#bella only has a pair of worn-out converse

[tatiejosie]

Finally, enough time to make autumn themed art

Been a while since I've last drew teenage AU Bella and Mandrake!!! I miss these cringe idiots!!!!

[twiluvr]

BABY STEPS — JASPER HALE

austistic!oc/jasper hale | masterlist

CHAPTER ONE. concrete to grass

Grace lays horizontally on her sister's bed. Her legs swing in the air as she reads through her calculus textbook, silent in her movement but loud in her occasional self piteous sighs.

Bella sits at her desk across the room, scrolling through a Forks tourism site. The yellow desk lamp on her left provides ample light for the entire room. She's used to Grace's melodramatic attitude when it comes to math, so doesn't so much as pay her a glance when she sighs for the fifth time in an hour.

At her sister's complete lack of response, Grace huffs and drops the paperback onto the bed. Then, she turns onto her stomach and frowns at the site displayed on Bella's screen. "Why are you looking at hiking trails? We don't hike."

"I'm looking at Forks' visitor website."

Grace makes a face. "Why?"

Bella turns to her. "Just seeing if anything's changed since I last spent a summer there."

"And?"

"It hasn't."

"Yeah," Grace grins. "That's why I like Forks. Everything stays the same."

Bella blinks. Grace thinks she looks horrified. "Everything?"

Grace shrugs. "Well, not everything. Dad emailed me a month ago to let me know he was getting a new microwave. This one is grey. His old one was black."

Bella frowns. "Oh."

She doesn't look very comforted.

"They also opened that public swimming pool last summer." Grace points out. "It's gross, but it's there."

"Yeah," Bella closes her laptop and stands up. She pushes the chair beneath the desk before walking over to the bed. She nudges Grace over and lays down next to her. Their heads knock together gently.

"You don't have to do this," Grace says quietly. "I'd be okay moving to Forks on my own. I would."

"I know." Bella agrees. "But I'm coming with you anyway."

"I just don't want you to do this and then resent me for it later." Grace shifts to rest her head on Bella's chest. She presses her ear into her shirt and doesn't settle until she can hear her sister's heartbeat.

"Don't be stupid. I could never resent you." Bella denies. "Besides, this is my decision. I want to move to Forks. It'll be nice to spend some time with dad."

Grace hums, unconvinced. Bella's sudden change of heart is unsettling. Nobody goes from loathing a place to wanting to move there overnight.

A realisation abruptly strikes her. "Mom asked you to go with me, didn't she?"

Bella doesn't say anything.

Grace's throat tightens. "Oh."

Bella stays quiet, trying to find the right words. "Don't be mad at her. She just- she doesn't want you to be on your own."

"I won't be on my own." Grace tightens her jaw. She's clearly unsettled now. Her skin crawls. "I'll be with dad."

"And me," Bella says. She brushes a grounding hand through Grace's hair. "I'm going with you, Gracie. I've already made up my mind."

"You don't like Forks."

The sentence echoes like a broken cassette in Grace's head. Over and over.

"No, I don't" Bella admits. "But you're my sister and I'm not willing to put a two thousand mile distance between us."

"You don't like Forks."

"But I love you," Bella says easily. She keeps running a hand through Grace's hair, applying a grounding pressure on her scalp.

"You don't like Forks."

Bella hums. Softly. Kindly. "I know."

"You don't like Forks."

"I know."

Grace clenches her wet eyes shut and focuses intently on Bella's heartbeat and the hand in her hair. "You don't like Forks."

It's a mantra now. It consumes her until she can hear nothing else. Even as exhaustion sweeps her away from consciousness like a wave on a rocky shore, the words burn on her tongue.

Bella holds her as she falls asleep.

--

Two weeks later, Bella and Grace stand side-by-side outside Port Angeles airport. It's a small place, a lot like the plane they'd connected with from Seattle. There's a worn-down fidget cube in Grace's pocket that her mom had given her that morning. It's blue; her favourite colour.

"Do you think he'll be in the cruiser?" Bella asks with a wince.

Grace shrugs, pulling her knit cardigan closer to her body. Her hands are still trembling. She isn't scared of flying, never has been, but the loudness of the engines had provoked a handful of sensory overloads over past five hours.

"Probably. He is the Chief."

Bella grimaces. "I hope I'll be able to find a car before school starts. You think Charlie-"

"You should call him dad." Grace interrupts. "It makes him sad when you call him Charlie."

"Right," Bella takes a small breath.

Five minutes later, Charlie pulls up in the cruiser. Grace doesn't think twice before darting across the parking lot to hug him. He lets out a gruff breath when she throws herself at him, but reciprocates the embrace nonetheless. He holds her tightly.

His uniform smells like stale potato chips and gunpowder, but Grace couldn't care less. The pressure is amazing. He's always given good, solid hugs.

"Hey there, Gracie." He chuckles when she finally pulls away. "You have a good flight?"

"It was fine." She doesn't elaborate any further before climbing into the car. She curls up against the door and savours the absence of noise. She closes her eyes and takes a steadying breath.

"Hey, dad," Bella says after Grace shuts herself in the car.

Charlie gives her an awkward one-armed hug. "It's good to see you, Bells."

When he releases her, she doesn't even manage a single step before stumbling over her suitcase. He automatically steadies her. "You haven't changed much. How was the flight?"

"Loud," Bella frowns, shooting a concerned look at the cruiser where her sister was sitting. "But fine otherwise."

"Good." Charlie nods, grunting as he lifts their suitcases into the trunk.

Bella climbs into the passenger seat.

The drive back to Forks is only around an hour-long, but the traffic on the highway extends their journey by a good forty minutes. Grace doesn't care much, but she can tell Bella is getting antsy.

"I found a good car for you. Really cheap," Charlie says, about twenty-five minutes into the quiet journey.

"I can't drive," Grace says. He knows that.

"I know. I found it for your sister." Charlie looks at her through the rearview mirror with a smile. "I got you a little something too, though."

Grace reciprocates his smile before refocusing on her fidget cube.

Bella squints, sceptical. "What kind of car?"

"Well, it's a truck actually. A Chevy."

"Where did you find it?"

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?"

"No," Bella shakes her head.

"Really? Do you remember Jacob?" Grace asks, baffled. The shaggy-haired Quiliuete was a stand-out memory from Grace's time in Forks.

"No," Bella says, again.

Grace is visibly thrown.

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie explains.

"Ah," Bella flinches at the memory.

"He's in a wheelchair now." Charlie says, "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."

"What year is it?"

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work to the-"

Grace tunes out of the conversation, gazing out of the window. She watches as grey slowly shifts to green, concrete to grass. Her heart flutters in suppressed excitement.

Forks holds a special place in her heart. Memories of summers spent with her dad were magical; chasing butterflies with Mike Newton, attending enormous bonfires at the Reservation, swimming in the sea with Jacob and going on fishing trips with her dad and Billy. Bella never enjoyed any of it, she was a city dweller at heart, but summer was Grace's favourite time of year for a reason.

"Do we have any waffles at home?" She asks, out of the blue. She hopes Bella and her dad are finished with their discussion. Interrupting is one of her more vexatious habits.

"Yeah, I got you your waffles," Charlie assures. He smiles brightly in the mirror-like she's made him the happiest man alive. She blinks in confusion but attempts to imitate the expression. She's certain hers resembles more of a perplexed grimace, though.

Bella purses her lips to conceal a fond smile. It's amusing, sometimes, how unaware her sister can be. They'd been in Forks for less than two hours and Grace was already referring to the place as home; no wonder Charlie was thrilled.

Charlie stops at a red-light. "So, you two looking forward to starting school?"

Bella shrugs, not sure what to say to that.

Grace, however, nods. "I like school. Did you make sure they got our transcripts?"

"Sure did." Charlie nods. "I went in and spoke to Sarah Cope yesterday. They've got everything they need. Your records, personal information. All of it."

"Did you remember to get a copy of Grace's class schedule?" Bella asks. It's a weighted question.

"Sure did," Charlie says. Bella nods in relief. Grace simply smiles at her dad in gratitude. "Don't worry. I made a list of everything I needed to do to make sure I wouldn't forget anything."

"Good idea." Grace offers her genuine support at his preparation technique. "Lists are great. I love lists."

"Yeah," Charlie nods. His eyes are soft as he glances at her over his shoulder. "I know."

Grace settles back into her seat, content.

---

When they pull up outside of the familiar house, Grace shifts in her seat at the sight of the unfamiliar truck on the drive. She'll get used to it soon enough, but in all the years she's been alive her dad has only ever owned a cruiser. The development is unnerving.

They're quick to get out of the cruiser, everyone eager to stretch their legs after their respective journeys. Grace reaches down to touch her toes, stretching her tailbone. She stands up when she hears Bella gasp in delight.

She walks around the cruiser and sees the genuine joy on Bella's face as she examines the red Chevy.

"Wow, Dad! I love it! Thanks." She exclaims, eyes wide as she investigates the vehicle.

"I'm glad you like it," Charlie says, gruffly, clearly embarrassed.

Grace eyes the old truck warily. "It looks loud."

Charlie pats her shoulder. "There's a pair of noise-cancelling earmuffs in the glove box. Best on the market, according to the woman down at Buy'N'Save."

Grace smiles, so does Bella.

They drag their luggage into the house, Grace's suitcase significantly lighter than Bella's. She already has clothes at Charlie's from last summer, whereas Bella doesn't.

When they get inside, Charlie takes her class schedule off of the fridge and Grace spends the next hour revising it before putting it back up. She hangs it with one of the magnets she'd painted during her 'magnet making' phase a few years ago.

Dinner is a quiet affair. They're all tired and grouchy. So instead of cooking or venturing out to the diner, they order Chinese takeout and eat in front of the TV before Grace snuggles into Bella's bed beside her and falls asleep before eleven pm.

The next morning, Grace finally hauls her suitcase upstairs and puts it in her room. It's smaller than the other two bedrooms in the house, more of a boxroom than anything else, but it has just enough room for a double bed, a wardrobe, a desk and her yoga mat. She has a window overlooking the woods, the walls are painted light grey and the floor is wooden. Unlike her room back in Pheonix, she knows she can get a good night sleep here.

Breakfast goes something like this. Bella makes toast without opening the back door and sets off the smoke alarm. Charlie drinks four mugs of black coffee and Grace briefly frets over his caffeine intake. Bella manages to shut up the fire alarm with some violent tea-towel dancing. Grace cooks three waffles in Charlie's new microwave and approves of the new appliance. Before heading to work, Charlie offers them both good luck for their first day. Bella does the dishes while Grace packs herself a simple lunch of carrots and cucumber sticks.

Then, with one last inspection of the house to ensure they've not left any outlets on or windows open, they climb into Bella's new truck. It's raining, not heavily but not lightly either. It's typical Forks weather and Grace, for what its worth, doesn't work herself up over the hazards of driving on wet roadways without experience. Bella is a good driver; cautious and aware. There's no reason to worry.

Grace puts on the earmuffs before Bella turns on the engine and offers a thumbs up in approval. She can still hear the rumble of the engine, but it's faint. If anything, it's actually soothing. Bella fiddles with the radio for a few minutes before they set off.

Forks High School is far smaller than the last school they'd attended, but it's still extensive. Bella pulls into a marked out space in the middle of the already crowded lot. A few heads turn to stare and it makes Bella shift in discomfort. Grace isn't bothered by it.

She keeps her hands in the pockets of her raincoat, one hand playing with her fidget cube and the other just keeping warm. Her hood is up too, hair tucked into her sweater to protect it from the rain.

She and Bella meet at the tail end of the truck. Bella laces her arm through Grace's and together they walk through the parking lot like wild animals being led to an enclosure. Everyone stares and a handful of overly confident people whisper. Two people wolf whistle, but Grace is deaf to it and Bella is too flustered to say anything.

The office is overly warm, there are potted plants everywhere and a small seating area that looks absurdly uncomfortable. Bella approaches the desk while Grace stops to look at the notice-board. She's not usually a fan of extra-curriculurs, but it's always nice to know what's on offer.

"Here," A few minutes later, Bella taps her shoulder to draw her attention away from the plethora of flyers. She hands over two pieces of paper. "There's another copy of your schedule. And a map." Then she hands over a small piece of card. "You need to get this stamped by all of your teachers."

"Do we have any classes together?"

"No. We have lunch together though"

Bella's a year and a half older than Grace and takes mostly AP classes, whereas Grace is below average in everything other than Art, where she exceeds AP levels. Her mom had tried to get her tutors, but her efforts had been in vain. Renee had been self-conscious of her bad grades as if they were her own. It was weird.

Grace studies the map as they walk out of the office and back out into the parking lot. "There's a lot of buildings here. This place is bigger than it looks."

"I wonder how many students they have."

Grace looks at her sister. "Three hundred-thirty-eight. They have it posted on the notice board."

"Oh," Bella's eyes grow wide. Their last school in Phoenix had upwards of four thousand.

Grace looks at the schedule in her hands. "I have calculus first."

"You'll be fine." Bella insists as they reach the truck again. They still had ten minutes to waste before they'd need to head to class. Sitting in the truck and shielding from the rain was a better plan than awkwardly hovering in the corridors. "You've been studying really hard."

"Okay." Grace ducks into the passenger seat and waits for Bella to get in the drivers side before continuing. "But what if they only have blue ink pens?"

"You have three black ink pens in your bag." Bella says. "I have two spares if you somehow manage to lose them all before the end of the day. If you text me, I'll bring you one."

Grace nods. "Okay."

Bella fixes her sister with a gentle smile. "That everything? We've still got a few minutes."

"I can have my fidget out in class?" She asks. Bella nods. "Okay. That's everything."

Bella reaches over and squeezes her hand. She holds on for a long time. The constant pressure melts away the tension that'd built in her shoulder.

She sinks against the seat and watches the rain beat down on the windscreen.

She's not nervous. There are no metaphorical butterflies in her stomach. No, she's just apprehensive.

Change is tough, but with her sister by her side and her fidget in her pocket, there's nothing Grace Swan can't do.

[twilitty]

Moonlit ch.1

This is the first chapter in my new fic Moonlit, it will be posted on Tumblr, ao3, and ffnet. New chapters uploaded every week and a half. Message/comment to be added to my tag list.

3k words

big thank you to my beta reader @effervescentlyirrevocable who has given me the absolute best criticism and helped make this chapter so beautiful :)

Bella moves to Forks Washington, her first week is uneventful. This fic has aged up characters, making them all at entry-college level ages.

Chapter One

My senses are sharper in Forks than they were in Phoenix, I’ve only been here a handful of days yet everything seemed brighter, louder, more alive than my past home. There was something here for me, something that made me feel more alert than I have in years.

The sound of heavy rain slowly pulls me out of my restless sleep, an elbow is thrown across my eyes in an attempt to keep the real world at bay. It’s always raining, the mist layering the ground never abandons its post, and the chilly air seemingly lasts indefinitely. The rainy town of Forks Washington sooner resembles my personal hell than it does a sleepy old town. The forest that borders the town at each cardinal point is layered in green moss, damp dirt, and an endless supply of fresh animal tracks. I’d moved to Forks only a week ago, the sum of which was spent unpacking dreadfully thin clothing and acquainting myself with the few stores and public access areas the town has to offer.

My father, Charlie, has had little to do with this process apart from moral support and the occasional bag of fast food that he’s picked up while on shift. Charlie is the town's police chief, a job that both seems ill-needed and also unbearably boring. How much crime can be committed in a town of fewer than ten thousand citizens? Other than the odd tag on a school building or bush party, what does his shift consist of? I have yet to bring my insulting opinions on his career to his attention, and likely will never do so. He’s a good man with a heart of gold and a passion for the judicial system, which is ever-present in his TV browsing as he cruises through endless episodes of Law & Order.

I’m not a big TV person, even back home in Phoenix, I preferred reading to the television. Perhaps this was related to my mother’s endless stack of yoga DVD’s that seemed to consume our viewing; her in a downward dog position gossiping about her latest advancements at her newest club membership, me sitting on the couch finishing a craft for her so she won’t be late submitting it. My favourite of her crafts was embroidery, one month I embroidered nearly two hundred dandelions on a pair of jeans for her. She gave them to the club administrator as an apology before she quit.

Regardless, at night when the TV is blaring the intro theme to a cop show, I am curled in bed with a book under my nose and headphones in my ears. Blocking out the rain is a full-time chore.

This morning is a particularly eventful morning, not because of any specific events, but rather the events that will be set into motion because of this morning. Today is the first day of my online college courses. I’m currently enrolled in an undeclared major. My hope is that the three courses I’m taking this spring term will help me decide on what I want to do in the future.

Charlie had given me a new laptop upon my arrival in Forks, a current model with modest upgrades to “enhance my academic experience”. Or at least that’s what the box boasted. I am not entirely convinced that a larger memory will miraculously cure me of my educational despise. High school was tortuous, I had few friends and fewer interests outside of my mother’s hobbies. I had no extra-curricular activities that were not synonymous with financial responsibilities. The monthly budget book was mine to care for, as was the constant, intrusive phone calls of the bank when my mother got too engaged in a store. She’s a gullible woman if nothing else. If a store clerk tells her a blouse suits her figure, she’ll purchase ten colours in the article along with two in a size lower just in case she finally loses the ten pounds she’s been trying to shed.

My eyes have barely opened, the down of my forearm just a fraction away from my pupil when Charlie pounds against my door. You’d imagine I was fostering a fugitive in here with the noise he’s making, but this is just the way my father is, loud noises and soft voices. I wonder, idly, if perhaps he has minor hearing loss from spending so much time around guns.

“I’m up!” I call out, my voice is thin and calloused with morning sleep. I clear my throat as the knocking cuts off, “Good morning, Dad.” Charlie doesn’t like me calling him Charlie.

“Morning, Bells,” he calls back through the door, quiet enough to not be taken as aggressive yet loud enough to sound authoritative. He is a father, my father, at heart. He pauses, and it’s as if I can hear the mental gears shifting in his mind. He hasn’t had to be a father since I was a baby, after that Renee was the parent. Charlie was the summer distraction. “Don’t be late for school.” I grunt a response, reaching for the alarm clock on my nightstand and groaning at the early hour of the morning. Barely eight, class doesn’t officially start until noon. I guess there’s nothing wrong with logging in early, although I’d much rather catch up on the sleep I’ve lost to the thunderous storms we’ve been experiencing recently.

As if he could sense my intentions, Charlie knocks against my door again. “Bella, I mean it. You didn’t come here to slack off, now.” No, I think nastily, I came here for peace and quiet.

Between unpacking my belongings and touring the town, I’ve developed a routine in my new living situation. Charlie is fond of my company, enjoying having a woman in the house outside of his ex-wife, my mother and ex-roommate. Although, his fondness of my presence does not directly translate to time spent together. He makes me breakfast, occasionally placing it in the oven to keep warm, and then immediately heads off to his family that is the Forks police station. We meet again for lunch, depending on our individual plans for the day, and then reunite again just in time for dinner. Food really is the great American pastime.

I dress in jeans and a light blue sweater that smells mysteriously of mildew although it’s a recent purchase and has yet to be worn outdoors. I suppose the rain permeates every available space, closed windows be damned. My socks are tall and I have to roll my jeans up at the bottoms to accommodate for the thick, high fabric of them. It’s a trick Charlie taught me for wearing rain boots, the higher the socks the less likely they are to run down to your toes as you walk. Immediately after that trick was taught I went to the nearest hiking store and purchased a pair of rain boots. My first pair of rain boots at nineteen years of age. Unfathomable yet ironic considering my lineage marks back to the wettest town in the continental US. My ancestors roll in their graves every time I step outdoors and forget a jacket or umbrella, I’m sure of it.

Charlie is waiting for me downstairs, both a surprise and unwelcome presence. I had a battered copy of Dorian Gray under my arm, I was expecting philosophy and moral ambiguity, not idle conversation. Before the chief notices my book, I slide it over the back of the couch and enter the kitchen with a polite smile. There’s bacon frying on the stovetop, the police chief is dressed in uniform already, but has a stained white apron tied around his neck. “Dad?”

“Oh,” he turns around and gives me a tight smile, “Excited for your big day?” You’d imagine it’s my first day of preschool with the amount of enthusiasm he’s trying to keep hidden from me, not my first day of online school. I don’t say anything to dampen his mood, I’m glad he’s excited about something. His life is repetitive, if my existence here proves to be no more useful than just disrupting his schedule, it will still be a success.

“Yeah, I guess.” He turns back to the bacon and shifts it around quickly, the grease snapping up at him. If it burns him he doesn’t show it, just maintains the stiff-backed posture of a respectable police officer cooking his daughter breakfast. “I’ve gotta ask, what’s up with the apron?” I stifle a giggle behind a bite of the toast that’s sitting in the middle of the small table. He shakes his head in faux annoyance.

Charlie takes the pan off the hot element, sliding the bacon onto two plates and pouring the grease into an open can. The second trick he taught me since arriving here: never pour grease down the drain.

“I’m in uniform, it would be disrespectful to the badge to stain it.” He slides a plate of bacon in front of me, sitting down in his designated seat across the table. “Besides,” he takes a sip of coffee from his to-go mug. “Can you imagine walking into a police station smelling of fried pig?”

Breakfast ends quickly. We each eat a piece of toast, Charlie stuffing a second piece into a plastic bag “for later” and heading out the door. I still have half a plate of bacon in front of me after he leaves, the maple glaze filling the small kitchen with its smell.

After my Mom and Charlie got married, Renee redecorated much of the house. Her lace curtains still hang in the master bedroom window, constantly drawn closed. The rest of the house has been minorly updated with age, the TV got bigger, the couch more comfortable, new bed linens and even newer rocking chairs on the porch. I had asked Charlie if they were Moms when I first came up to the house a week ago.

They were rocking gently in the wind, the wood seemed to be polished as it shined in what little light filtered through the depressive clouds. They were sitting side by side, matching pillows on them both, a coffee table in the middle with a stack of coasters. It was an old person's porch, where husband and wife would sit all grey and wrinkled, waving at the neighbourhood kids as the bus dropped them off from school. I could almost picture Charlie and Renee sitting there, her knitting a scarf and him content to just watch her and the scenery.

He informed me that they were relatively new, a purchase from a shop down on the Reservation. We haven’t spoken about them since, but I wonder if perhaps he wishes he had someone to sit out there with him.

I spend the morning before class doing odd chores around the house. It’s nice living at Charlie’s, nicer than I had expected it to be. I’m not a fan of the weather or the fact that I currently have no social life, but it’s nice to just sit. I throw my laundry in the wash and manage to get the kitchen cleaned up with just enough time left over to sit on the couch and read a chapter of my book before class.

School has never been my strong suit. That’s not to say I get poor marks or intentionally skip classes, I just never found it as fulfilling as my peers seemed to. I never woke up and looked forward to the social or academic aspect of high school. Perhaps this contributed to me postponing my college experience and only starting it now when I should already be a year into my program.

When I log into my schools online database and click on my first class, Social Psychology 1001, I’m immediately transported to a screen filled with windows and the faces of my classmates. “Hello, class!” The professor's voice calls out over my computer. Perhaps online school won’t be my strong suit either.

Class ends and the next one starts, and I get through all three classes and an hour's worth of homework by the time Charlie pops in for dinner.

“Hey, Bells,” He calls as he opens the front door. I can hear him from where I sit in the kitchen, hanging his gun belt up by the front door and kicking his boots off into a heap on the floor. I imagine Mom back in Phoenix, walking into the house with arms full of bags and tossing her flip flops onto her pile of shoes beside the coatrack she used for purses. Some things won’t ever change.

“How was work?” I ask. He pauses to poke his head into the kitchen, moustache moving as he chews on his lip. I can’t remember when Charlie initially grew out his moustache, just that one summer I arrived and thought could he look more like a cop?

“Good, good, just some meetings. New family moving into town, all foster kids around your age.” He takes pause, staring off into some middle ground in the hallway as if deep in thought. His eyebrows furrow, “Don’t want any trouble makers coming in, but the father seems nice. Respectable.”

“That’s nice,” I contribute conversationally. Charlie and I rarely have material conversations, always just idle talk of the weather or what's for dinner. I’m not entirely sure how to approach this topic, which clearly seems to be occupying his mind.

“Yeah, he’s a doctor.” He grins at this, toothy and a little crooked to the right side. A pang of embarrassment settles in my chest before he speaks, as if knowing where this will turn. “Perfect for you, considering how often your clumsiness-” I wave a hand over my face, grimacing at his words. “Don’t speak it into existence,” I mutter with a half-hearted plea underlying my words. He chuckles, disappearing up the stairs.

I hear the shower turn on after a few minutes of him fumbling around, presumably trying to get undressed. I’m sure once he’s showered and in sweatpants it’ll be twenty questions about my day of school. I’m not sure I have the heart to break the truth to him: it absolutely sucked.

The material was interesting enough, psychology has always been close to my heart. I loved the idea of people being more than their actions and thoughts, that there was something making them say that or something making them act that way. Perhaps this was yet another symptom of having Renee for a mother.

I sit at the kitchen table for a moment longer, my computer is closed in front of me and my pencil case- dreadfully unnecessary with school being online-sits closed and untouched. I haven’t made any friends in my classes, not that I had expected to. Twelve years of public school and no friend group to show for it, just a few texts every couple of weeks. Why would I have believed college, and an online college at that, would be any better?

Having enough with my thoughts, I get up from the table and pack my things into my bag. I’ve completed enough work for today, the rest of the evening I’ll spend either with Charlie or in my room. I’d rather not be nose deep in pdf textbooks and youtube videos constituting as follow-up lectures, I’ve had enough of that today. As if sensing the immediacy of my departure from the kitchen, the shower cuts off and I hear the bathroom door squeak open. For a man who, until recently, lived alone with too much free time, you’d imagine he’d have taken better care of the house. Nearly every door, except my own, creaks open and closed. I made sure to oil my hinges nearly immediately after moving in, I didn’t want Charlie to wake up every time I sneak downstairs for a comfort snack or warm glass of milk to help me sleep. He’s lived alone for nearly twenty years, he doesn’t need his sleep schedule disrupted now.

“The game is on in-” Charlie pauses as if double-checking the times mentally, “- an hour and a half. Are you interested?” He’s calling from up the stairs. I wonder if he truly wants me to watch the game with him, whatever sport it may be, or if he’s only being polite.

“Uh, I was just going to organize my room right now and then maybe make something for dinner,” I say in response. The floors don’t make a noise and I know he’s heard me, but he doesn’t respond. A lump forms in my throat, perhaps he really did want to watch with me.

“That’s fine, but if you want we can order in?” The lump passes and I convince myself that there is no reason to avoid the TV. It’s not like I’ll be a disruption, if I get bored I can read on the couch. I’ve only watched TV with Charlie on a few occasions since my move here, and each time I strategically saved my questions for the commercial breaks.

“Sure! That works.” The floorboards creak and I hear him retreat into his room, the door closing with a pitiful squeak.

We eat pizza on the couch, a large meat-lover for the carnivorous father and a small vegetarian with extra mushrooms for the daughter who cares about her cardiovascular health. We eat slowly, occasionally Charlie will make a face at the television or mumble something under his breath, but other than that we’re quiet. The sport turns out to be baseball and I recall a few of the basic rules from the tragic gym classes of my past. It’s not disastrous in any way, and surprisingly I don’t get bored. There is something relaxing about the repetitive nature of the game.

After the game ends we box up the remaining slices and put them in the fridge to be eaten tomorrow, say good night, and go our separate ways at the top of the stairs.

taglist:

@musingsofvenus @maybesandohnos

[aureumjeon]

tiptoed his way (m) || kth

pairing; taehyung x reader. genre; roommate!au; smut; fluff; angst. warnings; breaking and entering, unintended voyeurism, female masturbation, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex via doggy style, choking, tae suffers from MSS(Monster Schlong Syndrome lol), that’s about it.  word count; 6.4K (unedited im sorry :()

summary; ➜ Taehyung found himself locked out of your shared home and there were only two options to successfully get inside. (1) Wake you up from your sleep and face the wrath that’ll follow, (2) Think like a burglar and enter through your window. (Un)fortunately for him, he picks the latter.

taglist; @bella-victoria002  @chaitaewithkookies @saddiesan  @wehadnochoice  @knjhe @thoughtsfromfaroffplaces @livorna @taetaeobsessed @erisann  @thoughtsfromfaroffplaces @wickizer

a/n: the old gif doesnt work i dunno what i did wrong :(

“I’ll be out ‘til late, y/n! Don’t wait up for me.” Taehyung hollered while lacing his worn out white high-cut converse in the entryway. Hoping his voice would reach the end of the hallway where you were currently cooped in in your room. 

 “Alright! Stay safe!” Not bothering to leave your room, you answered back. Voice echoing through and bouncing off the dry walls. After waiting a few minutes, you heard the door slam shut with a thud. You cautiously tiptoed your way to the direction of your door, slightly opening the solid block of wood and peeking through the narrow crack you made. With no Taehyung in sight, you pumped your fist in the air and cheered victoriously. You finally have the house to yourself. You beamed with delight scurrying yourself over to the kitchen to make yourself a hot steaming bowl of instant ramen. 

 Taehyung and Jungkook had been your room mates since you can remember. It was freshman year of college, and you were looking for a cheap place to stay with the money you saved up working as a part-time student during your last year of highschool. A friend had introduced you to Jungkook, saying they needed one more person to split the bill with, broke college students need to support each other. At first you were hesitant, a girl living with two boys in a shared house wasn’t you initial plan but as the days go by since you first moved it, you got to know Taehyung and Jungkook a little more. Your friendship with them had gotten greater, the three of you were inseverable and you treasured them to bits! 

 Although in the four years you’ve been boarding together, every now and then they can really get on your nerves; letting the dirty dishes stack up at the sink until molds would flourish on the left over food; leaving the empty carton of milk in the fridge just as you’re planning to enjoy it with cereal or maybe a pack of Oreos; bags of chips and boxes of pizza scattered on all parts of the living room floor whenever they’d have movie night on Fridays with Jimin and Hoseok; and last but not least, the thing that they always do that grinds your gears the most, their dirty laundry in every corner, nook, and cranny of the house. Stinky socks, sweaty shirts, crusty jeans and even used underwear, you name it!

One time you had guests over; all girls might you add, studying for a group project in chemistry. Oh poor, sweet Yeri… Her unsullied innocence mercilessly corrupted by Jungkook’s disgusting underwear that had a suspicious dried up patch of white something on the crotch area of the small fabric. Yeri almost fainted when she pulled out the article of clothing from the kitchen caddy, flinging it across the room to where the other girls were. You scolded Jungkook the same day, advising him to keep all his stuff where it needed to be kept and on top of that to apologize to the poor girl he scarred for life. Which he did, and that’s the story of how Jungkook and Yeri’s relationship began. Who knew, right?

 Taehyung was like Jungkook at first, but somehow he decided to stay under your radar as best as he could. Once you lectured him on something he’s done wrong inside the quarters of your home, he’d make it a point to engrave it on the back of his head. He has his fuck ups every now and then, but nothing too consequential. There was one time though, and you wish you could forget, that he brought a girl home which wasn’t against the house rules. Jungkook had brought Yeri numerous times and you, yourself, had your fair share of men visiting the house, specifically your room. It was s well established etiquette to keep the ruckus down since you we’re sharing this living space between the three of you. But during that critical time, which you’ve spoken to Taehyung and Jungkook beforehand never lacking to remind them on multiple occasions throughout that day. Telling them to please keep the noise to a minimum because you'll be revising for for a major exam that was equivalent to forty percent of your total grade. Somehow, Taehyung managed to forget your simple and completely doable request. With the paper thin walls between you and the absence of soundproofing, you were able to get every moan, groan and mewl that came from Taehyung’s rooms adjacent to yours. That bastard is so dead was the sole thing on your mind right now and not the words inscribed in the textbook that you’ve read over for the tenth time that night. The morning after that horrendous night of not getting anything done, you waited irksomely in the common room for taehyung and his date to emerge from his chambers. 

