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more-stuff-of-pi · 3 years

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I’ll Fight For You

a/n: lmao i swear i’m fine, just needed good ol’ kiri to assist me in a v self-indulgent fic. also, sorry for taking forever to write something yoinks

notes: did i read through this after i wrote it? nope. we’re fucking rolling with the audacity of not even a single ounce of beta-ing. requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader | genre: angst (w/happy ending) / hurt/comfort | warnings: abusive mother (mental/verbal), a father who doesn’t intervene | word count: 2,018

Your boyfriend was practically vibrating with nerves as he adjusted his hair in the mirror. It was artfully piled on top of his head, his dark roots making a sharp contrast against the vibrant red.

“Ei,” you smiled, “you’re gonna be fine.”

He worried his sharp teeth against his bottom lip, frowning all the while. “But what if they--?”

“They’re going to love you, Ei. Probably even more than they love me,” you joke, coming up behind Eijirou’s monstrously large form. Hero work had been both kind and harsh on him but he made it look effortlessly good. You gently slid your arms around his waist as you angled yourself so that you could still eye his reflection.

“I’m just… worried, is all.”

You cock your eyebrow. “About what, Ei?”

He incredulously meets your gaze through the mirror. “What do you mean, about what?!”

It dawns on you a little bit. “Oh, well, she’s not going to be mean to you, Ei. She knows how to play nice when it counts. And you, good sir, count.”

“That’s not as reassuring as it is worrying, you know.”

“My mother is just a little intense, babe, it’s nothing I’m not used to. Like I said, she knows how to tone it down in front of others. I’m sure tonight will be fine. I probably just exaggerate everytime I whine about her, so she’s probably not even half as bad as I make her sound,” you shrug, leaning more into Eijirou’s side.

“Baby,” he sighs, twisting a little to look directly at you, no mirror this time. His eyes are sad yet firm as if wishing you to understand that there’s no need to defend yourself with him.

You squeeze him tighter before letting go and walking to the door. “C’mon, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

❁

You always forget that you don’t really ever exaggerate your mother’s behavior towards you until you’re around her again. Everything as far as introducing your boyfriend to your parents has been going incredibly smoothly. Your dad enthusiastically engaged Eijirou in hero stories, talking about Red Riot’s most recent media appearance where he was dressed in pajamas and carrying tubs of various ice creams you both had wanted to try when he dropped everything to prevent a construction beam from falling on clueless bystanders. Only one tub of ice cream had survived and luck had it that it was your least favorite flavor combination. Your mother praised Eijirou for his success and his coupling good looks at which she winked, making your boyfriend flush both at the phrase and the uncomfortable comments your mother directed at him. You winced at that, having forgotten to prepare him for the habitual talent your mother had of sexualizing anything, especially if it would ‘embarrass’ her child.

Your mother had made off handed comments throughout the whole night that you seemed to be the only one to pick up on. Your dad might have noticed a few but, as usual, he only looked at you apologetically, never interrupting his wife to stand up for you.

As much as you loved both of your parents and as much as they had their good moments, this fucking sucked.

“--not that she’s any good with that quirk of hers, of course,” your mother snickered as she brought the glass to her lips. You had become a good actor over the years in order to avoid your mother’s bullying over your ‘sensitiveness’, but something about her dismissing your hard work always immediately dismantled whatever mask you had thrown on. To cover what you know must be a crestfallen look, you give a laugh, something that could be called half-hearted at best. Your eyes remained trained on your food. “Oh come on, Y/n, that was funny.”

You chuckled again, hoping to force some genuineness into it. “Yeah--”

“No, it wasn’t,” Eijirou immediately cuts you off, voice straining with anger. You felt your face drain of blood as you noticed how tightly he was gripping his chopsticks. He was fuming. You don’t think you’d ever seen him angry before. The thought scared you. “That was just mean.”

Your mother quirked an unimpressed, subtly pissed brow at your boyfriend. “Don’t be sensitive, Eijirou. House rules: if it’s mean but funny, it’s okay.”

“As long as you get a laugh from it, it’s okay to abuse your child?” He spits at her like venom.

Your mother sets her glass down, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard--”

You slap a hand over Eijirou’s bicep, squeezing so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up bruising. “It’s fine! Nothing I’m used to! I grew up on the ‘if it’s mean but funny’ rule, so it’s fine.”

The look he gave you was of incredulous anger. “No, it is not--!”

“Please, Ei. Please, just--,” you averted your eyes, ashamed of your own familiar defeat. “Just sit.”

Shamefully, you slide back into your seat, nervously smoothing out a napkin back onto your lap. Eijirou still stood beside you, staring daggers at your mother who effortlessly returned it. His fists were balled, the veins in his hands flexing with the effort of restraining himself. His jaw snapped shut with an audible clamp as he resolved himself to sitting back down.

Your dad clears his throat, more so than necessary as if the harder he did it, the better he could dissipate the tension. “Done, everyone?” No one answers him. He takes that as the go ahead to begin clearing dishes, desperately jumping at the opportunity to escape your mother’s impending tantrum. You loved your dad very much but, god, he was nothing if not a coward, always leaving you to fight your own battles. You don’t think you’ve ever won.

Your mother returns her cold attention to you, the ice starting to thicken and your mother’s hollow kindness starting to retreat along with her patience. “What are you even doing to help train your quirk, sweetie?”

Taken aback, you met her gaze. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t ever see you doing anything at all to help. You do realize that training takes work, right? What does it take? It takes--,” your mother trailed off, flourishing both hands to motion for you to finish the sentence.

“Effort--”

“Effort!” She clapped with your word. “It takes effort! And I only want the best for you, sweetheart, which is why I’m just asking what you’re doing. From where I stand, it doesn’t look like you’re doing anything at all to help improve yourself! As your mother, your concerned mother, I’m just looking out for you, sweetheart.”

Your mind is reeling at her words. You so badly want to defend yourself, assert all of the effort that you have painstakingly put in-- but you are reminded of the precise way your mother is able to leech any ounce of power or confidence from you. You would think that was her quirk if you didn’t know any better. “Mom, I am putting effort in, I train almost everyday--”

“Do you really?” Her voice drips with venomous shock. “It certainly doesn’t look like you do,” she gestures vaguely at you, eyeing your body with a vulture’s gaze. “Maybe you should consider morning and night. Oh! And a diet change, too. You know, since the popular heroes have a specific look to them and I just want to make sure that you can fit that. Since it’s your dream to be a popular hero. Like I said, you have to be willing to put in the effort. Oh, sweetie, don’t look at me like that. You know the difficult position I’m in! Trying to encourage you and help you achieve your dreams while not seeming too enthusiastic. You’re putting that stress on me, sweetie, I’m only trying to help.”

It really was incredible how quickly your mother could erase any confidence you had. Normally, you would stand beaming, more than happy to assert yourself and stand up for yourself and others. All it took was a couple words from your mother, and you turned into a dog with its head down and its tail between its legs, fearful of its master.

Your gut sank and hatred swirled throughout your body for both yourself and her as you once again let her have power over you. “You’re right. Sorry, Mom--”

“Do you know where your daughter ranks as a hero?”

Stunned, you both glanced at Eijirou, having almost completely forgotten that he was there. Throughout her tirade, you had felt a tragically familiar loneliness, used to having to defend yourself when no one, not even your other family members, would. Used to always submitting and used to the shame that always accompanied your forced silence.

“What?” She spat.

“I asked if you knew your daughter’s ranking. I just was wondering, is all. It would make sense if you weren’t aware that she ranks in the top 30 since you were asking about the effort she puts in. I would think that that accomplishment -- at such a young age, too, might I add -- was evidence enough of the countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears that she has poured into this. The effort she’s painstakingly put in. You’re right that being a hero is her dream, and she’s a damn good one, too. Saved my life more than once with ‘that quirk of hers’,” he sneered bitterly. “And, on top of that, she’s so beautiful through and through that sometimes it’s all I can do to stare at her in awe. Your thinly veiled shaming of her appearance is never the result of a mother’s so-called difficult situation, only the result of your own insecurities.”

Eijirou suddenly stands, having finally had more than enough for one night. “The only gratitude I will ever have towards you is for bringing this wonderful woman into this world. I hope one day you’ll actually realize how amazing your daughter is and how proud of her you ought to be. Because I am. I am so incredibly proud of her and her accomplishments and the results of her efforts.”

“And who’s to say that I’m not proud of her, Eijirou?”

He scoffs. Eijirou, the kindest, most patient man you know, scoffs in your mother’s face. “Haven’t you ever heard that actions speak louder than words?”

Your mother gapes up at him, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. In that moment, she resembles a fish and you couldn’t be more pleased with that comparison.

“He’s right, mom.” You rise to join him. “I know you love me. I have no choice but to believe it because I think it would destroy me if I didn’t. But maybe someday I won’t constantly have to defend myself to you and you’ll accept the things I say without dismissing them. You always say you admire me most for my assertiveness but you shut me down anytime I use it to stand up for myself against you. And that makes you nothing but a hypocrite.” You stare her down, reveling in the confidence Eijirou gives you in this thing against your mother. For the first time, you are not alone as you fight this battle. For the first time, you have help. And for the first time, you feel like you’ve won. “Now if you’ll excuse us.”

You take Eijirou’s hand and lead him out of the house, leaving your parents to stare after you in shock. As soon as you make it out, cold air hits you like a slap in the face that harshly wakes you from a daze.

“Holy shit, Ei, did I just stand up to my mom?”

He laughs and squeezes your hand. “It was pretty manly, too.” You laugh breathlessly, still in disbelief as you push your other fist against his arm. “And you know,” he continues, “that I’m the best judge of that.”

“That must mean a lot,” you grin, swinging your linked hands between you as you walk further from your parents’ home, feeling the fullness of a good meal and a battle won.

taglist: @samwrights, @mayaoliviee, @luluwiie, @gigglyparker (i thought i would tag you since you commented on the draft that i posted of this, hope you don’t mind <3)

#i'll fight for you #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #hurt/comfort #abusive mother tw #tw abusive mother #mha x reader #bro this fic lowkey fvcking sucks lmao so sorry that this is the first thing you see from me in a while #like it just feels really rushed which it probably is but it's incredibly self-indulgent and it fulfills my purposes so it's good enough #for me that is

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euphoricsunflowers · 4 years

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mirror — lee hoseok/wonho

a/n: based off of this post and this post!! please enjoy this fic i wrote at like 10pm when i am normally asleep ajdjdsdjshs i wasn’t supposed to write this until i wrote my requests but like... brain very full of him <33

word count: 1.2k

content: sub!wonho, dom!gn!reader is mentioned but not present, male masturbation, hickeys like everywhere on him lmao, edging, mentions of choking and degradation, basically wonho is a beauty and i feel the need to emphasize it in every single fic <3

summary: wonho sees the aftermath of the night before and he just can’t help loving how it all looks on him.

