk they have to walk to off to the side to get their tickets. To stop trying to understand if Chris is a sort of stray they've adopted, or if he's a higher-level predator living with prey.

Once Chris drops the cup into a trash can, Jake throwing a couple wadded-up tissues on top so no one can accidentally see the smear of red around the edge of the lid, they buy their tickets, and wind their way through and past the little velvet ropes that mark off the entrance.

The museum opens before them into a grand hall, with paintings the size of two-story buildings on either side, permanent installations in the museum. Commissioned for its opening, sometime back in the 70's.

Jake picks up a brochure so they know which way to go - LGBTQ+ Art in Pre-War America is the temporary exhibit he's here to see, traveling work that is usually housed in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.

"Oh, nice, it's on the first floor. Looks like you go through a couple of 'specialty' rooms, just showing off stuff from the in-house collection. Sounds cool, right?"

Chris, looking from side to side at the gigantic paintings that hang on the walls in the opening hall, hums softly, a tuneless constant sound. He doesn't answer Jake's question. He hums often, and Jake barely notices any longer, but there's something edged to it, now. As if just being around the paintings is making him nervous.

"Okay, little man, let's go over here." He touches Chris's arm, lightly, through the thick fabric of his sweater. The vampire looks over at him, smiling with his lips pressed together to hide his teeth from any potential prying eyes.

He follows easily, but he sticks closer to Jake than he normally does, and his eyes are constantly roving. They move through an exhibit of Pre-Colombian pottery first, on their way to the room in the back where the temporary showcase is.

Jake watches Chris's fingers twitch with the urge to touch, to learn by feeling the bumps and ridges in the ancient clay, and how he holds back as best he can. His urge to lift the clear protective plastic boxes right off the pottery so he can get at it is nearly physically painful.

Jake pretends not to see it when Chris's fingers trail along a column, settling for the white-painted rectangle the pottery is balanced on, taking in the rough texture smoothed by the matte paint.

"Did you ever meet anyone like you that was old enough to have made stuff like this?" Jake asks, stopping in front of a water jug in the shape of a man playing a flute with a dog at his feet. The dog wears a carved smile marked with disturbingly human-looking teeth. The paint it must have been covered in is worn by time, leaving the reddish-brown of the clay behind, with the faintest streaks of white still in the crevices.

"No," Chris replies, tilting his head, making direct eye contact with the statue in a way he never quite can do with any real person. Not comfortably, anyway. Jake has seen him force it and shudder afterwards, overwhelmed. When he'd asked about it, Chris had said he never liked looking at anyone's eyes, even before, when he was alive. It's too much, was all he would say. It's always too much. "None, um, none of us live that long."

"Why not?" They're alone in the room. It's the only reason Jake feels safe asking.

Chris's tongue runs over the sharpening bumps of his growing-in fangs, pressing against them, easing the itch and the ache of their return. After a second, he pulls a plastic bat on a cord from inside his sweater and puts the bat into his mouth, chewing on it idly, jaw working. "I, I, I don't know. That's just what what what my, my, my pack told me."

"I thought vampires lived in covens."

"No." Chris doesn't elaborate on this one. He can be weirdly secretive about how he lived before he came to Nat's, before he was pulled out of a basement, a living drug for a wealthy asshole.

Secretive, or just forgetting whatever wasn't essential.

He moves away to another pedestal, a shard broken off of a larger vessel, marked with a deep white and intense black angular design. He hums again, and Jake takes the hint and leaves him alone.

They spend several more minutes looking over the pottery before they head through a second room full of what must just be the favorite pieces of museum employees, as there doesn't seem to be much rhyme or reason, and each little card with the name of the piece and its maker has a paper next to it with a note on why each employee loves this piece in particular. Chris lingers around older things, a woven tapestry from medieval England, landscapes from the 19th century. He stares for a while at a painting called The Country Path by Joseph Poole Addy, a pale watercolor of winter trees with bare branches breaking the line of sky and a woman bundled in a coat carrying a basket down an equally colorless road.

Chris's humming getting louder, and he rocks a little, forward and back, his eyes moving again and again through the lines of the painting.

Jake wonders what it is about this one specifically that catches Chris like that, and when the vampire finally moves on he checks the employee's statement. Joseph Poole Addy, Irish painter in the 19th and 20th centuries, blah blah, something something countryside... Jake frowns, and glances over at Chris, who isn't looking back. He's moved on to something else.

Jake decides to ask him later.

They make it to the exhibit they're here to see, and Jake whistles under his breath as he enters. There are vibrant, saturated paintings lining the walls, a couple of large sculptures on the floor that still are taller than he is, a few smaller ones on pedestals. The work is mostly figurative, although there's some early abstraction there, a hint of the contemporary push to take even figurative work out of simply being an echo of a real life thing.

Chris looks at a sculpture, his head cocked so far to the side it looks almost birdlike, not quite human. Jake thinks his own neck would ache for days if he tried to do that. "Must've been, um, later," He mumbles to himself.

Jake files that away in his mental list of things to talk to Chris about later.

He walks slowly along the line of paintings. The whole point of being here is that he's supposed to pick a specific piece and write a short essay about it and the artist who made it, prove he saw it in person.

The class itself is about how to encourage better outcomes for healthcare in marginalized populations - but if she's giving out extra-credit for looking at queer art, well, Jake is happy to spend an hour in a museum.

After his dismal performance on the last test, he could use whatever credit he can get. Besides, the exhibit is actually kind of cool with that in mind. Every one of these artists was in some way outside of the sort of het ideal, and Jake smiles a little as he catches the heaviness of a look between two men seated across a table from one another, looks over the clasped hands of women, sitting with everything from shoulder to hip touching, who are listed as 'friends visiting the riverbank'.

Art that celebrates, hidden in plain sight. Art that rebels by sliding details in under the surface where only those looking for them will find them.

Each piece has another little paper, although this just has details about the artist and their work, what they were known for. He can use it as a jumping-off point for his paper, anyway.

"You, you, you finished her," Chris whispers, standing in front of a sculpture of a woman with her head thrown back as if in uproarious laughter, a woman with curls expertly carved so that her hair seems to have been there before the stone it's made of somehow. "I wonder if she, um, if if if she saw it."

"What'd you say, Chris?" Jake blinks, pulled out of his own internal reverie.

"Nothing," Chris responds, and walks slowly around the statue. The woman's smile is a shining light in the room. No one could carve like that without being at least a little in love with the subject.

Jake wanders away and then comes to an abrupt stop before a large painting, probably taller than Chris is. The background is near-total darkness with only a suggestion of stone, a single beam of light shining down to illuminate the central figure.

A naked boy clothed only in scraps of torn cloth that only emphasize his nakedness everywhere else is crouched in terror. His knees are bent and his feet are on the floor, one hand holding his weight with fingers slightly curled, his spine bent and arched as if he is caught in the midst of turning to look up to find the direction of the light. His other hand is thrown out, as if trying to ward off an attack.

He bleeds from a dozen or more places, the blood curving perfectly around his form, giving it extra weight and heft that makes it seem like he'll step out of the canvas, grab Jake, and shake him.

Jake's heart starts to race as he stares.

There are bones littering the ground around the thin, wasted boy, not bleached but sort of yellowed, marked with little notches as if cut with a knife. There might still be bits of skin attached to some of them, a hint of muscle. The detail makes Jake sick, but his panic, that comes from something else entirely. Just behind the panicked boy there is a body, as if just fallen, the eyes still open in the final terrified throes of death. The body's fingers are still dug into the dirt floor as if the dead man had been trying to pull himself somewhere, to escape.

A skull watches with eerie cheer from one corner of the painting, a few teeth missing and knocked out from its garish grin.

Barely visible, a thin wash of grayish-white, there is a pale, gnarled hand near the bottom reaching out from the background as if to grab the boy's ankle and drag him into the darkness.

Count Ugolino's Last Son, oils, 1932, reads the little plaque beside the painting. Its faint brassy shine glints in the carefully calibrated light. Edward Tooley, 1907 - 1936.

Jake swallows, but the lump in his throat doesn't budge, and he swallows again. And again. He can't take his eyes off the boy's painted hair, a dirtied copper, strawberry-blond badly in need of a wash. The wide green eyes with their terror writ large and clear, painted with lovingly perfect detail.

The boy in the painting is the perfect identical twin of the vampire who is still staring at the sculpture on the other side of the room. The fear in his face is so expertly done as to seem more photographic than painted in oil. The blood that drips to the ground follows his anatomy with absolute perfection. The bones are not bleached by they so often are in paintings, no, these...

These...

Jake holds his phone up and takes a photo, and then another of the little plaque.

"Chris." His voice cracks and Jake clears his throat. His heart is still pounding. "Chris, come look at this."

"Yes, Jake," Chris answers, sounding a little faint, and then he seems to simply appear at Jake's elbow, the teenage boy who has seen two world wars and a half-dozen smaller, stupider ones.

He goes still at Jake's side when he looks up. Jake looks over, just slightly, glancing sidelong to see a look of something like... wistfulness on the vampire boy's face.

"Tooley," He breathes. His hand goes up, and out, and he would have touched the canvas if Jake hadn't reached out and grabbed on to stop him. Chris jumps a little and turns to meet Jake's gaze. His eyes are pink-tinged in the whites, as if he's holding back tears. "Is, is, is he famous?"

"I guess. He's... he's here, isn't he?"

"He always wanted to, um, to to to to be famous." Chris's eyes move over the details, but it's not with surprise, it's with easy familiarity. He's seen this painting before.

He's been this painting before.

"That's you, isn't it?" Jake asks in a hushed voice. "Like, that was really you."

Chris looks away again, a faint flush in his cheeks. He's full enough of blood for it to happen, and you'd never know he isn't alive if you didn't already. "Yes," He whispers, and wipes at the corner of his eye with one hand. "That, that, that's me."

"Were you his model?" Jake blinks, looking back over the painted twin of the vampire beside him. The fear in the boy's face, woven in with a kind of awful resignation. It's all so perfectly rendered.

"Yes. Sort, um. Sort of. He, he, he kept me in a room." Chris exhales, slowly, and his eyes shift over to the paper with the little bit of biographical information on it. Edward Tooley's early works focused on landscapes or retreads of common historical subjects, only to find greater excellence and focus when he began to paint, again and again, the same figure - a representation of the darkness of the human soul - he stated appeared to him and demanded to be portrayed... art historians believe Tooley was driven by the demons of the Great War that had taken his family from him one by one to seek out uncomfortable subjects that force viewers to see the damage humans do to one another...

Chris's nose wrinkles as he reads, his lips moving slightly with the words as he takes them in. "I never did that. Never, um, wanted to be painted. Also, um this, um. He was... wasn't... he wasn't... wasn't like the paper says."

Jake looks over, reads it himself. Gregarious, sociable, popular with the libertine art crowd... he frowns. "What part is wrong?"

"This." Chris points, this at least he can safely make contact with, and presses the pad of his finger under a sentence that reads took inspiration from the ugly side of the city hidden under its shining lights. "He, he, he he didn't care about anyone in the city. He thought everyone who, who who who who-who wasn't him was, um, was stupid."

"What did he care about?" Jake imagines telling his professor that instead of an essay, he's going to bring in a vampire who literally knew one of the artists in person. How she might react.

Probably call the cops and report an unsecured vampire loose on the streets. But maybe she'd listen to what Chris had to say first.

"Blood," Chris says, softly. His voice is getting lower and lower, until it's barely more than a whisper. "Pain. Fear. Being... being the the the the last person who, who saw someone. He, he, he, he liked to lay them out and paint them, liked me to, to, to... arrange them for him."

Jake's eyes go unwillingly back to the dead body behind the scared boy in the painting. The grasping fingers, the open eyes that look sightless, lifeless, at nothing at all. When he looks, he can see - more suggestion than made clear - that the body's throat is torn open, as if by an animal's teeth.

Now, only now that he's looking for it, does he realize there is the slightest hint of red tears on the cheeks of the painted boy, a sheen of pink on his teeth where he begs for mercy from the grasping singular hand coming out of the dark.

His stomach flips again. "Chris, are you saying-"

"His, his, his name was Ben." Chris nods at the dead body in the painting. "I asked. Before..." He gestures, a little vaguely. "That."

Jake feels a sudden, wild urge to look up missing persons cases from New York City in 1932. See if there's anyone named Ben on there. He knows without having to do so that there definitely will be.

"What happened to him... after?"

"I don't know. I, I, I was never let out when Tooley was gone. I... wonder how, how, how many of me there are." Chris looks up at the echo of his own face, his head tilting again. His lips tremble, just a little, and then part to show the hint of white teeth wet with pinkish saliva. "On walls, in houses, in... in places like, um. Like this. How many there are... is, is, is, is that what I still look like?"

Jake clears his throat again, looks down at his feet. This feels, suddenly, like he's walked in on someone looking down at his own dead body in a funeral home. Interrupting a moment so immensely private it shouldn't even exist.

"Yeah," he says, a little gruffly. "Yeah, that's it. More or less. Except I hope I scare you less than that. Also you wear a lot more clothes with us."

Chris laughs - it's a huff of sound, barely-there. Then he turns away from himself. "We, we, we can't see ourselves, in mirrors," He says, and he's got the little plastic bat back in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the carved silicone. "But I have mirrors everywhere. On these walls."

He goes suddenly terribly still. He isn't breathing.

He doesn't have to, but the realization that he isn't even pretending is a jolt of awareness of exactly how dead Chris is. He leaves the exhibit, and Jake is left to scramble after him, struggling to catch up to someone he should be able to easily outrun.

He breaks into a flat run when they get outside the double-doors, jumps the steps three at a time with grace, and runs across the grass and towards the stand of trees halfway across the park. Even Jake, who works out four days a week, is breathing hard and has a hitch in his rib by the time he catches up.

He finds Chris curled up under a tree in the evening dark, the stars starting to twinkle overhead as the sun finally allows them a clear night sky to shine in.

Jake drops to his knees, ignoring the damp that seeps into his jeans from soil that still hasn't dried since yesterday's rains, and he leans over, putting a warm hand to either side of the vampire's face.

Chris looks up, his eyes glinting like a cat's briefly in the dark, and there are trails down his cheeks, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl that is anything but angry.

No, this is grief.

This is loss.

Jake knows the feeling.

"Talk to me," Jake says softly. "Tell me what it was like, what it's been like for you. Tell me about the life you've lived before I knew you."

"It, it, it hurt," Chris whispers, and his own hands cover Jake's. They're the same temperature as the air around them, and Jake shivers a little. It's almost a chill. "Every time. I, I, I try not to kill, Jake, I try so hard, but but but he would keep me so hungry and I couldn't-... stop..."

Jake thinks about the robbers Chris killed - for him, to save him from them - and how he'd locked himself in the closet afterward. Had he cried like this, over taking lives even when in defense?

"The museum thing said this guy Tooley died in 1936. He was only, what, twenty-nine? Did... did you-"

"Yes." Chris's voice is thick but it's not quite with regret. "I was hungry. He, he he he he didn't bring food. I was so hungry... then I was, um, was alone for a while... then, then, then, then then then I was taken for, for, for the, um, the trade, for my v-venom, and..."

"Got it. I got it, Chris. It's okay," Jake says, softly. "It's going to be okay. You're with us, now. And we'll never, ever make you hurt someone that way. We'll never make you go hungry. We'll never hurt you or use you."

Chris ducks his head, rocking forward until it knocks into Jake's shoulder, and Jake slides his arms around the vampire's shoulders, listening to his soft, muffled sobs, wondering how red his shirt will be stained by the time the vampire's tears have been cried out.

The same mouth that tore out the throat of a dead body that lays in a painting on the wall is so close to his neck it would take less than an inch for him to bite down. Even without fangs, he could lock his jaw and break the skin.

The same dangerous monster that has killed likely dozens to stay alive, the same stalking predator that has been the last sight of far too many, cries in his arms. Just a teenage boy who has been lonely, and terrified, and hurt for too long.

A teenager... and a monster that hunts prey after dark. Jake tightens his arms around Chris, holds him tighter.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter how long he's been alive, not really.

He's just Chris.

That matters more.

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @endless-whump @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

#whump #vampire whump #vampire whumpee #blood tw #recovering whumpee #caretaker and whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #immortal whumpee #vampire #vampirism #vampire fiction #horror fiction #original fiction #whump writing #chris the strawberry blond romantic #vampire chris au #past torture

115 notes · View notes

yoontopia · 4 years ago

Text

sobremesa | kth

pairing: kim taehyung x (f) reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers(?). tiny amounts of smut in the form of grinding, heavy makeout sessions in a car, mostly fluff, microscopic amounts of angst HAPPY BIRTHDAY TAE!!!!

rating: M

word count: 9.1k

sobremesa: a spanish word for that time spent after a meal, hanging out with family or friends, enjoying each others’ company

summary: you’ve known Kim Taehyung practically all your life – your parents are best friends and that inevitably leads to the two of you being forced to hang out at family gatherings – being the same age and all. But you don’t really know Kim Taehyung beyond cramped bedrooms, family potlucks, and annual New Year’s Eve parties. He’s never been a part of your picture and you’ve never been a part of his. You know Kim Taehyung in snapshots, periodic glimpses into his life over shared meals that will never overlap with yours outside these little moments. Or so you think.

-2006-

“This is my boy – Taehyung – he’s twelve too!” Mr. Kim announces, with a wide smile on his face. You stare curiously at the little boy hiding behind his father. He’s got a tuft of dark hair and he looks over at you curiously, like you’re a specimen at a museum. Your dad pats you on your back and one look at his face tells you that you’re meant to entertain this Taehyung kid.

“Oh, um,” you say, stepping forward. “We can just hang out in my room, I guess.”

“We’ll call you when dinner’s ready,” your mom tells you, smiling encouragingly. You nod and beckon Kim Taehyung upstairs. He follows you wordlessly and you usher him into your bedroom. He looks around, that same curious expression on his face before making himself comfortable on the beanbag chair you keep in your room.

“So, do you wanna like—watch a movie or something?” You don’t have a lot of experience with boys. Taehyung is small for his age though, and you can look at him in the eye if he stands up. He’s a lot smaller than the boys you’re used to at school, and so you find yourself more comfortable with him. He shrugs in response and you heave out your beloved laptop your dad had so kindly let you use for the night. Taehyung’s eyes flicker towards your bookshelf and his expression visibly brightens.

“You like Cardcaptor Sakura?” he asks, and you hear his voice for the first time. You look at him in surprise. No boy at your school likes Cardcaptor Sakura, but you love the series and your parents bought you a couple of volumes for your birthday.

“Yeah! It’s really cute. Uhm… do you wanna watch that instead? I have the DVD set.” Taehyung nods, looking far more enthusiastic than before and the two of you binge the entire first season, sitting shoulder to shoulder on your double bed.

-2007-

You don’t know anyone here. It’s somebody’s birthday, but they’re an adult and you don’t really care. These kids are unfamiliar and rowdy and honestly all you want to do is go home and read Harry Potter until you fall asleep. You’d hang out with your parents, but they’d ushered you to go play with the other kids. Looking through the various bedrooms in this ridiculously large house you hear voices coming from behind a shut door.

Knocking before opening it slowly, you peek in only to find Kim Taehyung with his arm around some kid’s neck. They’re on the floor, wrestling. Boys, you sigh mentally. Taehyung looks up, hair in his eyes, a sheen of sweat covering him.

“My phone—get my phone!” He’s yelling your name and you’re surprised he even remembers you. You’d only hung out a handful of times after your first, fateful meeting after all. You glance down and pick up the small black device the other boy is trying to reach for. Taehyung lets the other kid go and he’s gasping for air as you hand the phone back to its rightful owner.

“I’m Jungkook,” the boy introduces, voice high. “Junghyun’s younger brother,” You have no idea who Junghyun is, but you nod and introduce yourself anyway. “Are you Tae’s age?” Your eyes travel to Taehyung, who’s scrolling on his phone now.

“Yeah,” he answers for you, and you’re surprised to hear how his voice has deepened. “She’s my age. Close the door, will you? We’re watching Claymore and Kook’s mom will have a stroke if she finds out—he’s only ten.” You shut the door behind you cautiously. At least he hadn’t demanded you leave.

Feeling weirdly accepted and elated, you sit down to join the boys.

-2008-

Jungkook becomes a part of your small family-friends group. None of you even go to the same schools, but you see each other occasionally when your parents want to spend time with their friends. You like Jungkook, even though he’s younger. He’s friendly and bubbly and likes manga as much as you do. You’re still scared of his older brother though, but Junghyun is old (three whole years older than you!) and he’s allowed to stay home alone when his parents leave so he never comes anyway. Rumor has it that he even has a girlfriend.

You’re making it through life like any middle-schooler would. You have two close friends at school that you do everything with and it’s the year your dad presents you with your first phone. It’s got a full keyboard and you can text Jiyeon and Solhee whenever you want. You spend hours into the night talking about Jung Hoseok, who’s a ninth grader, and how cool he is. You have the tiniest crush on Hoseok – he’s the dance team captain, and he always smiles at you in the hallways even though he doesn’t know you. Hoseok smiles at everyone, it’s just how amazing he is. You’re too shy to talk to him though, envying the girls he speaks to on the daily. You think you and Hoseok would be good friends if you were braver.

-2009-

“You’re going to a French immersion high school? Seriously?” You don’t know if you’re more impressed or exasperated. Maybe both. Taehyung nods and accepts the cup of tea you offer him. You can hear your parents heartily belting out to some 80’s pop song in the basement – it seems the karaoke session is going well.

“Figured its never too late to learn,” he shrugs, taking a sip of the drink and wincing because its piping hot. His voice has deepened now that the two of you are fourteen, sounding like it’s dipped in honey. “Plus, all my friends are going there, and I don’t wanna be that guy who knows no one at his high school on the first day.” You try to laugh along, but it comes out all awkward—you don’t want to admit that that’s going to be you at your new school. Taehyung eyes you suspiciously.

“But of course,” he continues, in that same airy tone. “I think it’d be cool to start over somewhere where no one knows you. A clean slate.” You smile privately at his tact.

“It’s nerve-wracking though. What if I don’t make friends?” you sound small as you voice out the one fear you’ve been too scared to admit. Taehyung hums and sips his tea again.

“You will,” he says easily. “But if you don’t you always have me and Jungkook. We’re practically forced to hang out with you.”

You throw your wet teabag at him. He laughs, the sound rich and deep and you find your mind cleared of your anxiety.

-2010-

“Ay here comes the Frenchie,” Jungkook wolf-whistles and you turn around to see Taehyung making his way toward you. “Are you fluent yet?”

“No, but I can tell you to fuck off in more than one language now,” Taehyung grins, giving you a one-armed hug in greeting. He smells like vanilla and clean laundry – a refreshing contrast from the boys at school that drown in Old Spice. You want to bury your nose in his sweatshirt.

“Wow, school fees well spent,” Jungkook nods sagely. “I can’t believe I’m the only middle-schooler left.” Taehyung is taking his seat in the chair next to you, your hand still grasped in his, much larger and warmer one. Taehyung has always been physical – not just with you, but with everyone. You’re all at a restaurant this time, celebrating the fact that Junghyun not only got into his dream university, but managed to survive without flunking his first semester. You don’t know why you had to squeeze into a dress for this occasion, but alright. You barely even know Junghyun – he doesn’t fraternize with his kid brother’s best friends. “Oy, here’s Jimin.” The two of you look up to see another boy making his way towards you. “My mom’s best friend’s kid,” Jungkook whispers to you two, rather like he’s divulging the nation’s greatest secrets.

Jimin sits down next to Jungkook and you mutter polite hellos at each other. As it turns out, he’s the same age as you and Taehyung.

“So, this is the kid’s end of the table, huh?” Taehyung murmurs in your ear and you laugh.

“Don’t complain – would you rather sit next to my dad and have him clap you on the back hard every minute?” Taehyung winces at that, clearly having multiple war flashbacks. Jimin stares at you two.

“So how do you all know each other?” has asks. Taehyung blinks.

“Oh me? I’ve known her—since when—? We were like twelve,” you nod. Has it really been that long? You’re sixteen now. “And I met Jungkook not long after, I think.”

“The three musketeers,” Jungkook cheers, raising his glass as if its not full of just orange juice. Jimin nods. Taehyung rolls his eyes

As the dinner progresses, you find out you like Jimin too. He’s friendly and before you know it, you have each other on Facebook. Jungkook proclaims that all of you need a way to keep in touch and that’s how you find yourself in a group chat with three noisy boys.

-2011-

“Uno motherfucker!” Jungkook dramatically throws down his second-last card onto the pile. You groan. How is this boy so ridiculously good at literally every game?

“Not so fast, Jeon,” Taehyung is next to you, wearing pajama bottoms with ducklings on them. Throwing down his only wild card, he’s changing the color of cards up. You laugh delightedly because thank-you-Tae-you-lifesaver. He gives you a hearty fist bump. Jimin is on your other side, and as always, the man is more action than words because he quietly puts down a +4 that has Jungkook screaming into his pillow.

You’re all cooped up in your bedroom. Taehyung’s parents have already told him he could stay over, and he’s promptly changed into his sleeping clothes. It isn’t a rare occurrence for him to crash in your guest bedroom every time your parents hang out late into the night. Jimin and Jungkook are still in their jeans getting more and more uncomfortable by the hour. It’s past midnight and the parents downstairs have no intention of ending the party any time soon.

“You should’ve just stayed over too,” Taehyung says, watching Jungkook trying to change his sitting position for the third time in the last twenty minutes.

“I live literally down the block,” Jungkook snaps. It’s true – Jungkook’s family had moved onto your street only last year. “I’ll sleep in my own bed thanks.”

“Besides, is Jooyoung okay with you staying over at another girl’s house?” Jimin mutters, picking up a card and frowning. “Won’t she have a fit?”

“Who?” you and Jungkook ask at the same time.

“His girlfriend,” Jimin giggles next to you, and Jungkook is practically yodeling. Taehyung’s ears go slightly red. You look at him in surprise.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” you tell him and his ears, if possible, go even redder.

“He’s been with her for a whole month,” Jimin proclaims proudly and you’re looking at Taehyung again because wow—that seems serious.

You have no expertise in dating. There’s a cute boy in your English class called Choi Seungcheol that you like to look at. He’s got a nice smile and really long eyelashes over eyes that look like they hold galaxies in them. One time, he lent you his dictionary and you almost melted into a puddle of goo. But Seungcheol runs with the popular kids, even though he’s always been sweet to you, and you’re still somewhat of a recluse. All of a sudden, Taehyung seems really grown up and faraway.

“She already knows,” Taehyung says testily, and gestures wildly at you, “Plus it’s not like the two of us are even remotely close enough for her to care too much.”

You find you’ve suddenly lost all interest in the card game.