 “Y/n, y-you’re up early.” He gulped, taking in your appearance. Your gaze was piercing especially with the huge dark bags under your eyes. “I’ll take Minju ho--”

 “I’m sure she knows here way back.” You cut him off with a bark in your tone, “Can’t you, Minju?” Your focus was now directed at her and she was quivering under your constant scrutiny.“Y-yes,” She clutched on her designer handbag bowed nervously before fleeing the place like a prey encountering it’s predator.

 “I asked you for one thing, Taehyung, one thing.” You lowered your head and massaged your aching temples with your fingers, placating your exasperation towards the boy who was placed in the hot seat. “You knew I was studying tonight, Tae.” The timbre of your voice wasn’t sickeningly livid anymore. From spiking up to a hundred degrees in the last two minutes, it dropped down to a negative ten. “This test is worth forty percent of my grade, I told you that. This is the first time I requested you to do something for me...”  You shut your eyes close and drew out a long sigh before standing up and intending to head back to your room. “If I fail this test, I want to let you know it’s on you, Tae.”  His features were extremely devastated and disheartened, not because of the things you just said but because of how he had forgotten all about it. 

 You inconspicuously peered back at him and the look on his face says it all. A helpless puppy abandoned by its human, that’s what he resembled most at this moment. Big glassy eyes, a wet nose and pouty lips. Okay, that was kind of a mean thing to say, you thought. But you never failed to remind him, always opening up and squeezing in the topic during the mundane conversations you shared together. After one last disappointed sigh, you looked up the clock, 6:55 am. “Anyway, I still have three more hours before the test. I’ll be in my room.” You turned your back on him and proceeded to take a few steps forward before saying one last thing to him, “Please, please, please. Don’t bother me.”  You were on your way back down the hall, nothing will stop you from cramming seven chapters of lesson into your brain in less than three hours in one sitting.

 “Sorry, Y/n.”

 Sorry ain't gonna cut it, chief.

 Its as if Taehyung was able to read your mind, “ I’ll- I’ll be on bathroom duty. For two, no, four weeks. Yeah, yeah. One month of bathroom duty, Y/n. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to forget.”

 You glanced over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of Taehyung with his hands clasped together, his facial expression pleading for forgiveness. You knew he was really sorry. Why? Because nobody liked bathroom duty, not even you.

 “That seems fair to you, kook?” You spontaneously asked, making Taehyung scan the living room area. Glass started clattering in the kitchen and your doe-eyed bunny-boy of a roommate came hopping in. Taehyung was seeking compassion from his long-time comrade. Maybe shortening his time on bathroom duties or lending him a helping hand at least. Bros before hoes, right? “For the record.” Jungkook started, taking a sip from the cold banana milk bottle in his hand. “You kept me up, too. And I have football practice at eight.”  He shrugged his shoulders casually before hiding back in his man cave. “Have fun cleaning, Tae.” 

 Your chiding was for everyone’s best interest, may this incident serve as a lesson of respecting other people who also lives in this household. Although there was one thing you were still unsure about. After that episode, Taehyung has never set foot in the premises with a woman draped around his arm again. You hoped you did not terminate his hopes of getting a love life.

 In conclusion, they’re just a bunch of stupid college boys wanting to survive this hell hole, what do you expect? So, having the house to yourself was a once in a blue moon moment you’d never take for granted. 

++

It was two in the morning, and Taehyung was stupidly perched at the doorstep patting his pockets for what seemed like the tenth time in the last ten minutes searching for his keys. "Shit."  He grumbled under his breath, taking out his phone from his back pocket and calling up Jungkook's number. After the third try, he finally answered the call.

"H-hey, what's up? I love you and all that shit but why are you calling at two in the fucking morning?" The voice is the other line was dry and scratchy. 

"Ah," Taehyung felt apologetic for waking up the Jungkook but he absolutely needed help, "Sorry for bothering you, Kook. Do you happen to know where the spare key is? Left my copy in my room before I went out and now I'm locked out of the house," He laughed embarrassingly, attempting to check his pockets one more time before calling it quits, wishing his keys would magically turn up in one of them.

"Taehyung…" The line suddenly went silent, it was a good fifteen seconds before Jungkook went on speaking,"Didn't I tell you that I'm holding onto the spare key to have it duplicated since my I lost my copy?"

There it was again, complete and utter silence. If it wasn't for irregular breathing coming from the other line, Jungkook would've guessed Taehyung had dropped the call already.

"Just wake up y/n, I'm sure she wouldn't mind." Jungkook suggested, that was probably the best route to take. 

"No bro," Taehyung's tone was unnaturally dark and empty.

"Can I ask why?"

"L-Last time I locked myself out and woke up y/n," he choked on his series of words, recalling the traumatic event that occurred in the past. "She made me wait a whole hour before opening the door. While I was waiting out in the cold, y/n cooked bacon and pancakes at midnight just to spite me. The smell of the food made my stomach flip and growl. When she finally let me in, she ate it all by herself while looking me straight in the eye."

Jungkook on the other line laughed uproariously at Taehyung's untold story, "Remind me not to get on Y/n's bad side. But in all seriousness, how are you planning to get inside the house?" He queried the boy who was stuck in an unfortunate predicament."I don't get back til' Sunday. And it's only Friday."

Taehyung's eyes lit up like those light bulbs in cartoons when the characters gets a genius idea. "Is your room the one without the safety locks on the window?"

"One, no. My windows have safety locks. Y/n's window is the one without it. And two, that's a really bad Idea, Tae."

"What's a bad idea, babe?" Taehyung indistinctly overhears a hushed voice in the background. His conversation with Jungkook probably woke up Yeri too. "Oh, Taehyung's planning to enter through y/n window to get into the house." Jungkook made sure that taehyung was hearing what Yeri had to say, since she's been friends with y/n just as long as them. Her giggles were so innocent, akin to a baby but the words she said were the exact opposite. "That is a stupid idea, unless Taehyung wants to be hit on the head with a metal baseball bat and bleed to death." 

"Yeri said that that's a stupid idea unless you--"

"I heard what she said. And I won't even make a sound! I'll tiptoe my way through her window and out of her room in a flash! That way I'll be in the house and won't have to wake up y/n! I see this as an absolute win." Taehyung broadcasted triumphantly like he had discovered the map to the lost City of Atlantis. 

Yeri snatched the phone from her boyfriend's hand and lectured Taehyung y/n style. "Tae, this isn't the time to be quoting the Incredible Hulk when you're the one who's gonna be beaten to a pulp when y/n wakes up and mistakes you for a burglar. Just wake up y/n and ask her to open up the door for you. It can't be that bad, you'd live a longer life that way. Face the consequences of being a pee-brain."

"Nope," It seemed like Taehyung had made up his mind, and when Taehyung makes up his mind, there's no point in stopping him.

"Ahhh, tell your friend good luck. I'm going back to sleep." Yeri gave back the phone to her boyfriend. "You have our regards. If you don't die, call me back in the morning." A loud yawn can be heard from Jungkook's end as he hangs up.

And that's Taehyung's go signal.

++

He stealthily made his way round the perimeter of the house to the side where your room was located "Bingo." He mused as he spotted your window, slightly left ajar. He strategically maneuvered his way across the flower bed embedded on the ground, calculating his steps accurately not wanting to step on your precious roses and daffodils. He knows he can't lie to you, if asked who trampled on your bloom, he'd rat himself out in a blink of an eye. He'd like to enjoy a long flourishing life. Grow old, get married and possibly have kids and grandkids. 

Not like what he's about to commit will spare his life either way.

 Even with the lack of light and the gauzy material of the curtain, his eyes could make up your vague figure on the bed, tossing and shifting your legs about. Must be some crazy dream you're having, he thought. Though he can't get a clear view of you, he's certain you were there.

 He sucked in a deep breath and slowly pushed the unlocked window wider just enough so that he can slither his body inside, dragging the curtain along with it. He prayed to the heavens above that the hinges doesn't make a sound, not even a tiny squeak or his head will be the one hanging from the valances.

 With his hands securely clasped on the window sill, he utilized his upper body strength to propel himself up until his knees were secured on the narrow wooden surface. "Phew" he shakily exhaled, switching from his current kneeling position to a crouching one, gaining more balance for his following steps. 

 Before fully entering your room now that he had obtained a better view, he decided to take a proper look at your charming unconscious face. Wait, scratch that, that didn’t come out right. What he meant to conclude was… 

When Jungkook first introduced you to him as their new flatmate, he couldn’t help but be blown away. He was thunderstruck when he was graced by your overwhelming presence. Soft silky hair that he’d like to get bury his face in, letting the scent of your shampoo take over his senses; Round bright eyes that somehow carried the countless stars and galaxies, he’d willingly surrender himself just to get lost in them. A lovely button nose that scrunched up when you smiled and introduced yourself for the first time. “I’m Y/n, nice to finally meet you Taehyung.” he remembered clearly, god, how can he forget. Your soft-spoken voice perfectly fitted your delicate face. It was love at first sight, what else could it be? He fell for you hook, line and sinker. 

 He covertly watched over you, not in the stalker-ish way, of course. Whenever you’re lounging around in your favorite pajamas or simply tidying up the house, he’d inevitably find a small smile creep up on his lips. Even just knowing that you’re inside the house when he comes home from the university by the way your favourite music was blaring from your room made him happy. He learned along the way that you were really introverted, spending most of your weekends at home reading your favourite novels  and choosing to withdraw yourself from the generic college scene. Opting for a movie night date with your friends rather than partying at some musty frat house. Moreover, you didn’t strike up any conversation with him or Jungkook unless it was about the house or if it was that important to talk about. Unbeknownst to you, all the things you detested like unwashed dishes or misplaced dirty laundry, he did it on purpose just to get the attention he craved from you. Sometimes he felt guilty at the way he acted whenever you were around, a pout or two on your upset face.

 But he came to the point that he was tired of hiding and playing safe behind that thin line called “Friendship.”If he wasn’t gonna man-up and take action, nothing’s gonna change. So on your twentieth birthday, that’s when he decided he wanted to confess his love for you, hoping that the unrequited becomes requited. He bought a cake and decorated the whole house with a banner, balloons and streamers. He even paid Jungkook fifty dollars to keep his mouth shut about it. 

 What happened after was far from his or Jungkook's expectations. You came home from a date. A date which none of them knew about but here you were, wide eyed and jubilant to see the simple surprise party your dear roommates took the time to prepare for you. You introduced the boy standing next to you as your boyfriend. "Boyfriend" that word stung like a bitch. 

 It was then that he decided to put an end to this one-sided pinning that has been going on for quite some time now that hasn't bloomed into anything, not even a tiny sprout. If the stars were aligning and the universe was really on his side, he would have been your boyfriend by the end of the day, not some guy named Lucas. 

 Every other night he'd return with a girl to his room for nothing more than a quick fuck, never meeting with them for a second time. He thought it was something that would dull the agonizing throb in his chest, it worked for the most part. The bodily pleasure those women brought him made him forget momentarily about everything he's ever felt for you. He thought it was only a matter of time until all the feelings he'd kept would dissipate into thin air. 

 Minju, he recalled. A girl who was just as perfect as you in his eyes, well almost. With the thought of taking Minju home and having her all to himself as a priority in his mind, he got carried away and overlooked one critical thing you asked of him which was on top of that a principal house rule the three of you agreed on. "Always keep the noise to a minimum."

 He knew he fucked up the moment he spots you sitting on the couch glaring at him as he and Minju walked out of his room. He saw the look of disappointment etched on your face at how he had let you down and recognized how bad he fucked up. He thought that you’d never forgive him and end up hating him for the rest of his life, but you always kept proving him wrong. A familiar box was atop the center island with a pink sticky note attached to it. 

"I'm sorry I got mad at you, Tae. It was probably the stress talking. Btw, I passed aced the exam! Hehe. <3 y/n.”

That was when he realized he truly did not deserve you. 

++

His profound daydreaming was put to a halt when he heard a hushed moan originate from your direction. His jaw almost unhinged at how low and wide it was hanging from his face at the sight he has failed to notice prior to entering your room. A convoluted expression was apparent on your face, with your brows knitted together, and eyes shut tight, upper teeth frustratingly nibbling at your bottom lip. Your left hand hidden under the sheer fabric of your shirt, kneading at your mound lavishly while the fingers on your other hand were tirelessly circling around the glistening flesh between you spread legs. You weren’t sleeping, you were masturbating! 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Gotta get out. Gotta get out. Gotta get-- 

 His whole life flashed before his eyes as he witnessed the mason jar you used as a flower pot unexpectedly gets knocked over by his rogue foot, emanating in a clangorous noise as it hit the seat of your metal chair tucked under your desk. There were numerous circumstances that he wished he could get out of certain situations unscathed, which as luck would have it he did. This one? Not so much as your instincts urged you to direct your attention to where the abrupt sound came from. He saw your bewildered eyes staring at his squatting figure by your window.

 Taehyung quickly slammed his palms over his face concealing his eyes while blindly steering his body farther into your room, knocking over your other stuff in the process. As his feet finally met solid ground, it was now time to plead for his life. “Y/n! Shit! I-I can e-explain. I l-left my keys! A-and I didn't want to wake you up. I didn't mean seeing that!" He heard the sound of his rapid heart beat resonate in his ears, ringing so loudly that he couldn't even hear himself think.

 You found his flustered stuttering adorable and endearing. You weren't angry and knew he was telling the truth. Taehyung, no matter how brazen and badly behaved he was, has not ever lied to you. You can take his word for this one but a little teasing hasn't killed anyone. “Never perceived you as the peeping type, Tae."

 "I swear, I'm not!" His cheeks started burning red, the scorching heat of embarrassment crawling up to his ears and down his neck.

 You didn't answer him right away, and all he could make up with his vision temporarily impaired was the shuffling sound of your bedding and the indistinct footsteps walking towards him. "Well since you're here, might as well help your roommate out." You whispered suggestively in his ear, and he felt his jeans grow a little tighter by the crotch.

You pressed your body against his until the corner of your desk was painfully digging into his back. "What do you say, Tae?"

 "I-I don't think this is right." He respired weakly, his knees were starting to buckle at the figurative weight weighing down on his shoulders with palms still stuck to his eyes.

 "Wanna know what I think." You purred salaciously, the tip of your pointer finger lightly tracing over the skin of his clavicle. "I don't think this is a question of what's right and wrong," Your hand started to head south, stopping precisely at his sternum, your fingers drawing small figure eights over it. "I'm single, your single."You further proved your claim, hand once again dropping lower. Taehyung wasn't much of a gym rat like Jungkook or Jimin so he didn't have any abs. But you still appreciated his body nonetheless, especially paired with his remarkably attractive face. "I see this as a question of want and don't want. And judging from this," without warning, you cupped the hard-on he was sporting. Waves of electricity surged through his blood vessel, every cell in his body had doubled its working pace. "You want this as much as I do." Slowly, you palmed him through his jeans, fingers molding the curve of his clothed dick. His heart rate spiked and breathing got more labored with your words and actions.

He wanted to see you. He wanted to remove his hand from his face and see how the moonlight shining through your window illuminated your appearance, enhancing your elegant features tenfold but he was terrified that this will lead to something that will eventually ruin your friendship.

 "Taehyung..." You whimpered, starting to feel impatient. "Say something. Tell me what you want. Tell me to stop, please just say something." 

 "I-I," Fuck it, he thought. He detached his hands from his eyes and encased it around your petite torso, finally giving in to the treacherous temptation that is you. "I want you, y/n." He dipped his face in the curve of your neck, filling himself  up with the sweet scent of you. "I've wanted you for the longest time, y/n." His voice was guttural and strained, he'd never thought the time of him finally confessing to you would come. It required him every tendril of his being to finally come clean. An abandoned door that was once locked has instantly been pushed open, and his desire for you has never been more ardent.

"I want you too, Tae."

++

Moments later you've found yourselves entangled within each other's embrace, caught in a sweltering and heart racing make out session. Every brush of lips and prod of tongue was burning of lust and passion. The way your fingers intertwined with his and filling its spaces perfectly like the final piece of an unfinished puzzle. It felt so natural, the way the rise and fall of your breathing and the tempo of your pulses fell in sync. It felt like something that should've been done ages ago but was hindered by something unforeseen.

 As he hovered above your frame, you couldn't help but be drawn in the boundless sea of his deep hazel eyes. Wisp of his curled lashes resting prettily on his eyelids, the tip of his pointed nose dusted a shade of baby pink and lips pursed into a gentle smile. He observed you with hooded eyes as you absentmindedly stared at his face. You couldn't comprehend how a mere human can bear this much beauty and elegance in his mortal body, even the gods would seethe in jealousy at his splendor.

 "T-tae. I want to feel your dick down my throat." You professed bashfully, marvelling at his beauty can wait. Right now there was one thing you fervently wish for, him and his entirety. 

 Your bluntness was always one of his favourite traits of yours. "I'm all yours." He replied, placing an affectionate kiss on your lips. 

 "Stand at the edge of the bed." You instructed, going on all fours and crawling your way to the same spot. "C'mon!" 

 Taehyung with arched brows headed to where you wanted him, planting his feet firmly on the carpeted floor. "Okay, now what?"

 "I've always wanted to try like this." You pressed on, lying on your back with your head almost hanging off the edge of the bed, slightly propping it up with a small pillow. Taehyung was caught off guard with your new position, “Y/n, what are you doing?” He queried with an arch of his brows.

 “I’m ready to take your dick.” You seemed determined, sweeping your loosened hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ears. “Saw this in porn before and I’ve been itching to try it out.

 You just kept pulling out tricks from your sleeve, Taehyung never imagined you to be the type who watches porn. “You watch porn?” He incredulously questioned eyes going wide that hinted inquisitiveness.

 “Oh please, I am a human being. Stop looking at me like I’m some saint. I can watch adult videos whenever I want to.” 

 “Fair enough,” He acknowledged while unbuckling his belt, revealing the stiff bulge tucked in his boxer. He tugged the garterized hem of his underwear down and allowed his member to spring free.

 You were genuinely astounded with his impressive size and girth, tip red and already leaking pre-cum. “From all the years we’ve been living together, I kinda expected you were big, but not this big. Didn’t know you were suffering from MSS.” 

 “MSS?” he eyed you outlandishly, having no idea what you were talking about.

 “Monster Schlong Syndrome.” You answered as you tried suppressing the mischievous smile forcing its way onto your lips. 

 “Shut up, Y/n.” Taehyung’s cheeks grew rosier at your compliment about his dick, but he still preferred being humble about his size even when he was with other girls.

 “Make me,” You provoked him, opening your mouth fully and sticking out your tongue. Feeling rather wolfish to have him in your mouth.

 “Are you sure about this?” He queried you one last time, making sure you were a hundred percent okay with this. “I’m the one beginning to feel uncomfortable with your position.”

 “I’m fine, Tae. I want this.” 

 He couldn’t help stroking himself while taking in the image of you sprawled on the bed eyes totally blown-out. Begging and lusting over his cock. Taehyung gently tapped his length on your cheek,causing a smirk to form on your lips. “Stopped teasing,” You wailed vexingly, growing eager by the second. You tossed your head back even further while opening your mouth much wider, giving Taehyung a greater angle.

 “You ready, baby?” His already deep voice dropped an octave lower, a sultry and sickeningly honeyed tone slathered all over his words. You crossed your legs together feeling the steamy heat pool between them as you nod fervently. 

 Unhurriedly, Taehyung pushed the tip of his cock past your lips. The warmth and wetness of your mouth elicited a satisfied groan from him. He pushed even further down your throat, sheathing himself completely and noticing how tight the space has gotten as he descends. “Fuck, baby. Your mouth feels so good,” he euphorically moaned seeing how your pretty mouth is stretched by his thick cock.

You blissfully purred at his praise, and the vibrations of your throat around his member sent a chill down his spine. “I-I’ll start moving, okay.” He choked on his word, his senses brimming over with the buzz of pleasure. At a leisurely pace, he began gliding his dick in and out of your hot cavern, hearing lewd squelching sounds  with every push. “Shit,” He rasped when you hollow your cheeks around him. “Your mouth is the best, baby.” He quickened the speed of his thrusts, savouring the constricted hold you’ve got on him. Tears started to pool at the corners of your eyes as your mouth was bombarded with the repetitive jabbing motion. You’ve never felt this full before, the way he has you gorged put you in a state of pure ecstasy.

 Taehyung shifted his veiny hand to caress your face, wiping away the wetness from your corners of your eyes. With his balls slapping right into your face, you failed to capture his pupils dilate and the concupiscent glint in his dark orbs. His hand found its way at the base of your neck, favouring the tug of the skin, muscles and bones outlined beneath the surface. His slender, bony fingers spread across the expanses of your neck, petting the strained muscle domestically. His digits started to curl around the base, the blunt of his fingernails digging into your skin and you felt the restriction of air affect your lungs.

Taehyung knew you were enjoying this as much as he was even with you gagging and choking on his dick. He exerted more pressure on your jugular, and you felt your body sink further into the mattress. He thwarted his hips into you once more, deeper than before as his wanton howls reverberated inside your room. Before he could blow his load in your mouth, he stopped himself and pulled out his swollen cock coated with your spit.

 You opened your eyes and griped at the sudden sensation of barrenness, "W-why'd you stop?" You felt light headed, your body eventually recognized the lack of oxygen you underwent. Your chest hurriedly heaved up and down as you were gasping for air, trying to catch your breath.

 "This is my first time fucking you, the only place I'll be cumming in right now is your pussy." Taehyung wickedly grinned, looping his arms behind your neck and knees and carried you bridal style. He walked over the side and carefully lowered you on the bed, head snuggly resting on the pillow leaned on the headboard. He made his way back to the foot of the bed, taking a seat directly in front of your bare core. "Since I interrupted you earlier," his hands began stroking you calf, tiny goosebumps springing up from his touch. "Let me make it up to you and make you feel better than those little fingers of yours."

 You detected a hint of embarrassment as Taehyung's gaze focuses on you already seeping sex. He began crawling closer to you core, tipping in to pepper kisses on your inner thighs. As his warm breath began rousing over your skin, you couldn't help but clench around nothingness at the level of arousal you were experiencing. "What were you thinking about when you were pleasuring yourself?" He cooed the question out before licking a wet stripe along your moistened slit. His tongue was dancing in his mouth after finally acquiring a taste of your delectable nectar. "I-I was thinking about you, Tae." You answered weakly, the pad of his thumb now circling your sensitive nub. He hummed in approval at you words, his tongue was the one promptly to devote its undivided attention to you bundle of nerves. "What was I doing then?"

 You released a long exhale when you felt Taehyung slip on of his slender fingers inside your hole. "I-I thought about how you'd fuck me with your huge cock," You admitted, shutting your eyes as he twirls his finger inside you. He inserted another digit, and it got you tossing your head back in fervor. "How you'd make me cum so hard.”Your eyes reeled back at the back of your head as another finger slips into you with such ease. 

 “You’re soaking wet, y/n.” he was prideful of how you’ve become putty under his ministrations, “And all for me.” He sloped down once more and flicked your clit with his wet muscles at an excruciating pace. You started feeling yourself clench around his digits, “W-wait.” You intervened, not wanting to release just yet. “I want to cum with you.” 

 He devilishly grinned from ear to ear and flipped your body over, your knees and palm bearing the weight of your exhausted body. “Wanna hit you from the back so bad.”

 You lowered your torso and arched your back inwards, excessively sticking your ass up on full display. Taehyung smeared the accumulated pre-cum on the tip of his cock all over his length, painting it with the lubricating substance. He aligned himself with your entrance and gingerly drove his hips forward until he bottomed out. “Fuck, y/n. You’re cunt’s even tighter than your pretty mouth.” the interior walls of your vagina squeezed at his member, accommodating his length incomparably. “Your pussy was made for me, y/n. Best pussy I’ve ever had.”

 As much as you fancied him to rant about how amazing your pussy was, you wished he’d just shut up and pound you into oblivion and put an end to the tormenting ache bubbling inside you. “Move.” You sought, pushing your rear end against him hard and coaxing him to ultimately move.

 His knuckles were turning white at how tight he’s gripping onto the curve of your hips, nails engraving small crescent-shaped marks on your skin. Without warning, he launched the onslaught of the brute ramming of his dick into you. Each thrust he bore were insanely crisp and accurate, striking your sweet spot with every jab. The sound of skin slapping against skin and your heavy breathes were the only tunes filling the silent space of your room. Taehyung pulled out his length almost completely, appreciating how coated and soaked it was with your juices, awakening another entire level of his vehement lust for you. He slammed himself back into your tight slit, clenching his buttocks and rutting his pelvis at an inhuman speed.

 “I’m so close, Taehyung.” You wailed sinfully with a high-pitched strain to your voice, aware at how every muscle in your body is tensing up. 

 “Me too, baby.” He unexpectedly towed you by your hair until your back collided with his chest. His hand located your neck yet again, wrapping his digits around it and cutting your intake of air. You swear that at the end of this, your neck would be sore, purple and bruised because of how robust he retains his grip on you. At this point, his movements began getting sloppier and imprecise, suggesting he was at last getting to his most sought-after high. His idle hand shakily made its way to your almost forgotten clit, ruthlessly rubbing at it with the pad of his fore and middle finger continuously until you were convulsing around his cock and milking him down  to the last drop. Both of your body collapsed on your bed, utterly breathless.

 “Wow.” Taehyung managed to breath out. 

 “Yeah, wow.” You repeat, steadying your breathing. “What happens now?” You awkwardly asked, staring at the blank ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in your room. 

 “Wanna go on a date?” His voice was filled with reluctance, the thrumming in his chest never calming down. Now wasn't the perfect time to ask you that kind of question. So he braced himself as he waited for your answer.

 You turned your head in his direction and looked at how the light from the now open window magically outlined his enchanting profile. “You’re way out of order but I’d love too.” 

++

Taehyung's obnoxious ringtone Disturbed the silence of your sleep.

"Your phone is ringing." You grumbled, t

"Yo, Tae, glad to hear you're still alive. Got into the house yet?"

"Yeah," He paused, looking at you. "Got into y/n pants as well."

[whump-town]

Too Close

I’m ending my super shitty day on a positive note: Hotchniss

Retirement was supposed to mean that the danger is gone.

“This is SSA Emily Prentiss.” She’s trying to wrap up her paperwork for the afternoon. Not that anything thus far is going according to plan. She’s about thirty minutes from just texting her husband and telling him that there’s no way she’s making it home in time for hot passionate sex and Jurassic Park when she gets a call. It’s to her office phone so she’s assuming it’s not Aaron calling to whine that she hasn’t left yet.

The voice on the other line is unfamiliar. “Hi, ma’am,” the voice greets. “I’m calling in regards to your husband, Aaron Hotchner.” That immediately strikes Emily as strange. Hotch hasn’t worked for the better part of the last year. Calls have pretty much stopped coming for him and even the ones that do don’t connect her to him in regards to their marriage. 

“Your husband suffered a cardiac arrest this afternoon--”

Shock factor aside, she doesn’t drop the phone. She’s gotten all kinds of awful news over the phone. Stories about babies being mutilated and killed. Women being raped and tortured. This is… They can’t be compared. They’re not at all the same. Hearing those awful harrowing things does nothing to dull the way her throat gets tight. 

The voice drones on and Emily’s barely, if at all, able to keep herself together.

“Saint Sebastian,” she repeats back to the woman on the other end. The same hospital Foyet left him at. 

The other woman on the line hums an affirmation. She keeps talking. Something about the ICU and visiting hours but Emily already knows she’s going into that hospital, guns blazing with her badge for everyone to see. Aaron was FBI and all it takes is one phone call to the right people and she can get anything she wants.

And right now all she wants is her husband.

“Bella--” she looks up, blinking away tears she hadn’t realized were falling. Dave is standing in her doorway, pulling his hands out of his pockets as he gets a full view of her shaking body. “Emily, what’s wrong?” Whatever it is that he’d wanted it thrown out the door as he moves to her side.

She stares down at the phone in her hands. 

Retirement was supposed to mean he’s safe.

“Aaron had a heart attack.”

Matt and Luke only know Aaron from brief interactions. 

Given that the couple has lunch together frequently, an easy way to make up the time they’ve spent apart and a good excuse for Hotch to get out of the house, the team sees a lot of him. He rarely speaks once he hits the doors, offering friendly nods to Tara, Reid, JJ, Garcia, or Dave. Matt had only just found himself on the receiving end of one of those nods. After the two men spent an afternoon at Dave’s bonding over chaotic sons. 

Luke just gets a flat look. It brings Garcia deep joy that Luke is willing to do just about anything to get a nod from Hotch and her old boss won’t give him the time of day. 

They don’t really know Hotch but they understand how important he is to the others.

It takes Emily a moment to find the nerve to speak the words. To tell the other’s what has happened. Her hands are trembling at her sides and tears are threatening to fall. She won’t let them, not yet. It’s no surprise that the other’s don’t hold back. 

They don’t really know Hotch but they know how important he is to Emily. They’ve all heard his voice on the other end of a line, comforting Emily as she sits as far as she can from the others on the jet. They’ve come home to find him standing in the bullpen, standing silent and still for as long as Emily wants in a bearhug. 

Matt is the first person to make a noise other than stifling sobs or muffled gasps. He offers her a small, comfortable smile, “I can drive you.” 

Emily nods and forces herself to swallow against the panic bubbling up her chest. “Uhm okay,” she can work with that. “Pen?” Garcia looks up. “I need you and Luke to go to my house and get Jack and a bag for Aaron.” Emily spaces for a moment… What else do they need? How long will he even be in the hospital? She doesn’t even know how bad he is--

“Hotch still keeps a go-bag,” Dave continues. “It’ll be right by the door.” He waits for the nods that mean they understand. “Good,” he surmises. “Reid, JJ, Tara-- stay here. Hold the fort down.” He takes Emily around the shoulders, guiding her to the elevator. He can feel her tension, can see her fear. 

He can’t find it within himself to put aside his own fear to comfort her.

That’s his kid. 

These are his kids.

The pair are stopped before they get too far in the cardiac ward.

Matt’s waiting in the parking lot, waiting for a text from Dave.

They only allow her back. His condition is critical and it’s borne out of the admission that his cardiac output is worrisome. It’s not severe but it needs to be steadily monitored for the next day, maybe longer. For now, they don’t even want Emily back there but badges and the tears streaming down her face buy her one ticket back.

He’s sleeping. 

Out of habit, she draws the blankets around his waist to his chin. He gets cold when he’s sleeping. His body heats everything around him like a furnace but he likes the feeling of the weight of the blanket across his chest. Without it, he shivers. She can’t be certain if he’s actually cold but what she does know is that he won’t rest well if he’s not able to wrap his lean body around her own like a cat. 

Docile. 

He sleeps for hours and she does her best to distract herself as best as she can. It works, more or less.

“I was wondering when you’d get here.”