(gif by @imnameimss)

wonho knows he’s attractive, he’s put in too much effort and time into building his body perfectly to not know it. he’s not arrogant or cocky in any way; in fact, he’s quite soft and bashful. however, while he appreciates your praise and compliments (because god they make him so happy to be adored) he never really focuses on himself. he’s always so entranced by you and how absolutely gorgeous and breathtaking you are. he’s helpless to your beauty and that’s why the care he puts into how he looks is always for you.

but that’s what makes today so different, because you’re gone right now. you’re out at work, and he has a day off. he normally spends these days working out, eating, and writing songs or something, he’s never not doing something, but he has all the free time in the world today. not to mention how needy he’s been all morning.

he keeps thinking back to last night, how expertly you overtook him, leaving kisses and bites scattered on his body, not to mention the bruises and scratches that likely stayed on his skin from just how much your dominance physically manifests on him. he’s oddly pleased with the soreness and the light pain, if he’s being honest.

he likes it so much that he just has to get a glimpse for himself. he throws off the white t-shirt he threw on very last minute last night when you were finished with him. it lands in some unimportant corner of his room. he’s sure he’ll put it in his laundry basket at some point, but currently he’s too fixated at looking in the mirror.

it’s not superficial the way he gazes at himself. he’s not focusing on his abs or his arms as much as he’s focusing on the marks on his abs that remind him of when you dragged your nails against his skin sharply, making him remember the way he trembled under you. he’s focusing on his chest and neck, where he’s sure the most bite marks and hickeys are on him.

he gently pressed his fingers against the bruised skin, flinching when he feels the dull ache the bruise provides. he craves the way your hands wrapped around his neck, craves how they left him breathless and completely at your mercy, craves how you watched him like he was a caged animal.

and that’s when he looks down. he knows the shorts like the type he’s currently wearing drive you insane, and you give him such useless warnings like, “if you keep wearing those shorts around me i’ll fuck you so hard you’ll forget your name, bunny boy,” so obviously, he kept wearing the shorts.

but he’s starting to get why. all it takes is him to spread his legs just the slightest bit and he can see even more marks from you on his thighs. arguably the most sensitive part of his body, and arguably your favorite part of his body, his thighs were absolutely perfect. it’s no wonder why those shorts were driving you crazy. but once he takes the shorts off, along with his underwear, he sits in front of the mirror, with his legs spread, just running his fingers along his thighs, flinching every time he presses intentionally too hard on any of the bruises.

he wonders what would happen if someone walked in, god, if you walked in. would you punish your beautiful but conceited boy for being so enraptured by his own body? would you make him worship your body for hours on end (though he’d do it happily)? would you humiliate him for being so wrecked over a couple bruises on his own body, for being so easy? he’s not exactly sure but whatever it is, the idea of it isn’t enough to scare him into stopping now. he’s too lost in himself.

he noticed all the little quirks about him that you tell him you find adorable, and in turn make him incredibly shy. especially when he starts to jerk himself off, paying attention to the way he moans, pressing his hand to his mouth in an attempt to keep the moans in. he’s so incredibly embarrassed by the sounds he knows you’d find adorable. you’d say they’re adorable and that he’s adorable and even though he’s alone right now, he’s getting shy thinking about it.

when he gets close, he can’t help but imagine how you bring him to the edge just to not let him cum, always commenting on how cutely pathetic he looks when he’s denied. he denies himself the first time he gets close even though it feels incredibly unsatisfying just so he can really focus on how it feels. being so under your control is his greatest satisfaction, so he doesn’t care for the quick pleasure. he remembers your comments that mock him and how wrecked he looks even after only a few minutes and one edge. the thought makes him only needier.

the second time it comes faster since he’s already so worked up. he knows that if it were your hand jerking him off and edging him, you’d be whispering in his ear. mocking and humiliating him. pointing out how cutely stupid he looks with his mouth hanging open, calling him a dumb little whore in a way that makes him weak.

it’s odd, in a way, that the cruel mix of patronizing praise and humiliating degradation make his heart race, he loves it so much. he’s sure he’d be unable to keep edging himself if you were actually there with him, mumbling your cruel words into his ear. he can control himself a bit better when he’s alone, mostly because he just has to imagine your voice in his head. it’s not the same, but it’s enough to make his confused mind happy.

and yet every thought leads back to the person looking back at him in the mirror. he’s aching with need to cum, but still unable to do more than moan helplessly as he watches himself like he’s his own porn. he’s practically hypnotized as he tries but fails to edge himself one more time, the orgasm racking his body. he falls on his side, curling in on himself as he cums all over the hardwood floor.

he breathes heavy as he still watches himself in the mirror, noticing his red-flushed cheeks, his heavy breaths, and the cum splattered all over the floor and his stomach. he still sees all the marks that initially got him so riled up, and he can’t help but notice in that moment as he lies on his bedroom floor, still reeling from that orgasm, why you always mark him up so much. it’s not just ‘marking your territory’ nor is it out of a need to prove yourself as the dominant one in your relationship. there’s no need to prove anything, he’s already so sweet and submissive and compliant.

the real reason is just because you find him pretty all covered in love bites and bruises and scratches (on his back, shoulders, pretty much anymore you can get your nails on) and hand marks with his skin all red from the impact play, it’s all so beautiful to you.

and he’s gotta agree with you on this one: he is really pretty like this.

—

taglist: @lovingonrepeat @neosincity @sub-hoshi-enthusiast @feelslikelove @maknaeronix @multidreams-and-desires @mellowriting @foenixs @hobilluvvr @vanillaknj @yr-domxfantasies @treasure-hwa @fleurshopsub @rubyscloud9 @silencefavarchive @nct99 @bigkpopstan and always feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist <3

#subidolnet #sub idol #sub!idol #sub!kpop #monsta x #sub!monsta x #sub monsta x #sub monsta x smut #sub!monsta x smut #monsta x smut #wonho #wonho x reader #wonho smut #sub!wonho #sub wonho #sub!wonho smut #sub wonho smut

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norarigby · 4 years

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Miya Osamu - The Best Team

The Little Black Box Masterlist

Paring: Miya Osamu x reader

Warnings: just the absolute BEST HUSBAND MATERIAL that is none other than THE Miya Osamu

Word Count: ~1.1k

A/n: As the final oneshot in the series, I am very pleased with this concept and how it turned out. Ugh, man I’m so soft for Osamu. Like please let me marry you already!

A/n (pt. 2): Like I said, this is the last one of the series! I really enjoyed writing these and I hope you have enjoyed reading them! Thank you all for the likes, reblogs, comments, follows, and the nice messages! You all are so amazing! Enjoy the end of the series!

You had been laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling in silence for five painstakingly long minutes. Osamu was growing more anxious and impatient with each passing one. You wouldn’t even look at him! At least give him something! Still, he tried to wait dutifully, knowing you were truthfully thinking about an answer to a complicated question. Too complicated of a question for right before bed, he concluded too late.

His thoughts began to run in circles, reeling a mile a minute. He didn’t know how he was going to recover if your answer was less than ideal. Would you break up with him over it? Would you laugh at his face and tell him he’s crazy? He broke out in a small sweat and his palms became clammy. He didn’t dare move to dry them, however. He was too concerned about breaking whatever suspended tension hung in the air.

“Will it make you happy?”

Not expecting an answer, his head whipped back to face yours. He searched your face for something, anything, but you remained staring at the ceiling. Stalling for some time, he stuttered out a “What?”

“I said,” And you finally turned your head to look him in the eyes, “will it make you happy?”

He could finally look at you, but if he was being honest, that wasn’t really helping either. He cursed you for being so in control of your thoughts and emotions. At this point, he almost preferred you to scream at him, slam the door in his face and call him crazy. Just something so he could know what was bouncing around in your head. What were you thinking about?

Osamu sighed, knowing how to get that answer. It would require him to answer your question and fully commit to his, albeit, half thought up idea that he’d really only been thinking about for a week or so.

After one last look to see if he’d missed any clues from you, he muttered out, “Yes.”

You shifted to your side and held his face in your hands, preventing him from moving his face anywhere that wasn’t pointed directly at yours. It was your turn to search his eyes—what you were searching for, he wasn’t quite sure.

Finally finding whatever answer you were looking for, you let go of his face and rolled back over, turning off the lamp in the process.

“Alright,” You stated. “If it’ll make you happy, then do it.”

Osamu blinked once. Then twice. Then a third time.

“Wait, really?”

You sighed, “Yes, ‘Samu, now go to bed. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

But his head was still reeling from your answer. He reached over to turn the lamp back on and rolled you back to face him. He was so caught up, he didn’t even register your annoyed look.

“No, wait, I want you to be absolutely sure. This is a big deal. Opening a restaurant isn’t just a weekend job. I’ll have to do it full time and-“

You covered his mouth with your hand, “Yes, I’m aware a restaurant is a lot of work. But you’re smart, hard-working, and it’s something you love. You’ll be able to do it. Now let’s go to bed.”

You moved to roll over, but Osamu pulled you back, earning a huff from you, “What?”

Osamu’s face wasn’t really panicked, but it definitely frantic. His voice matched his look as he talked so fast his mind could barely keep up. “It’s just...it’s...it’s gonna be a lot. And I might need your help. And Kita said he’d be willing to be my rice dealer. But I don’t even have a location picked out yet-“

“Osamu.”

“Then I’m not even sure how to pay for it. Will the bank even give me a loan? How much am I going to need with rent and decor and food-“

“Osamu.”

“What if people don’t even like my food? Then I’ll just be another failed restaurant. Not to mention I wouldn’t hear the last of it from Atsumu if that happened....Or-“

“Miya Osamu.” You forcefully placed your hands on his shoulders to get his attention. Thankfully, it quieted the man above you for the moment being. Taking a deep breath, you let go of his shoulders and held out your arms, inviting him to lay on your chest, “C’mere.” He gratefully accepted the offer and snuggled against you, thankful for the touch that pulled him out of his spiral.

As he tightly wrapped his arms around your waist, you ran your fingers through his hair while you waited for his breathing to even out.

Finally, you spoke, “Osamu. It’s a lot, I know. But we’ll take it on as a team, right? And if this is something you really want, we’ll make it happen. We’ll take it piece by piece until you have an open restaurant that’s brimming with customers. In fact, let’s sleep on it tonight and we can start making a to-do list tomorrow. Okay?”

You felt hot tears meet your skin. But you didn’t comment on it, nor did you make fun of him. You just tightly held onto him and patiently waited for his answer. Eventually he was able to calm himself down enough and choked out a “Thank you.”

“Hey,” You pulled his face up so you could look him in the eyes. “We’re going to do this, okay? I meant what I said. We’re a team. So where you go, I follow. You just say the word.”

Osamu, not trusting his voice for a second time, kissed you, salty lips and all. Neither of you were very good with words anyway. Even saying ‘I love you’ felt somewhat strange. But the love was still there. It was in the salty kisses, the reassurances, in the kitchen when he would make you your favorite dish on Friday’s because it meant he could see you smile after a long week. Saying I love you wasn’t really your thing, but the love was there all the same.

So as you two finally settled down to rest, his heart raced each time he thought of how you said you two were a team. He thought that was the closest thing to I love you that you’ve ever said.

A team.

Osamu liked the sound of that. He really liked the sound of that. So, as his second impulsive thought of the night, he decided that as soon as you left for work tomorrow morning, he was going straight to a ring shop downtown. Because he wanted to be on your team for the rest of forever.

(Posted March 11, 2021 7:34PM MST)

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fanficsandfluff · 3 years

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That Damned Laugh

To the anon who informed me of Rainbow Rowell's RACISM, i am writing this for my love of the characters, not the author's writing skill or fame. fuck her. i am still very much aware of what she wrote about and how she portrayed a character, but i cannot stop this inspiration when it comes to me. (wait to be clear to everyone reading this who hadn't seen the anons and my discussion, carry on wasnt the accused racist book. that was something else.)

If you, anon, end up seeing this and maybe don't like what I'm doing or whatnot, I'd love to hear from you again.