-2012-

“Can’t believe you’re leaving us,” Jungkook pouts as he stares at you and Taehyung. “Can’t believe I only have Jimin from now on.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jimin quips. It’s your graduation party – the third graduation party you’ve attended in the last two weeks – Taehyung had his first, then Jimin, and now you. You’ve chosen a university that’s three hours away. Jimin chose to attend college in town.

Taehyung, surprising you all, is moving a whopping six hours away, across the country. The art program he’s chosen is super elite and you’d all had a potluck at his house with your families when he’d gotten accepted. You sip on your wine, still getting used to the taste of alcohol. You turned eighteen only last month, but Jimin and Taehyung are still minors, and are both sporting matching cups of sparkling apple juice.

“We’ll be back for the holidays,” you tell Jungkook. “I can even drive back on some weekends!”

“Yeah, but when our families hang out, I’ll be the only one there,” Jungkook continues, looking genuinely upset. “Gonna just stay home from now on.”

“What about me?” Jimin asks indignantly. “I’m still here!”

“You have, like, a billion friends,” Jungkook huffs. “And a girlfriend.”

“Good point.” Jimin agrees. You and Taehyung laugh.

“Well, we still have all summer,” you say. “The four of us should find some time to hang out before I move at the end of August.” Jimin nods at that, reaching forward to eat the chips off the plate in front of him.

The four of you look at each other. Your lives really don’t overlap outside the confines of your bedroom and while Jungkook is upset, you know he’s got his own horde of friends back at school. He’s on the football team, and in the multimedia club. Your best friend’s little sister goes to his school and you’ve heard through her that he’s basically the school’s heartthrob. A little hard for you to believe though – Jungkook will always be that small child who Taehyung tackled to the ground for trying to steal his phone back when you were twelve.

You look around your room. You only have around ninety days left in these four walls, in this particular life, before all of you move into the next chapter.

-2013-

You’re shut up in a bathroom stall at your dorm, tears threatening to spill. Your first year as an engineering undergraduate is almost over, but your mother’s voice over the phone has opened all the flood gates you’d been so carefully keeping close these past few months.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you’re bumbling, and your mother can hardly make sense of you. You know that it’s probably coming as a huge surprise to them. You’ve spent so long pretending you’ve been fine all year that your family hasn’t had a clue how rough things really had been for you. “I want to drop out, mom, my grades are so bad, I’m so close to flunking out.”

Your mother is comforting you over the phone, but you continue to sob, months and months of tears and anxiety finally getting their chance to flow freely. You don’t care if your dormmates hear you – they were never really your friends anyway.

Weeks later, when your parents have picked you up, and have driven you back home, you know you’ll never go back to that place. You lie in your bed staring up at the ceiling, feeling void of any emotion. You’d always done fairly well in school so the significant drop in your grades at university had taken a toll on your mental health. The sun shines outside, the first signs of summer peeking through, but you can’t bring yourself to push open your curtains. You feel like a failure. You are a failure.

At some point during the day, Taehyung comes into your room, knocking quietly. He doesn’t speak, and you haven’t seen him for a whole year. Contact was few and far between and seeing Jimin and Tae do so well in their respective programs had made you put up a front with them too. He probably had no idea that anything was ever wrong.

Even if he had, you tell yourself, there was nothing he would really do. You find you barely know Taehyung, are only obligated to spend time with him because your parents are friends with his folks. But he’s here, in your room now, and you can’t hear Mr. Kim’s booming voice downstairs. You selfishly wonder if he came to see you by himself. Only for you, and not because of his parents.

He quietly lies down next to you, and the two of you lie there, shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the ceiling.

He stays like that until you finally fall asleep.

-2014-

You scream when you open the mail and Jimin jumps next to you, spilling milk all over the kitchen island.

“I got in!” you scream and Jimin blinks owlishly up at you. “Chim, I got in!”

“Oh my god that’s amazing!” Now Jimin is screaming, grabbing you out of joy and pulling you in. The two of you are jumping up and down in your kitchen and your parents are here wondering what the ruckus is. You’re merely shoving the letter towards them, too overjoyed to speak.

After taking the summer off, and pulling out of your old university, you’d applied to the college in your town – the same one Jimin attends. You figured you were better off in a program that genuinely excites you and come September, you and Jimin would be attending the same school.

“We gotta party,” your dad exclaims, a big grin on his face. You know your parents had partially blamed themselves for everything that had happened last year. For maybe forcing you towards a program you weren’t really interested in, only because the employment opportunities were higher, and you had the grades to get in. You’re pleased to see them so proud and happy for you. You’re in a better place now, have gotten the support you needed to help you get through that rough patch. Last year feels like a fever dream, like it belongs to someone else, someone that’s not you.

Your dad is calling the usual crowd up to celebrate, and you can’t wait to see Jungkook and Junghyun. It’s been months since you saw them last and you know Jungkook is a senior and is swamped with college admissions and his football games.

Taehyung doesn’t come home this year – working at an internship somewhere on the other end of the country that’s been keeping him busy. You don’t hear from him much at all.

-2015-

You gratefully accept the glass of wine from Jimin and glance over at the giant Christmas tree in his living room. The Parks have decorated it up to the nines, a real step-up from last year.

“Your ugly sweater is so not ugly,” Jimin groans from next to you, and you look down. It’s a simple grey sweater with a giant ornament on it, the baubles are three-dimensional.

“It was the only one I had,” you sigh, leaning back into his couch. “Where is everyone?”

“Jungkook is spending Christmas at his girlfriend’s,” Jimin tells you and you roll your eyes. “But he says he’ll see us for New Years. Tae’s family just arrived actually – he’s in the kitchen saying hello to everyone.”

“Bet all the moms flocked to him,” you mutter. Taehyung is the group’s golden boy – the success story. He’d secured himself a fancy internship and was pretty much guaranteed a job straight out of university when he graduated in a couple years. Jimin nods sleepily next to you. You cozy up next to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

Taehyung arrives in the living room then, his eyes travelling from the giant Christmas tree to the two of you folded onto the couch. You wonder if you’ve had too much wine already because you’re definitely imagining the strange look that crosses his face when he sees Jimin lean into you. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him in person – Instagram pictures really don’t do him justice. For some reason, Jimin quickly pulls away from your embrace.

He’s grown taller, and his hair is dyed a soft honey blonde falling into his eyes, a piece tucked behind one ear. He’s wearing a sweater that’s literally the same color as the Grinch but he manages to effortlessly pull it off. Taehyung has always been pretty, you tell yourself, but somehow, he’s managed to get even prettier. He’s half-tucked his ugly sweater into black slacks and looks more like a runway model than someone you’ve known since you were twelve.

He fist-bumps Jimin before collapsing into the couch on your other side.

“What’s the plan tonight Park?” he asks, taking a sip of his wine.

“I brought my poker kit,” Jimin says over your head. “Thought we could play.”

“Poker,” you sigh amusedly. “When only yesterday Jungkook was beating our asses at Uno.” Jimin laughs with his whole body and you giggle sleepily next to him.

“And, how are you?” It takes you a while to notice that Taehyung is talking to you. You straighten up, letting go of Jimin

“M’fine,” you murmur. Taehyung hums. There’s a strange sort of silence that befalls you. You and Taehyung never had a chatty relationship, but it was never like this either. Taehyung feels more and more like a stranger these days. You know facts about his childhood that you’re sure no one else does – the time he broke his arm falling off a bike you had dared him to get on, or the time he’d accidentally eaten a cookie with hazelnuts in it despite being allergic to them – but you don’t know this Taehyung. You don’t know the first thing about him. And it makes you sad.

The two of you make small talk – the weather, Taehyung’s internship, your finals – but it just doesn’t feel the same.

-2016-

It’s really been a whole year since you’ve seen any of these people – except Jimin, you see his ass on campus every damn day. The music is in full swing and your parents are laughing at something Taehyung’s mom is saying.

You’re sitting in a chair next to Jungkook, fresh off his first semester of university. His hair is longer, he’s inked up his right arm and smells like expensive cologne. Despite that, he’s still the lovable goofball you’ve known practically all your life. He lets you tease him about his ink, good-naturedly pulling at your cheek. He towers over you now, has for a few years.

Taehyung sits directly across from you. His hair is back to black, curling and long. He’s wearing thick black-framed glasses today, complaining about leaving his contacts back at university. Jimin isn’t here, having made plans with his dancer friends. It feels like every year, the only constant at these end-of-the-year parties, is you. The only one who makes a conscious effort to attend, who doesn’t treat these family gatherings like back-up plans.

“Jieun said she wants to meet you,” Jungkook is saying. He’s been dating this girl for six months now. “She’s gone home for the holidays, obviously, but maybe in the New Year. When do you go back Tae?”

“The twelfth,” Taehyung answers, mouth full of mashed potato.

“That’s later than usual,” you say in surprise. Taehyung shrugs.

“Didn’t come home for the summer, so figured I’d stay for winter break longer,” he answers, and you nod. You’re still on the “kids” end of the table, despite all of you now being full-grown adults. Some things really never change.

“Y’know we really should hang out,” Jungkook is saying. “I haven’t seen Jimin in two years – isn’t that crazy? Hey, remember when our parents would hang out and drag us with them. At least that meant we saw each other constantly. Now that we have our own lives, I don’t even go when our families hang out.”

You ruffle Jungkook’s hair and he gives you an adoring smile.

“I miss you guys,” he pouts, and something warm floods through you.

“I miss you guys too,” you answer, a little melancholy, a little sad, and Jungkook gives you a dopey grin, completely clueless. But Taehyung doesn’t return your smile, only surveying you quietly through his glasses.

-2017-

Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung said they weren’t going to attend this year’s annual New Year’s bash. You can’t say you aren’t crestfallen at the news. It’s clear they all have lives outside their family. Taehyung and Jimin have graduated already. Taehyung doesn’t have enough time off to come home, and Jimin has plans with some guy he’s been seeing lately. Jungkook is going home with Jieun this year to meet her family.

You make plans with your friends from college, and the four of you end up at a bar. It’s fun – you sing karaoke and drink copious amounts of alcohol. You even makeout with strangers.

But somewhere deep down, you know you rather be sitting at the kids end of the table, stuffing your face with food.

-2018-

Taehyung hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you walked into his house. You’re wearing a dress and some heels because Jimin insisted that the four of you dress up for the occasion, considering you hadn’t been able to get together last year. It’s been a while since the gang was back in town at the same time, and you’d just graduated and secured a decent job right away. Jimin claimed it was a cause to celebrate.

The four of you are at the usual family party this winter, because where else would you be?

Taehyung is very obviously drunk. He isn’t rowdy like Jimin or Jungkook, but you can tell. He sways faintly to the music and his eyes are dark.

At the end of the night Jimin goes home to his boyfriend, and Jungkook to his girlfriend, leaving you and Taehyung to clean up the messes they leave behind. Your parents have long gone home, no longer caring if you stay a little longer, or stay over. Taehyung’s family is practically your family.

You eye him subtly as you’re putting away the board games – his hands are in the pockets of his burgundy trousers. A cream dress shirt is tucked into his pants. As always, he looks good. Taehyung suddenly turns to look at you and you feel your face go warm at his stare.

Before you know it, he’s reaching over to kiss you, large hand cupping your face, head tilting so he can slot himself better against your lips. Your hand grasps at the front of his shirt as you pull him closer and you don’t hesitate to intertwine your free hands.

He wordlessly pulls you towards his bedroom in the basement, careful not to wake his parents. He pushes you down on his bed before climbing on top of you to continue where you’d left off in the living room.

That night, you fall asleep in his arms, naked and satisfied.

-2019-

Kim Seokjin whispers in a terrible joke in your ear, making you giggle. He’s your date for the night – but the two of you aren’t actually dating. Seokjin was a friend from college, albeit your senior, but you’d asked him to accompany you to this year’s New Year’s party and by some miracle he’d said yes.

You know Jin doesn’t think about you in that way – you’re at most like a baby sister to him – but he plays his part and holds your hand and sits next to you and brings you refills whenever he sees your drink is running low. A part of you thinks he knows what the deal is, if the soft way he looks at you is any indication. You owe Jin a big one.

You didn’t want to be the only one in the group without a date. Jimin has brought Min Yoongi, his boyfriend of two years and Jieun is here with Jungkook.

And then there’s the pretty girl on Taehyung’s arm.

You bite your lip. After spending that one night together last year, you and Taehyung had woken up with smiles on your faces. It had been a happy moment, until you’d had to sneak out of his house without his parents noticing. He’d laughed, kissed you on the lips and you’d left. When you’d seen him next, you’d been with Jimin, Jungkook, and all your families. The two of you had shared secret smiles but hadn’t got a moment to yourselves and before you knew it, Taehyung had had to head back across the country – back to his life without you in it.

You hadn’t even gotten a chance to discuss whatever had happened between you, and you didn’t think it would be appropriate to discuss over the phone. You’d carried on talking to him like normal, assuming that you’d discuss this whenever he came back home next, and he never brought it up either. You hadn’t realized then that Taehyung only ever came home once a year – for Christmas.

Your heart sinks now, watching as he leans in quietly to talk to her over the loud bass of whatever rap beat Yoongi has chosen. You hadn’t told anyone, not even your college friends, about what had happened. You feel used – that whatever the two of you had, was maybe just a drunken one-night stand. But it hadn’t felt like that to you. It had felt… right. Like the conclusion to something that had been building up for many years now. But looking back, maybe it’s just you that thinks that.

Taehyung has never shown any interest in you in that manner, and you’ve known him for years. He’s dated in that time – even had relationships (Jooyoung from high school comes to mind, and you rack your brain trying to think of other serious girlfriends, but you only come up with girls he’s mentioned once or twice and then never again). Jimin already lives with Yoongi and Jungkook and Jieun are discussing moving in together. In your little group, only you and Taehyung have no strings when it comes to relationships.

You’ve dated too – of course – but never seriously. Your longest relationship lasted three months.

“Is he the one?” Seokjin leans over to ask you in a low voice. You turn to look at him nestled comfortably on the couch next to you, long limbs spread out. “The one you like?”

“Like...huh?” you take a large gulp of your wine. “I’ve never thought about him that way.”

“Then pray tell me why your face has longing written all over it?” Seokjin is astute.

“Thanks for coming today,” you say instead. Jin smiles lazily, long lashes casting shadows on his elegant cheekbones.

“I’ll even peck you on the lips at midnight if you want me to,” he says cheekily, and you slap his face away laughing.

“Aren’t you two adorable!” Jimin collapses on the couch next to Jin and offers him a friendly fist bump. Jimin knows Jin isn’t your boyfriend but is smart enough to not say anything.

“Are we?” Jin grins, throwing his arm around your neck to pull you towards him, your cheeks smushing together. “You hear that babe?”

“Oof,” you groan against him and he lets go of you to stand up. Motioning towards the bathroom, he flashes one of his infamous grins before making his way through the living room. Jimin slides over towards you, neatly taking your drink from your hand before taking a sip.

“Where’s Yoongi?”

“His parents called, he’s talking to them out on the deck,” Jimin looks at you. You look at him and raise your eyebrows. “You okay?”

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“I dunno, you always get this look on your face when you’re not,” he hums, sipping your wine again. “How long do you think I’ve known you?” You roll your eyes. You’re eyeing Taehyung again. He came to the party late and hadn’t as much as introduced his lady friend to you. He hadn’t even looked at you. Was this how your friendship with Taehyung was going to end?

“Who’s the girl?” you can’t help but ask, jutting your chin in the direction of the pair. A knowing look crosses Jimin’s features.

“Yoona something,” he says. “They work together, I think. Her flight home got cancelled so Tae brought her back here.” Jimin looks at you again. “They’re not dating – if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Fucking, then.”

“Well, probably,” Jimin laughs. “It’s Taehyung,” Of course. It’s Taehyung. You huff sarcastically. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“You do,” You groan. What is with your friends today. “When will you admit it to yourself?”

“Admit what?”

Jimin gives out a short laugh and stands up.

“You’re both so painfully alike, I’m going to get frustrated,” he mutters, half under his breath. You tilt your head curiously at his wording, but he doesn’t elaborate. “One is horrible with making a move and the other too dense to realize what’s staring at them in their face.” You watch Jimin head off, muttering to himself and shake your head.

When Jin returns with another bad joke about the toilet and pinches your cheek adoringly, taking up his spot next to you on the couch, you’re far too busy laughing to notice the way Taehyung’s eyes flash across the room.

-The Present-

“Tae’s coming home this year, isn’t he?” you mother casually asks. You’re in the middle of putting the cakes in the oven and you pause.

“Is he? I haven’t asked,” you answer, schooling your voice carefully.

“His mother mentioned that he doesn’t seem too happy lately,” you mom continues on from the other end of the kitchen. “They want him to move back here, or somewhere closer to here.”

“Good luck with that,” you snort. There’s three feet of snow that arrived last night and you’re not looking forward to shoveling it all by yourself. You haven’t seen Taehyung properly since the two of you had… fooled around some two years ago. Whatever idea you’d entertained about the two of you after that, it had all just been clearly in your head. Taehyung was barely home long enough for you to hang out as a group and if the rumors amongst the parents were anything to go by, you weren’t surprised he wanted to avoid the gossiping small town feel of this place.

Frankly, you’re dreading seeing Taehyung this year. This year’s party is definitely more exclusive than last year’s. It’ll just be the four of you this year. Like the old days. And Jieun and Yoongi, but you’ve known those two for years now.

“He’s such a good-looking boy,” Oh god, your mother is still talking. “I’m surprised he hasn’t thought about settling down yet. Of course, how can he think about settling down without a stable career first – freelance photography was it?”

“Mom, it’s none of our business,” you mutter.

“Oh, I know,” she says quickly. “But I’d always thought he’d go places, you know? He did so well at one of the country’s best universities, got that amazing job right after. And now what? He quit it after all this time and that Jimin who only did community college is earning twice the amount Tae is!”

“Mom!” you snap. “Let. It. Go.” Your mother stares at you in disbelief, closing her mouth quickly, and thankfully shutting up. “I’m gonna go shovel the driveway,” you mutter, taking your apron off, and shoving it onto its usual hook by the pantry.

You’re just opening up the garage and grabbing the big purple shovel when you see Jungkook floundering through the snow towards your house.

“When did you get home?” You ask, forgetting about your mother for a second.

“Two days ago—look,” Jungkook’s face is serious. “We need to throw Taehyung a totally bitchin’ birthday party.”

“What?! Why?” You begin shoveling while Jungkook stands there. You’ve never thrown Taehyung a party before – usually that goes hand in hand with the annual New Year’s Eve bash and the two are celebrated together, even though Tae’s birthday is the day before.

“Because he’s been weird ever since he came home – he never says anything, but I know, alright?”

“What? He’s back?” You stop shoveling and stare at the younger man.

“He didn’t tell you?” Jungkook asks, after hesitating. You bite your lip. You’ve always been the first to know whenever Taehyung decides to visit. “Is everything okay?” You sigh.

“Yes… I don’t know… probably not,” you groan. Jungkook blinks down at you, utterly clueless. “We…fooled around, alright?”

“When?!” Jungkook’s voice has gone up three octaves. “Oh, holy fuck.”

“Two years ago,” you hiss, motioning him to pipe down. “After that party at his house. We never spoke about it and I just assumed he wanted an easy fuck.”

“You’re an idiot,” Jungkook says and you wonder at his wording. “A blind idiot.”

“What?” you’re so confused. Jimin had mumbled something similar last year. Jungkook shakes his head, bits of snow falling off his beanie.

“Aside from that, I think the dude is just going through an overall rough time,” he says. “And no, it’s not because you two fucked. You in?”

“What—yeah fine,” you give in.

“Cool – then my house on the 30th. Bring your own booze. Wear something cute but comfortable.”

“Who else is coming?” You yell after him, watching Jungkook shuffling back down the street. He turns to look at you questioningly.

“It’s just us,” he says, surprise evident in his voice. “Who else?”

“Right.” You say, sighing inwardly.

That night, you run straight into Taehyung outside Jungkook’s door.

“Uh,” you say, wincing at yourself for sounding so horribly awkward. Taehyung stands in front of you, readying himself to knock on. You’d hoped to avoid him for a little bit longer but here you were, running into him right as you arrive. You grip your bottle of Merlot tightly. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he says back, raising an eyebrow at you. Taehyung is intimidating – has always been. You vaguely remember a time when he didn’t scare you, when you were both young and Taehyung was this small scrawny kid with big eyes and a mop of hair. “How’ve you been?” He towers over you now, all broad shoulders and long legs.

“Good,” you clear your throat. “You?” A ghost of a smile flits across his features.

“I’m sure you’ve already heard,” he says, almost bitterly.

“That you quit your fancy job? Yeah, I heard.” Maybe it’s your offhanded tone that throws him off but he’s gawking down at you before chuckling to himself. “What?”

“Nothing,” his face breaks into a bigger smile. “Should’ve known that you of all people wouldn’t give a shit if I quit my job or not,” You’re rushing to correct him that that was not how you intended to come off but he’s grinning, raising a hand to stop you. “No, it’s a good thing. I’m sick of people pitying me for something that was so obviously the correct decision.”

“Pity, huh?” you grin back at that. “Do they give you the sad head-tilt too?” You tilt your head mockingly to the side to demonstrate.

“Oh my god yes,” he snorts. “I’ve been getting those all week.”

“Welcome to the world of failures Kim,” you grin, holding out your hand in an honorary handshake. “We hate it here, but at least the expectations are now at a rock bottom. You can only go up from here.” Taehyung is about to reach for your hand when the door opens.

“Can you two quit flirting out here and come in?” Jungkook is indignant, holding a bottle of beer in each hand. Taehyung gives you a look you can’t quite decipher before heading in. You follow in after him, setting your wine down on Jungkook’s kitchen island. His apartment is small – only one bedroom – but it’s so Jungkook that you smile.

You hug Jieun as she comes out of their shared bedroom before moving on to join Jimin in the kitchen. Jieun is hugging Taehyung, wishing him a Happy Birthday. You watch them as you open your wine and reach for a glass from one of Jungkook’s cabinets.

“Not drinking tonight?” you ask Jimin. He’s dyed his hair blonde and it curls slightly. You think you like this look on him.

“I drove here,” he says easily. “What about you?”

“I’ll figure it out,” you grin. Taehyung comes up to dump the cheesecake you hadn’t noticed he’d been holding earlier on the counter. “Want me to put that in the fridge?” You address him.

“Yes please,”

“Not drinking tonight Tae?” Jimin throws your question at the dark-haired boy, as you shove the cake into Jungkook’s fridge. Taehyung’s eyes quickly glance at you before he speaks up

“I drove here,” he mutters and Jimin snorts.

“It’s your birthday party and you’re gonna stay stone cold sober? That’s sad man. Not to mention you brought your own cake,” he says, chin resting on his hand as he leans on the counter. Taehyung shrugs.

“Where’s Yoongi?” you ask and Jimin motions towards the living room where Jungkook and Yoongi are deeply immersed in what looks like Super Smash Bros Brawl. Judging by the way Yoongi is yelling, you assume he’s already tipsy. Taehyung comes up behind the counter to stand next to you to observe their game. You’re only faintly wary of his presence next to you as you sip on your drink. You don’t even realize Jimin has left the two of you to yourselves to go join Yoongi and Jungkook.

“Why’d you quit?” you ask, still staring at the TV. If Taehyung is surprised at your question, he doesn’t show it. “Your job, I mean.”

“It’s not what I went to school for,” he answers, hands in his pockets. “It became less about the art and more about kissing the asses of big corporations so they would fund us. I took the job because it paid well but at what cost?”

“Yeah, I understand,” you say softly. Taehyung looks at you.

“I know you do,” He says after a while, and your heart blooms at the honest faith in his voice. “My parents are disappointed. They don’t say it out loud, but I know they are. They think I’m going through something when the truth is that I know exactly what I want to do.”

“And that is?” you’re looking at him now and things suddenly fall into place. It’s as though the last few years never happened, that there was never a distance between the two of you. It reminds you of a different time – a time when you and Taehyung would tell each other everything even if you didn’t see him every day.

“Photography,” he answers. “My own studio. Maybe even sell my work – I don’t know. Just me, and art.” You smile.

“That sounds nice,” you say. “You know, Jungkook threw this party thinking you’re going through a quarter-life crisis,” Taehyung snorts at that and you can’t help but giggle along. “I wanted to tell him that he was crazy, but I didn’t have the heart to.” Taehyung is looking at you, questions evident on his face. “Call me crazy, I don’t know, but there has never been a day where you’ve been lost in your life. You’ve always known what you want, and you’ve made sure you get it,” You look down at your wine. The words unlike me are at the tip of your tongue but you don’t voice them. You know what—who you want, but you’re a coward.

You weren’t lying. Taehyung had always been ambitious – a go-getter. If he wanted you, he would’ve made it clear. The realization is heart-breaking.

Taehyung doesn’t reply to your statement, and only hums in response.

The night gets rowdier after that – Jungkook and Yoongi are a deadly combination when drunk and you’ve made it through your bottle of wine by yourself so you’re not doing too badly either.

Jimin and Yoongi leave first – Jimin basically dragging the older boy out. You’re scrolling through the train schedule when you notice Taehyung come up to you.

“I’ll drop you off,” he says. “You’re on the way to my parents house anyway.” You can only nod at that before he’s helping you stand up. The two of you bid a goodbye to Jieun (Jungkook has long since been put to bed and she’s collecting the myriad of beer bottles for recycling), and before you know it, you’re comfortably seated in Taehyung’s car.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to your place,” he says at last, sounding only slightly guilty. You laugh and tell him your address and watch as he plugs it into the car’s GPS system. You had moved out only last year, finally in a place to be able to afford. The two of you drive in silence, with you watching Taehyung.

He’s wearing a dark button down, tucked into equally dark jeans, hair falling over his forehead. Rings adorn his fingers that are gripping the steering wheel, and you swallow as you eye his thighs in those pants.

The wine was a bad idea.

“Something on my face?” he asks lightly, eyes still on the road. You start in your seat. The wine has lowered your inhibitions considerably.

“No, just admiring how pretty you are,” you say and Taehyung chokes on air. “Did you know you’re pretty? You always have been,”

“Is that so?” There’s a wry smile on Taehyung’s face. You prop your elbow up on his window, chin resting in your hand as you look outside.

“Yeah, since the fucking beginning,” you snort. “Even when you were scrawny and twelve, you were this pretty little thing. Next to you I looked like a drowned rat.”

Taehyung scoffs, running one hand through his hair, pushing it back.

“The day you wake up and realize your self-worth,” he mutters. “You’re far too intelligent and beautiful to belittle yourself like this,” You freeze and turn to look at him. “What? I’m telling you a truth. Stop undermining yourself – you’ve done it all your life.”

“Do you want me to pull up photos from that one trip our families took in 2010? Your puberty kicked in and turned you into a teenage model. My puberty kicked in and I looked like Phineas and Ferb’s long lost sibling.”

“Chat shit all you want, but Jungkook and I spent that trip sneaking glances of you in that bathing suit.”

“You two did what?”