She looks up from her book to find him staring back at her. She moves closer to him, book forgotten. It’s fine, she wasn’t really reading it anyway. She could get as far as a paragraph before she became distracted by nearly anything in the room. Her thoughts just kept drifting back to him. To what it would mean to lose him. 

And she nearly did. 

For a moment she’s struck as to which personality she’s to show. The doting wife who warned him? She did. Over and over, more a mantra than a proper warning, but every day they had this conversation. Not so much coffee. Go to be bed earlier. Stop worrying over small things. 

The partner? They haven’t been to that level in some time. It’s a shield they’d worn during Foyet and Doyle. Partners. Much more of a, “I told you” than a proper “I almost lost you”. It allowed them the proximity they craved from one another while keeping up a friendly rouse for the others. Besides the notion that neither were prepared to admit their feelings.

Or can she just be scared?

A terrified wife. Not a unit chief. Not the work equivalent of a best friend. Just a wife.

“Em,” his hand trembles on the bed where he lays it. Palm up and waiting for her to take it. She does. Her own hand much softer than his and for a moment, she just sits and rubs her hand against his. Thinking about what it would mean to slowly forget the way it feels to hold his hand. 

She collects herself slowly. Just having him close is doing the job pretty well. She has to stand up to reach him but she presses her hips against the guardrail and leans down, cupping his cheek in her hand as she kisses him. Despite her best efforts, she starts to cry. 

Their lips are still pressed together when the first tear falls, Hotch feels it hit his face. “Em,” it’s all he can do remain where he is. The pain he feels in his chest the moment he lifts his shoulders is overwhelming. A strangled sound leaves his mouth, his body tensing. It’s overwhelming for a moment too long and as the black clouds in his vision fade away he realizes he’s simply made it worse.

The feeling of her cold hand in his.. nearly lost forever.

“You have to take it easy,” she admonishes gently. She simply doesn’t have the heart or the energy to fuss with him right now. Not when all she wants is to hold him in her arms. And how long will she have to wait for that? Before he can lay on his stomach and rest across her chest. To be held and loved within her arms. 

The bags under his eyes are worse than they ever were when he was an agent but the smile on his face comes easily. They can deny and fight it all they want but retirement has been kind to him. It’s made him happier. “Emily,” he whispers her name the same way he always has. His chest caving in like he’s in shock that a name like hers can be spoken by a man like him. “Can’t a husband fake a cardiac arrest so that his gorgeous wife can come to rescue him? Huh?”

She tuts, shaking her head and looking away from him. She hates his stupid humor and more than that she hates that he’s joking. That he’s trying to cheer her up.

“You haven’t been paying me any attention,” he pouts and she’s amazed to find that’s where Jack gets it from. “What was I to do, my love?”

My love. 

That bastard.

She leans back against the guard rail, the metal digging into her hips painfully. “Well,” she returns, “how about you try asking your gorgeous wife to lunch, hmm?” She strokes back a strand of his peppered hair. He’s going to make a very good silver fox. “Or,” she adds, “you can take me to dinner. No more cardiac arrests, though, okay? Dramatic flares have never really been my thing.”

He reaches between them and rests a trembling palm against her cheek, his eyes darting between hers. “Promise,” he whispers and they both know that it’s not that simple but it’s a start.

“Do you,” she leans down and kisses him, pulling back so that their lips still brush as she speaks. “Do you, also, promise to behave for the physical therapist, nutritionist, and cardiologist?”

He groans.

“Aaron,” she warns.

He grumbles, rolls his eyes, but nods. “I’ll behave.”

She kisses him, “good.” She runs a finger over his cheekbone, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicMas20 Christmas Eve: All These Broken Things

... Is it really the end of FicMas if I haven’t posted something from All These Broken Things? I think not. The first sections can be found here and here. This is the fic where Alice travelled with James and doesn’t meet the Cullens until that baseball game. 

It's very strange finally being with the family she was always destined to be with, when she thought she had lost them so long ago.

She finds great satisfaction just watching them - Emmett yelling at the sports on the television; Edward perched at the piano, Rosalie working on her cars. She hovers, like a little ghost, folded into corners and against doorframes, vanishing the second they might acknowledge her.

Esme seems to like her company, as she goes about day-to-day things, chatting away to the silent girl with the enormous, sad black eyes, who trails after her like a stray.

She stays away from Carlisle, trying to avoid the moment he declares her to be cast out, too far gone for them to redeem.

And she stays away from Jasper, because it hurts too much. She doesn't tell Jasper what she knows, what they were meant to be to one another. The past is gone, and she has been broken into too many pieces. He watches her like a hawk, and without words, she knows he will be the one to destroy her if she steps out of line. His hands will crack her limbs apart and he will not flinch or feel any loss.

She wonders if she should tell him that if he was the to destroy her, she would not fight it. She would part in his hands like a paper doll, and hold no ill will to him for such an act.

Sometimes, she lets herself remember the old visions, the ones where they were everything to one another. Only when Edward's away, though; she doesn't like him rifling around in her head. No one deserves being forced to see some of those things.

And it hurts, a raw wound in her heart, that she was meant for something else, for happiness and peace and love, instead of what she was dealt in life. One of her greatest unanswered questions is why? What unforgivable thing did she do in her forgotten human past that earned such a punishment?

Then she remembers what she has done at James’ side for so many decades, at the faces and the screams and the suffering, and somehow she lived her crimes and her penance at the same time.

So she continues to pretend she doesn’t notice that Edward keeps Bella away from the house; that Emmett or Jasper hover in the background as she trails after Esme, as she watches Rose. That she can only go hunting when Jasper and Emmett can go along too; the ones strong enough and fast enough to restrain her.

When Edward does bring Bella back to the house at Esme’s insistence, she sits on the opposite side of the room, and listens to the conversation, keeping still and silent.

When Carlisle arrives home from work, she focuses on the magazine or book she has found, pretending to be absorbed by the glossy pictures, still and silent, to not notice as he studies her with patience she isn’t sure is genuine.

When Jasper joins Emmett for something noisy and angry on the television, their gazes occasionally sliding towards her, she is frozen in place, her gaze out the window.

She’s played this game before. Be good and quiet and still. The blow will come, eventually, but at least she can prepare herself for it, brace herself for the inevitable fall. They don’t trust her.

She doesn’t trust her, either.

Six.

They settle into a sort of routine.

She’s allowed to hunt with Esme and Rosalie now, though she’s careful to keep her distance, to trek a little further into the forest, to reassure them. She usually waits until they call her back.

She is always carefully supervised during their hunts, and finally, finally, the cracks James left across her nose and cheeks have finally faded away. They hunt too often for her, and when she forces herself to finish the animal, she vomits everywhere. She says nothing, but she feels safer a little hungry, her eyes black rather than a strange gold-orange.

Edward lets her sit beside him when he plays the piano, tells her about each of the pieces of music. He tries to teach her once, attempts to guide her hands into position, but she panics and jerks away, and he doesn’t offer again.

Emmett is nice to her. He seems to understand not to come up behind her without warning, not to touch. Sometimes she perches on the end of the couch and watches the television with him. She doesn’t stay very long, but he always gives her a big smile when she leaves, as if he’s had a wonderful time.

She doesn’t understand Emmett, but she thinks she could like him.

Rosalie can’t seem to decide whom she dislikes more – her or Bella - and she’s sure that Rose is going to get whiplash from changing her mind about both of them so many times. But Rose addresses her and is reasonably civil, mostly out of some kind of misguided caution that she is some kind of threat, and that is some kind of progress.

She and Bella have few words to say to each other. ‘Sorry I helped someone attempt to torture and exsanguinate you’ isn’t something she can work out how to say out-loud and have it sound genuine. Mostly because the truth is closer to, ‘I’m sorry you found yourself in this situation, but I don’t regret my choices. The consequences for me would have been much, much worse than you can ever comprehend. Your fragile mortality would have spared you of the worst of it. I’d make the same decision one hundred times in a row without a second thought.’

She’s certain that would upset everyone.

Bella seems rather reluctant to spent time in her presence, and she does wonder if that’s because she’s the side of the coin that isn’t beauty-wealth-love. She’s the side of suffering, of pain and of misery, murder and regret. Bella wants perfection, wants the glamour and magic of the Cullens, and none of the honest truth of being a vampire.

But it’s probably the murder attempt.

Then there are things that haven’t changed since she arrived. She’s not allowed to be alone, or to leave the house aside from hunting – even then, she has to be accompanied.

But every single day, James is still gone and she is still here. And there will never be a time when that knowledge is not sweet.

//

Her wardrobe is limited - a few old t shirts that once belonged to Esme and are too big, her worn jeans and the filthy, stained cardigan that she had when they found her. Her thin knees have long since torn through her pants, and the cardigan's sleeves are frayed and holey, but she is clean and free.

And then she is deemed in control enough to go shopping. Esme approaches her with the idea, with glossy magazines and gentle suggestions. It is an idea that has even intrigues Rosalie enough for her to join them.

They clearly still think she is a risk, though, because it is a family outing, with looks of such boredom and long-suffering on the faces of the male Cullens when it is decided, that she laughs softly behind her hand.

The building they take her to is huge and full of people. It is like a blow to the face, of blood and scent, and she visibly recoils from it at first, unsure and on edge. And they are patient, escorting her in, with encouraging words.

Eventually, though, they show her the clothes and the sight of the racks is enough to distract her from the heady scent. It is overwhelming, the colours and fabrics and styles, and she simply stares, with Emmett laughing at her stunned expression.

Esme is so kind, guiding her gently through the racks, telling her to choose anything she likes. She is careful, though, picking new jeans, a new cardigan, soft and clean and sunshine yellow. Esme helps her pick shoes out - the first pair she's had in decades. Soft brown winter boots, black sneakers, gold and black flats that make her feel like a princess. At her childlike delight with her fancy shoes, Esme buys her a black sundress with ties at the back and bows on the straps, that will bare her arms and triangles of flesh on her back.

Underwear is a strange concept. It's nothing that she has ever bothered with before. She is useless in the wake of so many choices, and let's Esme and Rosalie choose what she needs, dress her like a doll, whilst she amuses herself with how clearly uncomfortable both Jasper and Edward are in such a department.

She almost feels pretty – even desirable - in the plain cotton that make her skinny frame look almost womanly. She’s too embarrassed to even try on the satin and lace sets Rosalie has chosen. They aren’t for girls like her – girls that wear those things are more than she will ever be – prettier, sweeter, bolder. They are too much, and when she refuses, she doesn’t understand the look Rosalie and Esme exchange, Rosalie looking sly and Esme with an expression of warning.

Afterwards, they look for other things. The books hold little interest for her, as do the endless electronics. She doesn’t mean to wander off, but a demonstration by the art supplies store catches her eye, and she stands a little away from the crowd, watching the man draw. It is Esme and Jasper who find her, both looking alarmed, but she pretends she doesn’t see them, her gaze focused on the pencil that so carefully makes its way across the page.

“Alice,” Esme is at her side. “You scared us.” Her smile is bright, but her eyes worried – what would the Cullens do if she attacked in a place like this, with so many eyes? She doesn’t get to ponder that thought much longer, as Jasper’s hand closes over her shoulder and she is guided away.

For the rest of the afternoon, Jasper is her ominous shadow, as she dutifully trails after them.

She doesn't have her own room, but she doesn’t truly need one. Until now, she hasn’t had any possessions to store, and she doesn’t require the privacy a mated couple does. But, she has found she likes the attic. Full of things that need repairs or to be stored, it is a mad tea party of furniture and items.

There’s an old grey chair is missing a leg, and has an ugly stain that not even Esme could draw out that she likes. She folds herself into it, and she feels safe in that little corner, with the narrow window that overlooks the forest and spills in afternoon light. There's an old dresser up there, too, so that's where she arranges her new things, carefully folding and smoothing them into each drawer, precisely and lovingly.

Rosalie brings her some cosmetics and half a glass bottle of perfume – the bottle is shaped like an egg and etched with tiny flowers and curlicues and it is so delicate and beautiful, she is frightened to hold it. Rosalie watches as she sprays the scent into the air, the delighted look at the scent of flowers. She is nervous at Rosalie’s gesture, but grateful. Grateful enough that she allows Rosalie to cut the matted ends of her hair off into a neat, shorter style.

It makes her look more delicate, younger, maybe sweeter, she thinks as she strokes the strands in the mirror. And less like a roving maniac, at least according to the shiny-haired Rosalie, who watches her with satisfaction in her eyes.

She should be offended, but there’s this tiny hope that maybe, just maybe, Rosalie is turning her into something new. Something good and better.

Something like a sister.

//

It’s Esme’s idea to invite Bella around the evening of her birthday. Just a family gathering, with a few simple gifts. Everyone sort of agrees, and try to work out what to give the sullen girl.

She manages a portrait of Bella and Edward seated together at the piano that Esme gushes over, and has framed.

There have been some hints, from Carlisle and Edward that she will have to attend school eventually. She doesn’t understand that, but is just waiting for them all to graduate. They’ll leave when they’ve graduated and she won’t have to worry about school again.

She arranges peonies on the piano for Bella, upon Esme’s request, and is reminded of her old, fragmented vision of blood and glass. But nothing comes to her; the future is clear and her mind has decided to play tricks on her again.

Or perhaps her mind is the best part of her, the gentle warning she ignored becoming obvious as soon as Bella’s finger slips against the wrapping paper. Jasper’s eyes blacken as soon as Bella’s flesh parts and the blood beads, and suddenly he is lunging. She sees it in an instant, Bella’s crumpled body in his grip and Edward’s howls and the house of the Cullens irreversibly fallen. She sees an endless parade of James’ victims, broken and dead in Bella’s blank eyes.

She sees the horror and the guilt in Jasper’s eyes, sees the vastness of Mexico and the rise of a monster born of regret and impulse.

It is over before he even moves, decision made, and she has to stop this.

The shriek startles them all, coming from her mouth as she darts in front of him.

In another life, the flavour of her desperation and fear would be enough for him to pause, to grasp wildly at his resistance. Instead, he throws her aside, her body crashing through the front windows in a rain of wood and glass, leaving an imprint of her body in the flowerbed outside.

She picks herself up out of the flower bed as Emmett and Rosalie drag Jasper bodily from the house, Esme close behind them. Their eyes are all pitch black; a harmless paper cut did not cause this reaction.

“She cut open her arm,” is Emmett’s grim explanation as Jasper’s struggles slow, his eyes firmly on the door of the house.

“It was an accident,” Esme adds, shame in every line of her stance.

“Alice seemed to know,” Rosalie murmurs, her eyes still on Jasper.

She will never understand Rosalie, why she always needs to assign blame, to identify the victim and the antagonist. She ignores the statement, even as they all swing to look at her, as she examines her shoulder. Jasper didn’t hit her hard enough for cracks to form, but it doesn’t look like it’s properly aligned.

When she does look up again, she can see it in all their eyes – did she let this happen on purpose? Does she hold some ugly vendetta against poor, sweet Bella?

She did help James …

She’s surprised – she thought it would be Edward that came after her, later, to criticise and punish her for the limitations on her faulty gift. He still might – he hasn’t decided properly, too focused on patching up Bella.

But it’s Jasper, wrenching out of Rosalie and Emmett’s grasp, with murder in his eyes and the target on her.

He doesn’t yell, but his words are poisonous, nasty and accusing. She flinches, Esme gasps and even Emmett tries to get him to stop. Some of them, she knows, aren’t meant for her. They are frustration, humiliation and disappointment directed at himself, at his own weakness.

But when she instinctively backs away, and he grabs her wrist, and she lets out a tiny cry of fear; it is Rosalie who comes to her rescue, who snarls and yells and pries his iron grip from her.

“I don’t care how pissed you are, you don’t touch her like that.”

The words seem to echo, and Carlisle, Edward and Bella are watching from the front door.

Her apology is stammered, weak in the sudden silence, her insistence that she didn’t know sounding bewildered and feeble as she darts away, into the forest to pick glass and wood out of her hair and wonder just how many other warnings she’s missed.

//

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

Gus and Skimbleshanks for the character ask!

All of them?? Oh, gee, okay um...

I'll tell you what - I'll answer all of them for Gus for now, and then perhaps answer them all for Skimble in the future (depending on interest level).

Alright, let’s see...

Gus

Already answered 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10 here!

1. Something this character is truly proud of

Gus is extremely proud of his accomplishments throughout his life, and extremely proud of how he worked up from nothing to get where he is - and he will humbly boast about these accomplishments until the cows come home, ask anyone in his proximity.

But, if I may take a moment to be as sappy as a possibly can, what Gus is *most* proud of is his legacy - aka, his children and his grandchildren. Though he never thought he’d be the nurturing type, and he still really isn’t, there is not a soul alive that has come into contact with Gus the Theatre Cat that does not know of his son and daughter, and later, his group of grandkittens. That’s why he’s always lamenting at the young ones that they “think they’re smart” when they do the bare minimum when he *knows* that they’re able to accomplish more than that.

2.Who they want to please the most.

Gus is, quite literally, a crowd pleaser. He’s a showman, so of course he is. He wants to please his audience, his director, his fellow castmates...all at once. He is also very proud when he manages to please his fellow cats or people in his family - for making a name for himself, for getting somewhere, for reaching such prominence as just a *cat* for crying out loud. He’s made it, and that makes him feel happier than anything else considering where he started.

When kittens tell him that they want to be like him someday, he positively beams.

3. Who depends on them.

His children depended on him for the longest time, but he kinda blew it with that one for a good chunk of their lives - and by the time he had started to come around, they were already independent, and it’s one of his biggest regrets that he didn’t come around sooner.

Nowadays, no one really depends on Gus for physical things or favours, but there are many members of the tribe that depend on him to listen and to talk to them. Gus has a way of spinning situations simply so that they make sense, an eccentric conversation style that is both pleasant and distracting, and is able to read the room *extremely* easily. It’s a little spooky how easily Gus can pick up on a situation, with very little conversation, and how smoothly he can transition conversation/interaction style if necessary. Gus can be rather blunt and honest to a fault, but you’d be hard-pressed to find better life advice than from him.

(If we go with my Gus and Bella are siblings, theory, she used to depend on him a lot when they were young, since their parents also weren’t around much - what goes around and all that - to protect her and watch her)

4. What they would do if they had one month to live

Well...I mean...what is he doing now?

Sorry. A younger Gus would have said he would press on with whatever he was doing at the time. He’d want to be back in the pub with his friends, late into the night. He’d love to get a final dramatic monologue in, a final curtain call; die doing what he loves instead of caught up in a bed.

Now, well, Gus is well aware - somewhere in the back of his mind - that he’s not going to live a long time. He knows the end is nearing. All he really wants is quiet - after a life lived out loud, if he could just collect himself enough to sort everything out one thing at a time, and quietly work through each day he would be grateful. Bored to death, perhaps, but grateful.

He’d like to maybe see Bella again, before he goes.

5. A cherished personal belonging.

The blanket Gus began to wear around his shoulders used to be where his wife and children slept and where his grandchildren currently play, and it has a whole cacophony of different scents attached to it. He hates being parted with it. When things get overwhelming for him, he buries himself in it, curling himself under a literal blanket of familiarity - even if he isn’t quite sure *why* it’s familiar.

11. This character’s favorite piece or pieces of clothing.

He has a pair of gloves that his wife also made for him that Jelly has patched over the years because they’ve worn thin. She ended up having to cut the fingers off and hem them when they became more hole than glove.

He also has a scarf given to him by one of the theatre patrons from an earlier show of his - a little girl with her mother who was only truly fascinated with the cat on stage, and didn’t understand why they didn’t give him a costume as well. She was helping by giving him hers.

12. How they sleep.

He snores and mutters in his sleep, to the point where he seems to have entire conversations with himself. He’s also rather fitful. The kittens are wary of sleeping anywhere near him, since he has been known to jerk awake suddenly and kick out in alarm (and doesn’t he feel guilty the few times that *has* caught a few of them in the ribs or the legs)

13. What kind of parent they would be.

Well he *is* one, and the answer to that question would be not a *great* one, but not a *bad* one either. Gus is a fun parent, a loving parent, a proud parent, but he isn’t the best parental figure. He isn’t so great with discipline, nor is he great for showing up to anything on time.

I’d say Gus’ strength as a parent came from his unfailing willingness to go along with whatever scenario his children would cook up - from pirates to knights and princesses to aliens - Gus was always willing to jump into the game should they invite him to play with them. And you know he threw his entire self into it, too.

14. How they did in school

Gus would have a been a “graduated from Juilliard” kinda guy, if the timeline matched up - or if he could have afforded it.

As it stands, he didn’t really finish school. Not necessarily out of any inability to do so, but a complete and total lack of interest. He held odd jobs mostly, to support his family, which led him to quietly quitting school. He figured anything he wanted to learn would be just as good coming from direct experience or working under a mentor than a formal education - and it got him where he is today, so all in all not bad.

15. What cologne or perfume they would use

There is a very specific one that my grandfather uses that smells exactly like something Gus would wear - it’s that standard older gentleman scent - kind of like...Aqua Velva but softer - that is slightly on the pricy side, but not ridiculously so. He doesn’t bathe in it, but he uses it religiously.

He *used* to dip into a Chanel perfume that one of his actress friends gave to him after one of their shows wrapped, that he *kinda* thought just smelled a lot like lightly spicy rubbing alcohol but felt it polite to at least...use it - when that finally ran out and he curiously checked on its price...he never even looked at it again.

(”Ridiculous...I may as well douse myself in a bottle of gin it’ll give off the same effect!”)

16. Their sexuality

Gus is bisexual and biromantic, with a preference for Queens, but he’s had several trysts with Toms as well. He was quite the paramour in his younger days.

17. What they’d sing at karaoke

Gus finds karaoke to be absolutely *dreadful* in that he legitimately does not see the fun in it OR its purpose.  And that’s coming from a cat whose whole job it is to perform.

So count him out of that. He’ll monologue on the spot for you, though, if he is so inclined.

18. Special talents they have

Gus used to be extremely good at remembering people’s names - even after just one introduction or overhearing it once (Jelly gets that from him).

He's very good at patter songs and tongue twisters. He also used to delight his kits by speeding through the alphabet backwards.

He can clock a person's personality within literally seconds of knowing them - and he's usually right.

He plays piano and was the one who taught Jelly to play. He can’t so much anymore with his shaking hands.

19. When they feel safest

Gus feels safest in the light when he's able to see everything. He never got stage fright, per say, but would get waves of nerves when he was directly in a spotlight - with the rest of the stage dark around him...like he was being swallowed. He would get nervous to move out of it - the lighting techs needed to be *very* on the ball if the director called for a total blackout (he only really trusted two of them).

20. Household chore they hate the most

Cooking. 100%. Can't stand it. Does not know how the oven works. Cannot adjust to picky palettes well. Definitely a take out dad.

21. Their fondest childhood memory

(Sibling AU) When Gus and Grizabella were children, they put on “Cinderella” (which Bella insisted would be changed to “Cinderbella” because of course. Gus goes along with it because *whatever fine his mother told him that he was the big brother and had to be nice to her*) as one of their very first collaborative plays together - they were around 8 and 6 respectively. They had already put on dozens of little skits and read-throughs and imaginary games, and they loved doing it.

Bella *refused* to be anyone other than Cinderella and Gus refused to play the prince (because it meant he had to *kiss his sister yuck*), so instead it was really “Staring Grizabella as Cinderella and Asparagus as *literally every other part except for Prince Charming*.- they spent hours trying to figure out how the quick changes would work, and making script changes, and hanging sheets behind them for curtains, and Bella glued together a tiny little suit for her teddy bear who would play the prince instead.

All in all, it went about as well as they could have expected - a bit of a disaster. They put it on for their father, who watched with tired eyes and a patient smile, and applauded enthusiastically at the end - and they both decided right then and there that that was what they would do for the rest of their lives.

He considers that his first stage credit.

22. How they spend their money.

Honestly, Gus’ money spending habits are very strange. He will buy himself a new car *once* and then run the thing into the ground until it physically can’t run anymore, won't buy new clothes until you can see through the old ones, will *always* weasel his way out of paying for alcohol at a bar (he has *many* tricks up his sleeve for this one), and he will refuse to spend his money on other frivolous things, but you bet your dollar that he is literally always shelling out money to his grandchildren just because - saying it would be their little secret, and one time bought a bird house because it "spoke to him" but never bothered to hang it up or actually use it.

23. What kind of alcohol they drink

Well, he used to be a “whatever I am given I will drink and I will probably drink *too much*” kind of guy, but since cutting back he’ll moreso partake in brandy or gin, but only in very small doses.

24. What they wish they could change about themselves

There are several things that Gus wishes he could change from the past, but the one thing he wishes he could truly change about himself in the present is how much of a burden he feels he’s become to the others (he's not but he feels that way). Gus is a proud cat, he will admit that. And with that pride comes mourning of his own independence.

Sometimes, when Jelly is helping him do things - like button up his coat or helping him to eat - he just looks at her forlornly and murmurs “My poor dear. You shouldn’t have to do any of this.”

He also wishes that there wasn’t a period of time that his familial relationships were so strained because of him putting his career first, but he can’t really change that so much as try his best to make up for it.

25. What other people wish they could change about them

Gus has the tendency to be a little...let’s say *long-winded*. And a little hypercritical. He holds himself to a high - near-impossible - standard, so he also has a bad habit of holding others to that same standard.

[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x OC} Chapter 14

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

Warnings: None

.....

Chapter 14

Walking back into camp from the river, dumping my belongings at my small tent then borrowing one of the girls pocket mirrors they keep by their bedrolls. The dye definitely did its job. My hair now a deep earthy red reminiscent of the red chestnut Arabian my mother used to own and spoil like it was her fourth child. Happy with the outcome I then set off in search of Hosea. I couldn’t see him anywhere in camp but as I was passing John I asked if he knew where he could be. Told me he was going to meet him at the moonshine wagon they had stolen yesterday. Following him out of camp to where it was hidden. Hosea was there, inspecting the many bottles of moonshine that filled the back of the small wagon. Both of us greeting him as we approached. 

“Ahh, Miss Bella, Just who I wanted to see. I have a little plan with this shine here and I was wondering if you want to join.” Hosea asked, climbing down from the wagon. He seemed to sense my hesitation, coming over to stand beside me and placing a hand on my arm in the hopes it would ease me. “Don’t worry, nothing dangerous and you won’t be left alone. I was just thinking, having a lady present would make us seem less threatening.” 

He looked at me expectantly, waiting for my answer.  

The chance to do something more than camp chores is something I wanted, not that doing chores wasn’t important but I desired to do something more to help. Maybe even bring in some money plus having a few dollars to myself. Growing up on a large farm I’ve never been one to shy away from hard work. Getting my hands dirty on a daily basis was normal, but getting them dirty on the kinda jobs the gang does will involve more than just soil under your nails and hay in your hair. But I’m sure I could trust Hosea seeing as he was one to avoid bloodshed and fights whenever possible, instead, running scams to take what they wanted from right under the noses of unsuspecting folks. “Okay. I’ll help if you think it will be of benefit.”

“Great! I'd suggest it would be better off if you wore something other than pants and equip your gun. Just in case,”

I nodded, feeling a bit more apprehensive about having to be armed. Better safe than sorry I thought as I turned to head back to camp.

“Oh, and Bella,” Hosea called back to me “Love the hair.”

 I changed into a plain baby blue skirt and a white blouse, donning a shawl to avoid the inevitable chill of the evening. Styling my hair into a loose bun allowing a few strands to fall around my face. Once I was ready and had my Cattleman holstered securely to my hip and the knife I still hadn’t returned sheathed beside it I made my way back to Hosea and John. Arthur was there too, asking Hosea what the plan was as they mounted up on the wagon. I sat at the back, feet dangling off the edge acting as the lookout. With this much moonshine just passing the wrong people could cause an unwanted interaction. Arthur called over to ask if I’m sure I’m okay coming along to help. Hosea butting in before I could speak to tell him Arthur will be just fine as I won’t be leaving their sides. Arthur looked over his shoulder at me either waiting for my confirmation or some words of worry. I just gave him a smile and a nod as we made our way along the roads in the direction of Rhodes.  The two men conversed on the plan. Returning the liquor to its owners for a ‘finder's fee’of sorts and to make a formal introduction to the Braithwaite family. In the back of my head, that name sounded familiar but I couldn’t place any faces to the name that dealt in the moonshine business. As they talked about the two apparent rival families in the area, Arthur mentioned a couple torn between both families that he has been helping keep in contact with one another. Imagine that, a big mean outlaw helping two young lovers. The ride wasn’t long, the historic plantation house sitting only a little further south to where we are situated along Flat Iron Lake. The men at the entrance let us go through to make our way towards the house, the grandness of it not being unfamiliar to me.

As we came to a stop the doors ahead opened revealing an older woman, Catherine Braithwaite, followed out by several men. “What you want?” She called out to us from the porch.

“Found something...out on the hills, thought...thought maybe you was in the market for it.” Hosea called back as he made his way to the steps.

“For what?”

“Some liquor.”

“I ain’t in the market for what’s already mine.”

“Way we see it, it’s ours,”  The three of us dismounted and made our way to the foot of the porch. I stood back a little and decided to stay near the horses.  “What with us possessing it, and i-i checked it all over for the life of me I couldn’t see your name on it.”

Now I could see the woman clearly, the faces to that name came flooding back to me. I had met Mrs Braithwaite months ago regarding a couple of horses Frank was wanting to buy. Surely she wouldn’t recognise me considering i had only met her once before and let’s face it, I looked a bit different then. She didn't seem to pay any mind to me. Looking me over once before returning to Hosea as their conversation continued.

“The alternative is you get shot.” a man stepped out behind Mrs Braithwaite, one of her sons I believe, shotgun in hand. Arthur instinctively going for his sidearm, hand hovering over the pistol just waiting for the word. Hosea quick to step in, “Now who wants to get shot over a bottle or two of liquor?” 

The man raised the gun but the woman was quick to stop him, pulling the weapon from his grasp. “Pay the man.”

“Pleasure doing business with ya,” Hosea said as he was handed a clip. “And, listen, we didnt take it, least not without orders from…”

“Oh, I know exactly who gave you your orders. Old sheriff Gray. You know what? I don’t want it. In fact, sir, now you can do me a favour, there’s an extra 10 bucks if you do. Drive the stuff into Rhodes head over to the tavern run by Mr Gray and give the stuff out for free,” She said, shushing one of the boys at her side. This feud between the two families ran deep for sure since she was willing to lose out on some business just out of spite.

“I believe they call that a promotional expense.”  Hosea huffed out a laugh, giving the woman a nod and turned to climb up on the wagon again. Mrs Braithwaite leaving us with parting words regarding playing a game of cribbage.

Heading into Rhodes was the last thing I wanted to do, especially so soon. I just had to make sure I kept my wits about me and to not leave their side for too long. Lord, I felt pathetic being as scared as I was. My pistol being the heavy presence at my side reminded me I could use that if need be.

“I ain’t playing dress-up. You know how I feel about that.”

“Of course you’re not...You’re a clowns.... idiot... brother.”

“Hosea, please…” Arthurs voice taking on a deep tone, one of irritation to whatever Hosea was proposing.

“I’m the clown. You’re the idiot. Just...look sad and keep quiet. Even you can do that, Arthur”

“Do I have to?”