For those of you who maybe do practice Death of the Author, I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Carry On

Characters: Simon Snow, Baz Pitch

Words: 1,905

~~~~~

BAZ

Simon Snow does not laugh, full stop.

(Well, to be fair I'm not a cackler much myself, but I do at least guffaw from time to time.)

Snow spent so much of his youth being weighed down by the 'Chosen One' moniker and being tormented by yours truly. Still, I know of that little list he kept of things he liked about Watford and all its experiences and people. It seemed he did take joy in most of it all. After all, I'm sure he had fun at Bunce's house on many an occasion.

But just being around him and in this way for a while now, you start to notice. He's seen me laugh. A few times, in fact. And hard. I'm not very proud of it; what that man can do to me and make me do. He doesn't like when I cover my hand over my smile. It's habit, though, I've reminded him countless times. The fangs and all. We're working on it.

But Simon may just smile or huff. I've giggled with him on our particularly soft nights or togethertimes.

All this to say... I've found a new hobby/goal/obsession recently.

Make Simon Snow laugh.

My cheekiness all these years has kept my humor to cruel, lowbrow tones. Maybe it makes me less funny, I don't know. But once or twice I'd nail a comeback or snarky one-liner (of course with a bit of flirt thrown in) and Snow will giggle and shake his head. But that's all I've achieved! A small, pandering, boring -- though still admirably adorable -- (Damn that Snow) giggle.

I've moved on to physical humor. I tried throwing myself dramatically over him when he's in bed, but he just seems to think it's all part of my Pitch flair.

Today I made a minor breakthrough.

I was in the kitchen trying to mix myself a smoothie. Bunce has been gushing about a smoothie craze for weeks now, so I finally figured why not. The damn lid wasn't on tight enough. Not-yet-smooth smoothie shot everywhere. There was a pause as it happened, my one hand on the Liquify button, my other resting nonchalantly atop the lid that didn't do any lidding, dammit.

Snow looked up at me from his seat by the kitchen counter, eyes drawn from his phone. A beat. He barked out a laugh. A much louder one than I think I'd ever heard him make.

"Put a sock in it, Snow," I growled, to keep with my facade, though inside I was jittery with glee. I wanted to hear more.

Snow convinced me to binge a new show. Crime Minds. Something like that. No, criminal. It's Criminal Minds.

You wouldn't expect this to be a series fit enough for a cuddle, but Snow and I are an unexpected couple. So it works.

A few dumb jokes are littered throughout the show, in between corpses and the same police station set being reorganized and shot from different angles every episode. One such joke was so inconspicuous and so nothing that I cannot even recall it now. But both Snow and I chuckled at it. Then Snow made an additional comment to it, making me laugh. And soon we were both giggling together like schoolboys, like we had early on when we were maybe still a bit bashful with each other.

He shoved his face into my ribs and snorted when I whispered the new inside joke much later on in the episode. I was also grinning like a madman, but the soft tickle his action gave me didn't exactly---

Oh.

In bed. Perfect. Lovers fool around all the time in bed. Not fool around as in sex--well, no, of course sex, but I mean they also play around-- never mind.

SIMON

Baz has been acting off lately. I can't quite put my finger on what it is. He seems distracted. More like how I act. I'm always thinking of something else, not able to stay focused on one thing for long. He's like that, but trying to act like he isn't.

We're doing something odd today. We're in bed at sunset. It's hardly sunset, as a matter of fact. The sun isn't seeping orange and red into the flat yet. Penelope took us out on a hike today. It tuckered the both of us out. Baz drained a buck when we got home.

I'm laying perpendicular to Baz (or is it parallel? composite? I could never remember mathematics), my legs resting over his stomach. He's reading and I'm playing a puzzle app on my phone.

BAZ

Now's the time, Baz. Just do it, don't think.

His socked feet are right in front of me. There's only been a handful of times we've sat in this position, half of them being my lower half resting on Simon's sturdier upper half. It's now or never.

I stare at his feet for too long, zoning out and forgetting that I was left staring at them, so it definitely looked like I have a fetish for feet. Which I don't. Focus, Basilton.

I take a finger-- no, two fingers. I scratch quickly at his heel. His leg jerks, foot being pulled back.

"What?" he asks me, as if I hadn't been plotting this for weeks. As if I just did it to get his attention.

"Something on the bottom of your sock, love."

Simon went right back to his head hanging upside down off the side of the bed, phone held out in front of his eyes.

Well, that proved one thing. He's ticklish.

He places his ankles right back where they originally were, crossed, atop my stomach. I try again, this time on his arch. I apply more pressure.

"Bahaz!" Simon shakes his foot out, "Is that how you start a foot massage?"

"Would you like a foot massage?"

"No. Not if it's going to tickle like that."

My cheeks heat up. Damn that buck. I'm rosier than I usually am.

"You're ticklish?" I ask, coolly. I barely stuttered.

"I wouldn't try it," he's back to looking at his phone again, "Penny did once and I nearly broke her elbow or something. She wouldn't stop talking about it for days."

"So you're very ticklish, then."

"Don't," this is the first time Snow seems to tense up.

There's a moment of quiet between us. A tense quiet. I lunge for his ankles and he shoots up into a sitting position. I scratch at his arch with four fingers now and he screams.

"Baz!" Simon whines a bit and he somehow yanks his legs free, not without losing one of his socks in my grip.

SIMON

He's grinning at me. No. Sneering.

I still hate when he does that. Reminds me of back when I wanted to throttle him. Sometimes I still do.

"Baz," I warn. His whole posture changes into a predator's, like he's the lion and I'm his fresh zebra. The new stance sends a shiver down my spine, with his shoulders hunched and all, ready to pounce.

"Baz... Baz, Baz, Baz..." I say over and over again because he's smiling at me, and then I start to smile, too, "Bahaz!" I try once more, but his name is all that's coming out, and now I'm giggling. I'm nervous. He did this to me.

BAZ

He's already giggling and I haven't even laid a hand on him.

"Yes, Snow?" I respond to his many calls of my name before I lurch forward, sending my whole body crashing on top of his and trying to pin him. I dig my fingers into his sides and don't stop for as long as I can maintain contact through his squirming.

"Gehehet off!" he's already crumbling, words being broken up with short laughs.

I slide my fingertips to his stomach and scratch there; Snow bucks. It gets even better when my cold fingers make contact with his warm skin beneath the shirt he's wearing. He yelps like I've never heard him yelp (like he's burnt his finger, but he's also 11-years-old again), and he dissolves into loud, beautiful laughter.

"St-Stohohop! Baz! I'm going to end you!"

"Isn't that how we always said it would end? Snuffing each other out? I'm perfectly happy that it's now going to end in my favor. You should've told me you were this easy to defeat earlier on, Snow."

"Shut up!" he cackles, legs kicking wildly behind me, as my body is thrown over his torso. Now I have both my hands buried into his sides, squeezing and squeezing. I get curious, my cheeks still burning with blood, and I lean down to his neck and... (no, I don't bite) I start nibbling. Snow loses it.

His whole face scrunches up, as I watch when I pull my head back. His smile is huge and bright. And the laughs bubble up from his stomach, releasing softer into the air like he sucked a little of the joy from it before releasing to keep for himself.

"Dohon't do that!"

"I thought you love my kisses."

"Not tha-HAAT!"

He shrieks again, hands too slow to stop my face from moving in. I nibble and even lick a few times, careful not to touch him with my fangs.

Did I mention that my hands are still tickling at his sides and ribs while I'm nibbling? Oh yes, I've waited so long for this sound. I wasn't going to make it come out lightly.

I blow a raspberry and that's when Snow's laughter catches and turns all hiccuppy. The noises are infecting me, starting to make me giggle. I shift, and my face now descends towards his stomach, which is bared after I rucked the shirt up.

SIMON

"TYRANNUS BASILTON G-GRIMM FUCKING PITCH-- OR WHATEVER YOUR LONG STUPID ARSEHOLE NAME IS--"

He's laughing at me. I keep laughing even without him tickling me.

"I swehehear I'm going to fucking kill you and your whole family if you do that dohown thehere--" I'm hiccuping. Crowley, how embarrassing.

BAZ

He's got me. I can hardly breathe from laughter. I keel over into him or he into me, but soon we're a laughing pile together on top of the mussed up sheets on the bed.

I make a loud snort and that reels us both back in again, laughing til we're red in the face and til my cheeks hurt.

Simon is giggling away, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself, but he just keeps on giggling. I'm able to sit up a little more and Snow's head is in my lap. He's beaming and looking up at me through squinted, teary eyes.

"That was fun," I say, and I don't think it's the brightest or smartest thing to say. But I say it.

"I love you," Snow's smile is still wide, like he's drunk from it. There's a moment where I feel like I've died again, color drained from me.

It doesn't seem to bother him, that he's said that. For the first time. I run my fingers through his reddish curls once, letting them tangle in the locks towards the back of his head. I hunch myself down so I can kiss him.

"I've wanted to hear that for so long," I whisper.

"That I love you? You haven't figured it out by now?"

"No, you idiot," I say with nothing but fondness, brushing my nose along Simon's jaw, "Your laugh."

#carry on #carry on: the rise and fall of simon snow #simon snow #baz pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #snowbaz #simon/baz #simon and baz #fanfiction #carry on fanfiction #carry on fanfic #fanfic #ticklish!simon #ticklish!simonsnow #lee!simon #ler!baz

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catsandstrawberries · 4 years

Text

Professor Kim? 3

Pairing: College Professor!Taehyung x Student!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Underage Drinking! (I am not encouraging this in any way) Age gap (like 5 years), almost smut, grinding, swear words, peer-pressure,

Summary: You should not be doing this. You should not be at a bar, you should not be kissing this stranger, and this stranger should definitely not be your teacher.

You have a habit of doing things you shouldn't, like your professor.

1 2 3

"You gave me a C? On the first project!?" I whisper shouted at Taehyung who sat behind his mahogany desk, some students from office hours watching us curiously from the back. "Mrs. (l/n), is there a problem?" Tae raised his brows at me as if tempting me to act out in front of everyone. "You gave me a C on my first fiction writing assignment. I don't understand why."

He hummed in thought and gestured to an empty chair beside him. "Why don't you pull up a chair and we can talk about it?" I growled under my breath but listened to him nevertheless, plopping down in the chair while Tae gave me a subtle glare. He held out his hand for the paper and I slid it towards him, watching as he analyzed and flipped through the pages. "Oh, I know why I gave you a C." I breathed out a sigh of relief, thinking it was some sort of mistake. "You're holding back." "What?!" I whisper shouted, my eyes bulging at his assessment. If anything I outdid the assignment, four pages of exactly what he asked for. He asked for a ghost story, I gave him one. "I'm not holding back." The jerk freaking scoffed at me and then decided to chuckle. My fists clenched at the fabric on my legs, my mind running haywire at the new information. "Yes, you are. Here, look." He pointed out several points in my paper, "you suddenly cut your thought process off and don't explain any of your main thoughts. Why is she in a graveyard, you write the ghost she found is half man, what does that mean?" I fell into silence and just stared at my paper as if it was some foreign object. "Don't take my class if you're gonna half-ass it." I whipped my head towards Taehyung at his comment, but he wasn't even looking at me. Focusing on a stack of papers to grade, marking one of the papers with an A in red ink. "If you hate me so much why don't you just kick me out of your class," I muttered, not expecting him to hear me. "Hate you?" He chuckled, and for some reason, tears started to form in the corner of my eyes, not fully dripping but enough to make me vulnerable. “I’ve seen the way you ignore me by walking the other way, how you flinch if we get close, or how you can’t even look at me around other people. You’re embarrassed by me, and I get it. I just," I struggled to get the words out and my lungs contracted as my breath stuttered. " I know I messed up that night, but I don't want to mess this up too.” Tae fell silent before softly muttering "(y/n)." He paused, “when I first met you, you told me that you write because it makes you happy. When you rewrite this, which you will, I want you to write as if it's not an assignment but a passion. I know you can do better (y/n), I won’t judge you so harshly if you stop putting constraints on yourself.” I nodded emotionlessly, ignoring Taehyung looks of concern. "Do you want to rewrite it here? It is office hours, maybe I can help?" A soft smile spread on his lips, and I saw what he was doing. Throwing me a rope to try and mend this broken relationship, a small push in finding stability in the craziness. "I think I'll go to the library. Thank you, I'll fix it." Before I could run out of the room, Tae was coursing me back. "(Y/n), I don’t hate you, if anything, the issue is you have better self-control than me.” He smiled sweetly at me, but I couldn't smile back.