“And I told Jungkook to back off,” Taehyung says it so easily. He pulls up in front of your building and turns off the car. The two of you sit there in silence. “Do you know how hard it is for me to control myself around you?”

You’re dimly aware that Taehyung hasn’t had a single sip of alcohol tonight – that he’s completely himself.

“Then why are you controlling yourself?” you whisper. Taehyung gives you another one of his wry smiles, this one rather sad.

“Because you’ve never seen me the way I’ve seen you,” he says, voice just as hushed. “And for a while, I didn’t mind. It was just a little crush – and I only saw you once or twice in a year so how could it mean anything? I had an entire life outside of you that you weren’t even a part of. So how could any of this be real?” He pauses, and you wait for him to continue.

“But then… That Night happened,” and you know what he’s talking about. “And I thought ‘finally’ and once I’d had a taste, I wanted to keep coming back for more.” He looks up at you now, eyes distant. “And because you never brought it up again, I just thought that it didn’t mean anything—”

“Wait,” you interrupt him, heart racing so fast you can hear it thrum through your ears. “I thought you wanted nothing more.”

“Why would you ever think that?” he whispers. “When I never heard from you, I tried to move on—I had to move on, y’know? And this year I told myself that when I saw you, I’d be content with being your friend. I know I’ve been distant these past few years, but I needed that time to pick myself up—it was too hard to see you and know nothing could come of it.”

“Wait wait wait,” you wave your hands in front of your face, eyes tightly shut. “B-but you never mentioned that night again! I-I just assumed it was a one-night thing!” Taehyung blinks.

“A guy would have to be completely blind to only want you for one night,” he says quietly, and your heart soars. He’s reaching over for you and you shyly intertwine your fingers with his.

“You’re going to have to spell it out for me,” you whisper, tracing patterns on the back of his hand with your thumb. “Because I’m stupid and I won’t believe it until I’ve heard it—”

But Taehyung is reaching over to your seat and pressing his lips to yours. You’ve missed this taste and you reciprocate almost instantly. He tastes like the strawberries that were topped on his birthday cake and you lean into the kiss, sighing in pleasure.

Before you know it, he’s undoing your seatbelt and pulling you over to his side. It’s uncomfortable and you almost ram your head against the rear-view mirror, but eventually you find yourself comfortably straddling his lap, back to the steering wheel. Taehyung’s large hands span the width of your back as he holds you in place.

“I think I like you,” he says. You smile down at him, running a hand along his cheekbone, jaw, finally resting it on his shoulder.

“I think I like you too,” you say back. You lean down to capture his lips in yours one more time and this time he doesn’t hesitate in sliding his tongue into your mouth. You grasp at his shirt on his shoulders, while his hands travel down to rest on your thighs where they travel under the flowy dress you’re wearing, moving over your thighs and finally resting on your ass. You whimper into the kiss and Taehyung doesn’t miss the opportunity to explore more of your mouth.

It’s when you let yourself sit down on his lap completely that you feel it – the hardness in his pants. You gasp before straightening up, but he pushes you back down onto his crotch. You pull away from the kiss, lips swollen.

“T-Tae!” you’re gripping his shirt almost painfully right and he smirks up at you.

“See what you do to me?” he whispers. “We’ve barely done anything except swap spit and I’m already so hard it hurts.” Your ears go warm at his dirty words and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. You squirm on top of him and he groans in pleasure. “Any more of you moving that cute little ass on top of me and I’m going to cream my pants right here and right now.”

His lips latch onto your exposed collarbone where the strap of your dress has slid off and he sucks a bruise there. Your hips are swirling on top of him of their own volition and Taehyung has to throw back his head to let out a deep moan of pleasure. You stare at him in wonder – he looks so beautiful like this, dark hair clinging to his forehead, eyes blown out, lips swollen – and at your complete mercy. You kiss up his neck, biting his earlobe, before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“I’m soaked,” you say, blushing. Your hand reaches down to tease your clit and you whimper before bringing your slick fingers up to show him. “See?”

Like a man starved, Taehyung is wordlessly reaching over to take your fingers into his mouth, and you watch in awe as his tongue swirls around them, licking up your juices instantly. His gaze doesn’t leave you for even a second and you’re so mesmerized. When you kiss him again, you taste yourself on him.

“You’re gonna have to stop here,” he puts a hand on your thigh to halt your ministrations. “I’ll seriously cream my pants.”

“I’m okay with that,” you mutter, leaning in to kiss him again, but he pulls back, a sly smile on his face.

“No, I’d much rather cream your pussy,” his grin is so wolfish that you feel a new wave of juices flow through you.

“Lucky for us we’re at my place though isn’t it,” you smile against his mouth. He laughs, a low, comforting sound before opening the door. You climb off him and out onto the sidewalk and straighten your dress. Taehyung gets off after you, hair mussed (thanks to you), and shirt half unbuttoned (also thanks to you). He reaches for your hand, which you take with a smile. This time, there is no hesitation, no hidden meaning.

-Sometime in the (not-so) distant future-

“Will you hurry up?” You hiss at Jungkook, but he’s too busy brushing his hair to pay any attention to you. “We’re so gonna be late!”

“You’re trampling on my mojo,” Jungkook tells you, straightening his tie and staring at himself in the mirror. Taehyung is next to you, tapping his foot in impatience.

“Okay, Jeon, that’s enough, you are not going to be late for your own wedding.” He says, face impassive and Jungkook sighs.

“Fine! Fine! I’ll be right out – you two go take your positions. Tae – you got the rings?” Taehyung rolls his eyes and pats his front coat pocket pointedly. Jungkook grins, face guilty and Taehyung is opening his mouth, probably to tell Jungkook off once and for all.

You laugh, knowing this is your cue to interrupt the fight before it actually happens, and pull Taehyung away from his best friend and push him out of Jungkook’s dressing room.

“Let’s go – if he’s late that’s on him but I don’t want us to be late either and you’re in the wedding you need to be up there.” You push Taehyung towards the main church towards the altar.

“God,” Taehyung is grumbling. “Promise me, our day won’t be so anxiety inducing.”

“How can it be when you’re such a micromanager,” you smile. “I expect our day to run like a German train schedule.” Taehyung rolls his eyes and glances at a dainty ring on your left hand. He does that often, as if to reassure himself that this is the reality, that you’re here and present and beside him. It makes you unbearably fond. Because even now, years later, Kim Taehyung still can’t believe he has you.

“Honestly, we could do it at city hall and I wouldn’t mind,” Taehyung hums. “Without all these clowns present.”

“Fine,” you play along. “Wanna go this weekend?” You’re not expecting the raised eyebrow he gives you, or the coy answer that follows – but it does make your heart race in a way only Kim Taehyung has ever been capable of.

#kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #kim taehyung #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung #tae #bts v #bts #bts fic

153 notes · View notes

writingwithadinosaur · 4 years ago

Text

“Under the Knife” - Part 6

My Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 3,500-ish

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Death, Murder, and Violence

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Author’s Note: This is my first Hannibal piece and I am proud of it. There aren’t too many stories for Hannibal, so I figured I would add to the collection.

This does take place in some happy medium where they are all alive and work together. Sort of a happier season 1 era.

This is beta-read by @theeactress, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again!

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

- DreaSaurusREX

Tag List:

@fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude @ntlmundy @a-person-unlabled

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

The last few days were weird for you. While working the Virginia Scalpel case, you still had to give lectures and work the occasional museum shift. Luckily you were able to give more and more of your museum shifts to your coworkers, saying that you needed the time to focus on the case or to finalize your lecture outlines.

Between two lectures and a museum shift, you were able to narrow down your suspect list even more. Pulling every male doctor within a 50-mile radius who fit the height range and who wasn’t super young, old, or generally weak looking. You dropped it off to Jack’s office while he was in a meeting of some sort, thankful that you wouldn’t have to talk to him just yet.

After that night at the Pencalt crime scene, things seemed to take more energy than you expected. You could get up and function through your work day, but when it came to socializing or even having to have work related conversations, you found yourself doing them through email or not at all. This included talking to Hannibal or Will.

Both of them had tried calling or texting you, and you’d try to respond with a “Can’t talk right now,” or an “I’m busy.” But sometimes you didn’t have the energy and straight up ignored them.

You knew what they wanted to talk about. And you had to admit that after letting it settle in your brain, you wanted to too. But you knew that that conversation would be a long one that required patience.

Which is why you decided to call in sick and work from home today. You weren’t scheduled a lecture or a museum shift, and everything you planned on doing in your office could be done at home.

You understood the urgency of this case. The team only had about a week left to catch this guy before another doctor would be found in pieces. But you weren’t the only one working this case, and you were still waiting on results from Beverly, Price, and Zeller. So you justified taking today a bit slower and tried to fit in some breaks for self-care as you worked.

The day started out with a peaceful breakfast, something you hadn’t had since before you joined Jack’s team. It was different and odd feeling now, but you tried your best to enjoy it and let your mind relax. After you put your stuff in the dishwasher, you sat down where your work stuff was set up at your dining room table, and felt your mind wander.

I know I should talk to Will or Hannibal, but that would be so draining right now. No. Just focus on breathing and getting as much as you can done today, alright, (Y/N)? We don’t need you combusting over personal shit while your killer is still out there. Now, what haven’t we gone over yet?

You started to sift through some of your scribbles as a piece of paper slid out of place from within your notebook. You slightly tilted your head and pulled the paper out, seeing that webname that you had learned to hate.

“Tattle Crime”

You were going to shove the article back into your book, but you knew that your curiosity would only grow the longer you didn’t read it. With a disapproving sigh, you went ahead and read the article.

Freddie Lounds didn’t spend much time talking about the killer. She states that Dr. Pencalt was found like the other victims, and how he was a doctor with no obvious correlation to the others. Her “article” tends to focus more on you, Hannibal, and Will.

“Much like her brother Will Graham, who we have talked about before, (Y/N) supposedly has a gift for the psychologically strange and unusual. But we have to wonder why he isn’t working this case? Will Graham has successfully assisted Jack Crawford and his team on multiple cases in the past. So why bring on a rookie when you have a prized horse in the stables?

Maybe that is why Crawford decided to bring in Dr. Lecter, who was also an integral role in some of the cases that Will Graham had worked on. He has years of medical knowledge outside the realm of psychology that could be helpful in this case, considering the Virginia Scalpel is suspected to have a medical background.. Maybe he will be the key to locking the Virginia Scalpel up for good?”

She then went on to talk more about Hannibal before bringing up the case again. You couldn’t even fully grasp at what you were reading or how to feel about any of it before your phone rang beside you, bringing you back to reality. Only, you didn’t really want to deal with reality when you saw that the caller ID said “Jack Crawford.”

“(Y/N) here.” You tried your best to not sound unenthused, but you couldn’t help the obvious apathy in your voice.

“How soon can you get here?” You knew that this would end with you coming into the office for who knows how long, so you begrudgingly stood up and started to try to find a comfy but work appropriate outfit to change into while talking to Crawford.

“I mean… An hour? Maybe? Give or take 10 minutes. Why? What happened?”

“Got that evidence you were waiting for.” You couldn’t discern if he was at all happy about that.

Of course the one day I try to take it easy is the day we get results. You took a deep breath in and tried to form a coherent sentence.

“I--Uh… Okay. I’ll try to--”

“I’ll see you in the lab in an hour.” Jack interrupted and then hung up before you could say much else, knowing that that was an order, not a suggestion. You put your phone down and groaned before starting to get dressed.

~~~~~~~~

Pulling into your normal parking spot, you saw that you had made it to the office with 15 minutes to spare thanks to you not having the energy to do your hair or makeup today.

You got to your office and left the door open, knowing you would only be there for a minute or two. While you unpacked your bag, you heard someone clear their throat from your doorway. Turning around, you saw Will standing in the threshold with two cups of coffee.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” He tried to joke, but you just shot him a look. He winced and extended one of the cups out to you. “Peace offering?”

You sigh and accept the cup, not sure of what to say other than a quick “thanks.” Will stood there while you took a sip and continued to set up your stuff.

“You haven’t answered any of my texts.”

“I’ve been busy. And I’m still quite busy. I have to go and meet with everyone in,” you look at the clock on the wall. “5 minutes.”

“Jack’s really got his hooks in you, huh?”

“I tried to take a sick day and work from home, but lab results are in. Which means I’m also in.”

“Sick Day? You never use sick days.”

“First time for everything, I guess.” You turn around and try to walk past him but he stops you.

“(Y/N), I-”

“I really don’t want to talk. At least not right now. You and Hannibal are on thin ice right now. And there are more important a-and time sensitive things that need to be taken care of.”

“Look, (Y/N), I can explain--”

“Explain what exactly? That you really didn’t trust me when I said that I could handle myself? That you really think I am going to let Jack push me so much during my first real case that you had to have Hannibal step in as some sort of watchdog? I know you’ve had bad experiences with Jack, but goddamnit can’t you just let me learn and experience whatever happens on my own?”

“You’re upset--”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“And I-I get that, but just--”

“No. I have a job to do.”

“Then come by the house later. Have a drink, o-or we can get takeout, and I can tell you my side of the story.”

You paused as you looked down slightly and started to fidget with your ring. Will is looking in your general direction, trying to figure out how to ease the anxiety that was surely coursing through your amygdala and hippocampus, or at least some of the resentment that had fought its way through your eyes.

“Even if you don’t want to talk and we end up just sitting around, I’m sure the dogs would like to see their favorite aunt.”

“I’m their only aunt.” You both smiled at the joke. His smile was more out of relief while yours was just a quick smirk. His fades quickly as you rub your face and sigh out, “We’ll see. I have no idea what’s waiting for me in the lab. So I can’t promise anything. And as upset as I am with you, I do miss those dogs.”

“Just let me know when you decide and we will make time for it.”

You just nod and he lets you walk past. Will follows you out and closes the door behind the two of you. Before you could hit the elevator button, he spoke out to you.

“Despite what you think, I do care about you, you know.”

You stop in your tracks and turn around to face him. You could see the pain on his face even though you know he was trying to hide it. Your heart broke as you took a large inhale.

“I know you do. We’re family. We’ll always care about each other no matter what.” You give him a small smile to try to reassure him that what you were saying was true. He nodded and headed back towards the lecture halls and you hit the button to call the elevator, preparing yourself for as much insanity as you could.

~~~~~~~~

“(Y/N), right on time” Jack announced as you walked into the lab. Everyone was there and ready to go, including Hannibal who was on the other side of the table facing you. You hoped that he wouldn’t put together how off you were feeling today from your rushed appearance.

“Sorry, I would have been here sooner, but I had a run-in with my brother. What’ve I missed so far?” You opened up your notebook and joined the circle around the exam table that had Dr. Pencalt’s body on it. You internally winced as you realized that Hannibal was most likely going to ask you about your ‘run-in’ with Will after this meeting.

“Nothing yet. We were just about to start.” Zeller spoke up as he clapped his hands together and began his presentation. A lot of it was information that was similar to the previous victims. All of the cuts were made with surgical tools to ensure clean cuts, no obvious mutilations outside the killer’s usual, all focus was on the doctor as opposed to his wife, and so on.

“The paralytic that was used on Dr. Pencalt was the same as the other vics. It was a high enough dosage that he felt the effects within a minute or two.”

“Do you have the location and angle on the injection point?” Zeller nodded and handed you a printout that had various information about the small needle mark: diameter, insertion angle, depth, et cetera.

“He was pricked right here.” He used a gloved hand to turn Dr. Pencalt’s head and point to a small dot on the side of his neck. You just nodded and tried to imagine the killer coming and attacking him. You were starting to solidify the height range of your suspect.

“The angle is pretty flat, which means our suspect is either the same height as him or maybe an inch taller or shorter. How tall was Dr. Pencalt?” You heard Jimmy open a file and hum a note as he found out.

“5 foot 11.” You nodded and saw the height range of the shadowy silhouette of the killer in your mind narrow.

“So our killer is between 5’10” and 6’.”

“Is that all?” Jack asked in an audibly annoyed voice. You weren’t sure if it was directed at you specifically or at the situation in general. Jimmy, Brian, and Beverly all looked at each other as if they were kids who had broken an expensive vase and had to tell dad. Beverly was the brave kid that stepped forward.

“No. There is one more thing.” She turned around and got a tray from the other side of the room, bringing it back to the circle. “This was found lodged in his throat.”

On the tray, there was a distorted but still legible article from TattleCrime.com, the same article that was in your apartment. The only major difference was that this one was highlighted wherever it mentioned Hannibal or you.

“We tried to pull any sort of prints or DNA off of it, but the only thing we got was Dr. Pencalt’s blood and saliva. The article is from our favorite tabloid, Tattle Crime. It’s about the case, but it also talks about (Y/N) and Hannibal...”

You tried to control your breathing as Beverly kept speaking, forcing yourself to take slightly deeper breaths than normal hoping no one would pick up on it as you finally spoke up.

“So, fun story…” Everyone’s eyes landed on you. “I have that same article printed out, but I didn’t print it. Someone slipped it under my door the other night.”

You saw Jack readjust his stance, a frustrated look growing in his eyes, and started to speak, but you cut him off, already knowing where this was going.

“I didn’t bring it up because I honestly thought Hannibal or Will had slid it into my apartment as a way to try to scare me and make me resign from the case. For personal reasons, I have avoided talking to either of them unless it was absolutely necessary. So I never confirmed my theory.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Hannibal or Jack. But if you had, you would have seen the small bit of guilt in Hannibal’s face. He knew no one else would pick up on it because he was a master at keeping his mask on to others, but after being with him as long as you had, you could see between the cracks.

Jack looked towards Hannibal.

“Dr. Lecter, did you send the article to (Y/N)?”

“I did not. I’m just as taken aback as everyone else here.”

“And did you receive a copy of this article at any point during the last week?”

“No. I have not read anything from Miss Lound’s website for a significant amount of time now.” Jack took a breath in and tried to be logical and figure out what the next step needed to be.

“Alright, you guys get me a list of every medical facility that supplies that paralytic. (Y/N), get your copy and give it to Price to see if he can get anything off of it. Then I want you and Dr. Lecter in my office.” Jack walked out before anyone could say anything.

You stood there in a bit of shock as you looked at the soiled article in front of you. You tried to read through the bits of blurred text. Everything involving you or Hannibal was doused in bright yellow marker.

“Um… (Y/N)?” You couldn’t help the small instinctual jump as Jimmy tapped your shoulder. You quickly looked to him, trying to look okay despite learning that your name was literally in a key piece of evidence. “You okay?”

“Hm? Y-yeah! I mean, not really, but we’re not gonna talk about that right now.” You let out a forced exhale that you tried to make sound like a chuckle through a very forced smile. Before Price could ask anything else, you spoke up. “Here. It-its right here.”

“And you were the only one to touch this, right?” Price asked as he carefully grabbed the corners of your Tattle Crime article with clean and gloved hands. You just nodded in response. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

You mutter a quick thank you and then make your way back to the elevator and back to your office to write out your notes on the killer’s more specific height range and the highlighted sections of the article in your notebook.

Why us? I can somewhat understand Hannibal being chosen from an occupational standpoint. He is not only a psychiatrist, but he used to be a surgeon. But he has no ties to any of these other doctors. And what’s so special about me? I’m not a doctor of any kind. I don’t fit the killer’s m.o.

Your mind kept going on this internal monologue, trying to find any solid reasoning as to why both of you are now being focused on. It got even more frantic as you realized you only had about a week to figure it all out.

Before you could write out much, you heard a soft knock on your open office door. You didn’t even bother looking up.

“Will, I really can’t do this right now. I told you I would text you when-- Oh. Sorry, Dr. Lecter.” You expected Will to be impatient and try to talk to you again, but instead you were met with the careful gaze of Hannibal.

“No need to apologize.” He shut the door behind him and took a seat. “I thought you were comfortable with addressing me by my first name, (Y/N). Has that changed?”

“Look, I know you’re not really here to talk about that. But I’m not okay enough to talk about our personal lives at the moment. And if you’re here to ask about the Tattle Crime shit, I have no idea how--”

“I came to check up on you because I am worried about you, (Y/N).” You were taken aback for a moment. Not only does Hannibal usually never interrupt you when speaking, but he isn't always the most forthcoming when talking about emotions or concern.

“I’m fine.” You go back to trying to write out your ideas, knowing that if you gave him a fake smile, Hannibal would see right through it.

“The fact that you clearly stated that you were ‘not okay enough to talk about our personal lives’ and that you planned on taking a sick day today says otherwise.”

You took a deep inhale and closed your notebook. Trying to not dump all of your thoughts, work related or personal, on him.

“It wasn’t really a sick day. It was supposed to be a day where I worked from home to try to remind myself to take a break and eat an actual meal, or do my laundry that’s been piling up, or maybe finally hang up that frame I bought three weeks ago. But apparently that wasn’t in my cards today. Yes, I’m tired. Yes, I don’t want to be around people right now. Yes, I really don’t want to be talking to you or Will about anything other than work right now. So if I need to be here, then I’m here. That’s my job.”

“But no matter how stressful a job is, you need to be able to recalibrate your mind so as to not overwork yourself until you become a hindrance. Holding on to the frustration and betrayal that you feel are surely contributing to that lack of ability to rest, (Y/N). If you allow yourself to talk to Will about it, or even myself if you feel more comfortable--”

“All of my focus is trying to go to this case, moreso now that you and I may be targets. I am your colleague and your friend. But I really don’t want to ruin the good relationship that we have by talking to you like I’m one of your patients, because I’m not one of your patients. So please, just--”

You stopped yourself as you felt something click into place. Hannibal watched as you had a similar look in your eyes like how he had witnessed at the Pencalt crime scene.

“Patient…” You were slowly closing your mind’s eye and seeing things clearly.

“You’ve figured something out, haven’t you?” Hannibal leaned forward in his seat in curiosity, truly enthralled by watching how your brain worked in these situations.

“A patient! The killer is a patient! Oh my god! We gotta go now!” You quickly stood up, grabbing your notebook as you did. “I think I just figured out who our killer is!”

#hannibal lecter #Hannibal TV #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal fandom #will graham #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader

91 notes · View notes

coeurdastronaute · 5 years ago

Text

Essays in Existentialism: Rivals II

Previously on Rivals

There really wasn’t anything to be nervous about. Why should she be nervous when she’d already spent two nights in the same bed as a complete stranger and player for the opposite team. That was weird, but going on a date was incredibly normal. It was the most normal part of the timeline of their entire flirtation, and yet, Clarke was slightly antsy.

The nerves might have stemmed from the lying.

It wasn’t really mentioned when her friends asked her what her plans were for the weekend. Vaguely, she insisted that there was some family stuff she had to do and kept out of the conversations about meeting up, much to the dismay of a few voices. But the lies were made easier by the proximity to winter break. If she told them what she was really doing, she’d never hear the end of it from Octavia, and that was a fight she didn’t want to have. She’d never get over Bellamy’s sad eyes. She’d have to listen to Raven rail about this and that, and why not avoid it if she could?

In the end, lying felt right and easy and when everyone gave up trying to figure out when she’d be able to do something, instead chalking it up to a complete family weekend, she relaxed.

Maybe her nerves stemmed from the intensive dive into Lexa’s scant social media presence, strictly for science.

The very night she got home from the state championship trip, she laid in her bed and did the only normal thing she could think of doing-- looking into a certain Lexa Woods, all while texting the star kicker deep into the night.

And though she didn’t find much, she did see that Lexa was too cute and it was going to be a problem. Candids taken by friends of her in weird positions, reading. With glasses. Adorable glasses. Pictures hiking with her family. Camping with her little brother. Volunteering at the Special Olympics. Record shopping. Camping. Running. Biking. Studying film. Dressed up for a family wedding.

It spanned her entire high school life, and Clarke learned that she was an outdoorsy person who seemed too good to be true. She had a crush on a stranger she slept with-- twice.

Yes, that was where her nerves came from, Clarke decided as she heard the doorbell chime downstairs before she gave herself a once over in the mirror while taking a deep breath. There was nothing to be nervous about, she chanted.

Except it’d been two weeks of almost non-stop texting and Lexa was funny and nice and sweet and a nagging part of her brain couldn’t let Clarke believe that this girl was real.

“I’m coming!” Clarke yelled down the steps as she hurried to the bathroom and quickly sprayed a dash of perfume from the tiny, expensive bottle her dad got her for her birthday.

She heard the rumble of voices downstairs and tried not to think of how embarrassing her father could possibly be. In record time she snagged her coat and phone, pocketing and tugging on as she hustled down the steps.

But handling it well enough, Lexa stood there, in Clarke’s house, in the flesh, real, alive, and in-person. Red letterman jacket folded over her arm, she stood there and listened intently to Jake Griffin talk about something before catching her date’s eye and smiling.

“I will have to check that movie out, Mr. Griffin,” Lexa nodded, tearing herself away from Clarke. “Thank you for the suggestion.”

“Okay, we’re heading out, Dad,” Clarke interrupted before he could start talking about something else. “I’ll be home later.”

“Not giving me much time to embarrass you, honey,” he chided as she leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I got distracted talking about movies.”

“An easy way to avert him. Nice work, Twelve.”

Lexa smiled quickly as Clarke came to stand beside her.

“I do want to hear some embarrassing things though. I’m sure we have ti--”

“Okay, we’re off,” she cut off the thought.

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Griffin,” Lexa stuck out her hand and shook Jake’s. “I’ll let you know what I think of that film. I’m always looking for new favorites.”

“You won’t be disappoint,” he smiled, surprised by the action as she shook her hand. “Home by twelve at the latest.”

“What about one?” Clarke tried.

“Actually, I have to be home by eleven,” Lexa offered. “So unless you plan on bailing…”

“You know, eleven sounds so much better to me,” Jake grinned and looked at his daughter expectantly.

With a shake of her head and sigh, Clarke moved toward the door, Lexa trailing behind her and shrugging on her coat as the moved out into the cold. The patriarch of the small family stood behind the glass and watched them hurry to hop into the still-running car in the driveway. It wasn’t that he truly trusted anyone that took his daughter out on a date, but something about Lexa seemed okay enough for him to not worry as much, which was surprising for someone with a letterman jacket.

But he waved as they pulled out into the street and he smiled, the faint remnant of the perfume he bought for his daughter for her last birthday still lingering on the stairs.

XXXXXXXXXX

As much as she told herself that she wasn’t nervous, that it was pointless to worry about it, that Clarke obviously liked her enough to make out with her in a hotel bed, twice, Lexa still felt a little nervous about their first official date. She did a valiant job in pretending though.

But then she saw Clarke and she relaxed, despite the fact that her heartbeat picked up by about half. It was baffling and she wasn’t sure what it meant, but she didn’t waste any time thinking about it too hard.

“I can’t believe I’ve never been here before,” Lexa smiled as they pulled up to the museum parking lot. “My brother has a thing for museums.”

“Now I get to spoil it for you so when he drags you here eventually, it’ll be old news.”