“Put this hat on.” Arthur didn't have a choice in the matter. Hosea already removing his worn gambler hat and replacing it with a wide brim flop hat that was anything but attractive. Without missing a beat Hosea hands him a pipe to smoke and instructing him how to form his face. Despite Arthurs reluctance, he still followed whatever Hosea instructed, but he wasn’t happy in the slightest. I couldn’t help but giggle minutely as I watched. Arthur turned to me with a look of anger and disbelief before huffing out a quiet “shut up.” Covering my mouth to stifle my laughter. 

“What about you?” Arthur now turned his attention back to Hosea

“Shh. You can't speak. You’re turned idiot,” Hosea and I both started laughing now. “Quite broke poor mammy’s heart.” Hosea continued putting on a voice to get into the part causing Arthur to gruff in annoyance. He was hating this. We were loving it.

“There there, Fenton, there there. Don’t get mad now.” The humour had calmed me some. A warm sensation in my stomach overcoming the dread I was feeling the whole ride here. The ache on my cheeks a pleasant one. We pulled into Rhodes parlour house, Arthur dismounting and making his way to where I was sat. Hosea still spewing this little backstory he had created on a whim. 

“Okay, Fenton, stay calm now...for momma, she loved you so...just a shame you had to strangle her in a rage. Right, grab two cases of that stuff and follow me.”

Arthur held out his hand to help me down from the back of a wagon, his expression one of exasperation as he looked at me. Both of us reaching for a crate. 

“You, erm, gonna be okay?” He asked in a whisper.

“I’m sure I will be,” I replied with a smile

“Just stay near me. I’ll keep an eye out, make sure you’re safe.” “Thank you, Arthur - I mean, Fenton.” I couldn’t hold back the grin forming on my face, Arthur just looked at me deadpan as if to say ‘not you too’ as we followed Hosea towards the Parlours side entrance.

This was going to be fun.

@kashasenpai​

[knight-ingale]

Chapter 3, Angels

A/n: I... wrote this in like... three-four hours. Thanks again to my lovely editor friend, who took the time to look over this even though she had an appointment in two hours that I wasn’t aware of! Love her to death!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---~---~---~---~--- *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You and Bella watched with what was probably an abnormal amount of interest as the horrendously perfect and angelic quintet made their way to a table in the corner of the cafeteria, far away from your own table on the other side of the long room. It occurred to you that if this was an intersecting line graph, they would be an exterior angle to match you, not that it mattered.

As you studied the five of them, you realized their nearly fantastical beauty wasn’t the only thing that made them stand out with such contrast. Three out of the five of them didn’t look anything like highschoolers, more akin to graduating college students or teachers, student teachers at the youngest. 

The first person you noticed was the tall blonde who clearly surpassed six foot in height in wedged-heel boots. She was absolutely gorgeous, heart-stoppingly so. She had shining, wavy golden hair that flipped ever-so-slightly at the end in the middle of her back that contrasted heavily with her dark, nearly coal colored irises. Another ridiculously perfect part of her was her picturesque body. A perfect hourglass paired with an equally amazing pair of legs, which looked amazing in the just above knee-length skirt she wore with the boots. She looked… well, beyond words, really. 

The next you focused on was also female, and the last girl, who was also bordering magical in her appearance, despite the polarizing styles. She was dressed more simply than her counterpart, but no less beautiful, and was her opposite in many ways. Small and slight in the way that had almost had you worried for her health, bordering faery-like in image. Her dark hair was cropped far above her shoulders, slightly spiked out in a way that looked like a mess but in the best way anyone could hope for. She seemed to be the shortest of the group as well.

By the time all of the students had sat down, you were onto the third, a ridiculously huge boy with curly black hair. Seriously, this guy was enormous, capping his height at over six feet easily, maybe six and a half feet. He was still ever-so-slightly taller than the gorgeous blonde girl.

Another blonde, speaking of, was a boy. Shorter than the ridiculously muscular boy and the blonde girl, which he slightly resembled in hair color, but certainly taller than the faery girl. His hair was blonde, like the Victoria’s Secret Angel worthy girl, but his hair was a deeper shade of honey rather than bright, nearly gaudy gold.

The last student was also the last boy who held a younger visage compared to the high schoolers around him. He was less bulky compared to the other two boys and was slightly shorter than the blonde, making him the second shortest in a theoretical line-up of heights. The only noticeable trait to you was his auburn hair, which shone in the horrible fluorescent lights with a nearly mystical copper quality.

All of these supposed high schoolers, you still couldn’t believe that, looked absolutely worn, like they had stayed up for three or more all-nighters to finish a group project. The dark semicircles that lined the lower lids of each pair of eyes contrasted with the extreme paleness of their faces. Were the five of them a club consisting of those with extreme anemia or something? They looked almost like printer paper, even paler than your notably pale sister Bella. You break your probably intense gaze away from the table of strangers to lean over to Jessica, 

“Hey, Jessica,” you call. You get her attention easily as she looks to you. “Who are they?” you ask. She looks over to Bella, easily following her gawking to the table of divine looking students and giggles. You look back with Jessica quick enough to see the bronze-haired boy look up in masked curiosity, dark eyes flickering from Jessica, you, and then your sister. He looks away before you can reflexively look away in embarrassment, but you all do anyway. Jessica giggles again, 

“That’s Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen-” You hadn’t even noticed her leave, now that you realized she was gone. You had turned around for hardly a moment! She must be fast as hell. “They all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife,” she says under her breath. 

“What’s her name?” you ask quietly, “The doctor’s wife, I mean.” 

“Esme, I think? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her, but my mom has, she works at the bank. She says she’s really pretty and nice.” Jessica raises her eyebrows, “But most people are that way in public, so who really knows?” Bella glances back at the table, seemingly at the bronze-copper-haired boy, who was picking a bagel apart like it owed him money. He also seemed to be speaking, but the other three at the table didn’t seem to pay attention to him. 

“They’re… very nice looking,” your sister manages, obviously in awe. 

“Yes!” Jessica giggles, “They’re all together though- Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together.” she states with an air of small-town judgment. Even so, it was a bit strange. Siblings, whether biologically related or not didn’t matter to you, really shouldn’t date, right?

“Which ones are the Cullens?” Your sister asks, “They don’t look related…”

“Oh, they’re not,” Jessica assures, “Dr. Cullen is really young, in his early twenties or thirties. They’re all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins- the blondes- and they’re foster children.” So the blondes are related, makes enough sense. The girl was Rosalie, a vintage but fittingly timeless name. Jasper also sounded like an older name, but the only thing you could think of was that jasper was a kind of rock. What did jasper rocks look like?

“They look a little old for foster children,” your sister mentions.

“They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they’ve been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She’s their aunt or something like that.” Jessica reveals.

“That’s kind of nice- for them to take care of all those kids like that, when they’re so young and everything.” Jessica shrugs off your sister’s words with a glance thrown in the directions of the Cullens.

“I guess so,” she admits reluctantly. You look at Jessica with guarded judgment. What was so bad about someone adopting kids? “I think Mrs. Cullen can’t have any kids, though.” You grimace, looking over to the Cullen table. Jessica was going to pull something in her arm if she kept reaching so far to find something to judge this family for! You notice the boy, who you have now mentally tacked the name of “bagel hater” onto, looks like he laughed. Of course, you can’t hear him for your vantage point, so you just see his shoulders move slightly and see him murmur quietly, seemingly to his three remaining siblings. You couldn’t see the face of the blonde boy- Jasper- but you can see Rosalie smile slightly, and the big one grins. 

“Have they always lived in Forks?” Your sister asks. You turn back to Jessica as she answers.

“No,” she practically scoffs, “They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska.” You can see Bella physically relax. You weren’t the only ones considered “new” here. Though it was obvious that the now quartet of beautiful students aren’t exactly accepted, though you couldn’t tell quite yet if their segregation from the rest of the school was preferable for them. 

“Which one is the boy with the reddish-brown hair?” Bella is still peeking over at the subject of her question when she asks. For some reason, he was staring at your sister with a look of frustration, maybe confusion. You sit up straight and scoot a bit closer to your sister, but you don’t wait for a reaction, instead choosing to look to Jessica as she answers yet another one of your sister’s queries. This girl really likes to talk, or at least gossip.

“That’s Edward. He’s gorgeous, of course, but don’t waste your time,” she huffs, “He doesn’t date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him.” Ah. Girl done got turned down, and apparently isn’t taking it well. Yikes. You purse your lips to keep yourself from smiling.

“Hey,” you try, “at least that means you can find someone else who isn’t such a jerk, right?” She shrugs, but your attempt seems to have smoothed over the sour blip in her mood.

You immerse yourself quietly in the conversation at the rest of the table, listening idly to the girls around you. One girl, quiet and fairly tall, introduced herself as Angela Webber. Apparently she had an oncoming class with Bella. She seemed much more genuine and sweet compared to her friend Jessica. Usually, you would have left to arrive to class much earlier with your sister when you shared lunch periods, but having people other than each other and a few acquaintances was a good reason to stay for you. Bella seemed content enough to stay as well.

Eventually, the bell rings to start passing period. You bid your sister farewell to make your way to P.E. Not your favorite class, but you’d deal. Apparently, Forks required four years of P.E. rather than your old schools two, which sucked. Coach Clapp signed your paper and let you sit out of the class for the day while he got you all your information for locker number and combo as well as your uniform. 

Your last class of the day was Introduction to Psychology. You were welcomed warmly by your teacher, a short brunette who's name you had yet to be able to pronounce, so you and other students just called her Ms. S. You were sat in the back of the class next to the only one other open seat. 

Right before the bell rings, you notice one last student walk through the door. You’re the only student looking back towards the door when you see Jasper Hale walk through the door. He wasn’t rushing despite his near lateness, and the teacher just looks up and smiles before going back to her work. That’s when you realize the only other desk was next to you. You duck down to your backpack to pull out a blank notebook and a pencil for the class. A notebook and folder were really the only things you were told to bring, so it was easy to get ready. When you popped back up, Jasper was sitting in his seat beside you with his arms crossed on the top of the desk. Despite the casual way he sat, he seemed ridiculously tense, his hands balled up into fists and tucked into his elbows. You shrugged it off and opened your journal to date and answer the bellwork question written on the whiteboard. Ms. S declared the day a workday and gave you your textbook and a few sheets of work. One was just a little packet to see what you knew and the other was a two-sided sheet questionnaire about yourself. You started on that first, which was fairly easy. Favorite colors and books, favorite foods, activities, and questions about family. You finished that about a quarter through the class. You worked on the packet until you answered all the questions you knew how to answer, which was just a little over half the packet. That took about half the class. During the last quarter, you just grabbed a page out of the back of your journal. You doodle little plants and eyes and mindless patterns. Shortly after you started you decided you wanted to try and draw someone. Naturally, the boy beside you would be the easiest to draw, so you decided to draw Jasper. By the end of the class, you had a nice looking, albeit stylized, sketch of your neighbor leaning against his desk.

The bell rings, and in a flurry of zipping backpacks and papers, students pack up and leave. You leaned down to put your pencil back in your pencil case before pulling yourself back up to grab your journal. When you sat up fully you noticed Jasper Hale standing up with his bag slung on one shoulder, head tilted in curiosity as he looked down at the lined paper down on your desk. Before you can stutter out any excuse, he speaks in a soft voice laced with amusement and a slight country tinge, 

“You drew me?” he asks. You felt like your face was hotter than the sun, 

“Uh, yeah, sorry, I was just bored an-” he interrupts your anxious excuse with a small smile, picking up the paper, 

“No no, it looks really good.” Did he really think it was good?

“Uh, thanks,” you mumble, grabbing your journal to keep packing up and refusing to make eye-contact. He offers a quiet thanks before disappearing out the door. Well, that was certainly strange. You finish zipping your backpack before standing to turn your work into Ms. S, who seemed delighted to see you had finished your work early.

“Thank you, Y/n. How was your first day?” You smile, 

“It was pretty good, considering I have no idea where I’m going,” you laugh, she laughs. 

“Ah, you’ll get used to it all eventually. By the way, do you happen to know Mr. Hale?” Ms. S asks. You blink in confusion, 

“Uh, no. This is the only class I have with him, I think? Why do you ask?” She shrugs, 

“I just haven’t seen him really interact with many students outside of his family, especially not on his own.” 

“He just liked the doodles I made near the end of class, I guess,” you respond. “Anyway, I have to go turn in my paperwork, See you tomorrow Ms. S!” You wave goodbye as you leave, following the streams of students out of the building. From there you were able to navigate your way to the office building with relative ease. You didn’t see Bella inside and waited outside until you saw her slowly making her way to the building, holding her arms around herself to hide from the cold wind. You laugh and wrap an arm around her and walk into the building.

You feel Bella freeze almost as soon as you enter. You notice the receptionist is busy but only realize why your sister is shocked with anxiety when you notice exactly who she’s busied with. Edward Cullen, the boy who gave her a strangely aggressive look during lunch. You pull Bella to the wall to wait, but she presses herself against you and the wall to make as much space between herself and this boy. Jesus, what did this guy do to scare Bella so bad, bite her?

The door beside your sister opens, blowing both of your hair around as a random girl came in to place something in the receptionist’s note basket. Then the weirdest thing happened. Edward stiffened before slowly turning to glare at your sister. You tighten your arm around her and stand up straight, rather than leaning on one leg. You glare right back at his scarily perfect face. This jerk had no reason to be looking at your sister like that! It was only her first day, she couldn’t have done anything to garter such a look of malice. Edward flicks his angry gaze to you for a moment, you still glared, before he turned back to the woman behind the desk. 

“Never mind, then,” he nearly growls. Such a nice voice certainly didn’t match to a vehemently hateful face, “I can see that’s impossible. Thank you so much for your help.” He turns sharply and practically marches out of the office. You pull Bella closer against you as he exits. What. A. Dick.  You help Bella to the desk on her wobbly knees, her face noticeably paler than before. You hand your slips into the woman with a shaky smile.

“How was your day, dears?” She asks kindly. You manage a much more believable front compared to your sister, who can barely manage a meager,

“Fine.” You grimaced at her answer, the receptionist didn’t buy it.

“Pretty good day,” you say, “Thanks for the maps, they helped a lot!” She nods as you leave. You climb into the truck, one of the last vehicles in the parking lot.”

You let Bella drive for a while before you bring up her day. She was crying which she never did when sad, only angry or embarrassed. 

“So…” You start, “What’s with that jerk? We literally just get here, not even Jessica McGossip-Face was mean, and she’s the most judgmental person we’ve met today!” you joked lightly, but no smile, 

“I… I’m not sure? I didn’t do anything. He seemed fine far away during lunch, but he was in my Bio two after lunch and… and he was so weird?! He was on the edge of his seat as far away as he could get from me during class. He froze up and got all angry when I first passed him to get to the teacher and-and I don’t know why?” You reach over and gently rub her shoulder as she drives. You were much better at emotional support compared to your sister and father, but you can only do so much while she’s trying to drive.

“Yikes. It sounds like he’s a dick, if you ask me. Maybe that’s why he didn’t have anyone sitting next to him. Too much of a jerk to work with, “ you speculate, “His brother Jasper is weird in class too if that makes you feel any better. Maybe the whole family is like that. Who knows?” Bella wipes her unreleased tears away with her sleeve, 

“Maybe…” You purse your lips before trying again, 

“Hey, it’s not good to take in the opinion of someone like him anyway. Did you see how he wasted that bagel? He picked it apart like it insulted his mother! He’s a bagel hater! He doesn’t seem like someone worth taking into consideration to me,” you grin when Bella smiles. 

“Ha, I guess you’re right.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---~---~---~---~--- *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tags: @twilight-loveer @rushiruby

[jasperwhitcock]

equinox | chapter 06 –– “open book”

here is chapter chapter six of my bella as a vampire and edward as a human fanfic inspired by an au that @bellasredchevy​ posted. you can read the new chapter on AO3 or here. i post updates on AO3 or on tumblr using the #equinoxjw tag. but sometimes it doesn’t work. so. um.

the last time i wrote for this, it was BEFORE midnight sun came out. and now, midnight sun has been out for two weeks (oops...now FOUR weeks), i’ve finished it, i am miserable as a result, and finally, SHOOK. here’s why: in the last chapter, i mentioned esme’s aversion to having her floors ruined by rain. in midnight sun, edward mentioned that multiple times. MY MIND.

everyone reading this is thinking like, yeah, sure “your mind” OR you’re dumb and should not be finding any humor that your lizard brain came up with the same basic idea as smeyer, known racist. maybe esme was just written with hardly any personality so it wasn’t that difficult to end up concocting the same idea. and… okay, you’re right. but in those moments, let me tell you, i was really feeling something. smeyer, you reading this?

to catch up since i’ve been busy, i reread my other chapters. and i really need to go back and edit them. so thank u for being here & bearing with me. hehe

also… the beige… that’s for y’all.

just a lil baby warning: there are conversations revolving around religion in this chapter. i wanted to mention that as a warning for the sake of anyone who has had negative experiences with church/religion (like me!) whom this topic makes uncomfortable. the local doctor and his children are VAMPIRES. you have been warned. 

It was entirely unrealistic –– the possibility of running out of time –– but still, I expedited through the forest, the greenery blurring by me in long unfocused streaks. Although if I paid attention, I knew I’d still be able to see every microscopic detail. The fluffy moss growing along the trunks of the ground, the iridescent droplets of rain dotting the ferny leaves, the patterns in the wood of the trees. But I cared little to as I barreled forward, hurtling over uprooted trees and bounding over large pools of rainwater nestled in the muddy forest floor.

I lost a shoe leaping over the last fifty yard stretch of river, so I kicked the other off carelessly in midair. The shoe fell into the water with a powerful splash from the height. Alice could bite me later. I was in too great of a hurry to deal with her chastisement now. If she really cared for this pair of shoes, she could dive for it. Alice! The thought of my sister made me realize a reason I could actually be late. I needed a change of clothes.

As I fell back to the earth, reaching a hand forward to grasp onto a convenient branch, I focused, envisioning my arrival at the house, the flight of the stairs, and the knock on the door of her room. I pictured asking her my request, and though I had no intention of actually following through with these steps, I hoped the thought was enough for Alice to see what I wanted. It should be, because if it wasn’t, I’d have to go into the house anyways, but I really didn’t want to waste time.

I swung lightly onto the bough of another spruce, and nimbly travelled this way from branch to branch, juggling the journal all the while by throwing it into the air between trees and catching it again. I could run fast and delicately enough to avoid muddying my feet, but with how unfocused I was in my hurry, I didn’t want to risk needing to stop to wash off.

If they hadn’t been concerned already, now would really be the time that my family genuinely considered my descent into insanity, seeing me wildly and maniacally swing through the trees towards the house like Tarzan after having only melodramatically left hours prior.

I knew it wouldn’t last, but I felt somehow liberated by the realizations that I’d come to in my wintry jungle. After hours of considering the right way forward navigating my now complicated future, I’d decided to face it head on. To stubbornly confront the problem. I was tired of feeling unlike myself and feeling distanced from my family, though my new resolution might encourage the rift I’d only just mended with Rosalie. Even with my grievances, I still enjoyed this life, the strength I’d found in it. The sense of rightness and belonging that contrasted how I’d felt so weak and out of step as a human. I wanted to bask in that again. I wanted to take action.

I decided the best way to reattain that freedom was rather than leave the boy alone, I’d challenge the vision. Seek him out this morning. Return the journal to him. Sit beside him. And in my ability to do so, I’d then prove his irrelevance to me, his powerlessness over my self control.

And although it was still a ridiculous thought to entertain, if I did find in me some concern or care for him, then that’d be even better. It’d certainly be strange, but it’d also strengthen my resolve to leave him be with his own life rather than make any choices he couldn’t even be knowledgeable enough about to consent to. Then, once I’d done so, I could truly leave him alone for good. I’d toyed with completely ignoring him from the beginning as I said I would, but then I decided that outcome wouldn’t develop from inaction. I was far too headstrong to leave this alone without trying to face it.

I will admit that a part of me was curious about Alice’s vision, curious about a friend or even a partner in this life… But the thought of Edward as that partner made me recoil. He was too irritating –– not the ideal candidate to spend an eternity with.

He was smart, though. And kind too, I noted, thinking of the way he’d cheered up the girl in the hospital… But definitely irritating. I’d have endless time to decode what had made him so relentless and smart-mouthed, but once I’d made the discovery, what then?

I had spent hours turning the little brown journal in my hands over and over, studying the worn leather, the folds and creases, tempted to open it and uncover his secrets. During an hour where I’d been resolved to go forth with pretending he didn’t exist, I’d even considered sneaking back to his house and finding my way in to leave the journal by his side so that I wouldn’t have to give it back to him myself in person. But that –– and also privily reading it without his permission –– seemed indefensibly invasive.

I didn’t mind being a vampire if that’s what I was. But that didn’t mean I had any desire to fulfill some of the creepier of the tropes.

Once I reached the tree closest to the garage, I tightroped onto a thin branch. Then, cautious as to not break it, I gently pushed down and sprung off, diving like a swimmer seventy feet down, the journal clasped between my outstretched hands. The distance was very short, and I landed softly, focusing greatly on doing so in a cautiously tactile way that wouldn’t cannonball me through the building and barreling into the ground. I rolled like a bowling ball to a stop on the vegetative, vine-covered roof in a cluster of silky honeysuckle and tickling lavender wisteria.

Even now all these years later, I felt kind of giddy at the impossible physics of my body’s capability for control, so I couldn’t help but laugh a little. I even laughed a little more thinking again of how my family might see my behavior –– me laughing here in the flowers –– as lunacy in how drastically it differed from the darkness of the personal rain cloud I’d been carrying over me.

From the house, I heard a deep chuckle and the sound of a scoff, confirming that I did have an audience. It must be Emmett mocking the impressiveness of my nosedive. I smiled, feeling very much like myself again.

I hopped off the roof to the ground and entered the garage. Sure enough, Alice had laid out a small pile of clothes for me for the upcoming school day. I stripped, unceremoniously dropping the garments I was wearing into a pile on the floor and reached for the clothing. Then, I groaned.

“Alice!” I hissed her name like an expletive. I thought we’d moved past my sister’s insistence on using me as her personal doll, but it seemed this was her attempt for a revival. Maybe she was determined to punish me for the way I’d destroyed my shoes. Rather than a sensible sweater and jeans, Alice had taken advantage of my hurried need and elected to pick out a cropped turtleneck sweater and a mini skirt, both black. The sweater wasn’t awful in that the crop wouldn’t be exposing with the high waist of the skirt, but the bodycon fit of the skirt, the crocodile print of the polyurethane, and the ludicrous split up the side… Alice was deranged. This had to have come from her own closet.

She had the good sense to include sheer black tights to hide some of the disconcerting flawlessness and freaky whiteness of my skin –– not that that would matter much in how off-putting and contrasting I’d look in all black anyways –– but I’d have preferred converse over the matching black boots. At least the heel of the boot was more reasonable than I’d expect from her. Not more reasonable than converse, though.

I imagined showing up to Edward’s house. Hey, Edward! Here I am to drive you to school, pale and ridiculous. Also, I’m a vampire. Here’s your journal.

I considered the short run to my room in the house, but again, I was already running late…

I tugged the clothes on and hopped into the pearly white car, throwing the journal into the passenger seat. As I reversed out of the garage, I felt thankful for the engine upgrades Rosalie worked on that allowed for the instant rapidity of the acceleration.

I spun sharply, letting the car spin out with an obnoxiously loud screech until I was facing the long drive away from the house. In the rearview mirror, I watched as Rosalie entered the garage, her golden eyes shocked and her mouth open as I sped away.

My reckless driving only warranted a few irritated honks on my way to Edward’s house through the morning traffic –– one dark green Honda specifically gave me a long piece of their mind when I cut them off –– before I was whipping around the corner onto his street.

Just as I pulled in front of the lonely house, I watched as Edward casually jogged down the steps of his porch, his sleek backpack hanging carelessly off one shoulder and an apple in his hand.

His tangle of bronze hair was like a low burning flame against the muted monochromatism of the grey house and the grey sky and the grey pavement. Today, he wore a light tan turtleneck that clung tightly to his chest, slim beige trousers, and a long black coat that ended above the knees. His fancy belt, his long socks, and his suede boots were all black too. I didn’t particularly consider him to be someone who cared much about what others thought about him, but he seemed pretty meticulously dressed. I wondered if he dressed to impress others or dressed for himself. Neither decision particularly mattered, but it’d been so long since I thought about something so human –– the thought process of selecting what to wear and considering how you wanted to present yourself.

The clothes I wore ceased to matter long ago. I never particularly had an interest in fashion, so it was easy to allow Alice to select my wardrobe. And for the most part, she got it right. Only when I found her selections to be impractical, such as today, did I really care. But it was a rarity that she tried to push me too far out of my comfort zone anymore. She’d given up on me, or maybe she had just become more clever about finding the right opportunities to dress me in something absurd… I liked things that I could easily move around in.

Alice would approve of his outfit, I thought. Maybe if he liked fashion, they really would get along. But that didn’t matter because I had no intentions of involving Alice and her freaky little visions in my experiment.

Seeing me parked there, he froze for a moment, before his lips curved into a huge smile. Edward laughed, throwing his apple up in the air and catching it again. He half-jogged forward to meet me. I took a deep, clean breath full of the leather scents of the car’s interior and rolled down the window, leaning forward towards him.

Edward bent over so that his head could duck down to see my face through the window, and he shook his head again, chuckling.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Hello, Edward,” I smiled pleasantly, trying to play nice.

He eyed me suspiciously, but the glint in his pretty green eyes was teasing, the grin that lit them up never fading.

“I’ve come to bring you this, fresh from the scene of the crime––“ I grasped hold of the leather bound book in my hand, raising it up to wave it before setting it back down, “––and to offer you a ride to school. I’m sure it’d be a humbling experience for you to walk, but I felt bad about your pretty car being flattened like a pancake.”

“You’re not irritated with me?” Edward asked, slightly cocking his head to the side.

“Are you irritated with me?” I countered.

“Never,” he beamed.

“Well, then we can call a truce,” I half smiled. “You’re not curious as to why I’m forcing you to carpool, making your getting to school my business?”

“The wasting of finite resources is everyone’s business. But of course, I am curious.”  

“As usual,” I mumbled under my breath. Hesitantly, I breathed in. It was like pulling the chord on a hot-air ballon with the way his scent ripped my throat into flames. I was grateful for the distraction of someone grumbling to themself as they turned onto the street, because instead of spiraling, I was able to instead laugh as I realized who I had cut off a few traffic lights ago. I looked in the rearview mirror and sure enough recognized Sara, the sandy blonde, driving the ugly green Honda.

“Hmm… Well, I wouldn’t want to upset your girlfriend––” I bit my lip momentarily to keep myself from laughing, “––so I wouldn’t be offended if you said no.”

“Who?” Edward asked, but his smile had faded as his eyes watched my lips intently.

He looked back into my eyes after a second, blinking as he realized I was staring at him staring at me, then up at the car awkwardly pulling in behind me.

“Oh,” he chuckled as he realized who I meant. “I’ll be just a moment.”

I watched in my side-view mirror as Edward approached Sara on the drivers’ side.

“Hey, Sara,” he said as she cranked her window down.

“Hey, Ed,” she grumbled, kind of irritated. I should have felt guilty for disrupting her plan, but her irritation with Edward instead provoked my nerves. Also, the fact that she called him Ed bothered me too. “I guess you made it out alive. I’d have been here sooner, but Cullen cut me off. I got suck at a red light.”

“Did she?” Edward laughed. “Well, I’m really sorry, Sara. This is so nice of you, but Bella offered to drive me to school today. I’d cancel now that you’re here, but after she saved my life, I’d feel terrible doing so. Is it alright if I see you at school?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she snapped, trying to seem unbothered despite the tightness of her jaw and the edge in her voice.

“I’m sorry again, Sara. I really appreciate that you came here,” Edward smiled a dazzling smile.

“No big deal. I’ll see you at school,” she lifted the corners of her lips once before turning away, her mouth in a tight line.

He sighed watching as she drove past me and away before a crooked smile reappeared on his face as he walked back to my car. I didn’t have time to wonder if he would have preferred to ride with her. It didn’t seem likely.

“…Ed?” I asked as he crossed back to the passenger side.

“You heard that?” Edward chuckled. He slid his backpack off his back, opened the door, and dipped his tall frame into the car. He picked up the journal before settling into the passenger’s side, adjusting the seat to make room for his legs and backpack. “I’m not particularly fond of that nickname. Or any, for that matter. My mother called me Teddy sometimes. I prefer Edward.”

“I do too,” I agreed, breathing in the potency of his fragrance. I clutched the steering wheel tightly and swallowed dryly.

“So,” he began once he was comfortable. “Are you feeling more open today?”

“No,” I answered as I began to drive towards the school.

Edward sighed, but he shook his head, amused. Clearly, he’d decided to play nice too. “Do you ever get tired of ambiguity, Bella?”

Yes.

“No,” I teased, rolling my eyes. “I enjoy being mysterious far too much.”

“Mysterious enough to keep me up at night,” he egged on.

“I’m sure you slept just fine.”

“How’d you sleep?” Edward asked. I looked over at him, ignoring the tingling of my tongue in anticipation of the taste of his sweet blood. I should have thought of a response, but I was too busy fighting off my instincts to think of a lie. His pretty eyes narrowed in thought as he analyzed my face and the dark circles beneath my golden eyes.

Suddenly, I froze, my muscles locking down as he reached forward, his hand gently touching my hair. I didn’t dare breathe as the heat of his skin enveloped me in warmth. His hand lingered for a moment before it pulled back, holding up a broken piece of fern.

“You had a leaf in your hair. How’d that get there?” Edward almost whispered, his lips curved into a half-smile.

A strange electricity throbbed through my body, and the sensation was so odd. Like my heartbeat should be thrumming loudly in my ears. Deafening. But my heart was frozen and dead, so I only heard the beat of Edward’s. We sat in silence for a moment as my mind spun in the dizziness.

“Maybe I should have accepted Sara’s offer,” he joked after a moment, laughing, but I wondered what he made of the affliction I was trying to hide on my face. Around him, no matter my attempts at subterfuge, it felt as though my face was an open book in which he could read all my secrets. I refocused my eyes on the road, too distracted by the warmth of his pale face and the prettiness of his green eyes as the forest flew by in the window behind him.

“Maybe,” I agreed, smiling softly, smiling sadly. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe you should jump out of the car and run before I accidentally kill you.

“But,” he mused gently, trying to keep the mood light and playful. “She probably doesn’t have heated seats.”

His effort to comfort the conflict raging within me that he didn’t even understand worked. I snorted.

I continued driving, thinking of ways to bring up the journal.

“You look lovely today, by the way,” he smiled, appraising me. “Which is not to say that you don’t on any other day, but you do look very pretty.”

I felt oddly incomplete as I waited for reactions my body was no longer capable of. Reactions I’d forgotten. There was another strange sensation in my cheeks as if they should be very warm.

My head whipped towards him in surprise, my eyebrows pulling up.

“What?” He immediately asked in shock, his heart beat picking up. My reaction didn’t totally alarm him though, because his lips were still pulled up at the corners. Edward seemed to always be smiling. Or maybe smirking was the better word. “Do you not get compliments often? I find that rather hard to believe.”

“No, it’s not that,” I relaxed my face. “I was just caught off guard. Lovely…That wasn’t particularly something I’d expect a seventeen year old boy to say.”

“Oh,” he relaxed, easily grinning again.

“Are you even seventeen?” I found myself smiling in return.

“Are you?” He countered.