I practically rewrote the whole piece. Staying at the library until my eyes were red and my mind was reeling for a break from writing. Grabbing my stuff I pushed open the exit to the library, only to be met with pitch blackness and the pounding sound of rapid rain. Thanks to the building I had a solid light source, but I anxiously hid under the dawning of the building, out of the rain. I didn't want my computer to get ruined in the rain and my dorm was on the other side of campus. I take a tentative step into the wet, cold, rain, a gasp escaping my lips. As if it wasn't bad enough a car pulls up right next to me and I fully expect to be splashed with puddle water. But instead of puddle water, I'm met with a lowering window and an opening side door. "Get in."

In retrospect, it might not be smart to get into a car with a stranger, but if the weather breaks my computer, I'll have no reason to live.

I hop into the passenger seat and shake my head from side to side to fling the water off of me. I'm met with a gentle chuckle that sends me whipping my head towards the driver and sends my body into an anxious chill,

"I couldn't let you walk back in the rain."

Kim Taehyung. I hum in agreement, trying to act cool as I slump into the leather seat. Tae shifts the gears and starts to drive, the car ride is quiet until I speak up,

"I fixed my paper." Tae groans next to me and tilts his head towards me, his lips quirking upwards,

"You stayed at the library till midnight to fix a paper I would have given you a weak to revise?"

"11:30, and yes." Tae chuckles full-heartedly this time and his response releases a cage of butterflies into my body.

"You are one of a kind love."

The rest of the ride is silent until his tires slide against the gravel, parking in front of the dorm complexes. "Try to stay warm tonight." "Thank you," I mutter and turn to leave, but I can't. My hand hovers over the door handle, but then my voice comes out, stronger and determined. Two adjectives that never fit me. “You told me not to hold back in my writing, right?” Tae raises an eyebrow, his hands on the wheel shifting to rub at his thighs. "Yes" "So I shouldn't hold back in real life." Tae's eyes widen and as if he knows what I'm gonna say he speaks with a sigh. "Y/n-"

"No." I interrupt him and gaze at him with as much confidence,

"Tae, this is hard. So hard. I can’t keep writing papers for you, hearing my classmates talk about you, see you around the halls, and not feel awkward. Don’t you feel the tension? Because every time I see you I go back to that night and I want to kiss you.”

My eyes suddenly widen and all my confidence and firmness disappear. Embarrassment washing over me in waves. I just told him I wanted to kiss him. I look down at myself. Sticky and wet in nothing but a t-shirt that has some chocolate stains on the bottom, and a pair of sweatpants. I am the epidemy of gross. "Um-m, forget I said anything." I open the door and a patch of rain seeps through, but then a hand is reaching over and shutting it before I can leave. "Wait." I refuse to make eye contact with him, but when his fingers ghost across my chin and turn my eyes to meet his, I'm putty in his hands. Then he says it. The words I've been dreaming of since the night at the bar, the words that unleash a secret part of me. "I want to kiss you too." So I do. I don't know who leans in first but our breath is entangling and his warm hands are stroking my cold skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake. His hands travel lower until they are grabbing at my sweatpants, and it isn't until he's grabbing a leg till I realize what he wants and I climb into his lap. My own hands grabbing at the hair of his nape and pulling at the small dark strands. "What" mph, "if" I part for air but Taehyung chases after my lips as if he's addicted. "Get caught?" An embarrassing whine escapes me as he tugs my bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes piercing into mine at the action and the whispered words. "Tinted windows."

The dynamic is different now. Even though Tae and I did nothing past swallowing each other's lips, everything felt different. Even in class, surrounded by other students, he would pretend like it was just the two of us. "Y/n, what do you think about reading Beloved as our next book?" My mind faltered, and I raised an eyebrow at him, two could play at this game. "Do you think you're capable of teaching Beloved?" A boy to my right made an audible gasp while others chuckled at my bold words. "I'm very capable." His smirk made my knees wobble under my desk. I hate him.

Taglist: @aretha170 @kookie-vuitton @gee-nee @ladyartemesia @nekee-lilac02 @kpoptrashforlifeuu @justinseagull @unabashedllamaballoon @l-l-c-m-w-b

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evandearest · 4 years

Text

The Garden of Eden | Part IV: Betrayal

Pairing: James March x reader (you) | ~Part: (4/4)~

Summary (Part Four): Warnings are to be remembered, although most stored away for future use only to be forgotten. Cycles repeat to teach lessons; to warn of future events. Threats may remain even if not for the blind eye to see. However, ignorance might be the biggest threat of all.

Warnings (in this part): murder, blood, death, poison, religious twists, dark themes

Word Count: 5,018 (haha this part ended up with the most words... to end it off I suppose!)

Notes: This is the last part of the Garden of Eden! I just want to say thank you to all who read - especially @etoile-writings , for supporting me. Please go check out her series Adam and Eve, as it is a literary masterpiece and she deserves so much recognition.

I have seriously had so much fun writing this - it really has been my pleasure. I also want to apologize to all those who may have been waiting for awhile for the final part! Disclaimer: I tried my best to edit the grammar and everything in this but this is the best I could do! I hope there’s not many mistakes I may have missed. Please ask any questions and give me all your comments about this finale - I’d love to hear any and all thoughts! I also hope everyone is safe, healthy, and happy :) Feel free to send in other requests, whether it be AHS or Supernatural.

Also a heads up - keep a look out for the final review and analysis if you are interested. It is still in progress but it should be out within a couple of days at best.

A few side notes - the Countess and James are still legally married here, as they are in the show, but in this situation it is only because they haven’t gotten the chance to divorce. This part may seem to have very long sentences, but I just wanted to let you guys know that it is a writing technique that I used to create mood, tone, and theme. That’s all, thanks!

Tag List: @etoile-writings @haileyybird @ietss

Something about the young couple in the bar had your mind reeling. Their hands remained interlocked on the table, both of them staring at one another with all the joy and adoration that only true love can bring. Their relationship was new and exciting. The honeymoon phase was always so perfect. You remembered how that had felt with James; so invigoratingly energizing. It was enough to make you feel as if you ruled the world; love blinding a vision of truth. It was, for many years, what you had considered paradise to be.

Paradise.

You realized now that it never had been perfect with you and James. There were so many things standing in the way, so many hidden threats. When you were younger, it had been your parents and their obsessive need to marry you off like an object to a rich man. Even as he had began his journey to success, James’ social status as new money hadn’t seemed good enough to them. When you had first gotten back with James only just around a month ago, you had thought that you’d conquered everything. You had been blind to the truth which was right in front of you once again. You should have expected some kind of change in James. It was inevitable, after all that time spent apart.

But now, however, right at this present moment... well, now, everything was out in the open. Now, you and James truly understood one another. Now there really was nothing in your way. You could see no obstacles ahead, no threat, so long as James was by your side. All you saw was James, and all that clouded your mind was your admiration and devotion to him. He was your everything; your soulmate, your leader, your God. He had dragged you from the fire and brought your paradise back to you; good, true, and everlasting this time around. Your precious Garden of Eden, controlled by none other but you and your God.

Your God; who had been the utmost of clever in his recent schemes. He’d been outraged when he did it, but it wasn’t to say that he wasn’t brilliant. He was of excellent prosecution; his statement out in the open and clear. A Sunday morning: police finding piles of dead bodies compiled with numerous copies of nothing other than the book of God himself. It was sadistic and morbid, but it was perfect. It was everything that James needed to say. He was on the verge of something momentously renowned.

Once James was finished, no one would ever forget his message: religion was the worst thing to happen to society. It controlled the will of man, when truly nothing in creation could stop anything. Everyone was put equal on the Earth to sin, to live in the most pleasurable way.

It was the entire reason Adam and Eve had been cast down. They were sinners, except the garden was a place controlled by God’s rules. They had wanted to control their own lives, so God banished them to Earth. James, however, had created his own paradise; his own Garden of Eden. He had climbed so far above all other men that he now controlled the garden. He had to prove to others the ridiculousness of holiness--for all were meant to sin. Religion was, essentially, suppression. To some, it may seem horrible, but to you, it was art. A simple expression of belief that most didn’t understand.

Voices floated into your ears, startling you out of your thoughts. Soft echoes through the lobby of your beloved’s name piqued your interest, your feet immediately carrying you to the railing without much thought. You left your drink on the bar’s counter--still full, but long forgotten. Your eyes landed on four men clad in black suits, shiny gold badges on their shoulders reflecting light from the chandeliers above. You scanned the area, noticing a certain maid standing close by, listening in, much like you were.

“We have suspicion based upon evidence that Mr. March was involved in the murder this past Sunday. We have already taken the time to get a warrant for his arrest,” one of the officers explained to the receptionist at the front desk. Time seemed to take a standstill, your heart seeming to stop completely as your brain registered the man’s words. No, this couldn’t be happening.

The cycle was repeating again. They were trying to tear you apart again.

You didn’t understand how this could’ve happened. He said he was careful, and you could never see James making a mistake with something this important. He was detail-oriented, his brain practically ran off of the certainty of perfectionism. He would never let a small mistake ruin everything for him.

The entire empire he’d built, and everything you’d rebuilt, was about to be destroyed all over again.

Your body seemed to catch up with your mind as you sprung into action. You twisted around, your feet pushing you forward only to come to a halt at the close proximity of the once unknown presence behind you. Your eyes widened, a sharp breath escaping your lips at the stop you made compared to your sudden momentum. You stared into the eyes of none other than The Countess, clad in only the most extravagant clothing and makeup.

“That’ll be a hard one to get out of,” she said, although her face was seemingly expressionless. You stared at her, your frenzied brain jumping to the first conclusion you could make.

“Did you...” you trailed off, your breathing suddenly heavy. James couldn’t have made the mistake, so that means that somebody else had to of given the police some kind of tip in order for them to seek James out. The woman standing before you was quite possibly the number one suspect. “Did you do this?” Your voice held tones of disbelief and anger.

Would Elizabeth really go to such extent when she hadn’t even expressed a major disliking? She hadn’t talked to you at all since that first time, in fact the only interactions you’d had with one another were passing glances. She’d seemed to have just steered clear of anything to do with you or James. You had no idea what she had thought, but you had supposed that she didn’t care about you and James, otherwise she would have spoke her concerns. Had you been wrong about her? Could a simple mistake end it all over again? Elizabeth scoffed, her face hardening.

“Oh God no...” she said wryly, a small sarcastic grin forming on her lips as she looked at you quizzically, “what would I get out of it now? As I am still his present wife, I don’t need James dead to use his money. And besides, now that he has you he no longer bothers me.” She was smug as she spoke to you. She grinned, all teeth and mischief, her eyes sparkling. “It’s a winning situation for the both of us if you ask me.” She paused, her grin falling slightly as her gaze wondered off to peer down into the lobby.

“I could bet I know who the rat is, though,” She said, turning back to you. “I’m wagering it’s his loyal minion. That poor woman has been in love with James since the beginning of time.” She paused, her eyes intense as they rested on your face. “And based on your expression you think so too.” She smiled at you and then turned, walking slowly away from you. “Good luck,” she called back to you without turning around, your eyes watching her back as she went.