“You know, you haven’t insulted me once since I picked you up.”

“Can’t let them go to your head,” Clarke grinned and waited, sticking her hand out for her date to grab so she could lead her into one of her favorite places in town. “Your ego is already monstrous after winning a championship.”

“Did you know I get a ring and everything? The lunch lady gave me an extra cookie the other day, too.”

“What a life you lead. And here I am, taking up your time when you could be basking in the glow of being the city’s golden child.”

“Not this town,” she murmured, feeling slightly out of place in her jacket.

“Don’t sweat it. You’re with me, Woods.”

It was a baseless sentence and in no way did Lexa imagine that Clarke ran her town, but there was something to her confidence and ease that made her want to believe it without question. Clarke was easy that way-- just constantly moving and pushing and remaining undaunted, it felt like. Through their late night chats, she’d learned that Clarke really figured out that she didn’t like a lot of who she was over the past few years, and was restarting, with purpose.

Lexa wasn’t sure what it all meant, just that Clarke was honest and fun, she was unpredictable and passionate, and most importantly, she was fiercely independent.

Somewhere between the paintings of the boats and the ones that were just lines, Lexa felt Clarke’s chin on her shoulder and the proximity of their bodies as they walked through the massive rooms, perusing and joking, appreciating and debating, predominantly disappearing into themselves without a care for anyone else in the place.

Somewhere between the busts and the installation art, Lexa kissed Clarke’s cheek and held her hand a little tighter, occasionally pulling her own behind her back to pull Clarke closer to her side.

And at the end of the night, after dropping Clarke off and getting a kiss for her troubles, Lexa smiled and replayed the entire date in her head on the drive home.

XXXXXXXXXX

Despite the normal festivities of the holiday season combined with winning a championship and having many more friend obligations to attend with, Lexa ignored what she could and spent her most of her break driving back and forth to the rival town to see a certain cheerleader who like to kiss her and sometimes slip her hand up her shirt. And she liked returning the favor, hence the driving and hosting.

But between the family and the girl and break homework, Lexa was sure to spend time preparing for her soccer season. That was a point she made because she sure as hell wasn’t going to only get scholarship options for one season in a sport she didn’t truly love.

There was a schedule and Clarke fit into it all, much to Lexa’s relief.

“You have to head home soon,” Clarke whispered, though her lips moved to capture the kicker’s once again.

“I can push my luck a little bit. Your dad likes me.”

The scoff was cut off by a low moan as Lexa let her hands get a little more brazen than they’d been before. She was fueled by the fact that they were busy and school was starting again and she wouldn’t know how long until she’d see Clarke again. That and the delectable little noises coming from beneath her.

“You should leave, before I make you stay.”

Lexa smiled against Clarke’s neck and bit there before pushing her thigh harder into her center, earning a shift of hips. Fingertips dug into her neck and she sighed at the sensation. She wanted more time. She wanted to pause everything.

“You feel so good,” Lexa whispered.

“We should see each other again.”

“I’d like that.”

“You’ll let me know when you get your schedule for soccer?”

“You’ll be the first to know. I’d like my own cheerleader,” Lexa smiled, kissing toward chest. “And as my girlfriend, you get the perks of wearing my jacket and old jersey whenever you’d like.”

“Girlfriend, eh?” Clarke adjusted so that Lexa hovered over her. She cocked her head and smiled before pushing hair away from her eyes. She loved Lexa’s green, and how deep and expressive they were if you were smart enough to pay attention.

“Yeah, well. If the letterman fits.”

“I do look cute in it,” she shrugged, smiling enough with a dimple and all.

“Much better than me.”

“I can’t go wearing it at school. That’d be the end of me.”

“I suppose we should talk about being star-crossed and such, since we’re heading back to the real world.”

Clarke groaned a complaint and hugged Lexa toward her tighter.

“What is there to talk about? My girlfriend goes to a different school.”

“It’s adorable how you think it’ll be easy.”

“You’d be amazing at how good I am t being difficult.”

Despite herself, Lexa chuckled and shook her head before kissing Clarke’s cheek and jaw and nose. She finally pushed herself away.

XXXXXXXXX

The fall out was… biblical, in a way that Clarke never fully expected. It seemed insanely trivial for her to develop a crush on a person that could develop so much ire from her entire world, but she bore the brunt of it with a flippant disregard to such ridiculous stigmas.

The worst of it was Octavia, fiercely loyal to her team and her school and most importantly, her brother. The news worked its way through the friend group, debated and marvelled over for a few days before it became old news. It was a novelty and for a while Clarke fielded their questions and took their taunting well enough.

It wasn’t until spring that Clarke finally blew up, lashing out at Bellamy, Octavia, Murphy, and a few others who were still bitter about their lost. It ended with her scolding their pitiful performance and childish behavior. It didn’t really help, but she certainly felt better.

“Good job! Nice kick!” Clarke cheered from the bleachers amidst the large crowd in the waning evening light.

“Oh now you’re a cheerleader,” Octavia rolled her eyes and scoffed from a few rows away.

Clarke grit her teeth and shook her head before focusing back on the pitch as number twelve streaked down the field, maneuvering quickly through defenders. She shoved her hands into the pockets of the jacket for the opposing team and smelled a hint of Lexa on the collar still, vowing to give it back to her for a few days to get more of it back.

Unsure of if the booing spurred her or the fact that her girlfriend was watching, but Lexa and her team won by a wide margin, which was gratifying to the singular fan in the audience.

“Hey, Twelve, you looked good out there.”

“Oh thanks. Just showing off a bit for you,” Lexa grinned, hanging on the railing of the bleachers as she watched her red jacket walk towards her. “Thanks for coming.”

“Couldn’t miss it. Hottest seat in town.”

“I have to get on the bus in a few…”

“Can’t waste time then,” Clarke grinned, jumping off the final step and wrapping her arms around the sweaty soccer players neck.

In a second, she was kissing her girlfriend and smiling, content with the glares she knew she’d be getting from the peanut gallery.

“You should come over this weekend. There’s a great movie playing at the Local, and I could be persuaded to take you for dinner.”

“Persuaded, huh?”

“Mmhm,” she nodded, setting her girlfriend down.

“Do you want to meet my friends?”

“I think I’ve met some of them,” Lexa looked at the gaggle that followed. “Hi.”

“Guys, this is Lexa,” Clarke offered as she turned around and found the rest of the group. “Lex, this is Bellamy, his sister, Octavia, Raven, Murphy, Monty, and Madi.”

A small chorus of hellos greeted her as she lifted her hand awkwardly.

“Sorry about making that field goal. I can honestly say I didn’t mean to, and it just kind of happened.”

The crowd relaxed slightly and mingled about with some small talk before the coach called and Lexa looked over her shoulder, realizing it was time to leave.

“I’ll see you Saturday, if that’s okay?” Clarke asked, walking with Lexa toward the bus.

“Did I do well enough with the friends to earn a date?”

“You did. I do have to spend Friday with them though to make up for it, but yeah, I’d say you’re okay.”

“Am I going to have to see them more?”

“Definitely.”

“Whatever works.”

“Here,” Clarke shrugged off the coat. “I need you to break this in again for me. I lost your smell.”

“Can’t have it not smell like Ireland looks, I guess.”

“Shut up.”

With a shove and a kiss, Clarke pushed Lexa toward the bus.

181 notes · View notes

percysaysfuck · 3 years ago

Text

THREE OLD BITCHES KNIT THE SOCKS OF DEATH

I was used to the occasional weird experience, but usually they were over quickly. This twenty-four/seven hallucination was more than I could handle. For the rest of the school year, the entire campus seemed to be playing some kind of trick on me. The students acted as if they were completely and totally convinced that Mrs. Kerr—a perky blond woman whom I'd never seen in my life until she got on our bus at the end of the field trip—had been our pre-algebra teacher since Christmas.

Every so often I would spring a Mrs. Dodds reference on somebody, just to see if I could trip them up, but they would stare at me like I was psycho.

It got so I almost believed them—Mrs. Dodds had never existed.

Almost.

But Grover couldn't fool me. When I mentioned the name Dodds to him, he would hesitate, then claim she didn't exist. But I knew he was fucking lying.

Something was going on. Something had happened at the museum.

I didn't have much time to think about it during the days, but at night, visions of Mrs. Dodds with talons and leathery wings would wake me up in a cold sweat.

The freak weather continued, which didn't help my mood. One night, a thunderstorm blew out the windows in my dorm room. A few days later, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy Academy. One of the current events we studied in social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year.

I started feeling cranky and irritable most of the time. My grades slipped from Ds to Fs. I got into more fights with Nancy Bobofit and her shit faced friends. I was sent out into the hallway in almost every class.

Finally, when our English teacher, Mr. Nicoll, asked me for the millionth time why I was too lazy to study for spelling tests, I snapped. I called him an old sot. I wasn't even sure what it meant, but it sounded good.

The headmaster sent my mom a letter the following week, making it official: I would not be invited back next year to Yancy Academy.

Fine, I told myself. Just fine.

I was homesick.

I wanted to be with my mom in our little apartment on the Upper East Side, even if I had to go to public school and put up with my obnoxious fucking stepfather and his shitty poker parties.

And yet. . . there were things I'd miss at Yancy. The view of the woods out my dorm window, the Hudson River in the distance, the smell of pine trees. Id miss Grover, who'd been a good friend, even if he was a little fucked up. I worried how he'd survive next year without me.

I'd miss Latin class, too—Mr. Brunner's crazy tournament days and his faith that I could do well.

As exam week got closer, Latin was the only test I studied for. I hadn't forgotten what Mr. Brunner had told me about this subject being life-and-death for me. I wasn't sure why, but I'd started to believe him.

The evening before my final, I got so frustrated I threw the Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology across my dorm room. Words had started swimming off the page, circling my head, the letters doing one-eighties as if they were riding skateboards. There was no way I was going to remember the difference between Chiron and Charon, or Polydictes and Polydeuces. And conjugating those Latin verbs? Fucking forget it.

I paced the room, feeling like ants were crawling around inside my shirt.

I remembered Mr. Brunner's serious expression, his thousand-year-old eyes. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson. I took a deep breath. I picked up the mythology book.

I'd never asked a teacher for help before. Maybe if I talked to Mr. Brunner, he could give me some pointers. At least I could apologize for the big fat F I was about to score on his exam. I didn't want to leave Yancy Academy with him thinking I hadn't tried.

I walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor.

I was three steps from the door handle when I heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question. A voice that was definitely Grover's said ". . . worried about Percy, sir. "

I froze.

Shit.

I'm not usually an eavesdropper, but I dare you to try not listening if you hear your best friend talking shit about you to an adult.

I inched closer.

". . . alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a Kindly One in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too—"

"We would only make matters worse by rushing him," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the boy to mature more. "

"But he may not have time. The summer solstice deadline— "

"Will have to be resolved without him, Grover. Let him enjoy his ignorance while he still can. "

"Sir, he saw her. . . . "

"His imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince him of that. "

"Sir, I . . . I can't fail in my duties again. " Grover's voice was choked with emotion. "You know what that would mean. "

"You haven't failed, Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she was. Now lets just worry about keeping Percy alive until next fall—"

The mythology book dropped out of my hand and hit the floor with a thud.

Fuck.

Mr. Brunner went silent.

My heart hammering, I picked up the book and backed down the hall.

A shadow slid across the lighted glass of Brunner's office door, the shadow of something much taller than my wheelchair-bound teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like an archers bow.

I opened the nearest door and slipped inside.

A few seconds later I heard a slow clop-clop-clop, like muffled wood blocks, then a sound like an animal snuffling right outside my door. A large, dark shape paused in front of the glass, then moved on.

A bead of sweat trickled down my neck.

Somewhere in the hallway, Mr. Brunner spoke. "Nothing," he murmured. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice. "

"Mine neither," Grover said. "But I could have sworn . . . "

"Go back to the dorm," Mr. Brunner told him. "You've got a long day of exams tomorrow. "

"Don't remind me. "

The lights went out in Mr. Brunner's office.

I waited in the dark for what seemed like forever.

Finally, I slipped out into the hallway and made my way back up to the dorm.

Grover was lying on his bed, studying his Latin exam notes like he'd been there all night.

"Hey," he said, bleary-eyed. "You going to be ready for this test?"

I didn't answer.

"You look awful. " He frowned. "Is everything okay?"

"Just. . . tired. "

I turned so he couldn't read my expression, and started getting ready for bed.

I didn't understand what I'd heard downstairs. I wanted to believe I'd imagined the whole thing.

But one thing was clear: Grover and Mr. Brunner were talking about me behind my back. They thought I was in some kind of danger.

The next afternoon, as I was leaving the three-hour Latin exam, my eyes swimming with all the Greek and Roman names I'd misspelled, Mr. Brunner called me back inside.

For a moment, I was worried he'd found out about my eavesdropping the night before, but that didn't seem to be the problem.

"Percy," he said. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's . . . it's for the best. "

His tone was kind, but the words still embarrassed me. Even though he was speaking quietly, the other kids finishing the test could hear. Nancy Bobofit fucking smirked at me and made sarcastic little kissing motions with her lips.

I mumbled, "Okay, sir. "

"I mean . . . " Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth, like he wasn't sure what to say. "This isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time. "

My eyes stung.

Here was my favorite teacher, in front of the class, telling me I couldn't handle it. After saying he believed in me all year, now he was telling me I was destined to get kicked out.

"Right," I said, trembling.

"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say . . . you're not normal, Percy. That's nothing to be—"

"Thanks," I blurted. "Thanks a lot, sir, for fucking reminding me. "

"Percy—"

But I was already gone.

On the last day of the term, I shoved my clothes into my suitcase.

The other guys were joking around, talking about their vacation plans. One of them was going on a hiking trip to Switzerland. Another was cruising the Caribbean for a month. They were juvenile delinquents, like me, but they were rich juvenile delinquents. Their daddies were executives, or ambassadors, or celebrities. I was a nobody, from a family of fucking nobodies.

They asked me what Id be doing this summer and I told them I was going back to the city.

What I didn't tell them was that I'd have to get a summer job walking dogs or selling magazine subscriptions, and spend my free time worrying about where I'd go to school in the fall.

"Oh," one of the guys said. "That's cool. "

They went back to their conversation as if I'd never existed.

The only person I dreaded saying good-bye to was Grover, but as it turned out, I didn't have to. He'd booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Greyhound as I had, so there we were, together again, heading into the city.

During the whole bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. It occurred to me that he'd always acted nervous and fidgety when we left Yancy, as if he expected something bad to happen. Before, I'd always assumed he was worried about getting teased. But there was nobody to tease him on the Greyhound.

Finally I couldn't fucking stand it anymore.

I said, "Looking for Kindly Ones?"

Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. "Wha—what do you mean?"

I confessed about eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner the night before the exam.

Grover's eye twitched. "How much did you hear?"

"Oh . . . not much. What's the summer solstice dead-line?"

He winced. "Look, Percy . . . I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers . . . "

"Grover—"

"And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and . . . "

"Grover, you're a really, really bad fucking liar. "

His ears turned pink.

From his shirt pocket, he fished out a grubby business card. "Just take this, okay? In case you need me this summer."

The card was in fancy script, which was murder on my dyslexic eyes, but I finally made out something like:

Grover Underwood

Keeper

Half-Blood Hill

Long Island, New York

(800) 009-0009

"What's Half—"

"Don't say it aloud!" he yelped. "That's my, um . . . summer address. "

My heart sank. Grover had a fucking summer home. I'd never considered that his family might be as rich as the others at Yancy.

"Okay," I said glumly. "So, like, if I want to come visit your mansion. "

He nodded. "Or . . . or if you need me. "

"Why the fuck would I need you?"

It came out harsher than I meant it to.

Grover blushed right down to his Adams apple. "Look, Percy, the truth is, I—I kind of have to protect you. "

I stared at him.

All year long, I'd gotten in fights, keeping bullies away from him. I'd lost sleep worrying that he'd get beaten up next year without me. And here he was acting like he was the one who fucking defended me.

"Grover," I said, "what exactly are you protecting me from?"

There was a huge grinding noise under our feet. Black smoke poured from the dashboard and the whole bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs. The driver cursed and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.

After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that we'd all have to get off. Grover and I filed outside with everybody else.

We were on a stretch of country road—no place you'd notice if you didn't break down there. On our side of the highway was nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand.

The stuff on sale looked really fucking good: heaping boxes of bloodred cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks Id ever seen.

I mean these socks were the size of sweaters, but they were clearly socks. The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn.

All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses.

The weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking right fucking at me.

I looked over at Grover to say something about this and saw that the blood had drained from his face. His nose was twitching.

"Grover?" I said. "Hey, man—"

"Tell me they're not looking at you. They are, aren't they?"

"Yeah. Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?"

"Not funny, Percy. Not funny at all. "

The old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors—gold and silver, long-bladed, like shears. I heard Grover catch his breath.

"Were getting on the bus," he told me. "Come on. "

"What?" I said. "It's a thousand degrees in there. "

"Come on!" He pried open the door and climbed inside, but I stayed back.

Across the road, the old ladies were still watching me. The middle one cut the yarn, and I swear I could hear that snip across four lanes of traffic. Her two friends balled up the electric-blue socks, leaving me wondering who they could possibly be for—Sasquatch or Godzilla.

At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life.

The passengers cheered.

"Darn right!" yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his hat. "Everybody back on board!"

Once we got going, I started feeling feverish, as if I'd caught the fucking flu.

Grover didn't look much better. He was shivering and his teeth were chattering.

"Grover?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you not fucking telling me?"

He dabbed his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "Percy, what did you see back at the fruit stand?"

"You mean the old ladies? What is it about them, man? They're not like . . . Mrs. Dodds, are they?"

His expression was hard to read, but I got the feeling that the fruit-stand ladies were something much, much worse than Mrs. Dodds. He said, "Just tell me what you saw. "

"The middle one took out her scissors, and she fucking cut the yarn. "

He closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that might've been crossing himself, but it wasn't. It was something else, something almost—older.

He said, "You saw her snip the cord. "

"Yeah. So?" But even as I said it, I knew it was a big deal.

"This is not happening," Grover mumbled. He started chewing at his thumb. "I don't want this to be like the last time. "

"What last time?"

"Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth. "

"Grover," I said, because he was really starting to fucking scare me. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Let me walk you home from the bus station. Promise me. "

This seemed like a strange request to me, but I promised he could.

"Is this like a superstition or something?" I asked.

No answer.

"Grover—that snipping of the yarn. Does that mean somebody is going to fucking die?"

He looked at me mournfully, like he was already picking the kind of flowers I'd like best on my coffin.

Fuck.

#Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson and the lightning thief #percy jackson and the olympians #PJO #Percy says fuck

3 notes · View notes

vamonumentlandscape · 3 years ago

Text

Mount Vernon and Charlottesville (again)

Josh’s Perspective:

I have fond memories of going to Mount Vernon when I was about five years old. I remember it was a chilly autumn night, so there was seasonal hot apple cider available. It was delicious! I do not remember much else though, not even the house tour. The visit during our research would allow me to get a better understanding of what the site continues to maintain about America’s first president. I joined Tomi and Dr. Sherayko in starting with the gift shop before heading up to the museum and mansion only to find many massive school groups gathered. Such a sight would have been unthinkable a few months ago, but it is great to see that people of all ages are getting to go out again. Tomi purchased a few items, but I decided to browse. It was enlightening to see books about Ona (Oney) Judge and other enslaved persons owned by the Washington family alongside material about the founding fathers.

When we entered the museum, we decided to start with the exhibit titled Lives Bound Together: Slavery at Washington’s Mount Vernon. Seeing this felt especially appropriate since we visited on Juneteenth, which celebrates the effective end to American slavery two years after the Emancipation Proclamation was signed. The initial film that we watched set the tone for an honest presentation of George and Martha Washington as slave owners. The inclusion of voices from descendants of the enslaved is an indispensable element of the exhibit as they can tell the story of their ancestors better than any historian can. The material culture presented throughout the dim display cases provides visitors an opportunity to see what life was like for the enslaved community of Mount Vernon. There were a few things that did not seem right to me. At every turn, excuses were floated out for Washington. Yes, he expressed concern for the continuation of chattel slavery in the young nation, but he and his family were still slave owners for his entire life. When one of the panels mentioned that Washington only punished the enslaved when necessary, I got frustrated. Just because punishments were used occasionally does not mean he was good to the enslaved. There is no such thing as a good slave owner. George Washington only freed the enslaved persons that he owned upon his death when he did not need them anymore. For someone that our country holds in such high esteem, Washington was still a slave owner. That is an undeniable fact. I appreciated the narratives presented for famous members of the enslaved community at Mount Vernon, such as Ona Judge, Frank Lee, and Hercules. Their stories matter just as much, if not more, than the people that owned them.

After walking through the next exhibit in the Education Center, which was just a shrine to Washington’s military and political career (including a 4-D film experience), we were all unsettled with what Mount Vernon was doing. Monticello had done a much better job in presenting the full history, flaws and accomplishments, of Thomas Jefferson. We headed down towards the tomb of George Washington and the burial ground for the enslaved. I was glad to see that many people gathered around in the area of the enslaved burial ground. The memorial is located around a marker that was placed in 1929 by the Mount Vernon Ladies Association. Since the language was a bit outdated, a new memorial was placed in 1983. It was designed by students of Howard University. So many stories are unknown about the many people buried in this place, and I wish we could know more. Some laminated cards seemed to be out only for Juneteenth informing visitors about a few of the enslaved, but there needs to be a more permanent piece of signage to respect the memory of all. I did appreciate the member of Mount Vernon’s staff playing solemn music on a fife as we paid our respects.

To conclude our visit, we headed back up to the mansion and saw some of the livestock that Mount Vernon cares for along the way. The wait to get inside for the tour took a little longer than any of us were expecting, but we rushed through as soon as we got inside. Some interpreters seemed a bit more knowledgeable than others and the experience was less than satisfactory. There was no real critique of the Washington’s when we were inside the mansion, which needs significant revision. I am not saying that George Washington is on the same level as Jefferson Davis and that we need to remove all statues that were put up in his memory, but we do need to be honest with ourselves. Washington was a man with flaws and his seemingly pristine legacy at Mount Vernon should be complicated. The private organization that owns and interprets the property can do a better job to ensure that everyone can see themselves equally. This may come with serious actions to increase diversity in staff and those that visit.

Though we were all fatigued after the day at Mount Vernon, we made a final stop in Charlottesville before returning to Lynchburg. The George Rogers Clark statue near the University of Virginia is slated to come down later this Summer. The reasoning behind this decision is the depiction of Native Americans. When we saw it in person, I was horrified to see the Native Americans being shown to be subservient and cowering in fear to the explorer on horseback. Colonization had disastrous effects on Native Americans throughout the North American continent. A negative presentation of any tribe or nation does nothing to help the survival of their culture. The University is making the right decision in taking the statue down and discussing a replacement to best honor the culture of the original inhabitants of North America. I am confident that UVA will do the right thing to show that Native Americans anywhere are not cowardly and disappearing people. That kind of monument and education is essential, especially for Virginia groups like the Monacan Indian Nation.

Tomi’s Perspective:

As with most of the sites we have visited, I had not been to Mount Vernon before. I was looking forward to seeing the historic home and museum dedicated to our first president. We entered the gift shop first since we were a little early getting to the site. I picked up quite a few things as I was very impressed with the wide selection of items. My excitement grew after shopping. We walked on a short path to the visitors center and even saw a very cute ram on the way. The funniest part about the whole day was that this little ram would end up being our favorite part of Mount Vernon. The visitors center was packed with guests eager to learn. The staff was kind and pointed us to the maps and audio tour devices. The maps were in a wide array of languages, making the park accessible to a diverse group of visitors. Since I am learning German in the fall and Dr. Sherayko speaks the language, we both picked up one of the German maps for fun. As we were looking where to go, the beginning of our misgivings with Mount Vernon began. The map was not very well done and I got extremely frustrated with this as it was not to scale. Josh and Dr. Sherayko both thought my map frustrations were funny, but by the end of the day we were all feeling that way towards Mount Vernon.

After deciphering the ultra confusing map, we ended up at the museum. We were all very excited to see the Lives Bound Together exhibit on Washington and the enslaved. This exhibit was a breakthrough for the organization as it came out in 2016. It was only supposed to last one year, but the foundation got grants for it to spend extra time in the museum. Once the pandemic hit, the exhibit was extended again. It will finally go on as a travelling exhibit after July 11, 2021. As soon as you walk in you are faced with large panels in a circular room with Washington’s bust in the middle. All of the panels detail the “complex and painful” story of slavery at Mount Vernon. Each of them was honest and told truths about Washington’s slaveholding that had not been shared so explicitly before. One of the hardest hitting facts was that there were over 500 enslaved people at Mount Vernon over Washington’s lifetime. In the beginning here, we noted that it also said he freed his 123 slaves in his will and that he was the only founding father to do so. Though this is true, this fact was unpacked a little more as we went through. The exhibit itself was long and had a lot of reading. This one exhibit was in a space the size of the Tredegar Civil War Museum’s exhibition room. For us, having seen so many different sites over the past few weeks, we know that to truly grasp your typical tourist an exhibit cannot be so long winded. Of course Josh, Dr. Sherayko, and I analyzed the panels as best we could, but even to us it began to be saturated. The worst part was that there was a lot of repetition. It seemed every panel restated something else in different words. Remember back to the fact I shared earlier: Washington freed his 123 slaves in his will and was the only founding father to do so. As we entered the third room, there was yet another panel on the wall about this, but this time there was more to this fact in smaller print than before. Yes, Washington did free his slaves in his will, the ones that he owned himself, but not after his death. In his will his slaves were to be freed at the time of Martha Washington’s death. Mind you, not only did Martha own slaves, but she had over 30 enslaved people she had inherited from her family. Martha owned 153 slaves when Washington died. Why was this mentioned in small print? Just as Josh mentioned our concerns over the extended praise the exhibit was giving to Washington, this was another part that did not sit well with the group. The long, repetitive, overly praising, and not so clear Lives Bound Together exhibit was overall very disappointing. It is wonderful they are talking about the lives of the enslaved and including descendants, but we all feel like the exhibit could have been much better.

After experiencing Lives Bound Together, we went to the other part of the museum entirely devoted to Washington. Sadly, it was hard for me to enjoy the very patriotic exhibits to Washington. I do believe that we can look at the legacies of our founding fathers and be proud of their brilliance in creating the United States. But, it was very hard for me to do so when there isn’t complete honesty about their slaveholding pasts. When comparing the honesty of Monticello and Montpelier, Mount Vernon was subpar. I wished that I could have enjoyed our 4-D experience, the walk through Revolutionary times, and all of Washington’s history, but I could not.