My mood darkened as my lips dropped immediately, but I fixed the smile back onto my face so he couldn’t see how exposed I felt.

“You know, my mom used to say that I was born thirty five years old, and that I get more middle-aged every year.”

“Hmm…” Edward nodded, his eyes narrowed again as he scrutinized me. I wondered if this clarified some assumption he’d made about me.

I turned into the school parking lot. I saw the gleaming cherry redness of Rosalie’s ostentatious car and desperately hoped she was already inside one of the brick buildings.

“So,” he prompted, his tone mysteriously patronizing. “Did you read this?”

I glanced over to see the accusation in his eyes as he held up the journal, but he didn’t seem angry whatsoever. They were still light. Still playful.

“What? No, of course not,” I defended myself. But my voice was unpersuasive, the pitch coming out a little too high to give my words any credibility.

I parked beside Rosalie. The car was luckily empty, so I relaxed my grip on the steering wheel. Ha! As if my sister would have confronted me here, and I’d have driven away, effectively kidnapping Edward… I scoffed at myself. I clenched the hand Edward couldn’t see into a tight fist, concentrating all of my strength in my fight against temptation into the way my fingers dug into my palm.

I turned my face to look at Edward, whose face was condescending, his thick eyebrows pulled up in disbelief.

“I’m serious! Maybe I look guilty because I considered it, but I didn’t actually follow through.”

His face relaxed into a crooked smile. “Okay, I believe you. I’d have forgiven you anyways.”

“Does that mean if I ask you about the contents, you’ll share?” I asked eagerly. I’d read so many books in my life that this new mystery novel easily became just like another book I was dying to read.

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head, chuckling. Edward reached for his bag, winking at me, and opened his door, ducking his head to get out. I swiftly undid my seatbelt and was out beside him probably much too fast, my backpack slung onto my shoulder. For a moment, I wondered if my siblings needed their useless backpacks too since we typically drove this car to school, but I figured Alice must have rescued them from the trunk after seeing my plans for this morning.

He blinked, looking down at where I suddenly appeared.

“Why?” I inhaled through my mouth, grateful for the influx of fresh rainwater and firs that helped dilute Edward’s scent.

His heart thrummed in his chest, and being so close to him, the sound was like thunder surrounding me as I listened, becoming attuned to it. The splash of puddles as tires hightailed through the parking lot, the slam of locker doors as students got their books, and the chatter of kids as they entered the school all seemed like irrelevant ambiance now.

“Because,” Edward breathed. His breath was shaky, but his face remained cool. The sweetness of the smell washed over my face, and I clenched my fist again. “That wouldn’t be fair whatsoever.”

“And why not?” I demanded.

“You expect me to entrust you with all of my secrets when you won’t trust me with just one of yours?”

He wasn’t wrong. But I couldn’t exactly divulge anything about the accident. I was already breaking too many rules. My own rules. My own promises I’d made to my family.

“How about…” I considered, though my thoughts were headed in a dangerous direction. “If you happen to have any theories, you can share one, and I’ll either confirm or deny it.”

“Just one?”

“Yes.”

“How is that worth the very much intimate documentation of my entire mind, Bella? That’s hardly sufficient.”

“Fine, I don’t care about your stinking journal,” I snapped, stubbornly poking my chin in the air a fraction.

He surprised me by actually throwing his head back to laugh.

“Are you done?” I asked.

“You’ve got a bit of a temper, don’t you?” he considered this for a moment, beaming. “Okay, I’ll accept these conditions. But later.”

“Later?” I demanded, feeling a sense of injustice as I froze in place. He continued forward and took a bite of his apple. The juice spilled out sweetly into the air, but the fragrance was unappetizing and certainly not as sweet as Edward’s blood.

“Thank you for the ride, Bella. I’ll see you in biology.” Again, he winked, walking backwards. He saluted me, waving once with the journal in his other hand and then turned around, clearly enjoying having the upper hand as he and temptation disappeared into the crowd of students.

I stood there, my mouth propped open. The sensation of being watched started to creep up on me and sure enough, I turned to find Rosalie ten yards away outside of the building to her first period. Her eyes were dark, cold, and fierce with betrayal. Guiltily, I looked away and headed off towards my first class.

Throughout my morning classes, I tried not to think about my family’s –– or rather, Rosalie’s –– opinions on my decision this morning. At this, I failed miserably. As I imagined explaining how really if I didn’t stay away from the boy, it would prove that I actually could leave him alone and exercise control against Alice’s visions, I started to find my logic extremely flawed and unbelievable. Maybe I was making a mistake. Maybe I was just too pigheaded. I tried not to think about this too.

Instead, I thought again about the secrets of his journal. Wasn’t this essentially the symbol of everything I’d been obsessing over? All of my wonderings and curiosities as for why he was so annoying and his eyes so perceptive could all be unraveled in that little book. I wondered if I’d be disappointed once the mystery was unveiled. Maybe the journal –– and by extension, Edward himself –– was not as interesting as I thought. I may have just been fixating on this because it was something different. But I told myself it’d be better for me to be disappointed. The sooner I could move on with my life.

Throughout the day, a couple of the braver students asked for details about the accident but became disappointed when I didn’t offer up the dramatics they were hoping for. I felt too shameful to discredit Edward’s accounts, so I irresponsibly dismissed the opportunities to ensure the accident yesterday hadn’t exposed anything unusual about me or my family. Eventually, as my monotonous account of the events spread through the tiny school, kids stopped asking.

I was impatient to get to biology, but before then, I’d have to face my siblings at lunch. When the bell rang after fifth period, I walked much too quickly to the cafeteria, dreading arriving but very much eager to get it over with. As I weaseled my way through the hallway –– which wasn’t difficult because even in the familiarity of the school, we were typically provided a wide berth –– I overheard the conversation of two other juniors. I froze in place as my plans shifted for the day. They discussed the difficulty of today’s biology pop exam, and I realized I wouldn’t have the hour of the day the school allotted to speak with Edward, the excuse I could provide my family in my defense. A freshman nearly rammed into me from behind, not expecting my sudden stop. Whoever it was recoiled immediately. 

Well, I wasn’t going to miss out on whatever explanation he planned to provide because of some trivial pop exam. I rearranged my lunch plans, appreciating the excuse to postpone another family confrontation. We could battle it out at the long oval table later if necessary.

I entered the cafeteria and was second in the lunch line, only selecting a glass lemonade bottle so that the emptiness in front of me wouldn’t be unnerving for Edward. I figured it’d be more disconcerting to leave a tray of food in front of me untouched. I headed to a round table in the corner that was typically empty. This wouldn’t surprise my family when they entered. Alice would warn them.

I sat waiting as students filed in, either joining the growing line or meeting at their usual tables with their friends. I avoided Rosalie’s eyes when she entered the room, but I could still feel the iciness of her stare. I listened for Edward’s deep and soft voice to indicate his arrival, then when I couldn’t find it, instead listened for Sara’s to see if she may be with him. Sara was a loud, babbling talker, so it was easy to find her voice in the crowd of the hallway. She seemed to have gotten over her irritation from this morning as she animatedly spoke about some research she’d done the night prior into some potential colleges she might apply to.

I found that although I may feel some irrational resentment of her ability to be so close to Edward, I liked Sara. Maybe we would have even been friends if I was a human. And if her proximity to him didn’t bother me. She was prattling on about her dream of becoming a veterinarian, and her goals seemed so sincere that I almost felt guilty finding any enjoyment in having stolen Edward from her this morning.

But that didn’t mean I didn’t have intentions to do so again.

As I suspected, when Sara walked through the double doors, Edward was by her side. He was actively listening to her words –– always so polite to anyone who wasn’t me –– but once inside the lunch room, his eyes immediately flashed to the table in which my siblings were settling into. His thick eyebrows pulled together in confusion –– and maybe even disappointment? –– at the realization he didn’t find me there.

I was impatient as he purchased his lunch. Once he’d left the line, he still hadn’t noticed me sitting here. Maybe he was less perceptive than I gave him credit for. I felt a moment of awkwardness as I thought about having to get up, walk across the cafeteria, and ask him to join me in front of my family. I would still have done so, but I was immensely relieved when Sara noticed me.

“Are you eating lunch with Bella too?” The sandy blonde asked, her tone suddenly indignant. This time, I felt no pleasure in my thievery. Sara was right to want to reserve Edward to her human world, but I was too entranced with the mystery of his journal and the mystery of his mind to care.

Edward looked up, searching. His sage eyes were bright and animated once he found me here at the table. He held his tray in one large hand while combing the other through his untidy bronze hair. The arrogant confidence in his face made me smirk, and I rolled my eyes, lifting my hand to beckon him forward twice with my finger as if I was reluctantly pacifying a child.

“I guess so,” he laughed a little as he sauntered forward towards the table, leaving Sara behind gawking. I braced myself for the onslaught, inhaling one last fresh breath of air. How habitual this was becoming.

“I’m being gifted your presence outside of our biology class twice in one day? What did I do to deserve this?” He teased once he’d arrived, standing behind the seat across from me.

“Nearly die. I guess that’s a fair enough price to pay for my company,” I played along. If only he knew how true that still was. He grinned, his perfect teeth white and shiny. “Oh, don’t look so smug. I’m only here to uncover a mystery.”

“As am I,” he reminded me. I winced.

“Are you going to sit down?” I asked. He still stood behind the seat, tall and lean, a giant like my brothers. Not quite as towering and much slimmer, but still, I felt small in my seat looking up at him.

Edward leaned down to carefully place his tray on the laminate before comfortably settling into his seat as if we’d done this before. I glanced at his tray, curious as to his selection. A bottle of water, a grilled chicken salad, and a bag of dried fruit. I stared at the food for a moment as if this would provide me any clues about his mind.

“So,” he began. I looked up to meet his eyes and though I knew he’d be looking at me, I felt a jolt pulse through me. He caught something about my reaction, and a crooked smile appeared on his face.

“So,” I continued. “You were going to tell me about your journal.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But I believe we agreed on a condition, did we not?”

“We did,” I admitted. “Go ahead.”

“Hmm… I’m not sure I’m actually ready to, Bella,” he pondered, and I felt odd again hearing him say my name.

“Why not?” I demanded, restless. Of course I was interested in the book, but I was also definitely interested in his theories. I couldn’t believe it had only been yesterday that the accident occurred. It felt like a lifetime ago. The same way that first day in biology did.

“I’ve only been given about twenty four hours to come up with any explanations.”

“And have you?”

“Maybe, but I have a feeling you’ll be very firm on only allowing one theory, so I want to hold out for the theory I’m most confident on.”

I frowned, and Edward laughed.

“Don’t worry though. I’ll tell you about my journal anyways. As long as you promise–– no, that’d be letting you off too easily. As long as you swear to me that you won’t forget your end of the deal.”

“I swear,” I promised, smiling at the silliness of his command. I took this moment to breath in his powerful scent, to wrestle with my desire.

“Hmm… I wonder if it’ll upset you,” his forehead crumped in thought. My patience was wearing so thin that the inexorable cloud of lust for his blood had little impact in comparison to the sudden aggravation at his procrastination.

“Oh, Edward!” I groaned, exasperated. “Would you just tell me? What could possibly upset me?”

For whatever reason, Edward burst into laughter at my outburst and couldn’t seem to stop.

I glared at him, and he tried to choke back his humor unsuccessfully. The irritation in my eyes didn’t deter him or instill any sense of fear in him. Briefly, I wondered if he was mentally sound.

“Okay, well, you can just go eat lunch with your little friends, and I’ll stay here and talk to myself.”

“Don’t be mad,” he pleaded as another laugh escaped. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. You’re just so impatient. And for what? My uninteresting little journal?”

“You’re annoying, did you know that?”

“Maybe, but you’ve chosen to sit here with me, so you must like me for some reason,” he pointed out. For some reason indeed. Once again, he was right on target. My mouth gaped open.

“Okay, I’m getting up––”

“No, please, Bella. I’ll behave myself now. I’ll tell you about my journal. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” His smile was dazzling, and his eyes were fierce, sweet, and sincere. I was mesmerized, stuck in the seat across from him.

“Okay,” I said stupidly.

“My journal,” he began seriously, “is sort of a Bible.”

I waited for him to laugh again.

“No, really,” Edward did laugh but not as though he’d told a joke. “I know that’s kind of strange.”

Religion had never been a major facet of my life. A dozen memories flickered through my mind of the times as a human where my mother Renée had gone through impassioned phases where she attended church, trying on multiple denominations and religions for size. But just like the rest of her sudden and fleeting interests, her spiritual high wore off, and we never spoke about God or church again. Only when I became immortal did religion take a more permanent place in my thoughts. But it was only the proximity to Carlisle that made me consider spiritual beliefs, and even then, it was simply another topic to devote thought to in all the endless space in my head and all the endless time in which to fill it.

I didn’t know particularly what I believed nor if I cared much, but I did know that if Edward was religious enough to tote around a bible at school, he’d definitely not be pleased to know he sat across from an actual vampire.

“You carry around a bible?”

“Well, don’t make any judgments yet, alright? It’s not exactly a bible. It’s kind of difficult to explain.”

“I think I can keep up,” I said simply, feeling slightly awkward but still curious. I glanced down at his untouched food. “But you should probably eat.”

“And what about you?” He asked, eyeing my full lemonade bottle.

I unscrewed the tin cap for his benefit. Following my lead, he opened the plastic container of his salad. I waited impatiently as he slowly ate his food.

I watched him as he ate, but when his eyes flickered curiously up to me, I fixated my attention on the lemonade bottle, tracing the mouth of it with my pinky finger.

After a few moments, Edward spoke up. “What are you thinking?”

I looked up to meet his light green gaze and felt stuck there again, compelled to reveal everything.

“I’m trying to figure out what you think I am,” I admitted only one of my concerns, though even this was much too honest. I thought of the inspiration he could draw from his religious text. The second beast. The Nephilim. Cherubim. Demons. Even though I didn’t have a true understanding of the contents of the book, some of Carlisle’s paintings had provided me with enough of an idea.

“I’m not having much luck with that yet,” he answered.

I laughed, relieved. “Well, you have only been given twenty four hours.”

“What else are you thinking?” he asked again, sensing there was more.

I sighed, feeling uncomfortable under his analyzation. The weight of his watchful eyes was too penetrative.

“That a boy who carries around a bible probably wouldn’t like me very much.”

“Why? Are you a sinner?” He smiled teasingly, but his eyes were soft as he tried to pull me again from the gloominess that seemed to steal me away.

“Something like that.”

“Well, aren’t we all?”

“Not all dogs go to heaven,” I answered. He chuckled at how I butchered the expression.

“Hmm… I’m not sure if I absolutely believe in a heaven, but if I do, I think the prerequisites to make it in are much broader than the Christian faith teaches.”

“You carry around a bible but don’t believe in heaven?”

“I said I’m unsure. And I said it was difficult to explain, didn’t I?”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I hardly understand what you mean the majority of the time either.”

We both laughed, and the synchronicity of the moment made me forget my intentions with bothering him in the first place. It made me realize that in a way, I actually did feel fondly of Edward.

“Here, I’ll explain. I’m done eating anyways.” He used a napkin to dab at the corners of his mouth, then pushed it away on top of his lunch tray.

“My mother was very religious,” Edward began. “She wasn’t pious or bigoted or forceful about her beliefs. She was kind… devout. She believed in goodness. Her entire life had been dedicated to caring for other people. She wasn’t someone whose true intentions were to condemn others with the hope to save them from hell. Rather, she seemed more focused on saving someone from unhappiness. A lot of other believers have been known to connect with someone only for the end goal of forcing them to change the way they live for the sake of feeling as though they saved them. She had always been offended by this insistence to control another’s lifestyle, believing that any Child of God should truly only be concerned with loving others.

“I have pages of verses ripped out from her bible stuck throughout my journal. It may seem sacrilegious to destroy a bible in that way, but she’d read through it so many times that it had completely fallen apart. I tried to save it when she died, but there was no hope to. It was too dilapidated and tattered. So in my own journal, I have all these notes I’ve written on the notes she wrote in her bible. All these confusing erratic writings, these scribbles, I’ve been trying to sort out, just trying to figure out how to be a good person.”

At the end of his speech, my mouth dropped open. Quickly, I closed it again.

“So, do you believe in a god?” I asked after a few moments of silence.

“I’m not sure what I believe. If you don’t believe that all this world could have just happened on its own, which is hard for me to accept myself, then a god seems to be just as reasonable an answer as anything else. But I do believe in science as well. And once again, I don’t believe that any higher being who created the entire universe would be so particular and unyielding on such frivolous, harmless human matters as to what you do…or who you love… I’m hesitant to speak about god publicly, not because I fear any kind of persecution for my complicated beliefs, but because I know that the church has caused a lot of damage to a lot of people. And I don’t want anyone to think I support any of that harm. But for innocent believers, I see nothing wrong with wanting a reason to hold onto hope if that’s what religion is for them.”

“Neither do I,” I agreed, thinking of Carlisle.

“I think at the core of any religion –– and I definitely am interested in studying other religions as well –– is the same message. To do good by others and yourself. Of course, historically, religion has been weaponized as a means to take control over innocent people, but in considering people like my mother… I sincerely hope that there is a god. For her sake.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t worry.” Edward smiled his crooked smile. “I’m not about to try and sell you some religious propaganda. At no point will I sit you down and ask, ‘do you mind if I take a moment to speak about our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ?’ That’s never been my mission. I’m not entirely certain whether or not I even consider myself religious.”

“So what is your mission then with the journal?”

“Perhaps this will sound a little pretentious, but it’s not so much that I’m curious about the chicken or the egg scenario… Evolution versus creation… I don’t care very much as to how we got here. I guess because my mother believed so profusely, and I consider her to be such a great person, I’m curious as to whether our morality is innate as people, or if all goodness is because we have some kind of spirit within us leading us to want to do right by other people. I think overall, it is innate. An atheistic individual can do wonderful things for the world just as someone who claims to love Jesus can do terrible things. I don’t think anyone who doesn’t believe chooses to do good for God, but I wonder if that innate sense of morality, sense of compassion is ingrained into us because of the fact we do have souls. So the question I’ve been trying to answer all these years is… do we? Does my mother die, fade to nothing, with her body? Or did she live on because she had a soul?”

“Those are big questions for a seventeen year old.”

“Those are big questions for anybody, no matter their age. And questions humankind has been trying to answer for thousands of years,” Edward chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t expect to be the one to stumble upon the answers. More so, I’m really trying to find some purpose in my mother’s life. I do want to honor her, and maybe if I can understand all the things she wrote about people and about God, then I can.”

“So what do you write?”

“I write my thoughts on what she journaled about. And I write about all the good things I see someone do. About the reasons why I think they did them… I study people a lot.”

“Do you ever feel creepy?” I asked.

“Sometimes,” he laughed. “I mean, it’s not that I’d be the type to watch someone while they sleep. But if someone comforts a friend, picks up a stray piece of trash off the ground, smiles at a stranger… I try to take notice. I want to notice people.”

Edward sighed. “I know this must sound arrogant, but I really do believe I’m very sensitive to the thoughts of other people. At least, I try to be. For example, I know Sara must not be very happy that I chose to ride with you this morning, or that I am sitting with you now. I’m not oblivious to her feelings for me. But it’d be very ungentlemanly of me to accuse her of those feelings if she prefers to keep them secretive, so I’ll define a boundary if needed to protect her feelings whenever she chooses to come forth about them. I’d like to retain our friendship, but I still make my own choices.”

“So…” I began, ignoring his point about Sara. “Let’s say we all did have souls. Could someone lose that soul by any chance?”

“Hmm…” he thought, his eyes intent, piercing into mine as though he were trying to read my mind. “Now, that’s a big question for a seventeen year old.”

I laughed along with him.

“Well, I’m not sure whether or not you can lose your soul –– if we have them, of course. Perhaps you could damage the integrity of it or compromise it somehow. Could it be lost in death? If there is something of a heaven, does that automatically imply the existence of a hell? What purpose does hell serve in torturing one’s soul for eternity? Justice? Do some people perhaps deserve that fate? I want to say no, but then you think of awful, malicious people who have done awful, malicious things. Murder. Genocide. Rape. Isn’t the losing of your soul in death, fading into nonexistence too easy of a punishment? Do those people warrant a judge, jury, and executioner? I would hope that there are consequences to evil actions, but I don’t understand the idea that if such a place exists for the most vile of humanity, nonbelievers and sinners would go to the same place as well according to the Christian faith. I would say on that front, the Bible must be profoundly off. That aspect has to be invented by man for a means of control. What creator would wish such a fate on someone so innocent as to simply be uncertain about a god? So does a nonbeliever or sinner simply cease to exist, therefore losing their soul? Or is there some kind of alternative? Like a purgatory in the Catholic faith. That too seems a cruel fate from what should be a loving God.”

I felt slightly uneasy, wondering what he would think of my non-life, if he would consider this to be the alternative for innocent sinners. I wondered if he would believe I had a soul.

Edward softened his expression at my discomfort. His eyes were gentle and kind.

“But I don’t think I believe that. Like I said, I think the division between good and bad, right and wrong, is less black and white than most religious people believe. I think it’s gray, and I think any higher power would realize that too. So if you’re making that face because you’ve sinned a little here and there or murdered somebody, maybe you can make a comeback.”

Edward winked, and I forced myself to laugh. 

“So would yesterday earn me some points?”

“Oh, definitely. You’ve practically merited an angel status.”

This time I did genuinely laugh at the thought of me as an angel.

“But again, as for what’s considered sin… I don’t subscribe to the majority of what’s considered biblical canon.”

“You don’t have to continue with the disclaimers. I believe that you’re not judging my sinful ways.”

“Correction, I don’t believe that God themself is judging you for your sinful ways. I never said anything about my judgment of you.”

I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling at the smirk on his face. “I’m not at all surprised that you have a god complex. That seems about right –– you do come off like the type to be very judgmental.”

“I’m notoriously difficult to impress,” Edward half-smiled. “Are we continuing this conversation in Biology, or are you growing tired of the dark and the heavy?”

“Not yet,” I answered. “But I overheard that we have a pop quiz, so you’ll have to save your pretty boy disciple thoughts for later.”

He chuckled as I stood up from the table, reaching to grab my untouched lemonade bottle and cap to throw away, then stopped me.

“I’ve got it,” Edward placed the bottle on his tray to dump into the garbage. I watched curiously as he pocketed the bottle cap.

“I’d say thank you, but I know you’re only trying to win points in the eyes of God.”

“Anything to get into heaven,” he laughed.

* * *

y’all know i had to make edward a lil christian boy. u know edward is the i wanna church girl who go to church… and reaaaad her biiiible vine. i do want to clarify again… unlike stephenie mormon, i have no agenda in speaking about religion in this fanfic. i’m not particularly fond of labels, but i am more agnostic than anything so… i’m not tryna convert anybody to anything. it just seemed very “classically edward” as rosalie would say.

i hope u enjoyed! i also wanted to say i really, really appreciate the comments! i haven't replied bc... i'm shy but i read them & truly feel very flattered. ♡

[atths--twice]

Fourth of July, Friendship, Fireworks, Love...

It’s a day late, I know, but hopefully I’ll be forgiven. Here is a sweet little Fourth of July story of Mulder and Scully celebrating the holiday with some friends-safely of course, but celebrating nonetheless. Hope you enjoy! 

(Oh BTW, this story is a part of my Family Series- the stories beyond the finale. I hope you have all read those so it’s not too confusing. If not, here is the link for it on ao3. https://archiveofourown.org/series/1407691)

July 4, 2020

Scully set her glass of water in the sink and smiled. Everything was ready and she felt nervous with excitement.

“Hey! You ready?” Mulder called from the staircase and she turned around, walking  through the living room, to meet him and Faith as they reached the bottom.

“Yup,” she answered as she smiled at them. Picking up Faith, she swung her around, kissing her cheeks.  

She was dressed in a pale denim blue sundress, with daisies and eyelets around the bottom, a pair of white bike shorts underneath, and a pair of Mary Jane sandals nearly the color of her dress. Scully placed her nose against the side of Faith’s head and took a deep breath, inhaling the unmistakable scent of sunscreen.

“You ready, Love? You wanna go for a walk?”

At those words, Bella barked and ran over to them, bouncing excitedly, figuring out that they were all about to head out the door.

“Yes, Bella, you’re coming along. Calm down, girl.” Mulder laughed and as he reached for her leash and she barked again.

“Bell,” Faith said, looking down at her and putting a finger on her lips. “Shhh.” Bella looked at her and sat down, softly whining, her tail wagging happily. Mulder looked at Scully and shook his head in disbelief.

“Scully…” he said, clipping Bella’s leash on and shaking his head again. “I know we have joked about it, but… there is something about the way animals react to her. Even Grey, as small as she is, and being a feisty kitten, is gentle and different with Faith.”

Scully looked at Grey as she sat on the back of the couch, her head tilted as she watched them preparing to leave. It was true, Mulder was right.

Since he had found her under the porch nearly two weeks ago, she had changed from being a timid and tiny kitten. She had gained some weight and provided hours of entertainment and laughter.

She had slept nearly every night in their bed, much to Mulder’s dismay. Or pretend dismay, as Scully had woken up to Grey cuddled beside him or laying squarely on his chest nearly every morning. He had acted as though he were annoyed by it, but she had seen his smile as he had scratched Grey under her little chin.

She loved to chase her toys or their hands, biting at their fingers as they had teased her to chase them. Not so with Faith, however. When Faith pet her, played with her, or got close to her, Grey had been gentle and slow, purring loudly as she had rubbed against Faith’s legs, hands, or her face. She was so calm with her, it was as though a spell had been cast over her.

“Fucking spooky,” Mulder had whispered under his breath as he watched the change in Grey as Faith pet her with a smile. Scully was unable to argue as it was rather spooky to witness.

“I’m not trying to say anything we don’t want to think about,” Mulder said quietly, pulling her attention from the thoughts of the past couple of weeks. “Some people just have a way with animals and I think she will be one of them.” He looked at Scully with a shrug and she looked at Faith, who smiled at her happily.

“If that’s all she has a way with, then I can live with that,” Scully said, smiling softly at Faith, worry settling momentarily within her as she thought of William and his abilities. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Scully…”

“I know,” she assured him, looking at him with a nod. “I know, Mulder.” He took a couple of steps forward and put his arm around her waist, pulling both of them close to him.

“It’s not the same,” he whispered and she nodded, her forehead against his and Faith’s head on her shoulder.

“Mama,” Faith said softly, patting her arm gently. Scully laughed and closed her eyes, breathing deeply and feeling a sense of calm settle over all of them.

Until Bella whined softly and Mulder chuckled as he pulled back, smiling at Scully and kissing Faith’s cheek. He looked at Scully again and she nodded with a smile, the worry and sadness from minutes before now gone.

“Okay, let’s get going, or we’ll be the last ones to arrive,” Mulder said and she nodded, ready to go and be around actual people, even if for a little while and even despite the heat of the day.

The day after Father’s Day, Violet had come by during Faith’s nap time, to see how they were doing and if they needed anything. She had brought over some eggs from their chickens, something she had done a few times, and a chocolate cake she had made.

A masked visit on the porch, with space between them, they had made plans to get together on the Fourth of July for the dinner that had been suggested back on Mother’s Day in May. It would not be a dinner though, but a potluck type picnic lunch in which they would remain outside, and spaced apart. None of them had been sick and had remained at home as much as possible during the mandated quarantine.

The day after that plan was made, Rachel had called, checking in on them as well. Skinner had been in the background, grumbling that he had thought she was going to be FaceTiming them so they could see Faith. Rachel had sighed and a second later, the FaceTime was ringing. Skinner was there, coming close to the camera with a grin, calling for Faith. Rachel had rolled her eyes beside him and then smiled at him with such love in her eyes, Scully could not stop grinning as she had watched them.

A discussion of a visit after so long was had and a plan began to form. The two of them would join them and the Turners for the potluck. Everyone was included with the conversation and for two weeks, every day, they had all taken their temperatures and recorded them to be sure they were not sick or showing any possible symptoms. None were found and they were all looking forward to seeing each other again, and also meeting for the first time.

“I’ll get the backpack and you take Faith,” Scully said, kissing her cheeks and handing her over to Mulder. “Little Grey, we will be back soon, okay?” She picked up the kitten, who began to purr immediately as she was laid on her back in Scully’s arms. Her eyes closed and she meowed softly, causing Scully to laugh.

“There you go. Faith gets it from you. Look how she responds when you hold her,” Mulder teased as he put Faith into the hiking carrier, putting on her sun hat and buckling her in, then sliding it onto his back.

“I think I’ve trained her to like laying this way. I can’t tell Bella to hush and she’s immediately quiet. That’s beyond my expertise,” she reasoned, stroking Grey’s ears and kissing her head. “You think she’ll be okay?”

“For the tenth time today, yes, I think she will be okay,” he said with a smile and she sighed with a nod. Walking over to the large scratching post and climbing toy, she set her down and rubbed her head again.

“Be good, little Grey,” Scully said and Grey meowed, pushing her head into Scully’s hand. Scully hummed and Mulder cleared his throat. Turning around, she looked at him as he shook his head with a smile.

“Come on. She’s fine.”

“Okay, okay.” She glanced at her again before walking to the kitchen and taking the big blue bowl Mulder had purchased at the estate sale a few months ago out of the refrigerator. She had made potato salad with hard boiled eggs, the ones from Violet’s chickens, and also a summer pasta salad.

Setting the bowls on the table, she added a bottle of wine to the backpack next to Faith’s extra clothes, diapers, and some toys. Putting it on, she picked up the bowls, and walked over to Mulder, Faith, and Bella.

“Let me take the big bowl. You carry the smaller one and hold onto Bella.”

He took the bowl from her and handed her the leash. Looking back at Grey once more, she stepped through the open door and into the heat of the day. Taking a breath as she stood in the shade of the porch while Mulder locked the door.

“Did you put sunscreen on?” he asked, looking her up and down.

“Umm… no. I forgot.”

“Oh, wife,” he said, shaking his head with a heavy put upon sigh. “Turn around, please.” She did as he asked as he set the bowl on the porch swing and then she felt and heard him unzipping her backpack. A bottle was shaken and she knew it was the sunscreen she had packed in there last night.

“Look at all that pale Irish Scully skin showing,” he said with a tsk, gesturing to her body, as he took the bowl from her and she slipped the backpack off and onto the porch. “You would have been a tomato by the end of the day, woman.”

Laughing, she nodded and dropped the leash to step away and spray herself down. Starting with her neck and face, she held her hair away as she closed her eyes and pressed the nozzle. Her arms were next and she was careful not to get it on the black summer dress she had found in the back of the closet. A dress she had hardly worn, but bought for its simplicity.

And the secret pockets. That was the seller as far as she was concerned.

Arms and face done, she stepped back and handed him the bottle, turning around and moving her hair out of the way, silently asking him to get the back of her arms and her neck.

He chuckled softly and she heard the floorboards creak as he moved toward the swing. Waiting, she gasped as she felt his lips on her neck, and her eyes closed. He kissed softly, his tongue licking gently, before he kissed her again.

“Mulder,” she moaned, and he hummed against her skin. Kissing her once more, he pulled back and she opened her eyes with a shiver. “Sunscreen only or we will be the last ones there.”

“Yes ma’am.” He laughed and she gasped again as the cool sunscreen hit her skin. His fingers pressed into her neck, making sure the sunscreen was rubbed in well. The same was done to the backs of her arms; a kiss placed on her neck before she dropped her hair and turned around.