You stood contemplating her words for a moment. Elizabeth was smart and straightforward, and from what you could tell if she had a problem she would speak her mind. And what she had said made sense. Miss Evers was in love with James, but her love was unrequited, and that’s why she constantly seemed at odds with you. She could never even have a chance to be with him, so long as you were around.

Your feet carried you quickly as you raced to the elevator. The police were still conversing with the receptionist, but you knew it was only a matter of time before they found out where James was. You recalled a conversation you’d had with him in the morning, concluding that he had to be caught up attending to his hobby.

The police would find him in his office, in the middle of his business, and it would all be over. He would be taken from you once again.

You didn’t even knock upon arriving; you opened the door and closed it quickly behind you. You turned to face James, in all his blood-covered, god-like glory. You took in the scene of James’ office quickly, your eyes tracing over every detail. A large bin sat in the center of the room, a rugged corpse contained within it. James had been busying himself with pouring a substance over the body, of which could only be acid, as it had sizzled upon impact with the dead man’s skin. At your arrival, James halted his methods in confusion.

Several items were scattered across the floor, one of which catching your interest. The glass of the vase; a damp spot surrounding the area where the unaltered mess remained. The roses remained too, the petals wilting from lack of nourishment. You paused, your mind trying to puzzle out their unmoved position. Miss Evers had to have been in here since last night, so why wouldn’t she move them? She might have been scheming, but she was extremely adamant on being neat when it came to James’ specific rooms. You couldn’t see her ignoring it, and yet here it was sitting puzzlingly. You were caught off guard for a reason not entirely known to you. Something about their appearance had you alarmed, a string of words suddenly ringing out in your head; perhaps a memory brought to the surface.

“If you betray the rose, the rose no longer profits you.”

The old woman was suddenly prevalent in your mind, her warning dawning upon you, your heartbeat stuttering at the looming echo of her words. James was waiting for you to explain yourself--the police were coming--Miss Evers had betrayed you--everything you and James had worked so hard for was crumbling down around you. Your heartbeat was fast, the pulse beating quickly, perhaps the reason for the pounding in your head.

You looked James in the eyes, studying his features. He was so handsome--even before you knew him, that day in the garden when you had first seen him--you had marveled at his beauty. And that was before he’d become such a man; his features sharp and masculine, beautifully sculpted by the gods. His dark brown eyes and hair, so dull yet so prominent--a symbol of his darkness. You could stare at him for eternity and never bore, your love for him everlasting.

And yet, here you were at the end with no escape, hell a threat once again hanging above your heads, looming just around the corner. Just a few more minutes and everything would be over. Just a few more minutes and you’d be lost again, stranded without your guide; your purpose--your God.

“James,” you gasped, stumbling slightly as you made your way to him. You’d just managed to get to him before you fell over slightly, your arms reaching out to grasp onto his tightly. He caught you, keeping you level as his face filled with concern. The pounding in your head was intense, beginning to drown out your thoughts and quicken your breath.

“Darling, tell me--what is it?” James demanded, his voice panic-stricken. He lifted your chin to look you in the eyes, his widened orbs meeting yours with intensity.

“I-it’s--the- the police,” you barely managed to get the words out, clinging onto James like he was your lifeline. Nothing seemed right; your thoughts suddenly taking too long to form into words, your breathing heavy, vision blurry, and it was becoming much harder to stand. What was happening? You stared into James eyes, shifting all your focus into him. “They’re here to arrest you.” One hand gripped his arm firmly as you brought the other to rest upon his cheekbone, leaning chest to chest as your body began to collapse into him. He held you steady, forever the one and only thing to truly support you. “They’re going to take you from me,” you sobbed, an onslaught of tears overcoming you. “Again,” you cried quietly, gasping for air.

The door opened, your heart skipping a beat at the intrusion, your mind going straight to the thought of the police. Your eyes landed on Miss Evers instead, confusion settling on you once again. She’d gotten what she wanted, hadn’t she? Why was she here now, to prove something? You wished you had the strength to question her, to say anything, but everything felt heavier and heavier as more time passed.

“Tell me,” James barked at her just as she’d closed and locked the door, “what in all creation is happening? Speak right this instant, and quickly.”

“The police are here,” Miss Evers explained, James grip on you tightening as you leaned onto him for support. He glanced down at you, worry glinting in his eyes as you just barely managed to look up at him.

“Darling,” he whispered, “what is happening? Are you ill?” A moment of silence passed as you tried to respond, your mouth opening but no words becoming audible. A moment of silence passed, the only action being James assessing you. Your words couldn’t seem to form, a burning spreading through your entire body. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt. You began to wonder yourself if you were somehow ill.

“It was supposed to be me!”

The maid across the room suddenly shrieked, desperation clouding her judgement as she flung her arms up in the air. “I was the one for you!” She sobbed, stumbling slightly as an expression of hurt formed upon her face. “I always loved you, and these women--they never did! They used you, and I always cared!” James eyes widened, shock coming across his features. He stared at the woman, contemplating her words.

“But you never saw,” the woman said sadly, her head hanging in shame before her face went emotionless. “And so I did the only thing I could.” She looked at him, dead in the eye, a type of malice suddenly overcoming her. “You’d be surprised how easy it was.” Her eyes settled upon your frame, your head moving slowly to get a glance at her. You stared, blinking rapidly as your vision faded in and out. You could barely comprehend what she was saying, but you felt as James’ breath quickened. It was taking all of your willpower to stay awake--you needed to, for James.

“What?” he stated, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, a rage within his eyes even you had never seen before as he stared at her. He was tense, as hard as a rock, glaring daggers at the woman who had seemingly betrayed him.

“I--,” Miss Evers hesitated, obviously intimidated by his fury, but decided to continue. “I’ve found that you have a secret stash of cyanide in the bar.” She faltered once again, her eyes shifting away from James and to the floor. “I wanted us to be together, and she-” she pointed at you, “-she was always in it for the money! They all are, all but me!” She burst into tears, falling onto her knees in hysterics. Your eyebrows furrowed as you racked your brain to gather all of the information. She poisoned you at the bar. You remembered brief flashbacks of the one tiny sip you’d taken of your previously forgotten drink.

James seemed to be shaking as he gently moved you to sit in a chair by the wall, turning away from you for only a moment. Your eyelids began to flutter as sleep beckoned you, visions of James’ movement around the room the only thing to hold your focus. A loud pop suddenly reverberated off of the walls as it rang out, causing you to sit up slightly from your slouched posture, your eyelids flying open to search for the source. James stood over the body of his betrayer, smoking gun resting within his palm.

You felt so weak, your thoughts jumbled, unable to focus on only one. Only now you knew it wasn’t just an overreaction. You’d only taken a mere sip of the drink from the bar, but you supposed now that it had been enough for the poison to go into effect. You wondered briefly how she’d gotten the cyanide into the drink in the first place, and exactly how much she had put in for it to have such a potent effect on your body.

Your eyes traveled to her corpse, and to the fresh blood splattered across the wall from the headshot. You blinked, barely registering what had just occurred before you. You were too dazed to process the incident, even if you understood what had occurred subconsciously. Relief was the only thing you felt; relief for one less thing to worry about standing between you and James.

Eyes shifting slightly to the left, you stared at the browning roses, the sweet old lady’s warning once again echoing, a distant memory brought to the surface of your mind. James crouched in front of you, suddenly the only thing in line of sight, his lips moving but you couldn’t hear his voice over your own in your head. The roses were dead. You left them on the floor. You betrayed them for--

You sprung up once again as a loud banging at the door shocked you back into your senses. James glanced briefly at the door before turning back to you quickly. He pulled you out of the chair, holding you up and close to his chest as he stroked your hair tenderly.

“James,” you just barely whispered as he shushed you.

“I know, darling,” He said reassuringly, pulling back to look into your eyes. “It’s all going to be okay, dear. It’ll all be over before you know it.” He smiled charmingly as you nodded weakly, holding tightly onto the cloth of his shirt to maintain stability. And you believed him in that moment, as he always seemed to find a way.

One way, or another.

You rested your head on his chest, closing your eyes as the pounding on the door increased. Or maybe it was the pounding in your head; at this point you couldn’t decipher what was real and what was just a figment of your imagination. Cold metal pressed against the skin of your temple, your brain too bleary to question it. Mere seconds passed as you contemplated moving, but suddenly it was as if everything had settled away. James’ warm body faded from your grasp.

-🤍-

Your eyelids fluttered open, eyeballs moving back and forth as you tried to become familiar with your surroundings. You recognized the familiar room immediately, for it was your bedroom when you had first moved into the Cortez. You felt strange. Zen, almost, but maybe that was just because the pounding was gone. You felt... disconnected. It was the most out of touch with yourself you’d ever felt.

You climbed to your feet from the floor, thoughts running rampant at what was unknown to you. Where was James, how did you get here, how long had you been here, and why did you feel so cold? Flashes of what seemed to be both years ago and only moments ago clouded your mind, filling you with dread. Scenarios of what could be frightened you and sent you into a state of panic, pushing you forward.

Out of the room you went, through the quiet and empty halls, searching, searching, searching--no fixed destination ahead except something, anything, that could lead you to your James.

It seemed that days had passed before you finally found the lobby of the hotel. Navigation through the building was proving to be much more difficult than you remembered. Why was it taking so long?

The lobby was sparsely populated, unlike the usually crowded area that you were used to. You glanced around, noticing only a few people in the bar, the receptionist, and someone asleep on the sofas. Your feet carried you to the hotel entrance, pushing the first door open, the sunlight peeking through the opaque glass surprising you. If it was the daytime, then why was the hotel so empty? On ordinary occasions people came and went like flies; the Cortez was a hotspot in the city of Los Angeles, after all. Your hands reached out to push open the door to the outside, the metal handle of the door cool against your skin, and then suddenly nothing. In front of you was the door no longer; profound confusion coursing through you as you stared at the walls of your bedroom once again. You had been there one second, and in the next it was as if you had been teleported back in time.

And so the cycle repeated for what seemed like years; many times set adrift through the halls, eventually to the lobby where the sunlight no longer shone through the windows and unusually few people inhabited. You were reaching forward for the handle of the first door for what seemed to be the hundredth time, only to freeze at the call of your name from a familiar voice.

“Y/N.”

Your name sounded of honey dripping off his tongue. It was like hearing that voice for the first time again. All your worries deflated and anxieties subsided--for you had found your God once again. You turned to face him, to see his face--the face you had longed to see for what felt like years but may have been minutes. You still didn’t entirely understand the detachment from your body you felt; it was as if you no longer had a life source, no blood running course or lungs cycling air. You felt out of place and trapped at the same time.

Just as your hopes had soared, they plummeted at the sight of the bare lobby. Emptiness sat instead where you had expected James to be, crushing all sense of direction. You wanted to cry, to scream, to tear the hotel to shreds with your bare hands. But just before you gave up all hope completely, your eyes caught on the tiniest of details.

Barely noticeable, unless payed close attention to; unless already a prominent object in one’s mind. Small, dainty, white petals lay scattered in high correlation, leading on to an unknown but obviously specific destination. You treaded lightly as you followed the path closely, afraid any disturbance would somehow make them disappear.