On our way to the mansion tour, we made a few stops at the enslaved peoples exhibits. These were well done in preserved Slave Quarters. This was enlightening to see after the experience we had in the museum. It was interesting to note that there had once been a store dedicated to Martha Washinton in one of the Slave Quarters. It was still on the map and there was still a sign on the door, but it seemed to have been closed for a while. I wish I would have asked one of our guides why this was changed. We were all happy to see many visitors by the enslaved peoples quarters and learning about their roles at Mount Vernon. After this, we walked to the enslaved people’s burial grounds and to the Washington’s family tomb. Of course it was moving to see the site of our first president's burial, but when we walked over to the enslaved people’s cemetery, we were all moved to near tears. With a flutist playing Amazing Grace and other beautiful songs as we observed the solemn site, we read through some of the stories of those who were buried there. It was powerful to stand where so many men and women that had once been forgotten about, but now remembered by name, had been laid to rest.

After climbing the hill from the cemetery, we were only 10 minutes away from our house tour. Sadly, they were running very behind and our tour that was supposed to be at 2:10 ended up being at 2:30. During those 30 minutes standing in the heat, Dr. Sherayko filled the time by teaching us new German words like enttäuscht. The house tour only lasted 15 minutes and was quite an odd experience. In the first room, our tour guide slipped up and used the word “servant” to describe the enslaved population. In the end she corrected herself, but that shows where Mount Vernon’s interpretation has been. Going through the home quickly, seeing the horrid green paint on one of the walls that was said to be Washington’s favorite, and then to end with a really odd tour guide sealed the deal for us to head home from Mount Vernon.

On our way out we stopped by the new Ona Judge National Historic Sign. I was beautifully done and we were so happy to end such an up and down day at Mount Vernon on such a high note. Josh and I were happy to end our trip smiling together in front of this wonderful sign.

Despite all of us being deliriously tired, we made a pit stop in Charlottesville to hit Trader Joe's and grab dinner. At dinner Dr. Sherayko reminded us of a statue we forgot to see on The Corner at UVA that is due for removal. Even though we were all spent, we made the trip. The statue of Revolutionary War hero George Rogers Clark does little to show his heroism. He is best known for defeating the British in quite a few battles and earning the French’s trust, but he also has another legacy that is shown in the monument to him. “CONQUEROR OF THE WEST” is the title given to Clark as he sits on his horse, reaching for a weapon to use against Native Americans. Clark fought and took Native American land in many battles. After the Revolution he was even given the position as Indian Commissioner. Though this statue may accurately represent one of his legacies, it puts it in a celebratory light. Celebrating the destruction of indigenous peoples lands, people, and assets is nothing to be proud of and have a statue for. We are all quite happy UVA is choosing to take this statue down.

After grabbing some delicious ice cream at Kilwins, we randomly saw Dr. d’Entremont, our American History professor, walking across the street. I embarrassingly stuck my head out of the window and called out to him. We pulled over and chatted about what we all were doing in Charlottesville. He mentioned to us another site we should check out that is actually no longer there anymore. There was a Confederate statue on the courthouse lawn that was removed last summer. There isn’t even a base left, so in our initial trip we would have had no idea to look for it. We all mosied up the street together and looked where the old statue used to be. We ran into a resident of apartment buildings right across the street who expressed fond memories of the old statue, the Lee statue that was only a few blocks away, and the Clark statue. She told us about walks along this street with families, how there would be a live nativity scene at Lee Park, and how her fathers law office was right across from the Clark statue. She understood mostly why they were being taken down, she said, but she felt like it robbed her of childhood memories. We all listened to her touching story, but what she may not understand is that there is a significant population of African Americans and other citizens who are unable to have such fond memories. These statues that are entrenched in the Lost Cause and have racist sentiments leaving the monument landscape allow for a more inclusive community where all can create similar memories to hers.

#mount Vernon #Washington #Martha #George #ona judge #history #virginia #monument #important

2 notes · View notes

princecupcakee · 4 years ago

Text

Park Bench | Reddie

Read on AO3

Rating: E

Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Word Count: 3,112

Chapter: 1/8

Next Chapters: Chapter 2 (AO3), Chapter 3 (AO3), Chapter 4 (AO3)

Summary: Recently divorced and ‘incapable of love’, Eddie Kaspbrak moves to Los Angeles for work and a small, small hope of a fresh start. Broken up and never dated again, Richie Tozier tries to get back into love with help from his love of music. Quickly meeting eyes and one concert later, they think that maybe love isn’t that bad. So they try it one more time.

Chapter 1: Richie Tozier’s Plan, Eddie Kaspbrak’s First Vinyl & Beverly Marsh’s Plan

Tags/Warnings: Angst / Unhappy Ending / theres only one sex scene but this is explicit anyway / Bisexual Richie Tozier / Gay Eddie Kaspbrak / Post-Divorce / Implied/Referenced Cheating / Inspired By Remembering Sunday (All Time Low) / Inspired by The Book Ninja by Ali Berg / Implied/Referenced Child Abuse / Implied/Referenced Abuse / Implied/Referenced Manipulation

Tag-list: @richietoaster, @s-s-georgie, @mikeuris, @gazebobullshit, @that-weird-girls-blog, @tozierking, @thoughtfullyyoungduck, @s-onora, @bellarosewrites, @lermanslogan, @ambitiousskychild, @ghostnebula, @vanillaredvelvet,

(Ask if you wanna be on the tag-list!!)

Chapter 1

Richie Tozier’s Plan

If Richie’s love life was written into a song, it would be called ‘Disaster’; named after his sad attempts at everything even just slightly involved with it. It would be a ballad, slow at first, some depressing line about how dreams don’t become reality. The chorus would hit loud, deafening if rock music wasn’t something you’d find yourself listening to, ‘He loved the sound of their romance’ is the loudest line in the chorus followed by: ‘But he messed up the steps to the dance’ then a sudden melancholy beat, ‘He failed his audition and he lost his chance.’ Toward the end of the song, as the sounds of the drums faded, and a slow guitar was the dominant sound, ‘It’s hopeless’ and the song would close.

Richie’s love life was an utter disaster if you tried to put it to words. He hadn’t had a single normal date in a very long time (he wonders if he ever did, really.) It wasn’t as simple as, ‘I spilled my drink and now there’s going to be a stain and that embarrassing’ those dates wouldn’t stand a chance on his. A few from his museum of failed dates:

Exhibit A -

James: Hey, I saw that you live in Los Angeles

Richie: Yeah! What about you?

James: I just got out of jail and my ex changed the locks. I really need a place to stay?

Exhibit B -

“I love this band so much,” Abigail gushed.

“Me, too! I’m really glad we were able to catch them here.”

And later that night on the news: ‘Woman arrested for jumping on stage to pull a strand of hair from a celebrity in a Los Angeles concert.’

Exhibit C - Connor. Connor Bowers was perfect with Richie, at least as Richie thought. The two had been dating for 2 years until Richie proposed, only to be rejected. Connor confessed that he was cheating, that he didn’t even actually like men. The night they got together, Richie had bought him a drink. Connor really only wanted to try it, but it clearly wasn’t for him. The next morning though, when they woke up in Connor’s bedroom, Richie decided that they were together. Richie wasn’t really thinking, he was just in desperate need for love. After Richie was kicked out of Connor’s apartment, he ended up in Stan’s house, unable to stay alone his own.

Richie never really moved out of Stan and Patty’s house. They didn’t really mind Richie living there, but they did mind that Richie was still bitter about the breakup. Stan and Richie have been friends since they were kids, he’s seen Richie in every way. Patty and Richie became close friends right when Stan introduced them. They would try to set Richie up with a few of their friends but he would just sulk in his room. He claims to be ‘done with love in the most chill way possible’ but the sad love songs, the bitterness on Valentines, and the sulking would beg to differ.��Love isn’t that bad you know, you could try”

“I don’t need to try. I’m fine,” Richie countered.

“There’s a lot of fish in the sea,” Patty said, kindly.

“Not anymore. All I get is plastic bags now,” Richie said bitterly.

Stan sighed, “you’re just gonna be alone forever?”

“Yes,” Richie replied immediately, standing up to get ready for work. Aside from a few comedy gigs, he works at a little record store a few minutes from where he lives. The store had the best speakers, phonographs, Walkmans, discs, headphones, everything. Richie loved it there, always being surrounded by music. The store was always pretty empty, aside from the occasional customer, it was just him. Like its always been.

He took his car from the driveway, heading for the city.

~~~

“Morning, Ben, Bev,” Richie nodded at them, smiling.

“Good morning Richie,” Beverly greeted with a wave, “How have you been?” Beverly was Ben’s wife, she has always been nice to Richie. ‘Nice’ didn’t compose of only greetings and coffee and being professional, they were close friends who went out to movies and heard each other’s lives play. Beverly designed clothing lines, while Ben was an architect. They don’t spend much time in the store, usually just leaving it with Richie.

“Pretty good, you?”

“Fine, but this one forgot to fix the thing on this table yesterday and was insanely worried all night,” Beverly pointed to Ben over her shoulder.

“It could break!” Ben argued, continuing to fix whatever was wrong with the table. Beverly walked over to Richie, who is sat down on the sofa. “So… I have this friend. He’s smart, good-looking, and really nice-“

“No, Bev, I’m not going to date. I’m single and unwilling to mingle.”

“More like, single and afraid to mingle,” she tiredly rolls her eyes, “Richie, there are good people out there, you just have to try.”

“I don’t see that. All the good people are with the other good people. Look at you and Ben! Both of you are like, super hot and nice. Guys like me got no chance- not saying that I want a chance, because I’m fine being alone.”

“You just have to keep looking.”

“Its a waste of energy to ‘keep looking.’ People who like me are not okay. Remember Abigail? Not to mention, people have shit taste in music.”

“You’re such a music snob,” She weakly laughs and shakes her head.

“Alright, its good. The screws were just-“ Ben says, getting up and walking to them.

“Ben, we love you but I don’t understand a single thing you say about architecture and furniture, and whatever else there is,” Bev jokes.

“I try. I’m out for today though, I have meeting, and I’m not sure if I’ll be back,” Ben says to Richie.

“Thats fine, I’ll just sit back here,” Richie smiles putting his hands behind his head and leaning further into the sofa.

“See you then.”

Richie picked up a vinyl and put it in the player. He had been playing around with cassettes, and a few of his own vinyl for a few hours now (‘few’ probably not being the case) and thinking and writing. After he’s finished a chunk of the script he was working on for his Friday performance at a local bar, he had gotten bored and just casually sat by the sofa. ‘Love’ the word danced around his head, taunting him. Or at least, to him, it was taunting. ’He woke up from dreaming and put on his shoes’ sung the player.

The song carried him around as he sang, “Forgive me I’m trying to find, my calling, I’m calling at night. I don’t mean to be a bother but have you seen this girl?” The lyrics took him strongly, his heart tight and loose at the same time, feeling each beat. He drums his fingers on the sofa, following the beats, “She’s been running through my dreams. And its driving me crazy it seems. I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

“you’re such a music snob,” rang in his ears, and he knew what he was going to do. He ran to his collection of vinyl seated by the left of the speakers, under the small table and began to search. He had his own few pieces of vinyl in the store, his own music that he listened to on the empty days of work. The Beatles, Green Day, Aerosmith, he took all the classics in his hands and grinned.

~~~

“Explain to me your plan again?” Stan asked, shocked.

“I’m going to get the best vinyl, write my number or email- whatever, and see who calls. Go on a date, see what happens. I’m gonna leave the vinyl all around the city’s subway all that, ” Richie explains excitedly.

“That might actually work!” Patty says, joining Richie’s excitement.

“This can get you more crazy dates than the ones you got before, Rich,” Stan says, unsure.

“Then, its material for my shows! Like Abigail and James!”

“See, Stan? Its great! Richie tries to go back to dating and he gets show material, win-win!” Patty hopes.

“Where will you get all the vinyl your leaving?”

“Thats the only downside, I’m going to use my own vinyl, maybe beg Ben to let me use the ones at the store?”

Stan sighs, softly smiling and nods, “this could work.”

~~~

‘Hot Fuss’ sat on his lap as he traced over the letters. Richie was in doubt now, his heart racing as he sat in the train. This was the first vinyl he would be leaving for this project of his. His stop was in a few minutes, so he pulled out the Sharpie from his pocket, bit the cap off, and wrote: ‘If you’ve enjoyed listening to this, would you enjoy a date too? Email me, Richie Tozier, @Remembering_Records.’ Richie set the vinyl down subtly and walked. “@Remembering_Records?” Stan asks.

“I was listening to Remembering Sunday, it was influenced,” Richie replies, hopping over the gap, he takes a deep breath and looks over at Stan, “Let’s hope this works,” he smiles, dashing away.

Eddie Kaspbrak’s First Vinyl

“I can’t believe we’re not using our cars,” Eddie mumbles, grumpily.

“Says the New Yorker,” Mike jokes.

“I drive there! Bill’s from there too! Subway stations are so unsanitary, so many people-“

“P-please! Enough with the com-complaining!” Bill says, frustrated, “M-Mike’s car broke down, and there’s no other way to get to B-Ben and Bev’s shop.”

“Its your day off! You landed in LA at midnight, and now we’re going to meet up with old friends,” Mike says happily, walking into the train.

“Exactly! Midnight. I shouldn’t be running around in this germ-infested-“

Mike looks at him tiredly.

“—I’m doing this because Ben and Bev are great and they’re our place to stay, Florida,” Eddie rolls his eyes.

Eddie doesn’t fit in LA. At all. He’s not used to the weather, the lifestyle, everything. He doesn’t like it here and just wants to go home. And Los Angeles seems to not want him here either. He lost one out of three of his suitcases the moment he got down, he had to wait an hour for Mike and Bill to pick him up from the airport, Mike’s car breaks down on the way to meet a friend, and now he’s taking the dirty subway.

He’s only really here for work. All three of them are. Bill and Eddie are from New York, and Mike is from Florida. They were transferred to the Los Angeles branch as a way to teach and help the new workers there. Bill’s ex-girlfriend, Beverly, lives in Los Angeles with her husband. They’re all good friends and Ben and Beverly offered to let them stay at their house (scratch that- mansion) for as long as they’re there. Of course, they took the offer instead of some crummy hotel, too far from their jobs.

Now here he is, on a train, heading to EighthNote to meet Ben and Beverly. But something isn’t right in this train, Eddie doesn’t know if this is just Los Angeles, but there, two seats away, is a light blue, paper casing, with the words ‘The Killers Hot Fuss’ sprawled across its center.

“Look, its Hot Fuss,” Mike points, “someone must’ve lost it.”

“We could put it in the l-lost and found,” Bill mumbles.

“Do not touch that. Who knows where its been?” Eddie says immediately, grabbing Bill's wrist and lightly pulling him back.

But Mike was already on his way to the seat, hand already about to grab the record. Until some guy in his late twenties took the record and sat on the seat. “Oh, is this yours?” He asks Mike.

“Oh, no, it isn’t mine,” Mike says walking back to Bill and Eddie.

~~~

On a street corner, a glass door, big windows, and a small wood sign that says EighthNote hanging above, Ben and Bev were talking inside when Bill, Mike, and Eddie walked in. “Ben! Bev!” Mike smiles, arms open wide.

“Its been so long!” Beverly sings, piling them into a group hug.

“It really has. I didn’t even know you had this shop,” Eddie says, admiring the speakers.

“At this point, it isn’t even ours, one our friends who work here basically one the place at this point,” Ben explains.

“You guys have a whole staff for this?”

“Nah, its just one of our friends. We pretty much just lay around here, the few customers here and there,” Beverly smiles, “he’s got comedy gigs though, he should honestly be a star now.”

“What’s his name?”

“Richie. We met him through Patty—one of my friends who model for me— her husband, Stan.”

“I’m probably pulling at strings here but are you talking about Stan Uris?” Mike asks, surprised.

“Yeah! How do you know him?”

“Best ex I ever had.”

Beverly laughs cheekily, “do tell.”

“Nothing! I just know from college, we dated a while, then he swooned for a girl, Patty Blum.”

“Thats her alright. Gorgeous.”

Eddie had moved on from the speakers by then, knowing they’d be reminiscing college in the next few minutes. Eddie only knows Ben and Beverly through Bill. Bill and Beverly had dated in college, but broke up and just stuck to being friends. Nothing is really awkward between them, all still close. Ben and Eddie both get along with architecture. He really just wanted something to do, he didn’t know what anything in this store was. “Its the thing from the train,” Eddie points, not exactly talking to anyone.

“Oh yeah,” Mike says walking over to Eddie. Mike’s reply startling him.

“Train?” Ben asks.

“We found a vinyl in the train on our way here,” Bill explains.

The conversation didn’t go into the details anymore, as Beverly took the record and put it in… Eddie didn’t know what that was. Was he supposed to? He saw Walkmans from his classmates when he was in middle school, but he never paid too much attention to it. He simply didn’t have the time or energy to care. Its just music. The song started oddly, in Eddie’s opinion. ‘Save some face, you know you’ve only got one’

“What the fuck is this?” Eddie wondered as the song continued.

“You’ve never heard ‘Smile Like You Mean It’?” Bill asks making Eddie slightly uncomfortable.

“I- No?”

Beverly cheekily grinning, “Well, since you’re in LA with us, you’re gonna finally see what good music is.”

~~~

The day took longer than Eddie had hoped, but now, he was in a car (thank God) heading the Marsh’s house. Grateful that Bill and Mike were just as exhausted and quiet as he was, he finally caught up with his thoughts. He was finally able to think again, about how the shop looked, how much he disliked the album Beverly basically threw at his ears, how cute the boy who walked into the shop earlier- no. No. Not what should be running threw his head right now. “Do you guys know the guy who walked into EighthNote earlier?”

“The tall, Hawaiian shirt guy with the glasses?” Mike asked, not looking at Eddie as he turned the wheel.

“Yeah.”

“I th-think that was the guy who works there. Who would randomly bring food into a store and y-yell ‘I brought Chinese, fuckers!’ If they didn’t work there?” Bill answers.

“Right,” Eddie says, his mind wandering away from the topic. He found himself opening his phone and searching ‘Hot Fuss’ into Spotify’s search bar. As much as he’d hate to admit it, it wasn’t that bad. And the guy at the store was cute.

Beverly Marsh’s Plan

“I brought Chinese, fuckers!” Richie shouted as he walked into the store. He instantly dropped his hands when he saw a man right in front of him.

After a quite lengthy moment of staring, “Excuse me,” he said, moving to the right of Richie, out the door, two men following after.

“Who were they?” Richie asked, setting the food on the table in front of him.

“Old friends of ours. They’re gonna be staying at our place,” Beverly explains.

“Okay,” Richie drags the word, “anyway, I have an amazing plan that was already put into action before any of you two hets try to stop me—”

“Uh-huh,” Ben cautiously nods.

“— so. Here’s how it works. I’m gonna set out a bunch of vinyl and shit on subways, with an email written on the back, and see how calls. I write if they wanna go on a date on the back, and if you’re worried if that'll be a bunch of people like Abigail and shit, I’m not saying you’re wrong. But if it is, it’s show material. It’s gonna be great.”

“This is amazing! You should’ve told us earlier, I totally would’ve come with you!” Beverly laughs.

“Wait. Did you start today?” Ben asks.

“Yeah, why?”

“Which?” Ben smirks at Beverly, as she returns the look.

“Hot Fuss,” Richie smiles. Ben and Beverly snicker. Richie rolls his eyes, “Yeah I know I played Mr. Brightside to a girl before, but I didn’t know the song was about cheating!”

Beverly’s laughter doubles, “That’s not it but okay.”

“Whatever. But, anyway, who was the short guy earlier?”

“We told you, old friends. Why?” Ben says.

“Dunno. He was kinda cute I guess.”

“See? I told you you’d like him. That was the guy I was telling you about,” Beverly smiles knowingly.

“You tried to set up Eddie and Richie?” Ben wonders. Beverly sneaks a wink at Ben, “There’s a concert next weekend, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Think you could get us three more tickets?”

“Sure?”

~~~

Beverly walked into to her and Ben’s room, grinning. “Are you gonna explain why you’re so happy?” Ben asks.

“We’re gonna get Richie and Eddie together.”

Ben gives an unsure look at her, “Richie’s going back to dating with this vinyls-on-trains thing he’s doing. Are you sure you want to set him up? You know how unhappy he is about love and stuff, its surprising enough that he’s willing to try again.”

Beverly takes a moment to think. She knows Ben is right, but she also knows that this will be good for both Eddie and Richie. Well, the second one, she isn’t so sure of. “I guess,” Beverly says, slightly disheartened, “but, we could ask them and, y’know, try?” She says hopefully.

“As much as I worry about this, I also think that it could be good. We’ll take them both to the concert and see where they go from there. What do you think?”

“Perfect,” Beverly smiles.

#reddie #reddie fic #it #it chap one #it chap two #remembering Sunday + The book ninja au

31 notes · View notes

evabellasworld · 4 years ago

Text

I Give You My Heart

Chapter 2

AO3 Link

13+ and above for cursing and mild violence

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

Summary: When Riyo Chuchi’s life was threatened, Commander Fox and Jedi Knight Ava Lira and Eva Bella Young are assigned to bring the senator back to her home planet Pantora, where she will be safe from harm. But when the assassin knows her whereabouts, it’s up to Fox, Lira, Eva, and Riyo to work together and stop the assassin.

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

A trooper with red-painted armour rushed through the corridors of the medbay, filled with nurses and doctors going in and out, pushing their patients to another room for further treatment. She tries to be more patient as she has a lot of things on her mind right now, such as reporting to Commander Fox about the current status of the Senate building and the paperwork that she was due next week.

Chae took a deep breath underneath her helmet and pushed herself through the crowd, searching for the hospital ward that her superior officer had told her to meet up at. She had a lot of things to do, but since Fox insisted on meeting her at the hospital, she doesn't have that much of a choice anyways since she has to follow orders that are given to her.

Arriving at room number 1296, she knocked on the door. One of the nurses, who had brown eyes and brown skin, opened the door for her, her checklist in her hand. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“I was told that a friend of mine is getting her treatment in this room,” Chae told her nurse. “Her name is Senator Chuchi.”

“Ah, yes, she’s in this room right now,” she smiled. “Please, have a seat first. We can only have one visitor at a time.”

“Of course, miss,” Chase nodded, as she sat down and took off her helmet, revealing her black, curly hair with white streaks. She leaned against the wall and placed her left leg on her right knee, her eyes closed.

For a moment, she found herself floating in space, with only her armour and her hair flowing in gravity. She glided her eyes around her new surroundings, wondering whether she’s actually in space or not. Taking a deep breath, Chae flew upwards and felt the thousand stars within her fingertips. She soon found herself floating in the sea of colourful smokes, staining her armour.

She doesn’t mind, though, since she never got a chance to choose her own colours. As a Coruscant Guard, she didn’t have any choice on having her own interest and hobbies outside her duty. Chae was able to hold her paintbrush correctly and analyze the meaning behind every painting in the art museum and the hallways of the Senate building, but she never got to utilize them when she had to pain her brand-new set of Phase 2 armour.

Chae wonders about the galaxy and how they get their colours, but because the Chancellor always insisted on how her armour is painted, she lost the opportunity to paint the nebulas and supernovas and even the black hole. She had the chance to colour them on the walls of the barracks and her own bunk, since she sleeps there after duty.

“Chae,” she heard someone shaking her shoulder. The black-haired clone gasps and opens her eyes, only to find Commander Fox standing in front of her.

“Commander,” she sprung from her seat, giving him a salute. “I was told that I have to meet you here, sir.”

“Yeah, I did,” he answered. “I called you here to give me an update about the situation in Cantham House. Have you had anything so far, trooper?”

“From our investigations, we found traces of tripwires that were attached to the entrance, which was what triggered the bomb in the first place.”

“Tripwires, eh? That is surprising, to say the least.”

“I agree, commander. Someone must have thought this through and attached tripwires all over the door, which is difficult to do so, actually.”

“That is true,” he sighed, his hands on his hips. “Whoever done this must have known about the senator’s meeting.”

“But who could have done such a thing, commander?” Chae asked, confused. “Senator Organa, Senator Amidala and Senator Chuchi were friendly to everyone they met, including clones as well.”

“I suspect one of their rivals,” Fox could only guess. “For all I’m aware, most politicians are always scheming and would do anything to gain more power, even to the point of eliminating their opponents.”

“But why, sir? They served the Republic and their people, so shouldn’t they be working together to make things better for the public?”

That is the biggest lie that Fox had ever heard as the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard. “Unfortunately, Chae, not everyone is selfless in their duty. Some made the decision to ignore the people they represent and instead pursue something that is only temporary, such as credits.”

Chae could only frown by his remarks, but she admitted that he has a good point. “But I know not all senators are like that,” she tried to be optimistic. “I mean, Senator Chuchi always defends us whenever someone is picking on us clones.”

His heart flutters whenever one of his vods mentions her name and yet, he remains unemotional on the outside. “In her case, I would make it an exception. She’s one of the senators that held tight on her principles and her morals, and in this age, that is admirable.”

“It is, sir,” Chae gave a nod. “Oh, there’s one more thing. Jay and Eren have checked the security footage and so far, we’ve found nothing.”

“Well, that is unfortunate but I’m sure we’ll find something eventually,” he answered, before turning his back towards the door. “You may return to your duty, trooper. Let me know if something comes up, alright?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Chae acknowledged, as she walked away from her superior in what seems to be a half-empty hallway, with only nurses and staff pacing back and forth, with a datapad in their hands. Fox went inside room 1296, where Riyo was sitting on the hospital bed, her forehead covered in bandages and there was a small cut underneath her golden eyes.

“Anything so far?” she asked, as Fox sat beside her, taking off his helmet, revealing his looks. Like his brothers, he had dark brown eyes and tanned skin, along with black, curly hair, with white streaks beside his ears, which he didn’t dye them, unlike Chae. He also had eye bags from filling up paperwork late at night in his small office, which he’s used to it.

“My troops found some tripwires attached to the door,” he told her the truth. “But so far, we didn’t find who was responsible for the bombing.”

“I don’t believe it,” her eyes widened. “Who would have the right mind to place tripwires in front of Senator Organa’s office?”

“I’m also asking the same question to myself as well. How is it possible that there were tripwires when there was no sight of the suspect.”

“Well, I’m glad the rest were okay,” Riyo changed the subject. “Except for Bibi, though. I heard that she’s still unconscious.”

“I’m sorry for your friend,” Fox expressed his sympathy. “I know what it’s like seeing your friend getting hurt and not being able to do anything about it. Sorry if I’m rambling something out of topic.”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” she assured him. “I’m just grateful that you understood what I’m going through right now.”

He let out a soft snicker, much to Riyo’s confusion. “Did I say something strange?”

“No, of course not,” Fox denied, waving both his hands. “It’s just that you said that I understood what you were going through right now.”

“Is there something wrong with what I said, Fox?”

“No, nothing wrong, Riyo,” he stuttered a little. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

Riyo’s lips tightened at his harsh words about himself. “Has anyone ever told you about your soft side?”