“Thank you,” she said with a smirk and he nodded. “Do you have sunscreen on, or do you need some assistance?”

“As much as I would love that, I put mine on when I did Faith’s, so I’m good. Let’s put this back and we’ll be on our way.”

She nodded and took the sunscreen from him, placing it in the backpack before sliding it back on. She looked him up and down, enjoying the sight of him in a crisp white short sleeved shirt and a pair of dark brown shorts. They each picked up their bowl and she grabbed the leash, stepping off the porch and into the hot sun.

“Christ, it’s hot,” Mulder stated as they left the driveway. “I’m all for this little gathering, but shit. It’s so goddamn hot.”

“Language,” she laughed, looking up at him and glancing at Faith, but she agreed with him, it was hot.

“Jaf!” Faith shouted, clapping her hands and laughing, when they turned left out the driveway.

“Yeah, Honey. We’re going to see Jaf,” Mulder said with a smile, glancing at Scully.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the Turner’s house. Faith clapped her hands again and kicked her feet as she looked at the big giraffe in their yard.

“Jaf! Hi, Jaf!” she called and they stopped to let her say hello. As she did, Scully took their masks out of the baby carrier backpack, handing Mulder his, and putting on her own.

Scully looked around the yard and saw that a few canopies had been set up and tables with tablecloths and chairs sat under them. The front door opened and Violet walked out wearing a mask and carrying a basket. Stopping at the table, she put it down and started to unpack it, setting out paper plates, napkins, plastic cups, and containers of utensils.

Looking up, she saw them standing there and they could see her smiling happily even behind her mask. Leaving the table, she walked toward them, meeting them at the end of the driveway.

“Hello! It’s so good to see you again,” she said, nodding at them and waving to Faith. “Hey there, sweetie pie.”

“Jaf!” she said, pointing at the giraffe to her left.

“Yup! That’s Jaf. She’s not at all a huge giraffe in a regular sized yard,” Violet said with a roll of her eyes. They all laughed and continued up the driveway, Bella bouncing excitedly as Violet gave her some pats, and set the food down on the designated table.

“We set up a staked area for Bella, as we don’t have a completely fenced yard,” Violet said, pointing to the spot and rubbing Bella’s head. “Also, Denis bought a small plastic pool to fill up later, as she is a Lab, and “might want to go for a dip.”” She made finger quotes and stared at them as they laughed.

“That’s a good idea. We should get a pool for her to play in,” Mulder said and Scully nodded.

“We had a dog who used to love to play in our kids little plastic pool. Denis was giddy to find one for Bella today.”

“What will you do with it after today?”

“Oh, I’m sure Denis will find some use for it. That man…” They all laughed as she shook her head. Scully found the clip for the lead and attached Bella to it. She ran around, stopping short of the tables, but with enough space to lie in the shade.

The front door opened and Denis came out, also wearing a mask. He came down the steps carrying two bowls and caught sight of them as he reached the bottom.

“Hey! So happy to see you three… four,” he called out, setting the food down and walking over to them. Putting out his hand, he pulled it back right away. “Old habits are hard to break.” They laughed and bumped elbows with him instead, each of them feeling the awkward, but necessary, difference of it.

“So, the food is all ready. I’m just gonna go back in and get the rest. Did Violet tell you about the pool? I didn’t want to fill it earlier, not wanting to entice a certain little girl.” He looked up at Faith who was looking over at the giraffe. “But I can see that she is otherwise engaged at the moment.” They all chuckled, knowing without actually looking where her attention lay.

“We turned out of the driveway and she knew we were coming to see you, or more appropriately, coming to see Jaf.”

“Jaf. Mama. Jaf.”

“See?”

They all laughed and Denis went inside to get the food. Scully took off her backpack, took out the bottle of wine, and handed it to Violet and she smiled and went inside to open it. Scully took out the hand sanitizer too, sliding the bottle in the pocket of her dress.

“God, it’s hot,” Mulder said again as he took off his backpack and set it down on the grass. He unbuckled Faith and lifted her out, knowing she would make a beeline for the giraffe.

As she gained her balance, wobbling a little in the grass, a car pulled up the road, slowing at the giraffe and then drove up the driveway.

“Oh… look who’s here little girl,” Mulder said, lifting her up and walking toward the car.

Skinner and Rachel stepped out, much to Faith’s ecstatic surprise, both wearing masks. She screeched and waved excitedly, causing everyone to laugh.

“So, what’s the protocol here?” Skinner asked gruffly, as Rachel opened the back door and took out a bag. “I haven’t seen that girl in months and I’m due for a hug, but I don’t want to cause any harm.”

“We’ve taken as many precautions as we can. We’re all wearing masks. Well, except for Faith. She’s too little to understand how to breathe properly while wearing it. We’re going to be eating together soon, we’re outside… I think we’re okay with a hug.” Scully smiled as she stepped closer to them, nodding a hello at Rachel. Skinner let out a breath and nodded.

“Up. Up.” Faith said, reaching toward Skinner. Mulder made to hand her over, but Scully stopped him.

Taking out the hand sanitizer, she squeezed some into his open palms and he quickly rubbed them together. With a glance and a nod from Scully, he took Faith from Mulder and spun her around, both of them laughing.

“Oh, little girl, I’ve missed you.” Faith touched Skinner’s face with her hands and smiled, laughing as she touched his mask. Scully stepped closer to him, touching his upper arm.

“It’s good to see you. In the flesh.” She smiled and he nodded.

“You too, Dana. And you, Mulder.”

“You two as well. Rachel,” Mulder said, nodding at her and she winked.

“Fox. Dana. Miss Faith, a pleasure as always.”

“Jaf. Jaf,” Faith said, pointing at the giraffe and then looking at Skinner expectantly. He nodded and walked closer to the giraffe, ready to do her bidding.

“Oh, hello,” Violet called behind them and they all turned to look at her. She walked closer and Scully gestured to her.

“This is Violet Turner. Violet, this is Rachel Clarke and that is Walter Skinner.”

“It’s good to meet you both. Denis, my husband, is inside. He should be out soon,” Violet said, her eyes crinkling with a smile.

“Should I give these to you or should I put them on the table?” Rachel asked Violet, indicating the bag she was holding.

“Does anything need to be warmed up? Or is it a cool dish?”

“Well, there is a salad, but also Fettuccine Alfredo.”

“Fettuccine Alfredo, you say?” Scully asked, looking at Mulder, and then over at Skinner, a knowing smile on her face. He stared back with a look she had seen many times in the past. She raised her eyebrows and nodded her head, not needing to hear him say it, but wanting to know for sure. “Did you make that, Rachel?”

“No, Walter did. It’s one of his specialties,” Rachel said with a chuckle.

“Is it now?” Scully said with a smile and a wink and Skinner shook his head.

“I feel like I’m missing something,” Rachel laughed as Skinner walked over to them again, sighing heavily, shaking his head as he looked at Faith.

“Well, I was happy to see your mama,” he told her and Scully laughed. She looked over at Rachel with a smile and cleared her throat.

“I’m just teasing him because his specialty is actually one of my mother’s recipes. One which I shared with him when your first date didn’t quite go as planned,” Scully explained and Rachel looked at her with wide eyes.

“Is that right?” she asked, turning to look at Skinner. “Hmm. Well, no wonder it was so good. If Mrs. Scully was half as good a cook as she was kind, then it makes sense it was such a good second date.” Scully laughed and nodded, turning to look at Mulder who winked and chuckled.  

Rachel took the salad from the bag and handed the bag to Violet, who went inside to warm it up. At the suggestion to get in the shade, they all walked over to the tables, Bella barking a greeting. Setting down the salad, Rachel walked over to her, saying hello and giving her some pats.

“She’s gotten so big,” Skinner said, looking at Faith with a sigh. “I know we’ve seen her a lot on the phone, but it’s not a true judge of her growth the way it is to see her person.”

“She has,” Scully agreed, smiling at both of them, before looking over at Rachel as she pet Bella.

She was wearing a teal knee-length sundress and cute black wedge sandals. As she stood up, she brushed her hair back and caught Scully’s eye. Her eyes flicked over to Skinner, watching him with Faith. Looking back at Scully, she nodded and Scully grinned as she nodded back, knowing the past few months had been good for them.  

Violet and Denis came out, the last of the food set down on the table. Introductions were made again before they went back in again to get the drinks. Two pitchers of ice water and two bottles of wine were set on the table and everyone looked at each other.

Skinner handed Faith to Mulder and stepped back, standing with Rachel. Scully stood beside Mulder and everyone took off their masks, each of them taking a deep breath.

“Well… it’s nice to really see everyone,” Violet said and they all laughed.

Taking turns, they filled their plates and sat down in family groups, keeping distance between them. Mulder held Fatih as Scully prepared a small plate for her from her own. When it was finished, he began to feed her and they all laughed as they watched her wiggling with happiness as she ate.

There was a lot of laughter. Everyone was glad to be around other people again. Stories were told of arguments from being in close quarters without much of a chance to break up the monotony of the days. Shows were discussed, which ones the others had seen, and which had been favorites.

“We did a puzzle that, I swear to god, had five shades of blue in the sky,” Skinner said, shaking his head and looking at Rachel. She laughed and nodded, crossing her arms on top of the table.

“It was probably the worst… not a fight exactly, but definitely a heated discussion that we have had. I think of myself as a patient person, but those few days… I most assuredly was not,” Rachel said and Skinner scoffed, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“I had all the colors arranged by varying shades and then this guy…” She inclined her head toward Skinner and he cleared his throat with his eyebrows raised. “Yeah… you. He comes into the room and starts trying pieces and not putting them back where he found them.”

“She slapped my hands. Twice,” he said, holding up two fingers and she turned her head to look at him.

“Because apparently once wasn’t enough for you to get it.” She stared at him and everyone laughed. Scully squeezed Mulder’s knee as she watched Skinner and Rachel smiling and silently speaking to one another.

“Wow,” Mulder said quietly, covering her hand with his own. “It is annoying watching people speak without speaking.” He squeezed her hand and she laughed, leaning against him with a happy sigh, Faith beginning to fall asleep on his lap; the warmth of the day causing a flush in her cheeks and making her sleepy.

“I’m happy they’re both happy- especially Skinner. He deserves someone like her,” Scully said, as Violet laughed at something Rachel said. “I’m glad she was the one you found. For you. For him.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. “Your mom found her.”

“What?” She sat up slightly and turned her head to look at him.

“She was here on a Wednesday, like always. It was the day we hung the clothesline out back, actually. She suggested that I should see a therapist and gave me a list of names that people she knew had suggested to her. Rachel was the third person I met with and I liked her almost immediately.”

Scully shook her head, looking at him and then at Faith, whose mouth was open as she slept against Mulder’s shirt. Turning her head, she looked over at Rachel and Skinner. They were laughing and arguing as she reached for his hand and leaned back toward him. As he looked at her and smiled, her hand in his, Scully felt tears prick her eyes at the love she saw between them.

“And here I thought it was just the fettuccine recipe,” she said softly and Mulder laughed.

“I think it’s fair to say it could be both,” he responded, his hand moving to rest on her chair, rubbing her back gently.

“Either way, it was my mom. Working to get us together and unknowingly doing the same for another couple.” She sighed and shook her head. “I wish I could thank her properly for all she did. I miss her so much, Mulder.”

“I know.” He squeezed her neck gently and she turned her head toward him, not wanting her tears to cause any undue sadness to the others. She took a deep breath and bent her head to kiss Faith’s head, breathing in her sun-kissed scent as she calmed down.

“You okay?” Mulder asked softly and she nodded, her cheek resting on Faith’s head as she took another deep breath. He put his hand on her head and stroked her hair.

“Dana?” Violet said and she raised her head, wiping at her eyes. She sat up and gave Violet a shaky smile.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I was just thinking of my mother.” She waved away any other words she may have said and took a deep breath

“No apology is necessary. I understand.” Violet smiled and Scully nodded, wiping at her eyes again. “Who’s ready for dessert?”

“Yes, please,” Mulder said, raising his hand and Violet nodded with a smile, standing along with Denis.

Rachel stood as well, collecting the disposable plates they had used and throwing them in the trash. Scully joined in cleaning up and soon the tables were cleared. Bella had a bowl of scraps, including ham, and she was immensely happy. Faith slept on, resting on Mulder’s chest, his hand stroking up and down her back.

“So, we usually do a cake with blueberries and strawberries like the Stars and Stripes, but this year… well, we thought we’d do something a little different,” Violet said, coming over to the table and setting down a pink, three layered, Jell-O mold. Scully looked at her in shock and then at Mulder, who winked at Violet.

“You planned this?” she asked him and he shrugged.

“What’s a holiday without a dessert that represents the Fourth of July, fireworks, America, God, and love?” She grinned at him and he pumped his eyebrows. “You’ll notice though, that it’s not lemon-lime flavored.” She laughed and nodded, leaning in for a kiss.

“Thank you.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Violet served the dessert, leaving the plates on the table, and they each went over separately to pick them up. Glancing over her shoulder, Scully saw Denis filling the plastic pool for an inquisitive Bella. When it was halfway full, he let her explore it, drinking the water and then tentatively stepping inside.

Once she figured it out, she would run around and then lay down in the pool, panting with happiness. Everyone sat facing her, watching her enjoying herself, as they ate their dessert.

“We definitely need a pool,” Mulder said and Scully agreed with a nod, laughing at the fun Bella was having.

“Of course it wouldn’t be just for Bella for long.”

“No, but it’s just going to get hotter as the summer progresses, and it’s a good idea.”

“So, how's the kitten?” Rachel asked and Mulder mock groaned softly.

“You mean our new baby?” he asked Rachel and she laughed.

“Stop it,” Scully said and shook her head. “It’s not that bad.”

“She wanted to bring her today,” he teased, and she shoved him gently. “Has a leash for her and everything.”

“Stop,” she laughed, shaking her head. “You make me sound like a crazy person.”

“Well…” He shrugged and they all laughed.

Soon, it was time to pack up and head back home. Faith woke up and wanted Skinner to hold her. His smile as he put his mask back on and came to Scully for more hand sanitizer, was one that warmed her heart, proving once again that he would have been a great father.

Skinner walked around with Faith, looking at all the wooden animals in the yard. They all put their masks back on and began to clean up, to get ready to say their goodbyes. Mulder and Denis took the chairs into the garage as Violet filled the basket she brought out earlier with the extra plates, utensils, and cups. Rachel and Scully moved everything to one table and removed the tablecloths.

“I’d like to see you all again. Soon,” Rachel said, when Violet had gone inside. “Maybe we could come to your place, or meet at a park somewhere? Bring some lunch and meet up?”

“I’d like that,” Scully said, touching her upper arm and rubbing softly. “We’d like that.”

“Good.” Rachel sighed and nodded. She looked over at Skinner and she sighed again. “It’s been a long time, but you remember that discussion we had at Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Scully said with a smile, remembering the conversation they had about her and Skinner.

“Well, obviously you know that with the quarantine we’ve been together. That was… different. We went from newly dating to basically living together in less than six months. I’ve never done that. Never lived with anyone that way actually,” she admitted, with a shake of her head. “It was good and bad, but mostly good. It… it really changed me and my view of relationships. The threat of a horrible virus will do that, I suppose.” She laughed and Scully smiled.

”I love him so much. I’m thankful every day for him, despite his crazy jigsaw puzzle ways.” Scully laughed and Rachel joined in.

“Well, I’d say if you two could survive this, you can survive anything.”

“I agree.”

“Hey. You about ready?” Mulder asked and Scully nodded. He touched Rachel’s back and she nodded.

The backpacks were loaded up, Faith was given one last squeeze from Skinner before she was placed in the carrier, and Bella was coerced away from the little pool, before they all said goodbye to Denis and Violet, thanking them for a great day.

“It was our pleasure to have the company,” Violet said, her hands clasped at her chest. “I wish I could give you all a hug.” They smiled at her and Scully rubbed her upper arm.

“One day. Thank you, Violet. We’ll see you soon.”

Gathering their bowls, a container of leftovers, and a large piece of the Jell-O dessert in a separate container, they walked down the driveway with Skinner and Rachel. Stopping at the car, they said goodbye, with a promise of an upcoming visit.

Waiting for them to drive away, they walked home in the late afternoon sunlight, waving goodbye to Denis, Violet, and Jaf. Taking off their masks, they each sighed, happy with the day.

“That was fun,” Mulder said and she nodded. “And to think I would have gone kicking and screaming to a potluck picnic like that in the past.”

“Like a child, you mean,” she teased.

“As if you were some party girl with heaps of friends.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Things change though, like I’ve said before. This girl,” he said, touching Faith’s foot. “She’s changing us for the better, Scully.”

“She is indeed,” she said looking up at Faith with a smile, as they continued home.

Once they walked through the door, they put away the leftovers and everyone went upstairs to bathe and change clothes. Grey, who had apparently slept the entire time they were gone, ran around chasing the tail of Faith’s towel, as she giggled and dragged it down the hallway.

As the sun began to set, and the air cooled a little, they brought their meal of leftovers out onto the porch. Mulder, at Scully’s suggestion, had gone out to the garage earlier to find the small table and chairs they had set up years ago. Finding them, he had rinsed them and left them to dry in the grass before bringing them onto the porch.

“I think my favorite meal we ever ate out here, was the night among the snow aliens,” he said, as he set the food down and Scully smiled.

“It was freezing out.”

“I’d rather have that than this oppressive heat. Phew, it’s hot.”

“But, we’re in the shade and might possibly hear and see some fireworks. All without leaving our home. Can’t get much better than that,” she said with a shrug.

“Plus, we have non-taint flavored Jell-O for dessert.” He waggled his eyebrows and she laughed with a nod.

They sat down and began to eat the pasta salad and ham, with a side of apples and strawberries for Faith. She toddled around with Bella, accepting bites offered to her when she came near, an outside dinner not as structured as an inside one.

“This was a good idea,” Mulder said, and Scully looked at him with a smile.

“Of course it was a good idea. It was mine after all.” He laughed and nodded, giving Faith a small piece of ham before she walked over to the porch swing and touched it gently.

“Yes. You’re a genius, Miss Scully,” he teased and she nodded as she popped a cherry tomato into her mouth.

“No sugar, Sherlock,” she said with a smirk and he laughed and nodded as the first firework was heard.

“Oh!” Faith gasped, turning around and looking at them. “Oh.” She walked over and tried to get into Scully’s lap. She lifted her and sat her down, looking in the direction of the sound of the firework.

Another went off and she gasped again. This time they could see it, but just barely. A flash of green across the evening sky.

“Oh!” she said, as another went shooting up, clapping her hands excitedly.

Scully smiled as she laid her cheek against the top of Faith’s head, her eyes on Mulder. He smiled as he reached across the table for her hand and she grasped it, squeezing gently.

Lifting her head, she took a deep breath as she watched the multicolored sky and listened to the booming echoes they created. Faith leaned her head back against her chest and Scully closed her eyes, as thoughts of past Fourth of July’s filled her mind.

The happy shouts in the air, her mother’s laughter, her father’s warnings to be careful, her first sip of beer when she was thirteen and the way the yeasty taste made her feel warm, writing her name in the air with a sparkler, and the sound of neighborhoods full of fireworks going off simultaneously.

Opening her eyes, she smiled and squeezed Mulder’s hand again. He laced their fingers together and brought her hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

“Next year we’re getting sparklers,” she told him, as another firework boomed and Faith squealed with excitement.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed with a smile, squeezing her hand as they looked out across the yard and watched the evening sky light up with a rainbow of colors.

[alj4890]

Christmas Prompt

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) with a request to see them go from friends to lovers during a holiday as requested by Anonymous

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) A Red Carpet Diaries Fan Fiction

A/N This idea hit a while back when I saw a prompt for two friends secretly in love deciding to spend Christmas dinner together when plans with family and friends fall through. Seemed perfect for nonnie’s request, LOL.

Song Inspiration: The More I See You

@lxaah11​​ @alleksa16​​ @penguininapinktuxedo​​ @blackcoffee85​​ @stopforamoment​ @hopefulmoonobject​​  @krsnlove​   @annekebbphotography​  @cora-nova​ @bella-ca​ @hopelessromantic1352​. @sunflowergirl05​ @desiree-0816​ @greywitchyshots​ @lilyofchoices​ @moodyvalentinestories​ @emceesynonymroll​ @dr-nancy-house​ @aworldoffandoms​ @ab1901​ @pixieferry​  @lolablackwrites​  @flyawayboo​ @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​. @trappedinfandoms​

Masterlist

The More I See You

It came as no surprise to any of Amanda's friends that she instantly clicked with Thomas when they were first introduced. Once his friends got to know her, they knew why the two could easily spend hours talking. Their shared love for films and the history of cinema had forged a bond that became a close friendship.

What did surprise everyone was that the two had yet to cross over that friendship boundary into romance. It seemed obvious to even the average observer that there was bound to be something more heartfelt involved between the pair.

Perhaps it was because when the two initially met they had *ahem* dates for the party they were attending. These dates were individuals the two had been seeing for a short time or so. As time went on, their friendship grew stronger regardless of distance. Late night phone calls occurred every few days and visits were taken and planned.

Within the past year, Thomas and Amanda went through a number of dates and brief relationships with different people. It baffled those closest to them. The only reason they could think of on why the two had not tried to get together was because of both not being single at the same time.

As autumn was creeping into winter, the two were finally both without a significant other. They also seemed to be too stubborn to realize their feelings. Fate stepped in at the appropriate moment to finally give a needed nudge toward romance.

Christmas and New Year's plans were being made. Amanda's lack of living relatives had her usually spending the holidays with her closest friends in Corodnia. This particular year, each had married. They intended to spend their first Christmas as husband and wife either alone, like Drake and Olivia, or with in-laws, like Maxwell and Nadia.

Thomas was in a similar situation. His sister Rachel was going to Toronto to be with her new husband, Steve, and his family. There were even talks of possibly moving up there. He encouraged her not to worry about his being alone. He had close friends in Hollywood. They of course had plans with their loved ones. Like Amanda, he would actually be alone this holiday season.

Well, this certainly will not do. Tis the season to not be on one's own. It seems the right time for a phone call or two.

_______________

3 weeks before Christmas…

“No, you should go and be with Steve’s family.” Thomas continued to pack his lecture notes while talking to his sister on speakerphone. “Don’t worry about me. I have plenty to keep me occupied”

“Christmas is not about work, Thomas.” Rachel muttered. “I don’t want you spending it alone.”

“I believe you forget that there are some people out there that would be willing to invite me to spend the holidays with them.” He searched his desk drawers for the film history books he had used this semester.

Rachel sighed. “I know but I want you to spend it with someone you actually enjoy being around. I don’t like you being single during Christmas and New Year’s.”

“I am personally fine with it.” He rolled his eyes at her speech about how wonderful love was at Christmas. Since she had married Steve, her conversations could be used as a source for numerous Hallmark movies. “Rachel, I am free of worrying over purchasing a gift that is not romantic enough or accidentally hints at a stronger feeling than I have.”

“Well, if shopping is what is keeping you from someone, then–”

“How did the topic of you going to Toronto for the holidays turn into my relationship status?” He interrupted, glaring down at his phone.

“Sorry.” She replied a bit sheepishly. “I only want my brother to be as happy as I am.” She was quiet for a couple of beats. “Steve has a single cousin. Maybe you could drop in for New Year’s and–”

“Yes, because casually dropping into Toronto is feasible.” Thomas slipped his blazer on and picked his satchel up. “Thank you for your concern, but there is no need for it. Enjoy your time there. I will call you soon.”

Rachel sighed at the lost battle. “As long as you’re sure, then I will try not to worry about you.”

Thomas said goodbye and left his office. He passed faculty and students excitedly rushing about while talking of travel and holiday plans. He frowned as he thought of who he would spend the season with.

“Who do I know without family?” He mumbled while getting into his car.

The next day in Cordonia…

“Your grace, I do not like the idea of you being on your own here.” Hudson stood before Amanda in her study.

“I appreciate that.” Amanda glanced up from the estate’s annual figures. “But I insist that all those who work here spend the rest of the month with loved ones. I will be fine.”

“Yes, but is anyone coming here for Christmas?” He persisted.

“No.” She smiled a little too brightly. “With everyone else newly married, each couple is spending it either alone or with extended family.”

Hudson frowned even more. “My lady, you could arrange a marriage with one of the lords and–”

Her smile disappeared. “Hudson! I am not quite that desperate for company during Christmas.”

“Then I will remain here.” He decided.

“You will not.” Amanda snapped. “You will go to Edinburgh and be with your family. If I have to drive you to the airport tied up, then I will do so and put you on the plane myself.”

He bowed his head as his stoic expression held a hint of a smile. “Very well, your grace. If that is all, then I will leave you.”

She relaxed back in her chair. “Thank you Hudson. And I wish you and your loved ones a very Merry Christmas.” She handed him a red envelope and softly smiled when his jaw dropped at the amount of his Christmas bonus.

“Lady Amanda! This must be a mistake. I–”

“Have served House Bridgerton loyally for nearly thirty years. You more than deserve it for all you do.” She picked up her pen and continued balancing the accounts. “I will see you next year.”

He bowed formally before walking out the door. “Merry Christmas, Lady Amanda.”

Her smile fell as soon as the door shut. She propped her chin on her hand and thought of the next few weeks on her own. “Maybe I should go out of town. Then it won’t seem so pathetic to have no one to spend the holidays with.”

She glanced at her phone vibrating and smiled. “This is a nice surprise. How is my favorite director?”

Thomas smiled at hearing her voice. “I am well, and you?”

“I am too.” She glanced at her mantle and saw that it was noon. “Thomas? Why are you still awake at three in the morning?”

He felt heat traveling up his neck. He couldn’t very well tell her he had fallen asleep earlier and had been awakened by a very vivid dream about her. “I was…watching a movie and thought of you. I decided to call once I thought how long it has been since we last talked.”

She laughed warmly. “Yes, three days is a dreadfully long time.” She pushed away from her desk and curled up on the worn leather couch in her study. “Yesterday was your last class for the semester. Are you excited about your long holiday off?”

“Somewhat.” He stared outside his window at the darkness. “I haven’t any definite plans yet for Christmas or New Year’s.”

“Neither do I. Everyone else I know has plans.” She let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I gave the servants the rest of the month off and am wondering if I shouldn’t take a trip somewhere. Seems silly to be in this large house all by myself.”

Thomas perked up at her words. “You could come here if you like.”

She laughed some more. “Thank you but I don’t want to impose with your time with family.”

“I’ll be alone this year. Rachel is traveling with Steve to be with his family.” He paced about his bedroom. “If you and I are going to be alone, then there is no reason we couldn’t spend Christmas and New Year’s together.”

“I would love to!” Amanda exclaimed. “It has been much too long since I last saw you. Thank you for inviting me.”

He smiled at her excitement. “I look forward to seeing you again. How soon do you think you could be ready to leave?”

She thought about it for a moment. “I could probably leave in a few hours.”

“Perfect.” He replied.

“Thomas, I was teasing!’ She shook her head at the thought. Granted with how she felt about him, she would catch the red eye tonight if he said he needed to see her even sooner. "I only meant that I am free any day you wish for me to come.”

“Then I want you to come as soon as possible.” He decided to tempt her into hurrying. “I haven’t had a chance to put my tree up or any decorations–”

“What?!” Her eyes were wide.

“I have been busy and could use some help.” He admitted.

“I will be there tomorrow night.” She decided.

_______________

A few days later...

"Thomas I adore you," Amanda began with her hands on her hips, "but this will not do at all."

His lips firmed while looking around. "This is what I do every year."

"And now we all know why you persist in keeping that frown on your face." She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the garage. "Get your keys. We are going out to purchase real Christmas decorations."

"And here I've been keeping a box filled with fake ornaments and lights." He muttered, fighting to keep the smile off his face at her exclaiming over his need for more lights and tinsel.

_____________

Later that night...

"Go ahead. You can say it." She nudged him with her elbow.

He turned slowly around and looked at his living room and stairs. Even his kitchen glowed with the lights off from whatever she had placed in there.

"It looks very festive."

She laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist. He returned her hug while she thanked him for letting her do this. "I know it looks like Santa's workshop exploded in here--"

"That is saying it lightly." He teased.

She wagged a finger in warning while remaining in his arms. "Careful, or your gifts will be exchanged for lumps of coal."

He stilled. "Gifts?"

"Of course!" She told him to wait there as she ran upstairs to her room. She returned with three presents wrapped with sparkling gold bows. "You didn't truly think I would forget to get you something for Christmas."

"I know you wouldn't." He coughed and turned a little red with embarrassment. "I planned on doing my shopping tomorrow." He wondered what type of gifts she had bought him. The boxes unfortunately gave little away.

"Thomas!" She pulled him away from the tree. "You are not allowed to pick those up until Christmas Eve."

"What?" He narrowed his eyes. "I'm not a child, Amanda." He folded his arms across his chest.

"No holding, peeking, shaking, weighing--"

"Weighing?" He blinked at that one rule.

"You may thank a certain Lord Maxwell Beaumont for that added addendum along with a few other ways to figure out what a present is." She replied. "One of those could break if handled roughly."

"Break?" His lips curved somewhat. "Which one?"

She smiled at his attempt to winkle more information out of her. "One of those." She tugged him over to the loveseat to sit. Amanda leaned her head on his shoulder and admired their decorations.

He lifted his arm and curved it around her shoulders. The new decorations did add the warm feelings one would get this time of year. The soft glow of Christmas lights in the dark and Amanda close beside him added a few others to the typical mix.

She tilted her head up. "What do you really think of all this?"

He looked down at her and smiled. "I love it."

_________________

The next morning...

"Yes, Amanda arrived a few days ago." Thomas grunted in pain when a lady pushing a double stroller filled with two screaming toddlers ran over his foot. He must care for the foreign duchess more than he thought to brave shopping at The Grove during the holidays.

"You invited her?" Rachel's excited tone came through loud and clear.

"Yes." He felt like he was being herded to his doom by the crowd of people trying to go into the many shops.

"This is wonderful!" Rachel exclaimed. "Is she still single?"

"Yes." He said a bit slower.

"And you aren't interested in anyone else?"

"I'm not." He narrowed his eyes at the elderly woman beside him hitting him and the person on her other side with her cane.

"This is it." Rachel decided. This would be the visit that her brother and Amanda realized they were made for each other.

"What's it?" His frown was fierce. "Now see her madam!" Thomas growled at the elderly woman when she hit him again.

"Keep your hands to yourself!" The lady snapped.

"I assure you, that I haven't nor would ever lay a finger on your person." He snapped back. "But if you strike me once more with a cane you obviously don't need to assist your mobility, then I will break it."

She gasped in outrage while eyeing him. Whatever his facial expression revealed made her scurry away.

"Out having fun in public again?." Rachel teased. "Now tell me why you are out around people."

"I need to buy Amanda some presents." He stepped into the first shop he neared and frowned. He couldn't buy her lingerie. Thomas left before a clerk asked what he was looking for.

"Presents." Rachel stressed the s. "Anything special in mind?"

He stepped inside another one. "No. Perhaps." His eyes searched through the jewelry under the brightly lit glass cases. "I would like it to find something with a sentimental meaning behind it."

His eyes landed on an emerald and diamond pendant. The circle shape reminded him of a wreath. He then noticed an emerald and diamond tennis bracelet and decided on both pieces. The color combination would remind Amanda of her Christmas spent with him.