Unease settled through you, possibly just a usual feeling as of late, but considerably appropriate when meeting the isolate hallways once again. You began questioning your sanity; was this just yet another repeat in the cycle? You’d been lost for so long, was this just another loop? What was the energy here, and why did it not feel like you and James’ beloved Cortez, the place you called home? You felt like you were stuck in a punishment of some kind; a purgatory; a hell.

And at last, you arrived; the room in which this cycle had began, or ended. The office of James Patrick March: Room sixty-four. You paused, contemplating, before making a bold decision and gripping the handle, opening the door and entering the room. There you stood in what was once James’ office, now empty of most furniture, only few items remaining. And there it remained: the vase on the table in the center of the room, petals leading straight to their source.

Inside sat the very white roses themselves, southern California glory and all. They looked just like the ones in that very first garden: huge, bright and beaming, petals spread with all the beauty and radiance of nature and purity. And just behind them stood their God; the master of the garden who held the utmost control in his realm. Your God, who’d saved you from hell; who’d broke all cycles.

The feeling you felt at sight of James did not fail to excite you just the same as it had on that first day years ago. Something about his presence next to yours soothed you, for you knew that he was still there, that he hadn’t been taken from you, that no matter what had happened you were still okay so long as he stood next to you.

You rushed forward and into him, basking in his embrace. His arms wrapped around you, but the challenge once again presented itself: an unignorably apparent absence of warmth. It’d been just before you’d first woken up what seemed like years, or maybe just hours ago, that you’d been in his embrace just the same, his warmth seeping into you and igniting your soul as you had faded in and out of consciousness. But now, you couldn’t feel it. You felt his body wrapped around yours, but nothing inflaming, the detachment from your own warmth just the same. It was missing, a shell of a comfort that used to always be present; something you had gotten entirely used to, for to be absent of warmth was to be dead...

You gasped, pulling away from James to look him in the eyes, the reality setting in and the drunkenness fading away. Your mind was becoming clear, all clarity suddenly bestowed upon you.

“James, are we...” you froze in panic, for it felt as if you didn’t have lungs, the normal rise and fall of the simplicity of breathing gone... the feelings of life were all gone...

And it clicked.

“James,” you whispered, your eyes tracing over the details of the room. The blood stains on the floor and walls were the only evidence of foul play left. You felt strange, for people didn’t normally expect to see the place of their death after the fact. Realizations settled over you as you stared at the room, just as you had initially when entering to warn James of the police, the truth of the events that had happened finally dawning upon you. In your poison-induced state of mind, it’d been hard to realize. You had been dying, the poison slowly but surely shutting your body down. You’d barely processed it when James had held the gun to your head and pulled the trigger, ending your pain.

“Yes, darling?” James replied to you, bringing you back to your conversation. You stared at him longingly. Although you didn’t entirely understand why you were still here, or the concept of the afterlife, you were glad to have James next to you. A moment of silence passed as you tried to pinpoint what you wanted to ask him exactly.

“I have so many questions,” you said, deciding to just speak your mind. You furrowed your eyebrows, blinking rapidly as you tried to sort out your thoughts. “I-I’m so lost, James.”

“Of course you are, dearest,” James said reassuringly, his hand brushing the stray hairs away from your face. He stared at you sadly. “I’m terribly sorry for all that happened, you must feel perplexed beyond understanding my dear.” He paused, his eyes traveling over your features as you stared up at him, listening intently. “This was simply my only choice, darling. You were succumbing to the poison’s grip long before I finished your pain. Miss Evers...” He trailed off, his jaw clenching tightly. “Nevermind that. I came to a conclusion upon the authorities’ arrival, and that was that if I was damned to be put away I might as well flee with you, my queen... it was the only right option.” He smiled down at you softly.

You smiled right back at him, your love for him the only warmth left inside of you now that you no longer had your body to call home. You basked in the feeling of being close to him as he pulled you to his chest, his lips leaving a soft kiss against your scalp. Even if you didn’t feel warmth, simply the love you had for him was enough. He tenderly stroked your back, calming your nerves. It amazed you how he could ease your mind so easily, if only just a little. However, you couldn’t shake your thoughts away. Sure, you could just let it all go, but the truth of the matter was simple.

Your entire life had been a cycle. A cycle of undeniable foolishness; you’d been ignorant of the truth for all of your living years. Oh, how it angered you. You hated something truly for what seemed like the first time in your life. You hated yourself; you’d let yourself believe false truths just to live in an illusion that you thought was happiness. You were naïve. And ultimately, that was what had ended you.

You’d ignored all warnings and left the roses to wilt, betraying the one thing that had always been on your side. You’d ignored all threats and committed yourself to making paradise in the land of the evil; it was simply impossible. The Garden of Eden wasn’t a place for the living. It was a place of freedom, and so long as you’re living, you can never truly be free. For in life, one threat always remains: death. You could never truly be protected. You could never truly have paradise.

But with James, in the Cortez, in the paradise he’d created for you... even death didn’t stand a chance. It was a gateway to greatness; a place where nothing truly stood in your way, where no threats were great enough. You couldn’t be harmed, or imprisoned, or separated here; you were finally utterly invincible; real Gods. Hell and Earth were no longer a threat. It was your true paradise that James had promised you.

Your Garden of Eden.

---------

Series Masterlist: The Garden of Eden Series

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jasperwhitcock · 4 years

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equinox | chapter 07 –– “a cruel god, a wrathful goddess”

here is chapter six of my bella as a vampire and edward as a human fanfic inspired by an au that @bellasredchevy posted. you can read the new chapter on AO3 or here. i post updates on AO3 or on tumblr using the #equinoxjw tag. but it seems 10/10 times my tag does not work, so that is a fun mystery for me to solve.

oof... sometimes u get distracted and then ur sister gets married and then u get unmotivated & d*pressed and forget to update ur fanfic for over three months... my bad y'all... sorry for the wait hehe. i hope it is worth it. again, i'm so thankful for the comments & i read them all. i get too shy to respond, but i WILL. i just need to talk myself up first. i love u. thank u. hehe. ♡♡♡ merry christmas/happy holidays if i fail u again before the 25th. i WANT to update more frequently. my catchphrase these days is "i'm trying my best," so... i'm trying my best.

this is for the sweet anons who slide into my ask box & ask me questions abt my fanfic. and for taryn, who consistently reminds me that there are people wanting to read this seeing as she is one of those people, kim, who i am so desperate to impress that i began working on a new chapter once she started to read my fanfic, and kae, because without her, this fanfic would never have existed in the first place. i love how i'm writing this as though it's the intro to an actual book when it's literally just chapter seven. ok, i will shut up now so u can read. love u. again.

07 A CRUEL GOD, A WRATHFUL GODDESS

In great contrast to the noisy ambience of the other students in the hallway, we were silent on our walk to our shared biology class. I wondered how conscious Edward was of the stares and whispers focused on our proximity to one another, but my guess was that he was very much conscious of it. I intentionally ignored glancing in any direction that I sensed one of my siblings’ presence, although I figured it was mostly paranoia driving me to feel as though we were about to cross paths. Holding my breath to more easily walk beside Edward left my senses impaired to the ability to pinpoint their location.

I was lucky that for the majority of my immortal life, I’d managed to escape unwanted attention. But now, it seemed that precious luck had finally run out. Maybe embarrassment had been creeping up on me, maliciously building itself up all these years, waiting until just the right moment to rear its ugly head and exact revenge that immorality had stolen its favorite object of humiliation to torment. But here it was, ensuring that I was finally catching up on feeling awkward and out of step, a feeling I experienced for what seemed like the entirety of my human life. I thought once I’d been changed, I’d never feel this way again, but becoming misaligned with my family made me feel bashful to parade my defiance in their faces. I had operated better under no scrutiny as a mortal and was surprised to realize that that still held true as an immortal as well. Because though there was now never a struggle of staying upright or a risk of tripping over my own feet, that didn’t prevent me from feeling self-conscious as I walked beside Edward. Although for different reasons –– it was too mortifying to consider what my family might make of what my actions suggested about my feelings towards Edward.

And yet still, I would put up with the ridicule and disapproval of my siblings if it meant I could listen to Edward speak his silly philosophical theology, his questioning of god and existence, for just a few more hours. If I were going to be teased over Alice’s visions regardless, I might as well find out what I can about this pretentious boy before I leave him alone forever. If only to understand why his moving to this small town threatened to warp my own future so much. In losing night and in losing death, there were so very little anomalies in the endless amount of time I’d been given. So what would it hurt to allow myself to fixate on this minuscule difference in my life for just awhile?

It could hurt Edward, a more selfless part of myself reminded me. If indulging myself was playing with fire, I was being justly punished with the way flames were efflorescing the inside of my dry, burning throat.

If a god did exist, why would it make sense for such a being to craft someone like Edward with his perceptivity, and send him off to this small town, home to a secret such as ours? If a god did exist, why it would be fair for such a being to craft someone like Edward, someone who tempted me both in bloodlust and in curiosity, and send him off to this small town, home to the very vampire who desperately wished to kill him most? If a god did exist, if our kind had fallen short of heaven, I could understand why sending Edward into our path –– and more specifically, my path –– could be some kind of punishment. But what I couldn’t understand is why a god would allow someone as innocent as Edward to be endangered for the sake of bringing a sinful, undead creature to justice. It seemed the only reasonable explanation would be that a god probably did not exist.

And how could there be? I was on the precipice of falling into temptation with every step further in the hallway and every question he asked and answered. I could never not be very much aware of the fact –– especially now with his body merely inches from my side and his sweet fragrance blooming both deliciously and relentlessly in the air. And even as I impossibly withstood the lure of his blood, how was I meant to ignore the irresistibility of his mind and how inexplicably concerned I was to understand it? It seemed like a very cruel experiment of free will and knowledge –– far too cruel to allow much room for the kind of god Edward hoped for.

I frowned as I realized that this experiment wasn’t that of a cruel god’s but that of a cruel vampire, and I felt very much like a vampire as the sound of his heartbeat was so appealing that it made my mouth water.

“Do the stares bother you?” Edward spoke quietly to me as we weaved throughout the hallway. Easily distracted, his question was able to pull the more civilized parts of myself together, though this was probably also in thanks to my choosing not to utilize my sense of smell. I found it funny that at least one of his thoughts had been in a similar vicinity. But of course, the rest of his thoughts were probably free of all consuming agony and struggle. For all his curiosity about morality, to inflict this existence upon him would probably devour him in misery. At least as a human, despite whatever conclusions he may come to, there was still some hope to be had for an afterlife. This thought should have been dark and depressing, but because it made Alice’s vision seem like a complete hoax, I almost found it funny. How would Edward ever end up like me?

“Oh, no,” I swallowed the venom in my mouth. “I live for attention.” I watched from the corner of my eyes as his gaze flickered over to me, the ever present half smile appearing on his face at my joke. My answer came out so comfortably as though I was used to this, when in reality, the student body for the most part had grown accustomed to ignoring me. And, of course, there was nothing comfortable about the demanding, aching dryness in my mouth or the burning in my nostrils. “How about you?”