“Only my brothers and sisters, and even then, they had to try hard enough to let me out of my shell.”

“That sounds like a typical sibling relationship, don’t you think?” she giggled politely. Fox curled his lips upwards as he recalled the antics that Tori would pull on him whenever he’s occupied with his assignments, from purposely mispronouncing his names to roasting him until it makes his tongue-tied. Despite that, he misses her occasionally and would take the chance to spend some time with her if she’s on shore leave, of course.

“Yeah, that’s what siblings do,” he shrugged. “Do you have any siblings, Riyo?”

Before she could answer him, Fox’s comlink went off, leaving him groaning for his life. “Commander Fox here,” he replied.

“Sir, the Chancellor would like to meet with you,” one of his subordinates informed him. “It’s regarding the bombings in Cantham House.”

“Roger that, Robin. Commander Fox out.”

Riyo frowned as he stood up and grabbed his helmet, putting it on his head. She didn’t want to see him go, but at the same time, she didn’t want to stop him from doing his duty to protect Coruscant from more harm. “I’ll see you later,” she stared at him, longing for Fox to stay for a while.

“I hope so,” he replied, as he left her hospital room, leaving Riyo in a quiet, blank room, which was devoid of colours and warmth.

7 notes · View notes

slasherbeachbitch · 5 years ago

Text

Road Trip

The sweltering heat that purveyed your room was not diminished by your piddly electric fan that shook and stuttered occasionally. It was the last day of the semester and you were spending some time by yourself in your room, while your roommate was planning a "surprise" for you.

As much as you loved Deliah, you were not excited as she was for her surprises. Most of which were half thought out, hair-brained schemes, that would eventually get the two of you in trouble one day. Though by now you should be fine with that and fully expect this type of stuff. You'd known each other for years.

From middle school to the present day, you two were together through thick and thin, her parents practically adopting you after some family troubles that were going on in your life. Yes, you two were as thick as thieves. That didn't mean you wanted to go to jail like one though.

Okay, so maybe you were being a little dramatic, but the last great idea that she convinced you to join her on landed you two behind a Krispy Kreme dumpster watching a drug deal happen. You will never help her try to adopt a dog EVER again.

A shuffle and a burst of movement from your door as it was busted down caught your attention instead of the boring hotdog with sunglasses statue that was being oversold on the shopping channel, and to Deliah. Her glasses were skewed over the bridge of her nose, almost about to fall on the floor if she wasn't careful, and dragging behind her a chart.

Ooh boy, this was going to be wild.

She wiped off her dark brow and let out a breath before clapping her hands and saying, "Now you're probably wondering why I've brought you all here today..."

"Dee, I'm literally the only one here, and this is my room." You sighed out and preemptively held your head in your hands. You were gonna need an aspirin after this, you could just feel it.

"Ahem, I am trying to give my presentation here a dramatic flair." She frowned and pushed her glasses onto her nose once more, straightening into a professional posture. She was really trying to sell you on this one. You sighed once more and waited patiently for her to begin.

"Now," She began after a fake cough, "You and I have both wanted to go on a road trip for years, right?"

You nodded.

"And we both love weird shit, right?"

"Where are you going with this?"

She shushed you and then continued, "Well strap your ass into an astronaut chair and let me take you on the weirdest, wildest fucking ride you'll ever experience. Starting all the way here in our great state of Louisianna and ending in Oregon by the end of it!"

You nodded once again, "Alright you got me, I'm interested."

With that, she explained in great depth your "Wacky College Weirdness Trip".(You guys are working on the name because that is not good.)

Now granted, it was still a bad idea, I mean who knows what could happen to the two of you, and yet the thought of going to all of the strangest places in America was just too good to pass up. You always jumped at an opportunity to experience something new. Without your overeagerness for change and excitement, you wouldn't be where you were now.

A long night of packing, pizza, and a restless slumber lead to a groggy heated morning. The sun was already almost in the middle of the sky when you finally left, tiny clouds lazily scuttling along as you two sped along the highway. At around three, you guys stopped for lunch at a small vintage looking diner where you discussed the first place you were heading to.

You snagged some pancakes and a small cup of orange juice, while Dee just got a plain old cup of coffee. Your waitress came by and soon both of you were sipping on your respective drinks.

"So we're going to Wilmington? What kind of name is that?" Your fingers traced the map and tapped on the little dot with the odd name and a red circle traced around it.

Dee shrugged, "Beats me, all I know is that it's supposed to be some haunted town."

You frowned and your plate was set down before you before a rather haughty voice spoke up. "Ugh, Wilmington? That place is a total rip-off."

Looking up, your waitress seemed to be a short Latina girl in her late teens, makeup looking expertly done and plush red lips holding a slightly amused smirk on them. Her very old looking wrinkled yellow and white checkered uniform had a scratched nametag reading Eva on her breast.

"If you really want to check out a ghost-town, I know a much better place."

Deliah quirked her eyebrow curiously like the back of a threatened cat. "Really? Pray, tell what it is?"

Oh god, she was using her weird Shakespeare language. Curse her and her English classes.

"Oh, it's a forgotten town little ways down the highway. Turn left at the big sign saying, Southerland and keep going. You'll get there eventually."

"How will we know?" You chirped up.

"From what I remember there's a little sign that says something about a wax museum. I went there when I was really young, creepy place."

A ding came from a small window that connected the kitchen to the front, right behind a counter with all sorts of different drinks and condiments. A burly man with graying hair popped his head out, "Eva, back to work."

Eva sighed before saying, "Back to work I guess. Well, enjoy your meal."

When she walked away, the two of you looked at each, clearly, you both were thinking the same thing.

"We should totally go!" Deliah practically squealed in excitement.

"We should totally not go!" You shot at the same time.

Well, shit.

"What do you mean we should not go? This is a great idea. Plus I've never been to a wax museum, you have." She held an indignant scowl on her face, hair hanging in strands in front of her face.

"Yeah, and it wasn't that fun. I just don't get a good feeling from this." You sternly held your stance, a little peeved while you shoved your flapjacks into your gob.

"But please can we go? For like five minutes and then we can leave and never come back." She looked at you with the biggest puppy-dog eyes she could muster, putting on her best performance. You looked at her for a good, long minute before giving in.

"Fine, five minutes and that's it."

She pumped her fist in the air and chugged her coffee, badgering you to finish your food fast. When you were done you left a five-dollar tip and hopped into your ride.

A gnawing feeling was making your gut tumble around in your body, you really didn't trust this.

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #I know bo isn't here yet #but TRUST me he's coming #this is kinda like a story to go along with useless #so that's gonna cause some DRAMA later on #also can I be gay for all the females characters I create?#Because I think I am

49 notes · View notes

sheepyships-archive · 4 years ago

Note

what if you.....answered all of them......for tsuki 😳 — @cringyalienships

t...tsukishima?? oh my fuckin god ofc scout you know me so well. thank you for sending an ask! @cringyalienships (gonna be answering w my self-inserts/ocs bc they’re basically me just look not like me shhdgsj-)

strawberry: before getting together, how did your F/O realize they had a crush on you? How did they act around you once they realized they were head over heels?

uhh, well, it’s tsukishima, it was probably something that built up that he tried to repress it and brush it off like it was nothing, but when he couldn’t and he realized it was romantic feelings, he was probably like, “fuck my life.” and he couldn’t bring himself to hate aika for it, because she was just being herself and doesn’t have control over his feelings. as much as he wanted to avoid her, or be cold to her, he also couldn’t bring himself to do that either(he believed that he didn’t deserve her(BRUH), but even though he thought that, he wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt her to make her avoid him), so he just continued on with life, but eased up with teasing her than with others, and even joked with aika to try and get closer. he just waited to see any signs of her feeling the same way. (LET KEI TSUKISHIMA BE SOFT 2020 I WILL FIGHT ON THAT)

rose petal: what traditions do you and your F/O share?

for holidays, they definitely celebrate halloween together, aka: aika forces tsukishima to wear a costume while saying “i got this for you with my money, you have to wear it” and he just groans and puts it on reluctantly while complaining. but usually they go to a store and buy a bunch of candy instead of going house to house(they both agreed that it's better if they just went and bought candy than walking around for two hours). occasionally they will hang out with some of the others. just normal traditions between them are probably doing things like listening to music together, or talking about music or suggesting/showing music and bands to each other(this happens a lot more than they like to admit), and this can go on for HOURS.

cherry vanilla: how does your F/O show their affection for you?

they both show it in small ways in public by helping with schoolwork/studies, sharing earbuds, even just looking at each other, they don’t want a bunch of people to flock around them just to ask about their relationship, so they aren’t super affectionate. but when they are alone, they act like they’ve been touch-starved for their entire lives, and are basically holding onto or resting on the other at every moment, and a lot of the time they nap or spend the night at each other’s houses. but, whenever either of them get hurt, whether they’re in public or not, they will immediately go to them and patch them up/help them feel better the best they can(whenever tsukishima’s hands get injured while playing volleyball, she’ll kiss the spots that hurt, and tsukishima will kiss the callouses on aika’s hands from playing guitar, or any other injuries or scars).

coconut mango: what mementos do you and your F/O treasure?

they definitely cherish letters/origami crafts they give each other(aika makes origami gifts for tsukishima, tsukishima writes letters, i don’t make the rules). but the one they both treasure the most is a small dinosaur plushie that aika was able to get at an arcade, which she secretly bought with the arcade tickets that she won. as they were leaving she looked at tsuki and said, in the most serious tone she could muster, “i have to admit something to you.” at first this kinda freaked him out at first until she took out the dinosaur plushie with a huge grin, that earns her a glare and a elbow jab to the shoulder which made her laugh. aika always brings it to tsukishima’s house with her and he teases her about it.

nectarine: do you and your F/O live together? If so, what does your living space look like?

while they don’t live together at the moment, they definitely plan on living in a small apartment and aika has more experience in getting an apartment and living in one. they kinda just knew their plans without ever talking about it, and when aika does mention it to him, he just says, “i mean, it doesn’t need to be a mansion or a big house, we don’t need a whole lot. i definitely don’t, just you... and your snake.” aika falls in love for a second time, but also smacks his chest and is like, “YOU JUST WANT ME FOR MY SNAKE!!!” which makes them both laugh.

pineapple: what toppings does your f/o like on their pizza? what about you?

tsukishima is the basic bitch who would only like plain cheese on his pizza(i can’t say much though), and that’s it, he thinks it’s too much of a hassle to ask for extra shit on his pizza. aika likes those burger pizzas, where they have burger shit on a pizza, she is in love with it and tsukishima definitely makes fun of her for it and they get into small debates about which is better.

lemon sorbet: does your F/O get jealous easily?

i don’t see tsukishima getting jealous easily, and if he does, it’s rare. he knows that aika is SUPER loyal to him and their relationship, and would probably insult someone if they tried to get her to break up with tsukishima or if they began to flirt with her(something she definitely adopted while being with tsuki), and he’d never do it to her either and doesn’t see the point in doing it when he has a girlfriend who he cherishes a lot. they are both head over heels for each other.

key lime: how would you describe your self-ship’s aesthetic?

tsukishima literally IS the smart cocky kid aesthetic, blonde bitch boy, but with the glasses. now aika is literally an emo but also a chaotic mom friend, but she also has a pinch of pastel goth. both together they probably have the intimidating “we look like nerds, but we could beat you up, and we will depending on the situation.” but they’re also super chill so they won’t unless it’s necessary(aika will throw hands for tsuki if you push her to that point, so don’t test her).

pistachio: when was the last time that you or your F/O cried during a movie?

one night aika probably brings over the land before time(my childhood movie it is so good) and forces tsukishima to watch it, and after some convincing they do. at the hella sad scene at the start(if you know you know), as they’re watching it aika starts to tear up, and buries her face into tsuki’s shoulder to hide it, but her crying was a mix of the scene being sad, and it reminding her of past shit that happened. tsukishima realizes she’s crying and before he thinks about teasing her, he realizes that it’s not just because of the movie and just hugs her instead while pausing the movie, waiting for her to calm down. but after she does, he teases her jokingly to try and make her laugh, it works, of course. (you can see where the angst side of me came out)

matcha: what kind of gifts does your F/O give you? Are they always buying you little presents or do they invest only in larger items for birthdays or holidays?

they’re never really buy gifts unless it’s a special occasion, but most of the time they’ll make playlists for each other since they both like music, and like i said before, aika gives me the vibes that she would make origami-themed things and break into tsuki’s locker and leave them there, or she’ll just leave them on his desk, or in his room, etc. OH AND AND!! whenever the earbuds/headphones they have break, they definitely end up with a new pair by the end of the day with a note that says ‘try not to break these ones, love you. <3′.

blue moon: is your F/O very routine-oriented or do they like to go with the flow? How routine-oriented are you?

tsukishima is semi-routine-oriented, go to school, go to volleyball club, go home, study, listen to music, sometimes it’ll change depending on what happens or what is occurring in the future. he probably doesn’t mean to do it on purpose and doesn’t stress over a schedule, it’s just what comes to him naturally. with aika, she just goes with the flow, she used to be more heavily routine-oriented in middle school because she was more popular then and felt pressured to be “perfect”, and went through life on a schedule. but after meeting the people she hangs out with in highschool(aka monti), she fell out of it and began to just, not really care?

cotton candy: post the last picture of your F/O that you saved!

i don’t think y’all realize how much i love this and how many times i have this picture and the gif saved, it’s not healthy.

teaberry: where would you like to travel with your F/O someday?

honestly, they probably try to look up museums to go to that are more based around dinosaurs and dinosaur fossils, where they are, how much it would cost to go there, etc. they want to make sure everything is perfect if they do ever travel anywhere. but honestly, even if everything went wrong, they would both probably think it was perfect anyways because they’re together.

raspberry swirl: how does your F/O cheer you up when you are feeling down?

usually whenever aika is feeling down out in public, even if they’re in the same room, tsukishima will shoot her a text with a link to a song he found with a text that reads: ‘reminded me of you, i hope you know that i’m here if you need someone to talk to. i love you.’ after sending it, he watches her reaction and relaxes when he sees her smile and look at him. but in private, he’ll hug her from behind and hold her, letting her do what she needs to do to feel better, whether it’s crying, sitting there in his arms, hugging him back, etc. after awhile he’ll start to kiss her face, shoulders, hands while mumbling ‘i love you’ after every kiss. then afterwards he’ll say, “this stays between us.” and this makes aika almost cry laughing.

red velvet: what is your favorite food to bake with your F/O?

they for sure make cookies together, specifically chocolate chip cookies, they both agree that chocolate chip is the best and make them together. usually, it’s tsukishima doing most of the cooking because aika is goofing off, or gettng distracted by her friends, and she will definitely steal cookie dough and be sneaky about it, but tsukishima catches her EVERYTIME, even when he’s not looking he just knows, and can sense it. but when they finish, they are super good and aika always praises him about it. aika also definitely makes tsukishima dino-themed treats and food in general, which makes tsukishima glare at her and say, “y’know i like other things, right?” and aika just shrugs and comments, “dinosaurs and reptiles remind me of you, sooooo...”

OH MY FUCKING GOD IM SORRY THIS IS SO LONG AND TOOK ME SO LONG TO TYPE UP I GOT VERY DETAILED AND LIKE MULTIPLE TIMES I HAD TO STOP AND CALM DOWN BC I AM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS DUDE LIKE JWJWHRFJHWERJ???? ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!!!!!!!

#sylvie . answers ➷#sylvie . rambles ☙#🌕 fill . the . void 🎧#hq!!#haikyuu!!#👾 scout .#sylvie’s f/o ask game 1!!

2 notes · View notes

nicolewrites · 5 years ago

Text

We Stand, Fate-Tested - VIII

D&D took up much more time than I anticipated which is why this is late haha.

Rating: T+ Genre: Mystery, Friendship, Romance Characters: [Byleth/My Unit, Dimitri B.], [Byleth/My Unit, Claude R.] Words: 6,249

A birthday party gives Byleth a headache. / Claude unmasks an enemy.

AO3 | FFN

VIII - Complications

Garreg Mach University - 10 Lone Moon, 733 AU

"How's your neck today, Byleth?" Harriet asked as she entered the lab.

Byleth turned her head experimentally. There was still a twinge of pain when her jaw angled towards her right shoulder, but it was much, much better than it had been directly after the crash.

"It's alright," she replied. She kept her eyes focused on the screen of the computer in front of her, hoping the post-doc would leave her alone if she was clear she didn't want to talk about it. Thankfully, Harriet got the hint and settled down at her own workstation, leaving Byleth alone.

Since the crash, Byleth felt like she was being babied. Flayn called her every night to check up on her and Seteth never left her alone on-site during the dig. He also seemed keen on having one of his other students in the lab whenever Byleth was there as if she was just going to keel over on her own. It was starting to get annoying.

Out of the four people in the car, Byleth felt like she had gotten off the easiest. Edelgard was recovering from a not-so-fun concussion, Claude had fractured his arm in three places, and Dimitri was another story entirely. While he wasn't as physically hurt as the rest of them, the accident had dredged up some horrible psychological trauma for him and he had been basically catatonic for a week, responding only to the gentle prodding of his childhood friends who knew him best.

Edelgard's father had wanted her to return to Fhirdiad where she could be safe and guarded, but she had protested, staying on in all of her classes as well as the dig in the pinnacle of stubbornness. Claude had had his archery season cut short which was definitely annoying, but he still managed to keep his head up and help out on site, despite lacking the use of his left arm.

The crash had been the subject of several tabloid stories for about a week before Edelgard's father finally managed to get it snuffed out. It had been strange to get sympathetic glances wherever she went and to hear the murmured whispers behind her back. It still happened occasionally, but it helped that Edelgard, Claude, and even Dimitri were good at ignoring rumours and pretending that nothing had happened.

Claude had been spending a lot of time in the lab with Byleth when he wasn't in class. He claimed it was because he needed to feel useful to the team somehow since he thought his arm was impeding the dig. Byleth never protested his company. He never pushed her to talk about the crash or its lead up, instead chattering about history and whatever artifacts they were working with. It was both a pleasant distraction and a welcome motivator.

The door to the lab swung open and Byleth glanced up. Seteth strode in, looking more stressed than she'd seen him in a long time, not counting the look of despair he'd worn when he'd visited her at the hospital. Byleth straightened in her seat as Seteth hung his jacket by the door.

"Seteth?" she inquired to her advisor.

Seteth turned towards her when she spoke and Byleth caught the hint of guilt that rapidly spread across his face as he did so. Byleth frowned and pushed her chair back.

"What is it?" she demanded.

Seteth glanced at Harriet who was working away at her own computer with headphones in and he walked towards Byleth, sinking into the seat next to her. "I received some news today," he admitted.

He passed her a folder that he had been holding and Byleth flipped to the first page in it. It was a letter from the Fhirdiad Museum. She scanned it and felt her features twist into a scowl as she processed the words on the page.

"Cancel the dig? They want you to call it all off? Because of a car accident?"

Seteth sighed and took the folder back from her. "Byleth, you were run off the road. That's not just a car accident. You happened to be with three of the most famous youths in the country at the time while on an equipment retrieval trip for a sponsored dig. That's not good press."

Byleth huffed. "And we're all fine and still ready to work on the dig. They can't just cancel it! You've been working towards this for so long. We've only barely started the work we wanted to do. We just got structural approval for the eastern chambers and we're only now passing where Dr. Charon got to. If we don't do this now, there's no telling when the next time someone will be allowed to excavate down there."

Seteth's expression flashed with guilt again. "I was the one who proposed cancelling the dig," he admitted quietly. "There is no history or discovery that is worth the lives of students."

Byleth's hands slammed against the desk and she shot to her feet. Harriet looked over at the disturbance. "You don't even know that that was what any of this was about," she hissed. "You can't throw this away just because of one thing, Seteth."

Seteth looked tired, but he didn't argue with her. Byleth frowned and stepped away from her desk. She grabbed her purse and jacket from by the door and gave him one last hurt look.

"I'm going for lunch," she said shortly.

She made it almost out of the building when her phone started buzzing in her pocket. She huffed and fished it out, expecting to see Seteth's caller ID. It wasn't him calling so Byleth answered and pressed the phone against her face.

"Claude?"

"Teach! Exciting news! We've finally gotten everything organized for Friday so we can start inviting people now," he said cheerfully through the phone.

Byleth laughed faintly. "Inviting people?"

"It's Ignatz's birthday on Friday and we're having a surprise party for him. Consider this an official invite."

"A birthday party? Claude, I don't know," she began, but he cut her off.

"Don't worry about not knowing people. It's Ignatz, so we're keeping it relatively small. The whole undergrad dig team is getting invited, plus the archery team, plus our roommates so you'll probably know almost everyone that's there."

She huffed a laugh. "When and where?"

She could practically hear the smile on his face through the phone. "Friday at 9 at our place. I'll text you the address."

"I haven't said yes yet," she pointed out.

Claude chuckled. "You asked when. For you, Teach, that's a yes."

Golden Deer House, University Suburbs - 14 Lone Moon, 733 AU

Byleth knocked on the door with the backs of her knuckles. Her toe tapped against the stone of the doorstep as she took in the house again. It was a beautiful place: something much more extravagant than she had expected for a bunch of students. She had almost wondered if Claude had given her the wrong address until she saw the wire cutout of a deer stuck into the garden and she had chuckled to herself.

After a moment, the door swung inward and Byleth was met with a grinning Hilda. She blinked in surprise at the sight of another of her former students. Hilda's hair was pulled up and she was wearing a flashy silver top and a cute skirt. Hilda stepped backwards and gestured for Byleth to come inside.

"Uh, thanks," she mumbled. "And hi, Hilda, I didn't know you'd be here."

Hilda snorted a laugh as Byleth stepped inside and slid off her boots. "Wow Claude really didn't explain anything, did he? I live here. This whole place is a bunch of Golden Deer in our year. We've been living together since our second year."

"So, it's you, Claude, Ignatz, and," she trailed off, waiting for Hilda to continue the list.

"Lorenz, Marianne, Lysithea, Raphael, and Leonie. You know Lorenz and Lysithea, obviously. Marianne is my best friend and Raph and Ignatz are from the same small town. Leonie's from eastern Fódlan. Most of us are in fourth year, but little Lysithea is in her third year and Leonie's doing five years because of her job," Hilda explained, tapping her fingers as she counted out her roommates.

Byleth furrowed her brow. "Wait, Leonie Plinecky?"

Hilda blinked, her pink eyes widening a bit as Byleth caught her off guard. "Yeah. Do you know her?"

Byleth laughed to herself. "Yeah, she used to take self-defence from my dad," she explained.

Hilda shrugged. "Huh, small world I guess. Now, come on. Ignatz is already here and we did indeed scare the shit out of him with this party. You've got to say hello."

Hilda linked her elbow with Byleth's and dragged her through the living room towards what Byleth assumed to be the kitchen. She recognized a few of the faces in the living room that were drinking and playing games from around campus, the time she went to one of Claude's archery competitions or people Claude had exchanged words with when they had been together on various occasions.

In the kitchen, Byleth recognized more people. There was Ignatz, Lorenz, Annette, Ingrid, Lysithea, Dimitri, one of Dimitri and Ingrid's other friends with dark hair who she thought was named Felix, a boy she recognized from the archery team, plus a few others, and of course, Claude. Lorenz spotted them first and wandered over. Hilda dropped Byleth's arm and planted a light kiss on Lorenz's lips. Byleth blinked in surprise, but her attention was quickly drawn to Claude who had beelined to her side.

"Teach! You're late," he teased.

Byleth rolled her eyes. "You said 9, it's only 10."

"Hello Byleth," Ignatz said brightly. He was wearing a crooked birthday hat and Byleth laughed at both it and the blush on his cheeks.

"Happy birthday," she replied.

"Ignatz! I got it working!" the hulking young man next to Ignatz said, practically shoving his phone in the smaller boy's face.

Ignatz's smile grew and he took the phone. "Maya!" he greeted. Instantly some of the people in the kitchen giggled and started filing out of the room.

Byleth glanced at Claude curiously. He pressed a cup full of some sweet, alcoholic-smelling beverage into her hand and steered her back into the living room.

"That's Raphael," Claude said. "Ignatz is dating his little sister Maya, so that's who's on the phone there. They do long distance, but Ignatz is very sweet and loyal as I'm sure you could guess."

Byleth smiled. "That's sweet." Her eyes wandered the party until they landed on Hilda again who was tucked against Lorenz's side this time. She raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know that was a thing," she said quietly to Claude.

He followed her gaze and laughed. "Oh man, that's a heck of a story. They've been together for almost three years now though, so I guess it's working."

Byleth was about to press him for details when she felt a tug on the arm that Claude wasn't occupying. She turned, so that she didn't spill her drink, and found herself face to face with a grinning, pink-cheeked Annette.

"Hi, Byleth! I didn't know you were coming!" Annette said cheerfully.

Byleth smiled at her former student. "Yeah, it was kind of last minute, but I'm glad to be here." She sipped her drink and was momentarily impressed by the strength. Most university parties supplied watered-down drinks, but this was something pretty heavy-hitting.

"Claude, I bet that's your doing," said the young man standing next to Annette. He had slightly curly silver-coloured hair and bright green eyes. He was holding Annette's hand and Byleth knew she recognized him from the archery team.

Claude winked. "You bet, Ashe," he said.

"Claude!" a loud voice called suddenly, causing all four of them to turn towards the table where cups were lined up to play pong. "Just because you have a bum arm, don't think you're getting out of this!"

Byleth gave Claude a side-look. "Is that Leonie?"

He laughed. "Yeah. We make a decent pong pair and even the bad arm," he shifted the arm that was still in the sling, "apparently doesn't get me out of that."

Byleth took another long drink and looked back at Annette and Ashe. "I'm good here. Go play."

Claude grinned at her and Byleth felt her stomach warm. She turned back to Annette and Ashe and took another sip of her drink.

"I'm Byleth, by the way. I think we met very briefly once."

Ashe nodded. "Yeah, I think you came to an archery comp. You were the Archaeology TA, right?"

Annette nodded. "Yup! And she works with us on the excavation process."

Ashe brightened. "Oh yeah! That whole thing is so cool."

A girl with a long dark purple braid suddenly popped out of the crowd and grinned at them. "Annette, may I be borrowing your boyfriend? Claude challenged my pride and I intend to be showing him his place."

Annette laughed and nudged Ashe. "Of course, Petra. I'll come and watch too!"

Ashe and Petra immediately headed for where Claude had vanished off to. Annette lingered for a moment longer, glancing between Byleth and the table. "You should come watch," she suggested lightly.

Before Byleth could reply, Hilda had reappeared at her side, linking arms with her again. "I've got her from here, Annie. Go watch Ashe and Petra destroy Claude and Leonie again."