"Thomas!" Rachel couldn't stop smiling as he told her about what he had picked out. "What a perfect way to remember your first Christmas together."

"I think so." He paused at her wording. "Rachel--"

"Don't deny you like her." Her tone was firm.

"Of course I like her!" He apologized when he bumped into a man.

"But you aren’t attracted to her?" Rachel asked. "I know some people don't care for brunettes, which you have dated a number of red heads and blondes. I can see how you wouldn't think Amanda is pretty."

"I think she is very attractive." He responded quickly. He silently cursed at admitting it to his sister.

"She does tend to laugh more than others." Rachel pointed out. "Does she ever take anything seriously? Is she able to talk about a subject without turning it into a joke?"

"Her ability to find the humor in life does not mean she is unable to carry on an intelligent conversation! And yes, we have had a number of serious conversations during our friendship." He shook his head at her assumptions.

Rachel bounced on her bed in trying to contain her glee. She cleared her throat. "So let me see if I understand. You bought a very expensive gift for a woman you invited to spend the holidays with. One who you find attractive both physically and personality wise, right?"

Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose. He had to get off the phone. "I might lose you. Getting into an eleva--" he hit end call and shoved it in his pocket.

He couldn't escape the question Rachel's observations brought to mind.

Why wasn't he asking her out on a date?

_____________

That same day and time...

Merry almost Christmas from cold ⛄ New York! Maxwell texted.

Amanda grinned and sent a picture of Thomas's stunning backyard and pool with her reply. Merry almost Christmas from 🌴Los Angeles!

Her phone rang.

“What are you doing in L.A.?!?” Maxwell exclaimed when she answered.

“Thomas invited me to spend the holidays with him.” She explained.

“Oh he did?” Maxwell said in a suggestive tone.

“Not like that!” Amanda quickly corrected. 

“Yeah, because men always invite women they are friends with to spend weeks in their home.” he muttered.

“We are friends! Just friends.” She said firmly.

“I can see that.” Maxwell mused. “You have never gone for the intelligent, tall, dark, and handsome men.”

Amanda’s jaw dropped. “I--he--Max!”

He grinned at making her realize she could no longer deny it. “Yep. That's what I thought. Talk to ya soon. I expect pictures of you two under the mistletoe.” He ended the call with a laugh.

"Oh no." Amanda lowered her head into her hands. "Thomas is exactly my type."

____________

A week before Christmas...

Thomas brought in a box that had been delivered. He cut it open and lifted a smaller box out. A card addressed to both him and Amanda was written in his sister's handwriting.

"Amanda!" He called out from the kitchen.

"Yes?" She came downstairs with a bright smile.

He smiled back and nervously gestured to the package. "Rachel has sent us something."

"Us?" Amanda sat down on a barstool. She peered into the box only to see an even smaller one. "That was sweet. What does the card say?"

His brow was furrowed. "You both are to use this together and often during the holidays." He suddenly felt leery about opening the gift.

"Shall we?" Amanda asked.

He lifted it out and frowned. "It feels empty." Thomas passed it to her.

"Hmm." Amanda untied the green bow and took the lid off. Her cheeks turned redder than the wrapping paper.

"What is it?" Thomas asked.

Amanda kept her eyes down and lifted a sprig of mistletoe out from the tissue paper. She cleared her throat and looked up at him. The tips of his ears were bright red. "Where shall we hang this?" She asked then wondered at her own boldness.

His eyes met hers. "The entryway?"

She nodded. "Sounds perfect."

____________

Christmas Eve night...

“We are not opening everything tonight.” Thomas stated in a firm tone.

“It is technically Christmas Day in Cordonia right now.” Amanda argued.

“Yes but it isn’t here.” He countered while trying not to smile at her sigh of defeat.

“We really are only going to open one gift?” She asked.

Thomas poured her a glass of the Christmas wassail she had cooked earlier. His home had never smelled as good as it had the past few weeks. With this spiced drink and the different Christmas treats she had baked each day, he wished he could bottle the smell up for the rest of the year.

He sipped and briefly closed his eyes in pleasure. The fire was crackling nearby. Classic Christmas carols played softly in the background as the pair enjoyed the peaceful ambiance of the room aglow with the lights along the mantle and tree.

This entire visit had been one of pure enjoyment. They had spent time talking, going out for holiday happenings, and had quite a few nights in with nothing but a movie. He didn't want it to end.

“Only one.” He told her.

“I can’t believe I am spending the holidays with such a mean person.” She teased.

He gave her his most disapproving look that made many of his students and quite a number of actors tremble with fear. He should have known it wouldn’t work on her. She laughed and held out the plate of cookies to him. “For that performance, you deserve one.”

He chuckled and picked one. “This might be my favorite award to date.”

She got up and knelt down by the tree. “Do I get to pick out my present or are you doing so?”

“I am.” He smiled at the playful glare she sent over her shoulder. 

“Very well.” She stated. “Before you do, I want you to open this one first.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “I hope it makes you feel great remorse for making me wait until Christmas morning for the rest.”

Thomas tore the paper off and opened the box. He stared down at the Patek Philippe watch. The rose gold with a brown and sapphire face had caught her eye when she had been shopping. The brown leather band set it all off perfectly. It was an elegant piece that had hidden depths of beauty in its simplicity. He carefully lifted the expensive Swiss timepiece up for a closer look. “Amanda, I--”

“Turn it over.” She reached over and turned a lamp on so he could read the engraving on the back.

He cleared his throat before reading it out loud. “To my favorite director: Time spent with you is the best part of my day. With all my heart, Amanda.” He brushed his thumb over the words and Christmas date.

She blushed at hearing it read aloud. It practically revealed how crazy she was over him. She wished now she had not had it engraved. It seemed more appropriate for a significant other to do, not a mere friend.

His silence that followed the reading unnerved her. “Can I get you another drink or something?” She gulped down her wassail and hurried into the kitchen before he could respond.

He put the watch on and got up to retrieve a gift for her to open. He realized his two were meant as a set and he couldn’t very well have her open both with nothing special left for Christmas Day. The other gift he had bought to equal what she had for him was a new leather bound journal. There was no way he could give her that unfeeling present after she had given him this watch.

She paused in the entryway when she saw him crouched before the tree, trying to decide. “Have you forgotten what is wrapped in each one?” She teased.

He looked up at her and shook his head. “No. Just debating on what to give you for tonight.”

“Does this mean you like my present?” She asked.

“Very much so.” He replied while standing up. “It is a beautiful watch and one that I will cherish forever.”

“I thought of you immediately when I saw it.” She confessed. “I was out shopping for something to give to...”Amanda trailed off when he moved directly in front of her. “What is it?”

He set his hands on her waist and pulled her close. “You're standing under the mistletoe.” 

She looked up at the little white berried plant and then back at him. “Oh.” Her hands moved up his arms to join behind his neck. “It is a holiday tradition.”

“Yes it is.” He lowered his head.

“One that I believe should always be honored.” She murmured as her eyes closed.

“I agree.” He replied right as his lips touched hers.

The tentative kiss slowly grew more active as their lip met again and again. They paused and looked at each other in surprise.

"Amanda--"

"Thomas--"

They pulled the other close while they shared another heated kiss.

"We should have done this a long time ago." Amanda whispered when his lips brushed her cheek.

"Yes, we should have." He softly kissed her lips again. He stepped back and picked up one of her presents. "For you."

Her excited smile popped up while she quickly unwrapped it. Her eyes widened for a moment at the flat, black velvet box. She cracked it open.

"Thomas! You shouldn't have--"

He lifted the necklace and moved behind her. He draped it around her neck as she brushed her hair out of the way. He finished closing the clasp and watched her walk back into the entryway to see it in the hall mirror.

"It's beautiful!" She called out to him.

"It reminded me of a Christmas wreath. I hope that whenever you wear it you think of how happy I am you came here to spend the holidays with me." He explained once he was close behind her again.

She met his gaze in the mirror. "I know I will always think back to how happy I have been with you."

Thomas slipped his arms around her from behind to hug her close to his chest. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Merry Christmas, Amanda."

She turned her head to meet his lips in a longer kiss. "Merry Christmas, Thomas."

_______________

New Year's Eve...

"Would you care to dance?" Amanda asked with a flirty smile.

"With you? Of course." Thomas got up and set his drink down. He followed her out onto the crowded dance floor then wrapped his arms around her as they swayed to the slow song.

Marcus's party had been one that no one seemed to have forgotten about. The ballroom of the Beverly Wilshire was packed with people dancing, eating, and gathered in groups talking.

Thomas smiled softly at his Christmas gifts displayed on Amanda and the emerald green cocktail dress she had purposely chosen to wear to make them more noticeable. He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her lips. "Any plans for the New Year?" He asked.

"A few." She replied. "There is this special someone that I hope I will be seeing a great deal of."

"I see that we share similar plans." He pulled her closer so that he could whisper in her ear. "I will be traveling often along with inviting company to my home."

"Really?" A sentimental smile appeared on her lips. "Is it for someone or for work?"

"Someone." He pressed another kiss to her neck, grateful she had worn her hair up in a bun.

"I suppose I should leave on the first flight out tomorrow." She teased. "I don't want to keep you from being with your special someone."

He caused a surprised laugh to escape her lips when he growled against her neck. "I intend on making it where you have no desire to leave."

Amanda's fingers slid into the hair at the nape of his neck, bringing him closer for a kiss. Thomas kept one arm locked around her waist while his other hand cupped her cheek.

"I know we are supposed to wait until midnight for this." She mumbled against his mouth

He tilted his head to deepen the kiss not caring in the least who noticed them. "I prefer to begin the new year with the same action I was doing before the old ended."

She leaned back and slowly smiled. "You do?"

He nodded, checking the time. "We have about an hour until the clock strikes twelve."

Amanda bit down on her bottom lip. "Marcus did book that room upstairs for you and your date. No long drive home tonight."

Thomas's lips curved. "It's there not being used."

"Seems like the perfect place to ring in the new year with the only one I want to be with." She added with a blush forming.

"The only one." He murmured. His lips moved over hers tenderly, drawing a slight moan from her for the sweetness of the kiss.

Thomas smiled down at his Amanda's bemused state before leading her out of the ballroom. He held her close in the elevator as the floor numbers beeped, trying to find the words of what he hoped for their future. "I want to end the year as I intend to go from now on: having you in my arms."

[caffeinated-mendes]

word count: 1.6k

synopsis: what i think the perfect day with shawn would be, filled with the gentle sun and his gorgeous eyes. also, italy!! forgive the italian, i don’t speak it and i used translate so i’m so sorry if something is grammatically incorrect! (written intentionally in lowercase aesthetic)

warnings: not explicit shower w/ shawn, just some good fluff

italy was stunning when you woke up. sitting up on the headboard and looking through the beautiful skies with not a single cloud in sight made your stomach drop. you admired the green hills and the lush forests with the tiny houses overlooking a mesmerizing city. it was almost as mesmerizing as the view right next you in the soft sheets. your boyfriend, shawn, lay comfortably asleep on his stomach, his head nowhere near the pillow. his bare skin was sunkissed and he looked like the only thing you could ever set your eyes on. shifting in his sleep, he reached for you and you let him rest his head in your lap, playing with his soft hair. “g’morning, honey,” he said in his deep morning voice you loved.

you smiled to yourself, rubbing his scalp, “morning. sleep well?” he nodded without saying anything else and tried to get closer to you, nudging his head into your stomach. “what do you wanna do on your day off, bear?” your nickname for him made you feel warm inside. it reminded you of old memories.

“‘dunno, spend time with you. what were you thinking?” he had his eyes open at this point, and you stared into them, captivated.

you shrugged, “get gelato, go do touristy things.”

“okay. you’ve got a deal.” you smiled in content at him. “we should shower.” the we was enunciated in a particular manner. nevertheless, you agreed and in a few minutes strode across the luxurious suite, getting in the shower first. as the water heated up, you hummed to yourself one of his songs. it was your favorite, partly because you think it was written about you. when you first met shawn, you were quite the dramatic girl. the shower door opened and in stepped shawn. he kissed you and you moved out of the way for him to get his hair wet. “i love when you sing.” he smiled.

“yeah?” you replied, putting shampoo in his hair.

he grinned, “mmh hmm.”

“sing it with me, then.” you told him, and you started. “it’s hard to believe you don’t remember me at all.”

shawn sang the next line, “am i hard to recognise?”

“you say ‘nice to meet you’ every time.” your voice sounded through the pounding water.

he grinned ear to ear, “i made you laugh,” he pecked you quickly, “i still remember what i said.” you sang for so long in the shower together that it was nearly midday when you finished. rummaging through your suitcase, you found a pair of jean shorts and flowy tank top to wear. brushing your hair quickly, you called from the bathroom for shawn.

“love, you ready?”

shawn appeared in the bathroom, a little hum in response as he sprayed his cologne on. you couldn’t help but admire him as he hastily got his stuff together, his muscles showing through his crewneck, curly hair styled but that one curl falling out in the front anyway. in nearly fifteen minutes you two were walking into the town. it wasn’t that populated, so shawn didn’t get noticed as much as he normally did.

your first stop was a cafe which seemed like it stood there for decades. the brick that had been cemented to the front of it was worn by the weather, but the sign above the open doorframe looked brand new. in front of the cafe were outdoor tables, little umbrellas rested over them with metal chairs.

you and shawn ordered your drinks, the menu not making sense to you or him, but luckily someone spoke english and translated for you. shawn grasped you hand across the table as you put your bag down, settling in the warm weather. “we can go walk around after this, or get that gelato you’ve been dying to try.” his eyes smiled with him, and you caught yourself gazing at his enthralling brownish-green orbs.

“mmh,” you nodded your head, “i want to try stracciatella.”

shawn quirked his eyebrows, “how’d you know what that was?”

“it was from a book i read.”

“it’s always from a book you read.”

the coffee was delicious. you had never tasted anything better, knowing that when you got back to canada, nothing would compare. even the froth on the top tasted heavenly. shawn’s coffee had a smell of cinnamon and nutmeg and he completely inhaled it, just as you did yours.

“y/n?” shawn asked.

“yes?” you replied.

shawn gripped your hand as you made your way past shops and near the pier. you watched the tiny sailboats float across the water of the lake. “are you having fun?”

you grinned ear to ear, “shawn, i always have fun with you. thank you for today. it’s been amazing so far.”

he rubbed circles on the back of your hand, “i’m glad. i want to go and see if they have any music stores here, is that okay with you?”

“of course.” you answered. looking at the nearest map and searching up a translation, you both luckily found out that there was one just five minutes from where you were. rounding some corners and passing by people walking along the pavement, you entered a shop that was beautifully decorated with guitars hanging across the walls.

the man at the front desk greeted you, “ciao! come posso aiutarvi?” he looked quite kind, a dirtied apron on and under-construction guitars behind him.

only comprehending hello, you asked one of the only italian phrases you knew, “parli inglese?” shawn smiled at him, one arm hooked around your waist.

the man grinned, putting his pencil on his ear, “yes, yes, please come in. what can i help you with?” his accent was thin, but it sounded very articulate and his grammar was perfect.

“i’m just looking to play some guitars. could i look around?” shawn asked.

“of course! pick whichever you like, and if you have any questions, i’ll be here.”

you nodded, “thank you.”

he returned the nicety as you felt shawn let go and start roaming around. he was in his own little world as he observed the perfectly carved guitars, taking one the shade of chocolate and carefully plucking the strings. you could tell it was perfectly in tune. you had been around shawn enough to develop a quite good pitch of your own.

“these are beautiful.” you complimented the man at the front.

he grinned at his work, “thank you. my father taught me how to make them.”

“he taught you well.” you saw his eyes crinkle in delight. shawn was lightly strumming chords into the guitar, unaware of your conversation. realizing you were speaking, he turned on his stool to the man as well.

“i’d love to get one, but we’ll have to come back later. what time do you close?” you lounged back on one on the chairs at the edge of the room.

the man took a pen from his container, scribbling something down, “eight. i live a ways from here, i’ve got to get home to my kids.”

“okay, we’ll be here at seven.” shawn looked at you to make sure you were okay with it. you nodded in approval.

as you left hand in hand, the man told shawn, “you keep that bella.”  you seemed to understand the man and it made you turn red as shawn thanked him. you left the store even happier than you were before.

as shawn promised, he got you stracciatella. it was heavenly. the chocolate was so perfectly rich and the hazelnut was tastefully balanced in it. you sat on a bench with him, overlooking the shoreline. little kids ran up it, screaming a mix of what sounded like gibberish and italian. he had your arm around you as the wind blew your hair back, tickling your neck. as you stared off into space, all shawn could look at was you. you were so beautiful and every time he’d lay his eyes on you, it knocked him off of his feet. he loved you for such a long time, longer than you loved him. that song had been about you.

“i love you.” he said.

you looked at him, eyes boring into yours. you took your hand and stroked his cheek, watching his blushed face, “i love you, too.”

“i feel like i have to say this since we’re in italy,” he replied, “but being here with you has been the most perfect day. and spending time with you brings me so much happiness that i’ve never felt so happy in my entire life. so when i say i love you, i am in love with you, and always will be.”

you couldn’t breathe for a moment. the scene was so perfect, his hand on both sides of your head, and the town behind you, minding their own business like you were never there. they could all be gone and you wouldn’t notice. he kissed you, and you kissed back as he moved his hands to your waist, you could taste the coffee on his lips. after you separated, all he did was admire you as you laid your head on his shoulder.

you felt the exact same way, and that’s when you knew that you’d love him forever, too.

[lets-talk-appella]

Anywhere Else

Summary: The first time Chloe ever touched her was at Hood Night. It was nothing, but it was the start of everything.

Word Count: 4.5k

Rating: T for dark themes, warning for character death.

AO3 and FFN

Beca opens her eyes to a soft but persistent tapping on her bedroom door.

She blinks several times, attempting to alleviate the gritty feeling. She hadn’t been sleeping, just dozing on the edge of consciousness.

It’s almost noon. It must be, or no one would be bothering her.

She doesn’t want to get up. The invisible weight on her chest pins her to the mattress.

The knocking hasn’t stopped.

She vaguely wonders if it’s Amy, seeking permission into the room they share, or if it’s Emily this time, or maybe Stacie; they’ve all been taking it in turns.

Finally, the knocking stops.

Beca sighs in relief and lets her eyes slide closed again, only for the door to squeak open and light footsteps to sound on the stairs. Reluctantly, Beca forces her eyes open to see Aubrey peeking hesitantly over the railing.

“Beca?” she says softly.

Beca grunts.

Aubrey seems to gather herself, maybe letting her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. After a second, she walks hesitantly into the room, avoiding the piles of clothing, CDs, and broken mixing equipment Beca had shoved off her desk and to the floor.

“We gotta go. It’s time.”

“Fuck off,” Beca groans, her voice full of gravel.

Aubrey flinches. “Beca…”

Beca swears again and rolls over, putting her back to Aubrey. She’s hollow inside, though her gut still manages to twist with nausea.

“You don’t have to go,” Aubrey murmurs. “But I think… I think you’d really regret –”

Beca sighs loudly, squeezing her eyes closed. “I don’t want to.”

“I know. I don’t want to go, either.”

Beca can’t answer. She only curls into a tighter ball, tugging the sheets further up and over her face.

“Seriously?” Aubrey snorts mirthlessly. “Damn it, Beca, do you think this is easy for me? Do you think you’re the only one here who’s gonna miss –”

Aubrey cuts herself off with a strangled choking noise, and Beca wonders if she’s about to be sick. It wouldn’t be the first time this week.

After a moment, though, she hears Aubrey taking several deep breaths. Quiet footsteps shuffle forward, and Beca realizes that Aubrey’s moving closer; she senses Aubrey’s hand reaching out to her, trying to touch her.

“Can I –”

“Don’t!” Beca spits, pulling away. “I can get up.”

Aubrey recoils, withdrawing her outstretched hand as if Beca had stung her. “Okay! I’ll… wait. Um, downstairs.”

Beca grunts her acknowledgment, not caring what Aubrey does, as long as she gets away from her.

With several backward glances, as if she doesn’t trust Beca to get up and get dressed, Aubrey retreats down the stairs. She hesitates at the bottom and looks back. “You – you should shower first.”

“I –”

Aubrey leaves before Beca can answer. She leaves the door open behind her, probably knowing that if she closes it, Beca’s not likely to come down.

Beca stares at the ceiling, counting the sharp throbs in her chest that appear in time with her heartbeat.

After several minutes, she hauls herself upright, rubbing her burning eyes.

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

The first time Chloe ever touched her was at Hood Night.

She’d gone up to Beca and grabbed her hands and pulled her so close that Beca thought she was going to be kissed. She wasn’t kissed, though – it had just been a friendly, platonic handhold and some confusing close talking.

It was nothing.

It was the start of everything.

Beca just didn’t know it until later.

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

Twenty-five minutes later, Beca stumbles downstairs from the second-floor landing, every step taking much more effort than it should. The shower had helped, but not much. She hears the soft murmur of the Bellas downstairs waiting for her, and she grimaces. When she’s about halfway down the stairs and can see the others waiting for her in the kitchen, a hush falls over the house.

Nine pairs of eyes swivel in her direction. It hits her anew that her favorite ones are missing. Will always be missing.

Beca drags a shuddering breath into her lungs, looking away from the others to instead stare downward until she reaches the main floor. Chloe had never worn black, and now everyone in the house is in some form of black dress. It makes sense, Beca thinks dully. Chloe had been the light in the house, and now that she’s gone, she’s left them in darkness.

“Hey, Beca, how’s it going?” Cynthia Rose asks softly when Beca joins their group.

Beca looks around, taking in Stacie’s box of Kleenex, Emily’s bloodshot eyes, and Jessica’s already-smeared mascara. She’s lost, uncertain where she should stand or who she should stand by and settles for staying in place. She hates the way everyone is looking at her, as if waiting for her to break down at any second. She swallows hard, fending off the waves of sympathy she feels crashing over her.

Beca shrugs in response to Cynthia Rose’s question. “I’m here,” she says, her voice sounding strangely clogged to her own hears, as if she has a bad head cold.

Amy stares at her with wide eyes, then looks away when Beca glances at her. Flo clears her throat and shifts her weight. Ashley cries silently while Stacie hands her tissues and pats her back.

Beca, bizarrely, wants to laugh; the Bellas are lost, and she’s not about to lead them anywhere.

Aubrey seems to realize the same thing. “Okay, then,” she says brusquely, her loud voice driving a spike into Beca’s forehead. “Let’s go.”

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

Chloe’s hips should be made illegal.

At least, that’s what Beca thought as Chloe rolled them into her in time with the pounding bass. It was crowded at the Treble house, and maybe they didn’t exactly need to dance that closely, but Beca was more than a little tipsy and Chloe was a force of nature.

“Happy senior year!” Chloe yelled into her ear, her lips accidentally brushing Beca’s cheek as they danced.

“Thanks!” Beca said back. “You too! You’re gonna graduate, right?”

Chloe replied right as a huge cheer went up around them; Stacie had leapt onto a table to dance, and the subsequent audience approval drowned out Chloe’s words. Beca thought she might have said, “Yeah, because you are,” but she wasn’t sure.

“What?” she asked, leaning in closer, Chloe’s body pressed fully against hers.

“I said yeah, it’s time!”

“Okay!” Beca cried back, only for the volume of the music to rise still further, making conversation impossible. Instead, she focused on the feel of Chloe’s hips rotating and swiveling under her hands and the feel of Chloe’s quick breaths on her neck.

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

In the car, Beca has to sit in the passenger’s seat because she feels so sick.

She also really, really doesn’t want to sit in the crowded backseat, where someone would inevitably be pressed into her side.

She’s riding with Aubrey, along with Emily, Stacie, and Amy in the backseat. It’s silent; as soon as Aubrey had started the car, “I Saw the Sign” had come on the radio and Aubrey had just about ripped out the stereo in order to get the music to stop.

Beca stares out the window without seeing. It’s a beautiful spring day: warm, sunny, with pristine blue skies. It annoys Beca that it’s so nice outside.

The color of the sky will never match Chloe’s eyes.

White hot panic rips through Beca’s stomach; memories fade, and photos never quite capture enough… one day, she might wake up having forgotten that exact shade of blue. Or the sound of Chloe’s singing voice. With another sharp blow to the stomach, Beca frantically tries to remember the precise sound of “Titanium” reverberating off the shower walls. Had she taken the upper octave or had Chloe? Had they switched partway through?

A lump or something forms in Beca’s throat, and it won’t disappear no matter how hard she swallows.

I should have recorded her singing, Beca thinks. Just her singing. I should have taken more pictures. I should have told her the truth. I should have said yes. I should have…

Beca blinks rapidly, shoving back the sting in her eyes. She purses her lips and clenches her jaw and stares hard at the sky, refusing to make a single sound, though it threatens to burst out of her in a howl of anguish.

She feels Aubrey’s eyes on her, and purposely shifts away, hunching in on herself.

In the backseat, Emily and Amy hold hands while Emily sniffles loudly.

At the sound of Emily’s crying, Beca has to ball her hands into fists and bite back her annoyance. The next instant, though, she exhales in a puff and looks down; Emily has every right to be sad. She hadn’t known Chloe long, but she’d still known Chloe. Emily is allowed to be sad, too. They all are.

Beca’s mouth twists, her lips turning down harshly.

“It’s a nice day for it,” Amy manages, looking out the window.

“Yeah, it… yeah,” Stacie sighs.

Emily sniffles again.

Beca barely hears them. It should be raining, and they all know it.

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

Beca was drunk.

It was entirely Chloe’s fault, too. Hers and Stacie’s; they both knew exactly what tequila did to Beca, and, naturally, decided to buy her shot after shot of the stuff for her birthday. She’d lost count after the fourth one. She’d lost most of her memories after the fourth one, actually.

She wasn’t completely sure how she’d ended up in Chloe’s bed.

She vaguely recalled stumbling up the stairs, maybe bouncing off a wall or a door frame before entering Chloe’s room. She remembered an amused “You’re lucky it’s your birthday,” and she thought she might have borrowed some pajamas from Chloe, but she didn’t remember ever making the decision to actually climb into the bed until she was lying there in the dark with Chloe next to her.

It wasn’t the first time they’d done this after a party. She tried not to think about why she always went with Chloe instead of Jesse.

“Can I be the big spoon?” Chloe’s voice sounded from the darkness, only slightly slurred.

“You’re always the big spoon,” Beca groaned, purposely overdramatic, because she knew it would make Chloe smile.

“Nuh uh,” Chloe laughed. “Last time you were.”

“Mmpf.”

The bed dipped as Chloe shifted, her warm weight pressing into Beca’s side. “Come on, Bec,” she whispered, her lips tickling Beca’s ear and making a shiver run down her spine. “You know you like being the little spoon, and especially on your birthday.”

Beca fought the smile trying to break over her face. “Whatever.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

Beca lost the battle; smiling into the darkness, she rolled to her side, her back to Chloe as she scooted to the center of the bed.

With a happy hum, Chloe moved in close behind her. As always, Beca’s stomach fluttered slightly when Chloe tucked her knees and hips flush with hers, wrapping her arm around Beca’s waist. Chloe exhaled in contentment, the soft puff of her breath stirring the fine hairs on the back of Beca’s neck.

“Feels nice,” Beca breathed, letting her eyes slide closed.

“Told you so,” Chloe murmured, her fingers making absent swirls on Beca’s stomach, over her shirt. It tickled a little, but Beca didn’t mind. She tried leaning back further into Chloe, only to find her unusually stiff.

Beca frowned and cracked open an eye. “What’s up, dude?”

“Hm?”

“You’re… I don’t know. Tense.”

The fingers on Beca’s stomach stopped moving. The air between them went still; Beca thought Chloe might have stopped breathing.

She started to twist around. “Ch–”

“Bec…” Chloe began softly, cutting Beca off and stopping her from rolling over. “Do you wonder… I mean, if, you know… we…”

Beca froze, suddenly uneasy.

“I mean, do you ever wonder about…” Chloe trailed off, her voice tapering into the quiet around them.

Beca waited, the only sound the pounding of her heart in her ears.

After a long pause, Chloe sighed and seemed to sag into the bed. “Never mind.”

“Are… um, okay,” Beca agreed slowly. It was just easier.

“Night, Bec.”

She’d never heard Chloe sound so disappointed.

“Good night, Chlo.”

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

Aubrey’s car rolls to a stop in the parking lot of the funeral home. Beca glares at the building, dread coating her insides like oil. She swallows hard and drops her gaze down to her lap. She doesn’t want to be here.

The interior of the car is silent, the air around them weighted and thick. Beca isn’t paying close enough attention to know whether the silence is awkward or not; she doesn’t care if it is. It doesn’t matter.

Beca watches the cars on the road go by, each of their occupants blissfully unaware of the gaping, Chloe-shaped black hole left in the world. She wishes she could be them. She wishes she could be someone, anyone else.

“I guess we should…” Amy suggests after a moment.

“Yeah,” Aubrey sighs.

Beca doesn’t want to get out of the car. She wants to climb behind the wheel and drive far, far away.

But no. When the others open the car doors, Beca does, too. She looks around the lot, noting that there are only a few other cars; one belonging to Chloe’s parents, Jessica’s minivan full of the rest of the Bellas, and Jesse’s familiar gray car. He’s sitting behind the wheel, clearly having been waiting for them.

Her stomach twists violently.

As soon as they make eye contact, he climbs out of the car and moves toward her and the others. Aubrey inhales sharply; Beca glances over to see her eyes narrowed and focused on Jesse. The other Bellas watch him, but don’t say anything.

Jesse moves closer, And Beca sees he’s holding a bouquet of flowers and wearing a black suit and tie. “Hi, you guys, I’m really sorry for your –”

“What are you doing here?” Beca cuts him off sharply.

He stops short, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. “I – I thought I’d come and support –”

“No, this time is for her family,” Beca says, staring at a point over his left shoulder. “And us.”

“Beca –” Stacie begins, reaching out as if to touch Beca’s shoulder.

Beca jerks away. “No, he’s not supposed to –”

“I thought I’d be here for you,” Jesse says softly, eyes wide. “I thought I might – I thought I could help,” he shrugs uncomfortably.

“I don’t want you here, okay? Wait in line like everyone else. You didn’t even like –” Beca cuts herself off with a gulp, glancing up to the sky to ease the burn in her eyes.

Jesse stares at her, stunned. Cynthia Rose mutters something from within the group of Bellas, but Beca doesn’t catch it. Aubrey shifts beside her but doesn’t say anything.

Jesse tries again and takes another step forward, reaching for her. “Beca, come on, don’t you want –”

“Stop it!” she shouts, pulling away before he can touch her. “I didn’t ask you to be here! You always do this! You always show up when you’re not wanted!”

She whirls, ignoring the stricken expression on his face as she forces herself toward the funeral home, putting one foot in front of the other. She knows she hurt him, but it’s only a minute fraction of what she feels.

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

Beca still didn’t like movies, but she loved Bella Movie Night.

She liked being with the others. Liked the popcorn Amy always made. Liked the way Stacie tended to guess the twist about ten minutes into almost every move they watched. Liked the way Cynthia Rose would crack jokes during serious points in the movies to make everyone laugh. Mostly, Beca loved the way Chloe would cuddle up close to her, often under a blanket, where no one else could see the way Chloe’s fingers toyed with hers.