“Likewise,” he joked, laughing. “This is interesting –– their fascination. I understood their interest on my first day because I’d guess a new addition to the student body in a town this small is something of a rarity, but today, walking by your side is garnering even more attention. Is it a once in a lifetime opportunity to have Bella Cullen walk you to class?”

“You’re just so observant, aren’t you?” I rolled my eyes, though the corners of my mouths pulled up despite myself. “And I’m not walking you to class. I’m walking to a class I just so happen to share with you, so don’t get the wrong idea. I think they’re just surprised because they’re probably under the impression that I don’t play nice with others.”

“And do you?”

“You tell me,” I replied, pausing to face him beside a wall of lockers next to the entrance of our biology classroom. As he stopped beside me, a gust of air from a passing student walking hastily down the hallway sent his scent reeling into me at an unfortunate moment where I’d chosen to breathe in. My muscles tensed to spring, and I desperately anchored myself to the floor as my mind fell into disarray.

“Nicely enough,” Edward winked naturally as though we’d been the best of friends since his first day. The demanding thirst was intruding on my awareness, and the desperation for something wet and hot and delicious in my desiccated throat was so dizzying that his voice sounded as though it were underwater. With an effort as though I were swimming through drying cement, I resurfaced, just barely proving my dominion over the desire. I focused on his voice so that it’d become clearer, forcing myself to take another excruciating breath in and exhale the fire out. “I will say I am honored to be the exception –– to be plucked from the masses by the renowned, reclusive Bella Cullen.”

With torturous effort, I snorted as though I wasn’t fighting everything within me to keep him alive. I breathed in again heavily, allowing my body to become a pyre so that I could speak. “Alright, that’s enough. Stop saying my name like that. And you’ve lost the privilege. I am never walking you to class again,” I rolled my eyes even though my joke could very much be the truth. The bunching of my muscles, the twitching of my hands, and the fierce pain in my throat reminded me of the fact. Before he could point out the contradiction of what I’d previously clarified, I sighed. “Let’s take this quiz.”

His pretty green eyes were alive with mischief and enlightened with what must be more answers to questions he hadn’t outright asked me as he turned to enter the classroom. I followed behind him towards our shared table.

Air from the vent rushed out, thrusting the scent of his blood wafting into my face again. I paused for an indistinguishable moment as I battled agony, murderousness, monstrosity. Holy fuck. What was I trying to prove! Was it really worth this? Swallowing hard, I sat beside him as though nothing happened. My suffering was so great that Emmett could have brutally ripped my arm off, he could have beat me with it, and I wouldn’t have noticed nor felt a thing. I could have been set on fire, and it’d feel like sinking into a cool pool of water on an even cooler day. I was already burning alive, my body acting as a furnace, and I was imprisoned inside it.

Without intending to, I sighed aloud, exhaling as though it would smother the flames. It was a stupid, attention seeking thing to do. Humans sighed to expel air or express some sadness or relief or exhaustion, so when my family emitted an audible breath, we did so as a means of blending in. But to breath out in a way to clue Edward into the fact something was plaguing me… it was a stupid invitation for more questions. And these were questions I had no intention of sharing the answers to. I felt his eyes on me, but before he could say anything, Mr. Molina began passing out quizzes face down on our lab tables as students continued to pile in from lunch.

“Alright, class. Today we have a pop quiz–– oh, come on, guys, don’t groan. You will have the opportunity to make corrections after these have been graded. This is just an assessment of what you’ve retained from this unit so far. You will have the entire period to complete–– thanks for joining us, Mr. Patterson, glad you could fit my class into your busy schedule. Why don’t you take your seat? –– You will have the entire period to complete your quiz. If you finish early, feel free to get a head start on this weekend’s homework! I’ve written the reading down on the board. Aw, I’m sure you’re all moaning because you’re disappointed at how light of an assignment it is because I just know how very excited you all are to continue your passionate pursuit of studying biology. Alright, now that everyone’s settled–– wait a minute––” Mr. Molina paused, raising his pointer finger in the air, his eyes squinted in anticipation. Three seconds later, the bell signaled the beginning of class. “Begin!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward reluctantly turn away from me. In an elegant script, he wrote his name at the top of the paper and began his quiz. I turned away from him to look at my own paper, preparing myself to uncomfortably hold my breath for the next hour. The difference this made in my thirst was almost insignificant, but enough so that it gave me a tiny more leverage in my control. I smoothed out the pucker on my forehead with the eraser from my pencil, accidentally snapping the rubber off against my face.

Absentmindedly, I began to breeze through the assessment, circling the correct answers, but my mind was more absorbed in the warmth of sitting beside Edward. Aside from the affliction of doing so, it was too pleasurable to have sat beside him so often and for so long today. I enjoyed the toastiness like a lizard basking in the sun. It made me recall the muddy human memory of laying out on a blanket in my backyard beneath my beloved blue Arizona sky, hiding beneath the small shade of a book. Not the blistering heat of a summertime Phoenix sun, but the warmth of the first day of spring. But the heat of Edward’s body alone was enough to fill my mouth with venom, so I tried to refocus my attention onto my quiz.

When I turned to the last page of questions, a motion beside me diverted my concentration once again. I peeked over, turning my head slightly in Edward’s direction to see what it was. As he thought over one of the questions, his right hand was moving peculiarly as he lifted and dropped down his long fingers almost as though he were impatiently tapping each digit one by one along the tabletop. Except the movement was more exact and calculatingly random. Engrossed, I watched as his his soft, fragile skin rippled over the muscle, the tendons appearing and disappearing with every bizarre movement. It took me a moment to make the connection between the large grand piano in his home and the motion of his hands. I realized he was miming piano movements while he thought through his answers. There was something both weird, funny, and endearing about this. I smiled to myself, not having the required oxygen to quietly laugh.

I felt his curious eyes flicker over to me and watched peripherally as he raised his eyebrows. I shook my head, biting down on my lip to unsuccessfully fight the smile, and returned to completing my quiz.

I finished a moment later and impatiently waited another ten minutes or so before I could turn in my work. I tried to ignore Edward for this small period of time at least, mentally reading myself the opening chapter to Wuthering Heights. Even though the words were committed to my memory, it was still never as good as actually reading from the book itself.

Once I’d decided an appropriate enough time had passed, I stood up to walk my quiz to the completed basket on Mr. Molina’s desk. Even having waited, I was still the first to finish the examination.

“Thank you,” the teacher whispered without breaking his focus away from the crossword puzzle he peered through his glasses at. I breathed in now that I’d placed some distance between myself and Edward, gladly facing the cool, fresh air from the vent.

“Neophyte,” I whispered back now that I’d replenished my oxygen supply.

“Excuse me?” He glanced up, his slightly aged face confused.

“Neophyte,” I repeated. “Eight across, two down.”

I took in one last clean breath and walked back to my seat as he tapped his pen across the squares of the space, mouthing his count of the letters to check if the word fit.

As soon as I took my place in my seat again, Edward stood up to walk his own quiz to the basket.

I wanted to watch him, but instead I forced myself to unzip my backpack and retrieve the biology textbook.

Busying myself with the assigned chapters, deciding to actually read them so as to not feed into my invasive Edward obsession, I couldn’t help but listen as Edward too placed his own textbook on the countertop.

I heard the scribble of pen on paper as he began to write what I imagined were notes until his large hand slid the paper over to me beneath the wall of my hair spilling over the desk. Well, I wouldn’t ignore him if he was the one deciding to bother me.

You know I’m pretty certain that cheating is a violation of the student handbook, but I’ll let you get away with it just this once.

I turned to glance at his face to see if he were serious. His eyes were warm and inviting, his mouth in the same crooked smile.

I took the piece of paper and looked around for my writing utensil that had gone missing somehow. My eyes zeroed in on a suspicious, tiny pile of wood dust on my side of the desk. When had I brutalized my pencil? He held his hand out to offer his own pen, and I accepted it, carefully plucking it from his fingers without making contact.

I wasn’t cheating. You were doing something funny. And what do you know about the student handbook? You’re new.

I slid the paper and pen back to him and watched as he combed a hand through his bronze hair, reading my response. The smile grew wider as he construed the biting tone of my note.

Can I be let in on the joke? Edward wrote, turning to look at me once he was done. Again I was prisoner, though this time not to my own body. I was momentarily held hostage by the beauty and warmth of his light green eyes. I was understanding more and more the attraction the other students had for him. If I had a soul, it was as though he were staring straight into it.

I recovered, placing my hand atop the desk and then wiggling my fingers as though I were weaving my way through a very complicated piano piece.

Oh, Edward mouthed, immediately understanding. He silently laughed and placed his left hand to his forehead briefly as if to hide his face in mock embarrassment. The ink from the pen spilled onto the paper as he began to write again.

In my defense, there’s research that supports classical music puts students in a heightened emotional state, making them more receptive to information and helping them focus.

That’s very nerdy of you. I scribbled back, the corners of my lips pulled upwards.

I know. As I read the words on the notebook paper, we both laughed a little too loudly for the quietness of the room.

“Please remain silent for your classmates still working,” Mr. Molina stage-whispered from his desk, his eyes still fixated on the crossword puzzle.

It’s a bad habit. Edward tacked on to his message. I beamed. I knew a thing or two about bad habits today. I was appreciative of this silent conversation on paper; it made it easier to be beside him without needing to breathe to speak aloud.

What were you playing? I scrawled.

Clair de Lune. Edward wrote back. His thick eyebrows raised as my eyes lit up, and he continued writing. You know Debussy?

My mother used to play a lot of classical music around the house. It was one of my favorites.

It’s one of my favorites, too. Edward’s eyes were a little sad and lost in thought, and he smiled softly.

I was shocked by the change in expression and weirdly desperate to return the brightness back to his eyes. The burn in my throat was almost forgettable in the face of my concern. Almost, but not quite. He turned his head down to write on the paper again.

You said Rosalie played piano. You never learned? He turned to look at me, his expression curious. I shook my head and shrugged, reaching for the pen.

I didn’t think I had the coordination for it. While this was true for the time I was human, it wasn’t true now. Still, even though my days stretched into endless nights, I hadn’t yet devoted time to any instrument as an immortal.

Edward read the paper, his long pointer finger tracing the line beneath the words as he did so. He held his large hand out, and I dropped the pen into it.

I’ll show you sometime. Edward half smiled at me, his eyes sweet and earnest.

Knowing I shouldn’t be allowing him to think making a plans with me was an option, I reached for the pen to tell him that it was alright, but I froze as he suddenly moved to drop the pen and take my hand. Though he should have been the one hesitant and cautious as though approaching a dangerous, wounded animal, I held perfectly still as though he were the danger, and I needed to play dead for protection. You can’t play dead if you are dead, I thought to myself.

My body tensed as my hand was enveloped in the heat of his much larger palm, uncertain as to what he was doing. My muscles screamed at me as I clenched my free hand into a tight fist, terrified of myself.

A shiver rippled through him as he felt the chill of my frozen fingers, and I twitched the hand in his possession, wanting to yank it away to protect him from the iciness but not wanting to alert him with the swiftness of the motion.

He smiled mysteriously at the spasm as though he somehow expected it. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking but didn’t want to risk breathing. My control could too easily be lost. Besides, I was scared that if I were to open my mouth, I’d end up screaming.

I felt him push slightly and realized he wished for me to curl my fingers, so with great concentration and the acute awareness of his fragility, I moved my stony hand into the shape he directed, my fingers curved slightly beneath his like a relaxed talon. I didn’t like the shape; it was odd and inhuman and made me think of the violence I could cause.