Annette grinned and vanished into the group of people. Hilda peered into Byleth's almost empty cup and immediately steered her back towards the kitchen to get a refill. She filled Byleth's cup and grabbed one of her own, waving at Ignatz and Raphael who were sitting in the corner still talking over Skype to Raph's sister. Hilda then dragged her out the opposite side of the kitchen into what was probably supposed to be a dining room. Ingrid, Dimitri, their friend, and a girl with faint, silvery-blue hair were sitting on the far side of the room, chatting, but they didn't seem to pay Hilda and Byleth any mind.

"So, you and Claude are pretty tight, aren't you?" Hilda said, turning back to her.

Byleth took a sip of her drink. "We're friends," she said. "He pestered me a bunch last semester until we started meeting up to discuss my research. Most of what we talk about is history related anyways," she deflected.

Hilda rolled her eyes. "Look, I've hooked up with Claude. I know what infatuated Claude looks like."

Byleth didn't know what was more surprising to her: the fact that Hilda and Claude had hooked up or the fact that Hilda thought Claude liked her. Hilda noted the surprise on Byleth's expression and laughed.

"Oh come on, you haven't heard that story? In first year, Claude and I were flirting it up when we both met Lorenz. Lorenz and I also hit it off. Claude and Lorenz naturally hated each other, but once they found out I was kind of seeing both of them they united into hating me for all of like two weeks until Claude got his head out of his ass and Lorenz and I had a chat. I'm kind of the whole reason this house exists since Lorenz and Claude hated each other before they both united against me."

Byleth laughed shortly unintentionally. "Wow, not sure that's something to be proud of."

Hilda shrugged, smirking. "Claude's my best friend and Lorenz and I have been steady for a couple of years. I think it worked out okay."

Byleth giggled lightly. "Sure, sure." Her gaze wandered to the other side of the room where there were the other four. "I know Ingrid and Dimitri, obviously, but who are the others?"

Hilda followed her gaze. "That's Felix, Ingrid's boyfriend, and Marianne, my best friend and totally not Dimitri's girlfriend." She said the last part sarcastically and Byleth smiled faintly.

Marianne was very pretty and Dimitri kept casting her quiet, affectionate looks. They certainly looked like a couple. Felix and Ingrid, on the other hand, were much less lovey-dovey looking, but they certainly looked comfortable with each other.

"Drama with that is that Ingrid was dating Felix's brother Glenn when he died. Ingrid and Felix got together a couple of months ago after a lot of dancing around," Hilda continued.

The story clicked in Byleth's head. She lowered her voice to an almost whisper. "Glenn died in the same crash that killed Dimitri's parents, right?"

Hilda nodded. "Yeah," her smile dropped a bit, "it's pretty sad." She shook her head and turned her full attention back to Byleth. "But, I'm here to bother you about Claude! What's really going on with you guys?"

Byleth shook her head. "Nothing, Hilda, I swear. We're friends." A spark of pain flared behind her eyes and Byleth grit her teeth. Her headaches had been more frequent and much worse since the crash and she had been hoping to get through the night without any more of them.

She downed the rest of her drink and felt the alcohol sting her throat as she swallowed. Hilda finally seemed to take the hint that there was nothing more to talk about and shrugged. She bid Byleth a farewell and darted back to the rest of the party to play hostess. Byleth cast Ingrid and Dimitri's group a glance and felt another headache rip through her mind.

She shook her head and slid out the side door of the dining room into the main hallway. Annette and Ashe had apparently migrated there and were chatting with Linhardt and a boy Byleth faintly recalled to be Linhardt's boyfriend. Pain pulsed in her skull again and she winced faintly. She needed to get somewhere quiet. She quickly slipped past the group and found a flight of stairs leading up. There appeared to be a glorious absence of loud music and chatter from upstairs so she headed up, massaging her temples as she went.

She closed her eyes briefly at the top of the stairs and almost keeled over as another sudden sharp pain flared behind her eyes. She saw white for a moment and something that she could have sworn was Annette and Ingrid's boyfriend Felix. Byleth staggered into the nearest room which happened to be the bathroom and sunk onto the floor. She leant against the cool bathtub and rubbed her temples.

A few more images flashed in her brain: Ashe and Petra wearing strange clothes, Lorenz and Marianne sharing tea, Ingrid riding horseback with a man who looked like her other friend Sylvain, and Dimitri extending a hand to Byleth with a soft smile on his face. She exhaled heavily and rubbed at her head, trying to get the images to fade.

"Byleth?" a voice called softly. She snapped her head up and saw Claude standing in the doorway of the bathroom, looking concerned. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, sealing out most of the noise from the party. "Are you alright?"

She smiled faintly as her headache pulsed again, but more weakly. "Just a headache. I needed a breather."

Claude drifted towards her and sat next to her, leaning his back against the tub as well. "I get that," he admitted. "Linhardt said he saw you heading up here and I figured I'd come to check in."

Byleth nodded. "Ah," she agreed faintly. The headache faded more until she was almost feeling like herself again, just definitely drunker than she normally was. "Did you and Leonie win?"

Claude snorted. "Nope. Ashe and Petra murdered us. Leonie mentioned that you guys know each other though."

Byleth smiled faintly and nodded. "Yeah, she knew my dad pretty well."

Claude winced. "Sorry."

Byleth shrugged. "It happens," she mumbled in reply.

"Are you really okay though? You kind of looked like you were in pain."

She shifted so that their shoulders were pressing against each other. "Headaches," she explained. "At first it was just the usual stuff I've been getting since the crash, but," she trailed off, not sure if she should mention the roiling feeling of wrong that had settled in her stomach since she'd first arrived at the party.

Claude twisted so that they were making eye contact, but their shoulders remained a point of contact. "But?" he prompted softly.

She sighed. She had trusted him with many of her strange dreams and feelings in the last eight months so she didn't see a reason to hide anything else from him. "I feel like everything is wrong. Everyone is talking to the wrong people. Everyone is acting strangely."

"The wrong people?"

"Annette and Felix, Ingrid and Sylvain, Lysithea and Linhardt, Lorenz and Marianne, Ashe and Petra," she listed off-handedly. "That feels right. Not, whatever is actually happening."

Claude's brows furrowed. "Strange," he mumbled. "Do you think this has anything to do with the dreams?"

Byleth dropped her gaze down and shrugged. "I have no idea," she confessed. Her head was starting to feel foggier and less painful. Claude's solid presence next to her felt comfortable.

She looked up and was almost taken aback by the startling green of his eyes. They had made eye contact dozens and dozens of times since they'd met, but he'd never induced the strange warmth in her stomach that she was feeling right then. She exhaled shallowly and studied his face.

Claude's breathing echoed hers as his eyes flicked over her face noticeably. She could smell a hint of alcohol on his breath and she knew that she herself was fairly tipsy, but she couldn't remove herself from the moment.

"Is this wrong too?" he asked quietly. Something unreadable and serious flashed in his eyes and Byleth's chest contracted a bit.

"Yes," she confessed just as softly.

"You're impossible to read sometimes," he said. "But," he inhaled slowly and Byleth watched his gaze noticeably dart to her lips, "I still think I'm crazy about you."

She leaned forward and kissed him.

His lips were warm and softer than she was expecting and he reciprocated the kiss immediately. It wasn't the best angle with them still awkwardly shoulder to shoulder and with their backs against the bathtub, but the kiss made something simmer warmly in her stomach. His shoulder shifted and his right hand, the uninjured one, came up and cupped her face as he pulled back to breathe before kissing her again.

Byleth felt a twinge of stiffness in her neck and a tightness in her chest due to the lack of air, so she leaned back, gasping. Looking into Claude's heavy, green-eyed gaze, the words he'd spoken to her sunk in and Byleth's whole being twisted viciously with a sense of wrong. She jerked back away from his touch, her neck protesting the movement. Her palms thudded against the bathroom tile to catch her weight before she tipped to the ground.

Claude looked startled. "By," he started gently.

Byleth's breathing sped up. It was shallow and fast and the room suddenly felt too warm. "I have to go," she said suddenly.

Hurt flashed across Claude's expression as she scrambled to her feet, ignoring her alcohol-induced wobbliness and the headache that had sprung back to the front of her mind. He looked like he was about to protest again so she bolted.

Infirmary, Garreg Mach Monastery - 2 Lone Moon, 7 AU

Byleth came to feeling like she had been trampled by a pegasus. Her body was aching and there was a sharper, razor-like throb from the side of her ribs. She blinked and saw a faint glimmer of candlelight nearby. There was a blurry figure sitting next to her, dabbing a cool cloth on her forehead. The cloth jerked back as Byleth blinked again and she heard a familiar gasp.

"Professor!" the familiar voice exclaimed and Byleth's vision cleared enough that she saw Annette sitting next to her, looking incredibly relieved.

Byleth's throat felt dry and sore when she tried to speak. Her words came out breathy and almost as a whisper. "What happened?"

For a second, her mind was blank, but when Annette's features twisted into deeper concern, the memories came rushing back. Byleth jolted and immediately tried to sit up, ignoring the lingering pain in her side.

"Dimitri!" she exclaimed.

"Please, Professor!" Annette said sternly, gently pressing her back into the mattress. "You were very hurt. You need to stay down."

Byleth listened, settling back against the mattress, but a cold fear spread to her limbs. "Where is Dimitri?" she asked again.

Annette sighed slowly. "He's going to be alright. Don't worry."

The cold panic and fear drained away slowly and she tilted her head a bit, checking out the rest of the room. There was no one else in the infirmary besides the two of them, but one of the other beds looked like it had had some recent use.

"Where is he?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"I believe he's with Sylvain, Ashe, Dedue, and Felix," Annette answered. She furrowed her brows at Byleth. "You were both hit with powerful dark magic spells, Professor, but I think the fact that he wasn't also stabbed helped with that."

Annette fetched Byleth some water and sent a monk to fetch Mercedes while she answered more of Byleth's questions. She had been unconscious for almost two full days. Dimitri had woken up in the afternoon yesterday. They hadn't caught any of the people who had attacked them. No one else was hurt or targeted in the attack. The perpetrators hadn't left much of a trace besides the magic traces on Byleth and Dimitri after they'd been knocked down.

Byleth recalled the blade suddenly. "I need to talk to Sylvain," she said breathlessly.

"You're not going anywhere until I check you over, Professor," Mercedes called from the entrance to the infirmary. "That magic did a number on both you and Dimitri, but I've never seen anyone react to it quite like you did, Professor."

Byleth frowned. "Annette, please fetch my husband and the others. Especially Sylvain. It's important."

Annette nodded and Mercedes took her place, asking Byleth a million questions about how she was feeling and if she was in any pain. After another Heal spell and a few more swallowed herbs, Mercedes checked the sword wound. It was almost completely healed, but the healer let out a startled gasp that had Byleth twisting her shirt up further to try and see what Mercedes had seen.

She had basically removed it when she saw it: a burn scar kind of in the shape of a star right over her heart. The skin was tender, but the burn appeared to have healed itself and Byleth recalled the intensity of the wave of white magic she had released to repel their attackers.

"What is that?" she asked quietly.

Mercedes shook her head, looking puzzled. "It looks like a white magic burn. Dimitri didn't mention they used white magic too."

Byleth exhaled slowly. She knew where the burn had come from, but how was she supposed to tell her dear friend that it had been self-inflicted by the power sizzling in her veins that was eating her alive. Before anything else could be said, there was a sharp rap at the door and Byleth yanked her shirt down, making herself decent.

"Come in," she called before Mercedes could ask for a bit more time.

Dimitri burst into the room and hightailed it to her side. He basically fell to his knees next to her and Byleth saw the hurt and pain and love in his gaze as he reached up to touch her face. "You're alright," he breathed.

"You're okay too," she replied, lifting one of her own hands to cup his jaw.

Their moment was interrupted by the arrival of the rest of their friends and Dimitri quickly stood and pulled up a chair next to Byleth's bed. He and Mercedes helped her sit up so that she could face all of her friends. The entire group of her former students were present, minus Felix and Ingrid.

"Sylvain," Byleth started, focussing on the northern Faerghus noble. "Has Sreng ever struck this far south?"

He seemed alarmed at her question and shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "They press at the border, but I've never heard of them striking at the heart of Fódlan."

Byleth exhaled warily. "How has the border been?"

He frowned. "Chaotic. They come and go, but I had believed we were reaching an agreement recently since I took over for my father."

"The blade had Sreng lettering," Byleth confessed.

Annette's breath hitched. "What?" she squeaked.

Dimitri looked troubled at the news. "It did?"

Byleth closed her eyes, conjuring the memory of it. She was quite sure. "It did."

Sylvain ran a hand through his hair, looking distressed. "The Sreng people are warriors. They do a lot of weapons trading. Perhaps this was an attempt to frame them."

Dedue folded his arms and looked down, something dark crossing his expression. "This information mustn't leave this room. There will be slaughters if it gets out."

"Yes," Seteth agreed as he strode into the room. He dipped his head to both Byleth and Dimitri in respect. "It is good to see you are recovering Your Grace, Your Majesty. I agree with Dedue here that we must not let the word of a potential attack from Sreng get out. In fact, I would recommend we try to limit the spread of the attack entirely. It would not do well to know that someone got close enough to render both of you unconscious."

Ashe nodded. "I asked Petra and our guards to return to Brigid without me. If the information does get out, I would like her not to be here. Foreign powers interfering at a time like this would be bad." He looked guilty for a moment and Byleth knew it was the guilt of leaving his wife so soon after they had been wed as equals in Brigid. "I hope my skills are still welcomed here," he added quietly.

Byleth nodded. "Ashe, you are always welcome. I agree with Seteth, though." She looked around the room at her trusted friends. "News of the attack does not leave this room," she said sternly.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Garreg Mach Monastery - 9 Lone Moon, 7 AU

Byleth was in the market when she heard the crowing of a wyvern. She snapped her head up and spotted the white beast descending towards the stable, followed by a brown wyvern. Her lips parted in surprise. She knew that wyvern and she had no idea what it was doing here. She smiled politely to the vendor she had been speaking with and excused herself, making quickly towards the stables.

Claude was assisting his two companions down off of the second mount by the time she had arrived. Byleth's steps faltered and she stared at the Almyran King for a long time. Claude helped Lysithea down and said something quietly to the third new arrival, Linhardt, before he turned and finally noticed her. He grinned.

"Hello, Your Grace," he said lightly. There was a familiar teasing lilt to his voice and Byleth could only stare dumbly at him.

"What are you doing here, Claude?" she demanded after a moment.

His grin twisted into a sly smirk. "I figured you could use a dark magic specialist and someone who has some ideas who might be interesting to you," he offered, gesturing to Lysithea and then Linhardt.

Lysithea brushed off her skirt and sent Claude a dirty look. "He's being evasive, as always, but he did bring us some interesting news."

Byleth furrowed her brow and stared at Claude again. "How did you know?"

He shrugged. "I'm good at knowing things."

Byleth scowled at him. "This information wasn't supposed to leave the monastery grounds," she said firmly.

Claude winked. "Good thing we're on the grounds then." Byleth scowled, but he continued before she could interrupt him. "Gather your group. This information is probably more than you're expecting."

They met in Byleth's study. Dedue, Mercedes, Ashe, Dimitri, Claude, Lysithea, Seteth, and Linhardt stood and sat around the room each wearing an expression of varied discomfort and concern. Sylvain, Felix, and Annette had had to return home for their children's sakes and Sylvain was also looking into the Sreng lead.

Byleth turned the paper in her hands over. It bore Hubert's writing and detailed the activities of the dark group that had assisted in the Empire during the Unification War. Linhardt had presented it to her along with a few more just like it that he had recovered from the Vestra estate after the war. Apparently he had been doing his own research from Ordelia territory where he had settled with Lysithea after the two of them successfully had Lysithea's Crests removed and dissolved her noble house.

Claude, of course, had gotten wind of their work and the attack at Garreg Mach and had apparently drawn a thread connecting the two. He had brought them to the monastery to discuss their research and Lysithea's past experience with them. She shared her horrible childhood trauma where she had had her second Crest implanted and Dimitri's breath caught when she had described the fading of her hair's pigment and the weakness the second Crest had imposed upon her.

The group, dubbed Those Who Slither in the Dark, according to Hubert's notes, were apparently vehemently against the children of the goddess and had fantastical weaponry and dark magic mages, including Cornelia and Solon. Dedue and Dimitri had both stiffened when Byleth had read about Cornelia and her involvement in what Hubert described as the orchestrated Tragedy of Duscur.

Byleth placed the last letter down on her desk and frowned. "Claude, you're saying these people are the ones who attacked Dimitri and I?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, but it certainly seems more likely than a Sreng invasion and assault to me. If I had to guess, I would say their target was just you, Byleth, and that Dimitri was meant more as a personal attack. If you give Linhardt and me more time, we could probably work with Hubert's notes more and figure out where they're hiding. Then we can remove them and remove the threat entirely."

"No," Seteth cut in sharply. His face was pale and Byleth bit her lip as she studied her advisor. "Doing so will only create bigger targets on both His Majesty and Her Grace. If you pursue this, they could only come after you harder and if you're wrong, then you are chasing empty threads into the wind and letting the true culprits get away."

Lysithea scowled. "We're not wrong. The Hades spell that struck Byleth and Dimitri was strong enough to take them both down. I know that spell," she asserted. "I have met very few people who could cast it at that strength. We're not wrong."

"Even so," Dedue said, "I agree with Seteth. We can look into it, but His Majesty and Her Grace should not be leading any charges. It endangers them too much."

Dedue's compromise settled the animosity in the room, but Byleth felt frustrated. She was tired of being protected. These attackers had tried to kill both her and her husband in their home. She wanted to remove them personally. Dimitri looked conflicted and Byleth instantly understood. He felt the same way she did, but he obviously did not want to put her in any more danger, just like how she wanted to keep him from further danger. Claude had said the target was likely just her, so she wanted to protect Dimitri as much as she wanted.

She took a deep breath. "I give you permission to look into this further," she conceded. "But, no one will be taking any offensive action until we reassess."

Dimitri frowned at her, but he didn't argue. Dedue and Seteth looked placated and Mercedes and Ashe nodded in agreement as well. Linhardt gave her a cryptic look but didn't argue. Lysithea huffed and narrowed her eyes. Claude simply studied her, his expression unreadable. Byleth inclined her chin and refused to show her hand.

"Now, I believe this discussion has concluded. We should all go for dinner." She smiled at Lysithea and Linhardt. "We have friends visiting, after all."

Her companions accepted her suggestion and began making their way out of the room. Claude and Dimitri lingered until it was only the three of them left. Dimitri looked between her and Claude twice, but the Almyran King didn't even flinch.

"My love," Byleth said gently, "I would like to speak with Claude briefly about handling private matters of state. We'll join you in a few minutes."

Dimitri looked only partially convinced, but he kissed Byleth gently on the lips and made his way out of the room, leaving her alone with Claude. Claude raised an eyebrow at the door as it shut behind Dimitri.

"Private matters?" he inquired.

Byleth took a deep breath and folded her hands atop the desk. "We're going to finish this," she said firmly. "We stamp them out and remove the threat as soon as you figure out where they would be."

Claude's eyes narrowed. "You didn't send everyone away to tell me you're going against the direct council of your closest companions."

"No," Byleth agreed. "I sent everyone away to tell you we're going to do this without Dimitri."

12 notes · View notes

hotforharrison · 5 years ago

Text

Heart’s Desires ch 1

Series Masterlist --> Chapter 2

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield/Reader

Summary: In a desperate moment, you make Harrison an offer he can’t refuse.

Word Count: 2,239

Warnings: Language and sexual content that is not actually smut.

A/N: It was supposed to be a oneshot, inspired by a dream I had. That obviously didn’t happen. It has been upgraded from oneshot to a mini-series.

Seeing the world had always been on your bucket list, but you’d never made it farther than a couple of states over. Time, and your youth, were passing by at an alarming rate. You knew your life needed to change, and soon, while you still had the chance to enjoy it.

You’d been browsing your options for a change online for a few months. Nothing struck you as something you could see yourself doing, temporarily or permanently. You toyed with the idea of teaching English internationally, but you didn’t want to be completely alone across the world from everything and everyone you knew.

When an online friend from London brought up that her company was opening a new location near her and hiring over 100 people in your field, you jumped at the chance to apply. You wouldn’t be alone, and you wouldn’t have to worry about not speaking the local language.

You assumed there would be thousands of more qualified, more local applicants and didn’t expect anything to come of it. However, after a lengthy interview process, they hired you with a start date in four months, after the facility was opened. You’d never been more excited, and simultaneously overwhelmed.

Your life quickly started to drastically change. A few very busy months later that included packing up what you could of your life and moving it across the Atlantic Ocean, you were settling into your new apartment with your online friend turned roommate. She was fortunately as lovely as she had been online, and it looked like she would be a great roommate.

You gave yourself two full weeks to relax and sightsee before you started your new job and day-to-day living in London. Things were definitely looking up for you.

London was really a beautiful city, and you thoroughly enjoyed exploring, both with your roommate and alone. After an enjoyable afternoon perusing the Camden Market by yourself, you were waiting in line at a Starbucks, mostly for the familiarity. There were no decisions there. You already knew your Starbucks order by heart.

The person standing behind you bumped into you hard, almost making you fall. You immediately turned around to see who it was, and if they were hurt, when you saw him. He looked exactly like Harrison Osterfield. “Oh my god.”

“Sorry, love, I didn’t mean to bump into you,” he told you, looking at you with striking blue eyes.

He also sounded like Harrison, from his Instagram stories and YouTube videos. Your mouth dropped open, and you were having trouble forming words. Could it really be him? He did live in London after all.

“Everything alright?” he asked, concern evident across his face. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, I just… you look like someone,” you eventually said, rather than outright ask.

He seemed amused. “And who do I look like?”

“Uh, Harrison Osterfield? You’ve probably never heard of him. Sadly, most people haven’t, which is really a shame,” you responded.

“That might be because I am Harrison Osterfield,” he commented.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled. “This is probably, I mean I was wondering.” You paused and took a deep breath. “Would you like to hang out with me sometime? Don’t feel obligated or anything. I mean I’m some random girl from Starbucks who you know absolutely nothing about, and I, uh, yeah, I probably shouldn’t have opened my mouth, but I can’t take that back, and now here we are.”

“You mean like a date?” he asked, cocking his head.

“Yes? That is, if you’d be interested at all, and if you’re not seeing anyone. I wouldn’t want to step on any toes,” you quickly added, feeling your face blushing deeply. “God, I’m really bad at this.”

He chuckled. “I’m not seeing anyone, and don’t worry, it’s endearing. I don’t mind cute girls getting flustered over me. Anyway, I’m free for the rest of the day. You’re obviously not from around here. Have you been to the British Museum yet?”

You were surprised he said you were ‘cute,’ considering all the gorgeous girls he probably sees daily and has a chance with. You were completely shocked that he agreed to spend time with you, on an actual date, in his own words.

“You’re right. I’m definitely not from around here. I actually just moved to London a few days ago. The British Museum was on my sightseeing list before I start my new job,” you told him.

He smiled at you brightly. “Looks like we have a date, then!”

-----

You’d spent the last 45 minutes walking around the British Museum and looking at exhibits. It was a great museum. The exhibits were interesting, but Harrison was distracting you from fully appreciating them because you’d been crushing on him for ages, and you were actually on a date with him.

You occasionally chatted quietly with him between exhibits, which was pleasant enough. You would’ve liked to talk more, but you were feeling rather awkward. Regardless of the unbeatable company you were in, you were kind of bored and really wanted to be somewhere else with him. He seemed to be bored, too, but too nice to say anything.

You had a sinking feeling that your once in a lifetime date wasn’t going to end with plans for a repeat performance, or an invite back home for the night, and god, you wanted that invite, more than just about anything.

Since he hadn’t, you decided to bring it up. “I hate to ask, but are you having fun?”

He turned to look at you. “Honestly?”

You nodded.

“Not really. I’m sorry, love,” he told you, moving a hand to your arm to squeeze it comfortingly.

“Before you go, I very much don’t want this to be over yet, and, well...” You swallowed heavily and blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “what if I told you after we leave here that you could do anything, and I mean anything, to me that your heart desires?”

“Really now?” He smirked. “My opinion could be swayed. You have absolutely no idea what you just agreed to.”

“But I take it I’m going to find out?” you guessed, hopeful that your time with him wasn’t coming to an end.

“Very soon.” His fingers trailed their way to your hand and ran across your palm teasingly, sending a wave of tingling down your arm and intensifying the dull ache that had been between your thighs since you met him. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

You followed him silently, wondering what you’d gotten yourself into, simultaneously excited and nervous. Your mission was accomplished, though. Your date wasn’t over, hopefully not by a long shot, and you got that invite back home.

And, really, what could he be into that was that scary? Online he seemed to be nothing but a sweetheart, and there had been nothing in person that had indicated anything different.

----

Harrison took you to a large brownstone house well away from the hustle and bustle of downtown London. He descended the steps at the side of the house until he reached the entrance to what you assumed was a basement apartment. He fumbled through the keys on his keyring before he found the one he was looking for and unlocked the door, ushering you inside.

The apartment was rather barren and looked barely used. Maybe he was just away a lot? “Not to judge or anything, but I expected your place to be more...homey.”

“It is,” he said. “This isn’t where I live.”

“Oh, so you just take girls here...for privacy?” you guessed.

“Sort of. You’ll see.” He led you by the hand down a hallway to a room, opening the door and turning on the light.

The room was quite large and had a variety of furniture that you could place as something used in BDSM. It wasn’t anything you were familiar with. You hadn’t even read Fifty Shades of Grey or seen any of the movies when they came out. Now, you kind of wished you had.

The only thing you could definitely identify was a four-poster against the far wall, metal slats across the top and some restraints hanging on the side. It had no bedding, only a fitted sheet and pillows. The corners had restraints attached. That seemed pretty straightforward. The rest, not so much.

“Go ahead, look around,” he encouraged.

“I’m not sure what I’m looking at, to be honest,” you told him.

“I can take you on a tour, and then you can let me know what you think. We’ll start with something basic.” He led you to a black padded bench that looked kind of like a saw horse with two small attachments for what you assumed were knees and arms. The top had a half circle shaped, more heavily padded neck rest. “That’s a bondage bench. I use it to position and restrain a sub for spanking, or fucking, or whatever else I’m in the mood for.”

“Okay,” you said quietly. That didn’t sound particularly terrifying. Not really anything you’d fantasized about in the past, but you weren’t opposed.

You glanced over at the second nearest piece of furniture. There was a swing hanging from the ceiling near it with a larger piece of leather, what looked to be support straps at its sides, and four cuffs attached by a chain at each corner.

“That’s a sex sling. It’s easier to move a sub around and eat her, or fuck her, or play with her mid-air,” he explained.

“Okay,” you repeated. That also didn’t sound scary, as long as the sling was securely attached to the ceiling, and it seemed to be.

“Anything you’re particularly curious about?” he asked.

You looked at a metal device that was I-shaped with a long bar coming from the front, ending in a circle. The other end had a shorter bar attached to a machine with a thin metal rod protruding from it. “What’s that?”