One night shortly after Chloe’s half-formed question in the dark, Beca paid even less attention to the movie than usual. She found herself more focused on the feeling of Chloe’s head resting in her lap and Chloe’s fingers tapping against her knee.

It was second nature to brush her fingers through Chloe’s hair. It was soft and smooth, and by the way it made the corner of Chloe’s lips turn upward, Beca could see Chloe liked it.

It was easy.

Yes, Beca wanted to whisper to her. She wondered. She wondered all the time.

But she was still with Jesse. And wondering was scary. Wondering changed everything.

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

The inside of the funeral home is stifling. It’s cluttered with a random assortment of old-looking furniture, conveniently placed Kleenex boxes, and pin-up boards covered with pictures of Chloe. Almost as soon as they’re inside, Beca’s eyes land on a picture of Chloe as a toddler sitting at the bottom of a slide. She blinks and has to look away, her lips tightening.

“Hello, ladies, I’m afraid you might be a tad early,” a male voice calls.

Beca looks up to see a larger, tall man with a small head, glasses, and no hair walking toward them from across the room. He’s wearing a rather horrible brown suit, and she knows instantly he must be the funeral director.

“Oh, um –” Aubrey starts.

“They’re her roommates,” another male voice says, and Beca looks past the funeral director to glimpse Chloe’s dad. “We asked them to come early, as well.”

The funeral director’s eyes widen. “Oh! Um, my apologies. Please, come in,” he says, gesturing them into the main room with a wide sweep of his arm.

The Bellas shuffle forward as a group, Beca swept up along with them. She hesitates, looking at the floor, at the back of Flo’s head, anywhere but at Chloe’s parents. She casts her mind around frantically, thinking of anything else – songs she’d heard lately, her own parents, her upcoming move to LA, graduation before that, the retreat Chloe had wanted to go on, Worlds, and shit shit shit now they aren’t going to go to Worlds because how can they possibly, and the Bellas are going to be done and over and Chloe would be so heartbroken if she knew, and all Beca can ever think about is Chloe, Chloe, Chloe.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Lilly murmurs at a normal volume to Chloe’s mom.

Beca blinks, but before she can say anything, Amy steps up to Chloe’s parents. “She was a great captain.”

“And friend,” Stacie adds. Beside her, Emily nods as silent tears stream down her cheeks.

Beca can’t speak. She can barely even breathe.

“I’m… so, so sorry,” Aubrey says, talking to both of Chloe’s parents. “I can’t even imagine –”

“Yes, you can,” Chloe’s dad interrupts, voice hoarse. “She’s your loss, too.”

“I…” Aubrey pauses, eyes wide and chin trembling. Beca’s never seen her speechless before; she wants to elbow Chloe and make a joke about it, but then she remembers.

Aubrey’s face seems to crumple in on itself at the same time Chloe’s dad takes a step forward and pulls her into a hug. Her shoulders, narrow in his embrace, shake and a muffled whimpering sound fills the room.

Beca looks away but makes eye contact with the funeral director; she shifts her gaze beyond him and into a side room, where still more pictures pass in a slideshow on a TV screen. An image of the group at the Nationals Beca’s freshman year comes on-screen. Beca wants to shout out with frustration, and maybe something else.

“Um, do you girls want – uh, to see her? To say goodbye?”

Beca’s eyes flash to Chloe’s mom’s. Bile rises in her throat, and she tries to swallow, but her mouth is too dry.

“Oh, she’s – we had her cremated,” Chloe’s mom adds quickly into the silence. “There’s – it’s just an urn. You want to see?”

It’s not just an urn.

“Of course,” Ashley answers first.

No. We don’t want to see.

Ashley leads the way, followed by Jessica, then Aubrey, who wipes at her eyes.

Beca stands, frozen, until Cynthia Rose mutters in her ear. “Come on, Beca. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

Beca has to clamp down on her response; she’s not scared. Not at all.

She follows the group, careful to keep some distance between herself and everyone else. She wonders if she’s about to pass out; her head throbs she can’t get nearly enough air. She wishes she could be anywhere else.

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

“Beca, please. Say something.”

“I… what do you want me to say?”

“Anything.”

“Chlo, I…”

Beca could only stare in shock. Chloe had rarely looked this upset: her eyebrows drawn together with worry, her lower lip snared between her teeth. She played with her hands, twisting her silver ring around her thumb. Her eyes, full of fear, never left Beca’s.

“What are you thinking?” Chloe asked quietly.

“Um…” Beca took a breath, trying to gather herself. “How – how long?”

“Since the pool. ‘Just The Way You Are,’” Chloe shrugged with a sad smile.

Beca’s stomach dropped; that had been nearly three years ago. She wanted to ask why Chloe hadn’t told her sooner. It would have been so much better if she’d known sooner. But then, as Beca watched Chloe twist her ring – around and around and around – she realized Chloe had been telling her this entire time. She just hadn’t wanted to hear it.

Beca nodded, shame creeping up her neck.

“I’m really sorry.”

Her eyes snapped up to Chloe’s. Chloe took a step forward, then continued, “I never meant to – it just happened, and then I couldn’t –”

“I like you.”

Chloe stopped, gaping at Beca. “What?”

“I – I like you, too,” Beca exhaled in a whisper, feeling the truth of it settle into her chest. “Like – that.”

Chloe stared at her, expression blank. Just when Beca was about to ask if she was okay, a huge, beaming smile broke out over Chloe’s face. She didn’t jump with joy, as Beca had been expecting – instead, she almost doubled over, releasing a huge laugh of excitement.

“God, that’s – you – do you want to go out?” she asked in a torrent, standing back upright. “On a date? With me?”

Beca’s heart plummeted into her stomach. “I – Chlo, I can’t.”

Chloe blinked and shook her head, but her smile didn’t totally fade. “What? Why not? You like me back.”

“I do but – it’s not that easy.”

“What? Why not?” Chloe repeated. Her smile had faded completely by then.

“Well,” Beca huffed, lifting a hand to rub at the back of her neck. “I’m still with Jesse.”

“But –”

“I kinda like him, too,” Beca fired back, immediately regretting the sarcasm.

Chloe flinched and her brow furrowed. “I don’t – you two fight all the time,” she said slowly, as though trying to control herself. “You told me the other day you weren’t sure about moving to LA anymore with –”

“I know!” Beca cut her off loudly, then took a breath. “I know. But it – it’s not that easy.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, I –” Beca hesitated, blinking rapidly. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. “Look, I just need to think, okay?”

Chloe reached out a tentative hand. “Beca –”

“Please? I just – I need a minute,” Beca said, pulling back.

Chloe dropped her hand, eyes falling to the floor between them. “Fine. I’ll… I’ll go for a jog. And when I get back…”

“I’ll be here, I promise,” Beca said. She meant it; she needed some space to think.

“Okay,” Chloe smiled sadly. She paused, then turned away. As she stood in Beca’s door, she looked back one last time before leaving. “I won’t hurt you, you know?” she said softly. “I’ll never hurt you.”

Beca nodded mutely, and the next second, Chloe was gone.

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

Beca’s entire body is wracked with pain; she isn’t sure how she’s still standing.

She follows the Bellas into the side room, knowing what’s waiting for them, hoping that this is all just a nightmare.

(She knows it’s not.)

She tries subdividing beats and composing a mash-up to the rhythm of her own footsteps, but she comes up totally blank. She’s got nothing.

The Bellas stop at the front of the room, and Stacie’s small gasp forces Beca to look up.

Chloe’s urn is a shade of blue that had been obviously intended to match her eyes.

She can’t comprehend how it can be so small when Chloe was such a big part of her life.

She’s going to remember Chloe as this small vase.

She feels trapped, a second away from panicking, her chest as constricted as Chloe is in that tiny urn. Her eyes are killing her but she refuses to cry because if she cries she won’t be able to stop and all around her, the Bellas are hugging one another and saying things she can’t hear, but Beca stays farther back, unable to go near them, because she doesn’t want to be there and she knows that one touch will shatter the control she has.

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

Beca had known there was something wrong. Chloe had been gone for way too long.

The worry and anticipation had made her sick. She’d thought about getting in her car and searching herself but wanted to stay in case Chloe came home.

Then, nearly three hours after Chloe had stormed off, her phone rang. It was Chloe’s mom, crying.

“Beca? It’s – Chloe – a drunk driver – she didn’t – it was instant.”

Only about half the words registered with Beca, but she understood enough.

Somewhere, someone made a horrible noise, a choked scream that sounded like a wounded animal. As soon as Beca realized it was her, it stopped. She’d fallen to her knees. When the Bellas had rushed to her, she couldn’t tell them, had only handed the phone off to someone – she didn’t know who – for Chloe’s mom to repeat herself. The news had torn through the Bellas, bringing tears and gasps and horror, and all through it, Beca had remained on the floor, silent.

She didn’t remember the rest of the night.

It wasn’t until the next morning, waking from the fog of a sleep aid she didn���t recall taking, that she felt the jagged, invisible wound torn into her chest. She would never see Chloe again, never talk to her again, never touch her again.

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

“Beca, are you okay?”

Beca flinches away from the voice and the extended hand, unable to bear looking at Chloe’s mom right now. “Yep,” she manages, hearing the strain in her own voice. “I’m fine.”

She stares straight ahead at a point above Chloe’s urn. She feels Chloe’s mom’s eyes on her face, but still stares ahead, because if she looks over, everything will fall apart.

“No, you’re not. Come here.”

And before Beca can do anything, Chloe’s mom reaches out and pulls her into a hug, wrapping her arms around Beca’s waist and turning her face into her neck.

Beca stiffens, refusing to return the hug at first, but Chloe’s mom doesn’t let go. It’s the first time she’s been touched since Chloe died and there’s something so familiar about the embrace that Beca finally gives in and raises her arms and places them around Chloe’s mom, who only squeezes her more tightly, and then something cracks in her chest and Beca’s face twists and her eyes overflow and she’s suddenly crying, gasping out desperate sobs and whimpers that tear from her throat and make her entire body shudder.

Chloe’s mom holds her tighter, supporting her, as Beca finally crumbles from the inside out.

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

Her last memory of Chloe’s touch is the barest hint of fingertips skimming across her lower back as she’d reached around Beca for the coffee at breakfast that morning.

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

A different kind of silence fills the car ride home.

Beca sits in the middle of the backseat between Emily and Amy. She knows she needs to talk to Jesse – to tell him she can’t go to LA – but that can wait. For now, Emily’s head rests on her left shoulder while Amy holds her right hand.

Beca sits, tears still streaming silently down her face, Chloe’s singing voice playing in her head and a picture Chloe’s mom had given her in her free hand. She stares at the image of herself and Chloe together after their most recent Nationals win, laughing, as Chloe took the selfie with her arm thrown around Beca’s shoulder. Beca remembers taking the picture. She looks into Chloe’s face, memorizing every detail.

Somehow, it eases the terrible ache inside her, even just for a moment.

She’ll always wonder.

[bbyboybrock--archived]

Serendipity (C.B) | Chapter 11

Summary: Serendipity: (n) the chance occurrence of events in a beneficial way

Popular youtuber Isabella Hart, known as Bella to her audience, bends over backwards to separate her youtube life from her private life. Known for her overall clean content and her bubbly attitude, Isabella has a wild side to her that only those inside the youtube community know about. When Bella meets Colby during one of the trap house parties she finally meets someone she can be her genuine self with. When trouble arises after their meeting, will Bella be able to hand the pressure or will she destroy her relationship with Colby as well as herself in the process. [This starts in 2018]

Written: 2019

Word Count: 3,821

Warnings: swearing, attempted sexual assault

(I  put a **trigger warning** right before the triggering part of the chapter and **trigger warning over** at the end of that part so you can read around it)

Serendipity Masterlist

The guys decided to throw a party just for shits and giggle. Come March they're all going to have to move out and probably not be able to have parties like this. So they've been throwing one every few weeks. Normally I won't get involved because it's not my house or my party. But the guys have really let the house go since the last party so they need all hands on deck to get the house looking decent. They also roped Kat in this as well.

We literally had to draw sticks to divided up the jobs. Aaron and I were lucky enough to pull the sticks for shopping duty. If I had to stay at the house to help clean, nobody would be happy. Not because I would have been complaining, but because I might have been too bossy. Maybe they're the really lucky ones.

Aaron and I decided to go to Costco. We can get everything in bulk and because Aaron shops there regularly, we shouldn't be too long. Aaron is mainly going because We need someone who is actually legally allowed to buy alcohol. I could have bought everything myself because of my fake id, but the amount they wanted would have gotten me in serious trouble.

"We should stop by Taco Bell. I'm hungry and I know that everyone else is probably too busy working to messing around to eat." I say as I hand Aaron a box to put in the car.

"Sure, we should make sure they didn't post mate anything." Aaron takes the last box from my hands and then closes the trunk.

"Already on it." I send a text to the group chat asking who ate and then send a picture of my receipt from what I bought at Costco so everyone could Venmo me back. Aaron does the same.

On our way to get food my phone blows up from everyone ordering and paying me back. Aaron and I chat a bit and catch up while we make our way to Taco Bell. We haven't had much time to hang out or get to know each other before. He was almost always playing Fortnite when I came into the picture. Every time I went to hang out with someone at the house he was streaming.

"Hey, so how did it feel and how did you make the decision to start doing music?" I ask during a moment of silence.

"Why? Are you thinking about pursuing music?"

"Maybe... It's been on my mind for a while. Along with other possible career changing content."

"I see... Well, I was just trying to figure out what kind of content I could do long term without burning out and keep me relevant enough so I can keep doing this as a career. I've always liked music and I knew I could sing so I decided to try that. Why do you feel like changing your brand?"

"My content is doing well, but I don't get the same feelings that I did when I first started. I've been messing around with some things. I might take a break if my manager agrees. Just to figure shit out and focus on school for a little bit. You went on a few breaks, any advice?" Aaron pulls into a parking spot at Taco Bell.

"If you feel like you're starting to burn out, then take a break before you actually do. Your manager should let you take a break, especially if it means your content will suffer if you don't. When was your last break."

"I never had one." I open the door and head into Taco Bell before Aaron could ask more.

****

Like every party since we've gotten together, Colby and I are practically glued to each other. Not in the annoying making our way that a lot of couples do, but in the way where we just stay near each other. Kind of like a buddy system to make sure we don't get too crazy. If we ever do get separated we either text or meet in a prearranged location. Normally we use this buddy system when we go out for parties. When we do trap house parties there isn't much need for the system. We can text or dip out to Colby's room if needed. We've just gotten so used to being close that we did it naturally.

I'm in a group of influencers talking about follower count and they grow their audience. I don't even know how I got here. I was talking to a smaller group about Halloween. I peek at Colby who is actually enjoying his conversation. Colby instinctively looks at me and quirks his eyebrow. I smile and lift up my cup to him. I ran out of my drink a while ago. I'm defiantly not drunk enough to continue this conversation, or any conversation at this party.

I wink at Colby before excusing myself from my group. Finding a good group at a party is nearly impossible. Colby normally finds someone to talk to while I struggle to find a decent human to stand next to. I pass by several couple or pairs of strangers making out on my way to the kitchen. I don't get the point of going all the way to a party if you're just going to suck the face of someone you're dating. Sure, go ahead and make out with random strangers. But making out with someone you're already dating, and only doing that, at a party seems kind of pointless. Parties are for socializing and hooking up. If all you're going to do is make out with your boyfriend or girlfriend you might as well stay home. It's a social event, so go socialize.

After gently pushing my way through crowds of people I make it to the kitchen. It's crowded but only partly. The air-conditioning is broken again so most people are outside or too drunk to mind the heat. Maybe I'll go see what's going on by the pool after I refill my cup. I tried dressing as cooly as I can with a spaghetti strap black crop top and a shortish white skirt. I tried to expose enough skin to keep me cool while still looking decent. I even opted out of wearing cute black booties and wore sandals with them. The only thing that would make me overheat is my hair but I have hair ties on my wrist just in case.

I walk around the kitchen a few times to find a bottle of anything. Everything is scattered around and I have no idea what I want. I just grab a bottle of what looks like whiskey on the floor and walk over to the counter. I begin to pour while bopping along to the random music that's playing. I can't tell which song exactly, it sounds like a generic Chainsmokers' song if I'm being completely honest. As I pour I feel someone put their hands on my waist. It's most likely Colby. He probably got bored of his conversation too. I finish pouring my drink and turn around to face him. I scrunch my face when I see that it isn't Colby.

"Brennen? What the hell?" Brennen licks his lips and has a devious glint in his eyes.

"Shush... Don't worry about it babe, I just miss you. Let's 'hang out' like old times." His speech is slurred and slow. He brushes loose hair off my face. I push his hand away.

"First off, I'm not your 'babe,' Brennen. Second, I'm with Colby. Even if I wasn't I still wouldn't do anything with you. So no, I will not 'hang out' with you." I try to walk away but Brennen grabs my free hand and grips it tightly. He yanks me back and closes the gap between us. He's so close I can smell the alcohol on his breath.

**TRIGGER WARNING**

"Don't be like that, baby girl. What you and I had was special. I can make you remember what you're missing out on..." Brennen leans down and starts peppering my neck with kisses. I can't move. Everyone who is in the kitchen is oblivious to what's going on. Either they're abiding by the social media party rule or they're too drunk or self-involved to care.

"Get off me. Stop it!" I struggle to push Brennen off as his hands wander. Tears start rolling down my face at the lack of help from the people literally standing right next to me. The music is too loud and to anyone, we just look like we're too drunk and too frisky.

"Shush, you forgot how good I can make you. You'll remember in a second. Forget about Colby." Brennen's hand goes straight under my skirt.

As Brennen's fingers graze my underwear I remember that I was holding a full cup. I pour the drink over Brennen's head and manage to push him away. Jake comes out of nowhere and stands in between Brennen and me with his back facing me.

"You stupid bitch!" Brennen looks at me through his whiskey-soaked hair and over Jake's shoulder.

"I said, 'no' you fucking asshole!" I yell back. I watch as people start looking at the three of us in the middle of the kitchen.

"Your mouth said one thing, but everything else said another. If you weren't trying to sleep with me you shouldn't have worn that." I can't believe the words that are coming out of his mouth.

** TRIGGER WARNING OVER**

"You're absolutely disgusting. I wish I never met you, honestly." I throw my now empty cup on the floor and run away.

I run straight upstairs to Colby's room and breakdown. My chest feels tighter, which forces me to take shorter breaths. My face is completely soaked and the room suddenly feels hotter than it has ever been. I feel a hand go on my back which causes me to jump and turn around. I calm down a little bit when I see that it's Jake.

"Sorry, touching you right now is not the right time. I'm just checking on you. I kicked Brennen out and let the security guard know not to let him back in." Jake sits on Colby's couch and pats for me to sit next to him. I hesitate but eventually sit.

"I-I wasn't cheating on Colby. Brennen... h-he just—"

"I know. I witnessed the tail end of what was happening. This may be a dumb question but, are you okay?"

"I don't know what I am, but okay isn't it." I still can't believe what happened.

"Do you want me to get Colby? I'm getting Colby." Jake pulls out his phone.

"No, don't get Colby. Let him enjoy the party. You should go back and have fun too."

"Do you really think I'm just going to back to the party like you aren't up here freaking the fuck out?"

"Fine, get Colby. Stay here with me. Do whatever you want, but don't tell Colby it was Brennen?"

"Did Brennen slip something into your drink? Why are you protecting him?"

"I'm not protecting Brennen. I'm protecting Colby. Think about it. If the roles were reversed, if I was your girlfriend and someone you considered your best friend did what Brennen did. How would you react if you knew the truth?"

"Isabella, I know you probably have your heart in the right place, and maybe it's because you're a little drunk, but you're not making any sense."

"Never mind, I'm just going to take a shower and go to sleep." I grab my overnight bag and walking Sam and Colby's bathroom.

Jake's right, I'm not making any sense. It's not because I'm a little drunk, its because Jake doesn't know about why Colby and I had our fight a while back. What I really wanted to tell Jake is how would he feel if the situation was reversed and he had already accused me of cheating with a different friend of his. Colby was drunk the day of our argument, and he's downstairs right now either drunk or in the process of becoming drunk. I don't want a repeat of last time, especially after what really happened.

I walk out of the shower and change into some PJs. I walk into Colby's room while drying my hair to find Colby and Jake talking. Colby stops talking when he sees me and walks over to me. He scans my face with concern.

"Jake told me what happened. Are you okay? Did you see the guy's face?" Colby doesn't touch me, thankfully, but I can tell that he wants to.

"I'm fine. Just shaken up a bit. His face was the last thing that I thinking about at that moment." I give Jake a small nod as a thank you for not telling Colby that it was Brennan.

"I'm so sorry. I should have gone with you. The conversation I was having wasn't even that interesting." I cup Colby's face to make him look me in the eyes.

"It's fine. Shit happens. You shouldn't have to pause your life just to protect me from drunk assholes. I'm going to stay up here for the rest of the night. You can stay or go back to the party. But if you do stay, take a shower, you smell like downstairs threw up on you." Colby kisses my forehead before going to get his things to take a shower. He leaves and its just Jake and me alone again.

"Let me guess, this isn't the first time something like that has happened with Brennen?" Jake says inching closer. I turn around to make sure Colby is in the bathroom.

"You're right. Brennen and I had a messy... sort of relationship before I started dating Colby. It ended long before I started dating him but he just won't leave me alone."

"Why haven't told Colby if this has been going on for a while? He's harassing you, Isabella." Jake's nose flares. I guess he has a right to be upset.

"Because they're good friends and I really don't want to ruin that for Colby. I don't want to start drama. Jake, if you're my friend and really care about me you won't say anything to Colby."

"You want me to tell even more lies to my best friend?"

"It's not a lie if you don't tell him. It would be keeping a secret." Jake stares at me with his mouth open.

"For how long?"

"As long as I can. It's harmless, Jake. There's no need to stress Colby out like this."

"Harmless? Just imagine what would have happened if you hadn't pushed him off and I didn't see you. Nobody else in the kitchen would have done anything because to them it just looked like a horny couple. They weren't going to do shit just so they could have a story time video to go viral." I close my eyes and repeatedly clench and unclench my fist.

"Trust me, Jake, I know exactly what could have happened. A few months ago Colby and I got in a huge fight because he accused me of cheating for being too close to you. What do you think he's going to think if I tell him what really happened? It's a touchy subject so it's best for everyone involved to just shut up." Jake looks me up and down and shakes his head.

"Whatever Isabella, you know what you're doing." With that, he leaves the room. I either lost Jake as a friend forever or he's going to be, mad at me for a while. Either way, I can expect him to stay away from me for a while.

I crawl into Colby's bed and wait for him to get out of the shower. Maybe I should have just stayed home tonight. All of this could have been avoided. Colby wouldn't have to worry about me, Jake wouldn't be mad at me, and I could have avoided Brennen in general. Who knows how many of the people in the kitchen were actually paying attention and saw the shit show that went down. Nobody is going to say anything. It would be social suicide for if anyone leaks what happens at these parties. And since nothing seriously bad happened with Brennen and me, that risk isn't worth it.

Colby walks back into the room and shuts the door. He doesn't say anything as he climbs into bed and wraps his arms around me. All my worries from tonight seem to have disappeared. Colby strokes my hair slowly. He has to know that neither of us is going to fall asleep while the floor is practically shaking from the music. The party didn't even look like it was going to end anytime soon.

"Hey, let's go out for a little bit. Just until the party dies down or go back to your place." He doesn't stop stroking my hair, but he goes even slower.

"It's nearly midnight. Where are we going?"

"You'll see. Trust me, it's a great idea" Before I could ask any more questions Colby gets up and does something on his phone for a few minutes before getting both of our shoes and throws one of his hoodies at me.

If someone told me that one day I would be in my pajamas sitting in a Denny's at midnight eating breakfast with my boyfriend, I would never believe them. But that's exactly what we're doing. Colby decided that we can waste time eating and just chill out for a bit. We're most likely going back to the house because I don't have my keys and I don't know if Colby has his.

Colby stares at me with a dopey smile. I can't tell if it's because he's tired or because he's still a little drunk. I manage to secretly snap a photo of him and post it on my story.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked after the waiter placed our food in front of us.

"Just thinking..." He doesn't stop looking at me, he just keeps staring.

"Care to share with the class?"

"What if we move in together. I mean, we already spend half the week sleeping over at each other's place." I can tell by the look in his eyes that he's serious.

"Baby, I love you, but I'm not moving into the trap house."

"Oh God no, I would never make you live there. I don't mean your apartment either. I was thinking we get our own place. When our leases are over, of course." Several reasons to tell Colby 'no' flood my head. It's not that I don't want to, I do, but it's because I'm scared.

"My lease ends in April and yours ends in what, March? You know what, I'll get a place with you. Under two conditions." I figure that whatever is scaring me about loving with Colby will go away by then.

"What am I promising?"

"One, I get to decorate. Your clothing style is amazing, but your interior design can use some work. I'm not living somewhere that resembles a frat house. And two, keep your spooky shit out. No ouija boards or haunted dolls or anything like that." His smile widens and his eyes sparkle.

"Deal! I would have agreed to almost anything. I've been thinking about this for a while." I smile at how happy Colby is.

****

We spend a while eating before taking an Uber back to the trap house. The party is dying down when we walk in. We go straight upstairs and head into Colby's room to sleep. The music was still loud but I'm able to fall asleep.

I wake up suddenly to the sound of my phone ringing. I sit up and look at Colby, who is miraculously still fast asleep. I climb over him and grab my phone. I answer it without looking.

"Do you know what time it is?" I look at the little clock that I put in Colby's room and see that it's five in the morning.

"Jizzy! Hey, you answered! I'm sorry about earlier. I should have known that you'd be worried about being caught. Come over so I can make it up to you." Brennen is slurring his words. I'm surprised that I can even understand what he's saying. I quietly climb out of bed and walk into the bathroom.

"Are you fucking insane, Brennen? How does nothing I say register in your head?"

"Don't be like that, baby. I know you still love me. I love you too. Let me show you just how much I love you."

"Stop. I don't love you. I never loved you, Brennen. What we had— What we did— We just used each other. You used me to have sex and I used you to get free alcohol without fear of getting in trouble. I love Colby and you need to understand that."

"You can love him and still hang out with me. Don't act like you're all innocent. I know you're shaking it up with other guys."

"I ended things between us the second I found out that you were dating Kyra, which I only found out because of your youtube video. I wasn't going to be the person who ruined someone's relationship. If I ended our friends with benefits relationship because you had a girlfriend, then what makes you think I would risk my relationship with Colby?"

"Once a slut, always a slut. You can't stay tied down too long."

"Go to hell, Brennen. Contact me again and you'll regret it." I hang up the phone before Brennen can say anything else. I quickly block his number and all of his social media accounts, something I should have done months ago.

I pace the bathroom for a few minutes. There is no way I'm going to be able to sleep right now. Not after all the stress from the living drama that is being associated with Brennen Taylor. I go downstairs and just walk around the house. I kick out the stragglers from the party. Just a few people that I don't recognize that were probably too drunk to even figure out how to get home. I begin cleaning, starting in the kitchen. The drink that I threw on Brennen is still on the floor. Nobody bothered to clean it up. I clean up the cups that mitered the floor and collected all the alcohol bottles. I place them by the back door, I'll recycle them when there is more light outside.

About an hour and a half later I'm mostly done the cleaning when Sam walks down the stairs. We make small talk as I tie the last trash bag. He helps me take out the bottles and trash before I go back into Colby's room to get a few hours of sleep.

[katlyn1948]

Late Night Conversation (Part 15 of “The Family Of Storm’s End” series)

Late Night Conversation

Katlyn1948

Summary:

Arya and Gendry discuss their daughters interests

Notes:

So I plan on adding a second part to this one where we learn about the conversation that Bella has earlier in the day...asleep this series is Canon (unfortunately) but that’s okay also we will learn who JJ is (any hints?) anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Work Text:

Arya had no idea how to be a mother when the birth of her first came. She no more than ten and nine and felt somewhat as a child herself. It had been ages since she could remember her mother caring for young Ricard and now she was expected to do the same. Of course, she had Gendry and he loved their child to pieces, but that did not mean they knew what they were doing.

As time passed and they had more children to raise, the task became easier. She had learned from her previous mistakes, took those lessons and applied them to her younger pups. Although she had learned that each child was different to raise, she had expected that there was some common ground when it came to raising the troupe. That was until her eldest began to linger around the company of broodishly handsome men.

Arya had not thought about the time when Bella’s mind would start to wonder to the curiosities of what laid beneath the tunics of men and, frankly, the idea of her daughter thinking of such thoughts terrified her. She had only ever loved one man in such an intimate way, that Arya felt as if she was unequipped to explain certain situations to her daughter. Of course, she educated young Bella on how babes were made and even warned her about giving her maidenhead to someone, she did not trust or love, but Bella was a teenaged girl whose emotions were far too extreme to handle.

Arya knew how it felt to feel those types of emotions and if Bella was anything like her mother, than she was sure to worry.

Of course, now she had to tell her lord husband of her revelation and Arya was sure that the Baratheon fury would make its self known.

As usual, she decided to break the new while in bed, bundled under his embrace with the light summer breeze sweeping through their open foyer. She knew that if she pleasured him before letting off big news, that the fury may be suppressed, but this was their eldest daughter and Gendry had always been fiercely protective of her.

“Gendry?” Arya asked lazily as she laid on his bare chest. Their recent throes of passion had worn out the pair, encouraging Arya to bring up the sensitive topic.

“Hmm?” Was his tired response.

“We may have to deal with Bella’s ever growing curiosity.” Her comment was cryptic and she hoped he would understand her underlying purpose, but this was Gendry and things often took him a few moments to fully understand.

He shifted slightly under her, causing Arya to prop herself up on her elbows, “How do you mean?”

There was true concern on his face and she hated that she would cause him more displeasure, “It seems that our Bella has certain curiosities when it comes to the young men around the castle.”

This riled the lord and he sat up swiftly, resting his back against the head board, “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh do not look so surprised, darling. She is a young woman of ten and six. We knew that sooner or later this would happen. Albeit, I was hoping for later.” Arya joked. She glanced at his face, and Gendry was finding this less than amusing.

“Arya, I’m not ready for that! This is our daughter we are conversing about! I mean look who her parents are!” He gasped with concern.

Arya gave him a half hearted smile. She understood his concern, but it was their job to properly educate their daughter without the prospect of embarrassing her.

She rose her place and straddled him, giving him a quick peck oh the lips as reassurance, “If it makes you feel any better, her choice of infatuation comes from a good family.”

Gendry scoffed, “Really? And who would that be?”

A sly smile creeped onto her face, “JJ Tarth.”

Gendry’s eyes widened as he quickly pulled Arya from his lap. “That cocky bastard! She likes him?! Seven fucking hells!” He rose from their bed and poured a large goblet of ale, downing it in one single breath. This conversation had progressively gotten worse and Gendry hated the uneasy feeling that he had in the pit of his stomach.

Arya rose after him, draping the light cloths around her naked form. She embraced her husband from behind and rested her chin square on his back, “Oh you stubborn bull. Come back to bed and come the morning light, we can discuss the ever so interesting conversation between our daughter and the ‘cocky bastard’ that I happened to over hear just this morning.”

Gendry groaned, “I don’t think I can wait until morning.” He turned in her arms and gave her a small kiss atop her head.

“If you wish to have more evenings like the one we just had, then you will wait.” She breathed into his chest.

He let out a grunted moan, “Fine, you win.”

“I always win.”