He chuckled. “That of all things? That’s the slave driver. It’s a fucking machine with restraints. Your neck goes there.” He pointed at the circle. “Your wrists and ankles are restrained at either end with cuffs. And a toy fitted for the machine attaches to this.” He gestured at the thin metal rod. “I can show you the attachments, if you like.”

That was more overwhelming, and sounded like it would be embarrassing, but it didn’t make you want to run away. You took that as a positive.

You followed him as he walked over to a set of drawers near the bed and opened a middle drawer, urging you to come closer. “There’s several different sizes of dildos, a couple of double penetrating dildos, and some plugs.”

You looked at them, some startlingly large. Your experience with sex toys was rather limited, but you weren’t turned off by it. You picked up the smallest dildo and ran your fingers over the soft silicone for a few moments, enjoying the feel of the material against your skin, then put it back in its place.

“So, after a small preview, are you scared?” he asked.

“I’m...nervous, but curious,” you replied, before adding, “and still really, really turned on. That might be more you than the things in this room, though.”

He chuckled. “So you’ve never done anything kinky before?”

You shook your head. “God, this is embarrassing, but I’ll be honest. I can count the number of sexual experiences I’ve had with other people on one hand, and the most adventurous out of all of them was trying to have sex in the backseat of a car. Keyword ‘trying.’ It didn’t really work.”

“Poor girl, so neglected. If you want, I can change that. I promise that I’d take such good care of you. Only the best for my subs,” he promised. “And don’t be embarrassed. I have an innocence kink, and you don’t even have to pretend to be innocent. Works out well for both of us.”

You swallowed heavily, not entirely sure what you were getting yourself into, but your arousal hadn’t ebbed the tiniest bit in the face of all the possibilities. “I think I’d like to at least try, but I’ll leave what I’m trying up to you.”

He grinned. “That’s the answer I was hoping for. I like options and giving them to my subs, or potential subs in the case of you. Would you like to jump right in and play in here right now, or get to know me a bit better and maybe try some tamer things first in the actual bedroom where I take my partners to sleep? With your lack of experience, it’d be less intimidating. I really don’t get off on making my subs afraid.”

You considered your options. “I think I’d like the actual bedroom first. It’s, well, it’s been a while, and I don’t want it to be too much, in the bad way.”

“We can do that. So, you want me to ease you in gently?” he asked.

“Please,” you confirmed.

He took your hand in his and squeezed it. “It will be my pleasure, pretty girl. Are you ready to go to the bedroom, or do you want to look around more in here?”

Your desperation for him made that easy. “Definitely the bedroom.”

The promise of what was to come sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

Tag list:

@bewitched-haz @adayasgeorgia @moorehollandplz @thollandss@dasexydevitt13 @imagine-lovebug @robbinholland @strang-ersclub @hollandisapuppy @goldenpeaxh @legendsofwholock @superheroesaremytea @tomblrholland @niiight-dreamerrrr @spidermanffh3000 @devildisguiseasangel @theyy-lovemo @eeyore101247 @angelhaz11 @i-love-scott-mccall @jinx4karma @definitely-not-black-cat @lizzyosterfield @screamsbytom

#harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield smut #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield reader #harrison osterfield reader insert #harrison osterfield you

70 notes · View notes

ukulelecal · 6 years ago

Text

Work of Art

In which you see Calum at the Louvre...and then again at the grocery store.

Warnings: none

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader

Requested By: Anonymous

“can I suggest a 5sos request (possibly Calum) where say you're a stranger and happen to be visiting the city they're currently on tour in and you both make eye contact but thats all and then weeks later after tours over you run into him again in the pet isle in a store and he can't believe it's you, you're all he's been thinking about“

“Ok I'm the same anon who submitted the CalumXStranger meeting one and like hear me out I have more details I've pictured them to be in Paris, specially spotting each other at the Louvre and Cal would tweet something like "how can a stranger be more beautiful than any painting in the Louvre" and idk I've been listening to a song by Sabrina Carpenter called "Mona List" and the song just fits this so well I'm in love thank you“

Requests are OPEN!

*Gif not mine*

Calum loved Paris.

He loved the sights, the food, the people, the language. He loved everything about the city, about the whole country. It was always one of his favorite stops on tour.

This time around, the guys happened to have a day off during their time in Paris, and they fully intended on spending the whole day sightseeing and indulging in some French culture. Calum was ecstatic to explore the city, even though he had been there before.

You had similar plans.

Your friend was spending the year studying in France, and she convinced you to come visit her for a week or two. You were a tad hesitant at first, just because it was a big trip to make by yourself, but you did miss her dearly, so you agreed to come.

Your friend, Tess, was studying in Lyon, but she promised that you two would go to Paris, per you insisting it wasn’t a trip to France unless you got to see the Eiffel Tower. She agreed, and today was one of the days you were going to be spending in Paris. The plan for the day was mostly to play it by year, but there was one thing on the agenda; the Louvre.

Tess lead the way, and soon enough the intricate building came into view. Your eyes widened as you took it all in. If the outside was this beautiful, you could hardly imagine how breathtaking the art on the inside would be.

“Have you been here before?” You asked Tess as you made your way inside, hopping in line to buy tickets.

“Yeah, I’ve come a couple times,” she answered, shrugging. “Still haven’t seen everything, though. I doubt I ever will.”

You snorted, shaking your head. You knew the place was huge. You would need multiple days to see it all.

Once you made it through the line and got your tickets, Tess quickly took off towards wherever the Mona Lisa was, babbling about how surreal it is to see it in person. You only half listened, the rest of your focus on taking in the sights around you. Just being at the Louvre was crazy, and you wanted to take it all in.

You finally reached the room where the famous painting was hung, and just like you would have figured, there was a big crowd around it, everyone trying to get a glimpse. Tess sighed from beside you.

“Just wait behind them, we’ll get up there,” she mumbled, and you followed her instructions, stepping behind the people at the back of the crowd.

You glanced around at the other paintings as you waited, pulling your phone out to snap a few pictures. You took small steps closer as people left, the people behind them filling in the space at the front.

Calum was at the Louvre, too.

He was with the guys, Andy, who was having an absolute field day taking pictures of everything, and a few other people who were touring with them. Calum was quiet for the most part, mostly just trying to admire the art and occasionally pose for Andy’s pictures when he asked.

Then, he saw you. And he couldn’t look away.

You were just a stranger, standing there, trying to get a close look at the Mona Lisa. Somehow, you managed to be more beautiful than any piece of art in the whole museum. You were a work of art on your own.

The moment your gaze turned to him, Calum’s heart skipped a beat.

Your eyes locked, and your breath caught in your throat.

He looked familiar. You had definitely seen him somewhere before, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint where. No matter what, he was gorgeous. Like, really gorgeous.

Before either of you had the chance to do anything, to approach the other or even smile, Calum was being dragged away by Luke, forcing him to tear his eyes away from you. You watched him walk away for a moment, before forcing your eyes back ahead of you.

It almost seemed like the rest of the art Calum saw in the museum was ruined for him. It was all still amazing, but it just couldn’t compare. Not to you. He knew he was probably never going to see you again, but he just couldn’t get the image of you out of his mind.

As for you, you were just trying to figure out where you knew him from. Was he famous? Did he live near you and you had seen him around town before? You had no clue, but it was bugging you.

You finally stepped up to the barrier in front of the painting, staring at it with wide eyes. It was beautiful...but that mystery man definitely wasn’t bad either.

Later in the day, Calum was on his way back to his hotel. They all needed to rest up after a long day of sightseeing, before their show tomorrow. He slipped his phone out of the pocket of his jeans as the drove, opening Twitter and starting a new tweet.

“How can a stranger be more beautiful than any painting in the Louvre?”

He hit send and dropped his phone in his lap, gaze averting out the window. Paris was all lit up, Calum almost squinting at the brightness of it all.

It was beautiful, but still not as beautiful as the one piece of art he saw at the Louvre. You.

…

It had been about a month and a half since you got back from France, with your camera roll full of photos and memories to keep forever. It was a great little vacation, but now you were back to everyday life. School, work. Not sipping coffee at a Parisian café.

It was a typical Saturday. Since you didn’t have work, you needed to go and run the errands that you had been putting off for way too long. You were running pretty low on food, both for yourself and for your dog, and you had been meaning to go to the bank for a while now.

After you gave a good petting to your dog and reminded him that he’s a good boy and that you love him, you headed out the door. First stop; grocery store.

You made the drive and hopped out, immediately heading towards the pet aisle once you were inside. Dog food was the first thing on your list.

That’s when he saw you.

He was out shopping for a new leash for his dog - the one he had was pretty old, starting to wear away - when he spotted you, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you browsed the bags of dog food, searching for the brand you usually buy.

He could barely breathe, doing a double take to make sure it was actually you. After all those weeks of him trying but failing to push the image of your face out of his mind, trying to forget the stranger he was convinced he would never see again, but here you were, standing right in front of him again. He couldn’t believe it. You were just as beautiful as he remembered.

Before he could even think about his actions, he was walking up to you and tapping you on the shoulder. He didn’t even think about how crazy you were going to think he was, how weird this was going to seem. He didn’t really care, either. You were actually here.

You turned towards the source of the tap on your shoulder, eyes widening slightly when you saw who it was. The boy from the Louvre.

You had figured out who he was the second you got back to your hotel after your day in Paris. You were boredly scrolling through social media when his face suddenly popped up on your feed. It didn’t take long for you to determine he was Calum Hood, bassist in 5 Seconds of Summer. It was definitely cool that you saw him, but you didn’t really think much of it. It’s not like he was going to remember you specifically or anything.

You were starting to question that now.

“Hi,” he breathed, running a hand through his curls. He paused for a moment, as if trying to think of what to say. “Okay, you’re probably going to think I’m insane, but I saw you, last month in Paris. At the Louvre.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. How could he possibly remember you, of all the people he probably saw and met there? It kind of made you feel special.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember you. By the Mona Lisa,” you replied, slowly nodding your head in recollection.

He smiled, bright like the Eiffel Tower at night, and oh boy, did he have a nice smile. It was real, and he was so glad that you actually did remember him and weren’t running away from him.

“Yes, that room.” He averted his eyes for a second, before bringing the chocolate brown orbs back to you. “I just wanted to say...I saw a lot of art that day, but you were definitely the prettiest work of art there.”

Heat rose quickly to your cheeks, and you smiled sheepishly, looking down at your shoes. It was cheesy, beyond cheesy, yet flattering. Your heart was pounding so loud in your chest you were afraid he could hear it, and you found yourself wanting to see more of him.

“That’s sweet,” you mumbled, bringing your gaze back up to him. He grinned, mentally cheering because you didn’t make fun of him for the stupid line.

“What’s your name, dear?” He asked evenly, head tilting slightly to the side. Your heart skipped a beat at the pet name, suddenly wanting to throw yourself at him and never let go.

“Y/N,” you replied, stickinging your hands in the pocket of your jacket. “What’s yours?” You already knew the answer to that, but it didn’t matter.

“Calum,” he said. He looked around the store for a moment and then looked back to you. “How about, we finish shopping here and then I take you out for lunch, Y/N?”

You grinned, nodding your head quickly.

“I would love that, Calum.”

He smiled in response.

“Meet me by the doors when you’re done, then.”

With that, you parted ways, finishing up your shopping and then meeting him at the front doors.

You still needed to go to the bank, but that was just going to have to wait for another time. You had other plans.

A/N pt. 2: i would love to write for yungblud so send requests for him lol

606 notes · View notes

whatadaze · 6 years ago

Note

Blame my sleep deprived brain but can you imagine Liv & Noah celebrating each other’s birthdays? In my head that would be adorable & they would spoil each other in their own weird way & be absolutely adorable. Basically I’m just constantly craving Noliv fluff & I’m gonna stop this sleepy ramble because I have no idea where this is going bye

this turned out to be a lot longer than i expected + i’m pretty much sleep deprived 24/7 so same lol

hope you enjoy :)

Their first (official) date is at an art museum.

It’s the second place Noah likes to go to most.

“I come here when I need inspiration,” he told her. “It never fails.”

And when he finally brought her to the museum, she understood why.

There were paintings and sculptures,

pottery pieces and drawings of every kind—pencil, charcoal, and even one entirely done with a simple ballpoint pen.

Noah knew the place like the back of his hand and Liv was pretty sure that he could navigate this place with his eyes closed.

“Which one’s your favorite?” she asked.

Noah smiled at the question and grabbed her hand.

“This way.”

He dragged her to a painting the size of a postcard but it was the only one hanging up on the wall’s surface.

It’s a simple piece—a meadow lined with rows and rows of wildflowers and in the far distance, a small wooden bridge sitting above what looks like a small creek.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” he asked, tilting his head and studying the piece.

Liv mimics his movement and examined it as well.

“It is…” she said. “Why is this one your favorite?”

His eyes filled with excitement as he began to explain.

“It’s like looking out a window,” he told her. “Something about it…it reminds me of when I was little. I would go up in our attic at our summer house-”

“You have a summer house?” she cut in. “Okay, sorry. And?”

Noah smirked. “There was one window—if you could even call it that it was really small. But I would sit in the attic and look out this small window. Sometimes I would spend all day up there. It was weird because I could’ve just gone outside myself but…looking outside through that small window made me feel…bigger somehow. I don’t know…I know it may sound a bit weird-”

“That’s not weird,” Liv said, squeezing his hand. “I think I kind of understand. My grandma, she lived with us when I was little and every morning I would hear her singing in her room. It was my favorite sound—her singing. And I could’ve just gotten out of bed and listened to her singing in her room but…I liked the sound of it through the walls. It felt more…intimate. Like a secret moment.”

And her words made Noah smile even more.

“Exactly” he said. “Like a secret moment.”

Noah never mentions when his birthday is, but Liv knows.

Of course she knows.

She had been planning this moment for way too long but she knows that the look on Noah’s face will make it all worth it.

But the day starts with Noah oversleeping,

“Sorry Liv,” he yawns. “I was working on a piece last night and didn’t realize how late it was once I finished.”

so they miss their bus and need to catch the next one,

which makes them miss their train,

and finally two hours later, they find themselves seated in the train,

watching the city pass by their window and their view quickly changes to the countryside.

Noah watches Liv stare out the window and even though he has no idea what she has planned, the look of excitement on her face is a gift in itself.

Liv catches him staring through their reflection and raises a brow.

“What?”

He shrugs but can’t stop the smile from forming on his face.

“Nothing,” he says, scooting closer and resting his head on her shoulder. “I’m tired and you make a nice pillow.”

She ruffles his hair before lacing their fingers together.

“I’ll wake you up when we get there, birthday boy.”

*****

When they finally arrive at their destination, Noah is woken up by Liv gently running her fingers through his hair.

“Wake up,” she says against his ear.

Noah smiles, his eyes still closed as he stretches his arms.

“So are you going to tell me where we are?”

He still had no clue where Liv had taken him and it didn’t help that he was asleep the whole train ride.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she says, excitement laced in her voice. “Come on.”

As soon as they step out of the station, the air feels different.

Maybe it’s the fact that there are very few cars in the area,

or the number of trees and plants surrounding them.

The sky seemed bluer,

the grass greener,

all Noah can think about is how much he wants to paint.

“So the place we’re going to is about a fifteen minute walk from here,” she says, hiking her bag up her shoulder.

Noah had offered to carry it for her but she adamantly refused.

“It’s part of the surprise.”

They walk hand in hand, occasionally stopping to take pictures of the scenery.

Noah plucks a wildflower from the ground and tucks it behind Liv’s ear.

“I want to draw you,” he tells her.

Liv bites back a smile and quickens her pace.

“Come on,” she urges. “We’re almost there.”

He lets her drag him along, happily watching the excitement grow on her face,

her eyes,

her smile.

“Okay, so you’re going to have to close your eyes now,” she tells him.

“And how do I know you won’t just leave me stranded here?” he asks jokingly.

Liv rolls her eyes. “Noah.”

He smiles but finally closes his eyes, sticking his arms out. “My life is in your hands, Liv.”

She grabs his hand and walks him up the grassy hill and down a dirt path.

It only takes a few minutes for Liv to finally reach their destination, but she instructs him to keep his eyes closed.

“Whatever you do, don’t open your eyes. Don’t even peek,” she tells him.

“I promise I’ll keep my eyes closed.”

Liv grabs his shoulders and turns him around, and he hears her dig through her bag, but Noah stays true to his word and keeps his eyes shut.

“Okay,” she sighs. “You can open your eyes now.”

Noah opens one eye, and then the other.

At first, he’s still confused as to where they are,

but Liv watches his face transform from confusion to realization and then awe.

“How did you…”

He scans their surrounding, his eyes soaking up the field of wildflowers and the small creek running across the meadow. Their standing on a small wooden bridge sitting above the running water and a blanket is placed on the ground.

“So the artist of that painting you like so much? He’s from here,” Liv explains. “Did you know that?”

Noah remains silent, still too stunned to speak.

“He responds pretty quickly to e-mails,” she continues. “It only took me a few days to figure out the inspiration for the painting. He would come here with his wife. It’s pretty hidden and at first, it took me a fucking long time to find it but eventually-”

She shrieks when Noah suddenly pulls her towards him and lifts her from the ground. She quickly relaxes underneath him and wraps her arms around him.

“Thank you,” he mutters against her neck. “I don’t…I never…”

She pulls back, pushing back the hair falling in his eyes.

“Happy birthday, Noah,” she says softly, pressing a kiss on his temple. “You’re part of the painting now.”

Her words bring a smile on his face—so big and contagious that Liv can’t help but smile along with him._________________________________

okay, so a while back, I wrote something about liv’s bday surprise so you can read that here! :)

#this probably won't even show up in the tags #bc tumblr is fucked #lol #but anyway #skamnl #skam nl #liv x noah #skamfic

65 notes · View notes

bangtanoneshotsx · 6 years ago

Text

I’d Steal The Moon For You-?

“Why do I have to do this again?” You complained as you moved a dusty cardboard box to the back of the attic, looking back at your mom who was flipping through a photo album, a duster under her arm. “Because half of this stuff is yours. I stopped being responsible for your mess when you moved out.” She spoke calmly, turning over another page in the book. Sighing, you rolled your eyes as you opened another cardboard box, frowning as you saw items you knew didn’t belong to you. An aged leather bound book sat upon victorian styled clothing, a gold chain peeked out of the pages of the book. Carefully you took it off the pile, blowing the dust off of the front cover. Silver was used as a border, a massive contrast to the black background. “What’s this?” You asked, turning to face your mom who looked up, putting her book down so she could take the one from you. Her face lighting up in recognition. “I wondered where this had gone.” She muttered before making a makeshift seat from a cardboard box. Patting the box beside her she waited until you sat down. “This has been in your family for over a hundred years. It was your great great grandfather’s diary.” She sighed as she gave a small smile. “Your grandad was fascinated by it. He kept it by his bedside table. I haven’t read it myself but apparently a lot of secrets are kept in between these pages.” Your mom stopped as she turned the page, coming across a locket placed between two blank pages. Eyebrows furrowed, your mom ran a finger over the heart shaped locket, stones in the shape of a crescent with a single star decorated the front. “Here.” She spoke, handing the necklace to you. “You should wear it, your grandad would have wanted to see you with it.” Slowly, you took the necklace, studying the blue stones imbedded in the cold metal, letting the chain dangle loosely from your hand. “Are you sure?” You asked softly, looking up back at your mom. Nodding she took the necklace again, bringing it around your neck and clasping it. “He’d want you to have it. Anyway maybe it’ll bring you luck, grandad always thought that.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You sighed as you dusted the many glass cases protecting the jewelry exhibit. The worst job had been assigned to the newest employee, you. So while your elders had wished you goodnight, happily discussing with each other how they’d spend their evening you were stuck here, alone with the occasional security guard making their rounds. The deafening silence in the museum was interrupted by a loud siren, the alarm indicating a painting had been moved. Instantly, your head shot up, looking towards the entrance. What happened? Did someone break in? “I thought Yoongi disabled all security.” A voice spoke, before slowly coming into view. Two men dressed in black came from the room to the left of the entrance. Letting out a small gasp, you dropped your cloth, running after them. They could be security, for some reason they had tightened security over the past couple of days. However, you knew they weren’t new guards when you noticed one of them was holding a painting. “Stop!” You shouted, making the two men halt, turning on their heels, their faces pale. The alarm lights were now on, making it too bright to see their faces, though their hair colours stood out. “Shit. I didn’t know someone was still here.” The pink haired one spoke, looking towards the tallest, looking for some direction. The taller didn’t say anything, instead his eyes were fixed on the gold locket dangling from your neck. “Where did you get that...” He started to speak before pausing, his finger to his ear. Sirens came closer to the museum, the blue and red lights lighting up the room you were in. The police attention and the urgency of the footsteps from the security guards made you realise who exactly you were dealing with. Bangtan was the most infamous group of thieves in the country and you were standing in front of two of them. “Shit.” He muttered, turning to his friend. “We need to go.” Quickly, they turned, making a run for it and escaping from your point of view. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “I can’t believe that happened to you.” Your best friend spoke, taking a sip of her wine. You sighed, resting your head on your hand. “I just want to forget last night.” You spoke as you moved your noodles around your bowl, losing your appetite. Your best friend watched as worry overcame your face. She could tell you hadn’t slept well last night, you had slight bags under your eyes, although you tried to cover them with concealer, and the yawn every two minutes didn’t help in keeping your secret. “You will tell me if you remember anything about them?” Your best friend asked, finally putting her notepad away. You gave a small smile, nodding as you reassured her. She was a journalist, and currently she was writing about the robbery last night and it’s culprits. Although ecstatic when she first heard of your involvement she was instantly disheartened when you told her you didn’t see anything, let alone know what they looked like. “What do you mean you’re out!” You heard a voice shout. Looking up towards the bar you watched as a dark purple haired man, a scowl on his face argue with the man behind the bar. He had headphones around his neck, an iPad in one hand. The man behind the bar sighed, he must be used to other man’s brash behavior. “Yoongi I just gave my last order away. You’ll have to have something else.” “I don’t want something else. I want my pork noodles!” His raised voice had gained the attention of the other customers at the bar, silencing the room. “Come on Yoongi, you’re making a scene. I’m sure whatever Jin makes will be good.” A man spoke, walking up beside Yoongi, placing a hand on his back, trying to calm him down. Yoongi scoffed, shrugging off the other man’s hand, muttering, “Go away Hoseok.” The man who seemed to be Hoseok only rolled his eyes, stepping aside so Yoongi could storm past him. As Yoongi passed your table his eyes caught yours, stopping briefly. Guiltily, you looked down at your bowl, looking back to him as he gave a light scoff, his eyes flickering to your necklace. A sudden flash of emotion you couldn’t decipher appeared in his eyes before he stormed away, making you shrug at your best friend, muttering that you didn’t know him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You gave a wave as your best friend drove from view before climbing up the stairs to your apartment. Just before you entered your key, you looked down, noticing a white envelope on the welcome mat. Furrowing your eyebrows, you slowly picked it up. Opening it, you pulled out a black business card with two silver rectangles making a logo. Turning the small card over, you realised their was nothing else. Shaking your head slightly, you went back to opening the door, trying to ignore the feeling that you were being watched. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “I told you I can do this myself. You’re too clumsy for this.” A voice hissed, disturbing you from your sleep. “And I told you, I’m not letting the youngest go in by himself. Also remember I went in yesterday to collect that painting.” “Yeah, and remember how that went. She saw you, why do you think we’re here?” “We’re here for the necklace and her. This is why you need me.” Silence quickly followed before a hand covered your mouth. Instantly, you reacted, your body stiffening and heavy breaths left you. “If you’re quiet we won’t hurt you.” A calm voice spoke in your ear. Slowly, he removed his hand, still on guard in case you made a run for it. “Who are you guys?” You asked, sitting up in your bed before turning on your bedside lamp. As your eyes adjusted to the sudden light you realised you recognised the intruders. The men from the museum. “We’re Bangtan. We left a note for you.” The youngest spoke in an excited tone. So that’s who left the mysterious card. But what did they want with you and why did they have to sneak in your bedroom at night for it? “Saying your name doesn’t explain why you’re in my bedroom.” You spoke, finding some confidence. “Ah right.” The taller said, his hand moving out to hold your locket. “We’re here for this.” In one swift movement, he yanked the chain forward, breaking it and ripping it from around your neck. “My necklace!” You exclaimed, your hands clutching at the now bare base of your neck. “Give that back!” “If you want your necklace back you’ll have to come with us.” He spoke while studying the locket, admiring the blue stones. As you opened your mouth to speak you noticed out of the corner of your eye as Jungkook peeled his jacket back, revealing a gun at his hip. Gulping, you gave a short nod, knowing your fate if you refused. “Okay.” The taller grinned, placing the necklace in his pocket. “Good girl.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You had found yourself back in the bar from earlier, sat at a table with seven men, five of which you recognised. The rude blonde haired guy and his friend was here, as well as the owner of the bar. “So you’re saying the necklace holds some secret to finding an invention that my great great grandad created?” The leader who you now knew as Namjoon nodded. “And you really didn’t know about this? That’s pretty cold for his family member.” Yoongi spoke, his eyebrow raised. You gave a small smile as you noticed he had a bowl of pork noodles in front of him. “I only found the necklace a couple of days ago.” Yoongi scoffed, rolling his eyes. Hoseok sighed, patting his friend on the back, a grin on his face. “Please ignore him. He may seem cold, but he’s really a sweetheart underneath, aren’t you?” Yoongi’s cheeks turned red as he scowled, crossing his arms as he softly muttered a ‘shut up’ trying to ignore Hoseok’s laughter. “So why do you need me? I can let you borrow the necklace.” Jin shook his head before explaining. “You know our names and what we look like, we can’t let you get away that easily. We also don’t know when you’ll come in handy.” Jungkook could see the doubt on your face. The youngest solved this the only way he knew how, by placing a gun on the table, reminding you how serious this was. “Jungkook! She doesn’t need that! Let her make her own decision.” Taehyung spoke up for the first time, giving you a kind smile as you nodded in thanks when Jungkook put the gun back in it’s place. “Fine.” You sighed. “I’ll help you.” “Great.” Jin exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Now, who’s going to be Y/N’s babysitter?” “Babysitter?” “We need someone to protect you, we can’t afford to lose you. I’ll let you decide that, you will be spending every day with them.” Jin finished his sentence with a gentle smile, trying to act like what he said was normal. Never in your life did you expect to end up in this situation. You shrunk under the gaze of the seven men that were waiting for your answer to the question their leader had just asked. You looked around the table at the seven men, the quiet hacker, the confident leader, the energetic younger, the two teasing close friends, the kind comedian and lastly the eldest who seemed to keep them in check. The leader cleared his throat, making you turn to face him. Tilting his head, he licked his lips before giving a small smirk. “So Y/N. Who do you choose?”

Who should Y/N choose?

79 notes · View notes