But it wasn’t a claw. Because once my hand was positioned the way he wanted, he began to slowly place pressure on my fingers, and I dipped and rose them accordingly to carefully move with his. I watched as the two of our hands together played what I imagined must be the opening chords to Clair de Lune.

The disconcerting emptiness in my chest soared at the bizarre pleasure of this touch, and a weird sensation tickled my scalp, moving swiftly down my spine to my entire body.

My muscles tightened violently and then relaxed, sending a shiver to ripple through me. It was too much pleasure and too much pain as my throat ached and I leaned into the warmth.

Embarrassed and not wanting to push my luck, I cautiously pulled my hand slowly away. He lifted his hand to allow me to escape as though I couldn’t just break his hand to do so, a half-smile pulling on his lips. I pretended not to notice the goosebumps on his arms.

See? he mouthed before deciding to whisper. “You could do it.”

I forced myself to smile and then turned away for the rest of the hour, trying to keep from doing anything stupid like looking at him or killing him. I’d completely forgotten where we were.

When the bell finally rung, I collected my things atop the desk hastily. Edward reached for my backpack and held it up for me.

“Thanks,” I murmured as I dumped my books into the bag. Before I could take it from him, he slid it onto his back and nodded his head once for me to go forward.

Feeling awkward, I turned and allowed him to follow me to the door. I was lucky to walk in front of him, taking the opportunity to breath again as the vent blew out in front of my face.

Exiting the classroom, I paused for a second when I saw Emmett waiting for me across the hallway rather than his typical spot beside the wall of lockers next to our shared Spanish classroom. Even though I was well aware of the fact I’d been dangling my irresponsibility in their faces all day, I still felt as though I was being caught in the act.

Emmett’s eyebrows raised as his golden eyes watched Edward follow behind me, carrying my backpack. I crossed the hallway reluctantly towards my big brother.

“Hello,” I greeted him, avoiding his eyes. I felt smaller than ever beside him with my head down, and yet not small enough as I wished to disappear.

“Hey, little sis,” Emmett began uncertainly, though I glanced up to see his full lips were beginning to stretch into a smile that I didn’t like. “Who’s that with you?”

“Uh…”

“I’m Edward Masen,” the lanky human boy introduced himself confidently as he stopped beside me. “And you must be––”

“Emmett,” my brother interrupted, grinning as though he always so comfortably interacted with humans. This was all too weird, but he looked to be enjoying it far too much. His desire to mess with me and his confidence in Alice’s visions seemed to override the abnormality of speaking to a student so amicably. I watched as he breathed in and shot me a meaningful look. I grimaced.

I opened my mouth to put an end to this torturously awkward interaction, but Emmett interrupted again.

“It’s nice to see you made a friend,” he began, an evil glint in his eyes as he watched my face. I was confused as to where he was going with this because our entire family would come across as misanthropic to the rest of the school, so why should it matter to him. He turned his attention to look at Edward who was closer in height to him. “You know, we worry about her––”

“Okay, let’s go to Spanish,” I cut him off quickly. “Edward, can I have my bag, please?”

Without looking at him, I reached for my backpack as he offered it and threw it over my shoulder, heading down the hallway. It was a massive relief to put some distance between myself and Edward. My thoughts were clearer, and I could breathe freely.

Emmett burst into laughter, his guffaws booming in the hallway. Several students paused in fear making me concerned about Edward’s reaction to my giant of a sibling, but I relaxed when I heard Edward chuckling along with him.

“Um, see you,” Emmett said to Edward before his steady, near silent footfall followed after me.

Even moving at a lethargic human pace, he caught up to me quickly.

“That wasn’t funny,” I grumbled.

“What the hell are you doing?” Emmett chuckled, ignoring my question.

“What the hell are you doing? What was that back there?”

“I don’t know. That was weird, but not as weird as you playing with your food.”

I hissed quietly.

“Damn, I’m kidding, Bells. But seriously, what are you doing? What happened to your high and noble speech about doing the right thing and staying away from the kid? I thought Esme was about to produce real tears. It even softened Rose.”

“Ugh, don’t talk to me about Rosalie right now. She’s been giving me dirty looks all day. It makes me feel awful. I already feel bad!”

“Well, I don’t really care what you do either way so––” I looked at him questionably. “I mean, sure, I want you to do the right thing, whatever that means. I don’t want you to feel miserable. But on one end, I didn’t really mind so much what happened to me.”

“Rosalie did,” I countered.

“Yeah, Rose did,” he acquiesced quietly.

“Anyways, I’m not having that conversation. I wasn’t talking to him today to test whether or not he’s worth it. That’s… unethical.”

“So what were you doing?”

“I don’t know,” I groaned in answer.

Emmett laughed.

“You’re weird these days, Bella.”

“You’re weird everyday,” I quipped back before sighing. “I don’t know. He’s weird, too. I guess… I’m not making any decisions, at all, but if Alice told you what she told me… wouldn’t you be curious?”

Emmett thought it over. “Yeah, I think so. But I also don’t think I’d have even made it to this point,” he admitted. I winced.

“It’s kind of unfair for me to care more about satiating my curiosity and dance with the devil this way, right?”

“Well…he may not know it, but isn’t it more so that Edward’s the one dancing with the devil?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, frowning as we walked into our Spanish class. “I guess it is.”

I made the decision to avoid thinking of Edward for the remaining hour of school. I paid very little attention in Spanish, returning to the familiar mind-numbing boredom that classes had been prior to the last few days. Now that it was in stark contrast to the sudden life breathed into my time at Forks High School by my fixation with Edward, the tedium was no longer something dealt with indifferently and sluggishly. Now, it left me feeling restless, and it almost pained me how laborious it was to sit through a life I wasn’t an active participant in. It was nowhere near the pain of dealing with the excruciating thirst I had around my bronze-haired lab partner, but it almost tampered with my thoughts more knowing I’d feel less miserable if I spent this time analyzing every word Edward shared with me, every fluctuation of his tone, every glint in his perceptive eyes, every expression on his pretty face… But I was becoming too obsessive. The same hunger for adventure that made me fall in love with reading must be what was leading me to so treacherously, so impetuously dive into exploring this insignificant and yet cataclysmic difference in my life.

As though it had a personal vendetta against me, time moved even more lethargically than it ever had before, but finally, the bell signaling the end of school rang. Emmett’s eyes shot a concerned look at me as I rose from my seat too quickly, and I immediately felt embarrassed again. The cautious reminder in his expression made me feel childish as Emmett was never one to care much about bending the rules.

“See you at home, I guess,” he shook his head, giving me one last look that seemed to suggest I’d lost it.

“See you,” I mumbled, slinging my bag over my shoulder. Leaving Emmett behind to wait for Rosalie, I weaved through the crowded hallway and out to the parking lot. Students were bundling together and squealing at the chilling air as tiny, fluffy snowflakes fluttered down from the overcast sky. The floor of the parking lot was almost as glassy as yesterday as the rain from this afternoon had melted into a thin layer of icy mush. Though there was hardly enough snow for a decent snowball fight, some of the rowdier students were bundling up a pitiful pile of snow to form pathetic snowballs in their fists.

I nearly skipped to the pearly white vehicle parked beside Rosalie’s overly conspicuous crimson car which was forming a small crowd of admirers. Leaning against the trunk of the car, I watched the front doors of the school to look for Edward.

The tangle of reddish-brown hair was easy to spot because of its strange metallic tint as he strolled out of the building with Naomi, the student who’d provided him with the information about my family on his first day. He had his coat folded over his arm, revealing how form fitting his light tan turtleneck was. He truly was a very attractive boy. It was odd that I hadn’t really paid much attention initially. With his dazzling face and tall, lean frame, Edward was pretty enough that for the vampires who searched for exquisitely beautiful humans to create into even more stunning immortals, he could probably be a contender for someone to collect.

Thinking of how Emmett questioned my motives today, I quickly banished the idea of Edward as an immortal from my mind, even if it was only a hypothetical inspired by my observation.

Edward paused, asking Naomi if she could hold on to his backpack for a moment. When she grabbed it, he pulled on his long black coat, and fiddled with the collar. Recollecting his backpack, he slid it onto one shoulder, then rubbed his hands together, blowing the warm air from his mouth to heat them up. Thinking of the sweetness of the smell of his breath made me remember to take in swallows of fresh air before he made his way over to me.

As he was distracted momentarily, I watched as a stray snowball flew towards Edward’s head. I was overcome with the urge to intercept it in the event it may hit him too harshly and knock him to the pavement, but flying across the parking lot inhumanly fast twice in one week was probably not the way to go about correcting my mistakes.

The soggy snowball crashed into Edward’s hair, exploding into shards of ice and water that slid down his prominent cheekbone. I laughed aloud at his shocked expression as the curtain bangs framing his face were immediately drenched, darkening his hair into a brown color. Once he’d realized what happened, his face broke into a good-humored smile.

“Holy shit! Sorry, Edward!” The classmate who had thrown the snowball with poor aim called out.

“No worries!” Edward called back. He shook his head, chuckling as he wiped the water from his face. As he laughed, his eyes found the space where I waited and brightened seeing that I, too, was enjoying the moment.

“Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told Naomi, who was too beside herself in tears of laughter to reply.

Edward sauntered over towards me, and I inhaled deeply as a fortuitous whisper of wind blew from the tree line. I held onto the notes of crisp eucalyptus, fresh snow, and cedar wood, trying to distract my mind from the offensively mouthwatering scents approaching me.

Edward was a coordinated human, but even he lost his footing on the icy pavement. His body slid forward for a moment, but I stepped towards him to close the space between us and caught him by the elbow.

He looked up from his boots against the frozen parking lot into my eyes, startled momentarily at the swiftness in which I had appeared. Then, his full lips lifted into a crooked smile that creased his astonishing green eyes into half moons. I let go immediately and took a big step back to ensure a safer distance between myself and the warmth of his fragile body. It had been a risky movement, but somehow in comparison to yesterday, it didn’t seem to matter as much. I figured our classmates were too involved in their gawking at the details of my sister’s car or their feeble, slushy snowball fight to notice, and oddly, I didn’t care that Edward had seen. It was beginning to feel too late to keep up certain pretenses.

Although, it wasn’t too late, and it shouldn’t feel that way. I reminded myself I still had every intention of leaving Edward alone once I’d figured out what was so compelling about our paths crossing that had Alice’s visions spiraling in a confusing jumble. I took another step back slowly.

“Thank you,” Edward said, his eyes humored with another secret he didn’t seem willing to share. “You keep saving me.”

“Well, let’s not make this damsel in distress thing habitual,” I snorted, turning so that he couldn’t see the smile forming on my face. I felt shy about showcasing any comfort or happiness in his presence now that I was reminded of how fleeting this experimental friendship was, but I wondered if subconsciously I wanted him to catch me in my misery and ask me to explain, though I wasn’t certain why I wanted to sabotage myself like that. I opened my door and turned to look at him again. “You coming?”

Before he could answer, I dipped into the driver’s seat, and breathed in one last time. Well, once this was all over, I could finally stop inhaling dramatically as though they were truly my last, dying breaths. The air was mostly clean of his scent, but I knew that regardless, the heat of his body would be enough to disrupt my comfort and control. As the thought crossed my mind, I painfully swallowed back the venom pooling beneath my tongue.

Edward swerved through the crowd obsessing over Rosalie’s car and opened the passenger door, sliding into his seat. As he placed his backpack on the floor and fiddled with his seatbelt, I made sure to adjust the air conditioning so that the heat could warm Edward from the frigid Forks air. Though for me, just being in his presence made the intimate interior of the car feel as though I were again sitting by his fireplace.

“That’s a beautiful car,” he murmured. “Is it an M8?”

“Uh, it’s a BMW?” I asked uncertainly as though he’d spoken another language.

Edward grinned as though he wanted to laugh but didn’t want to make me angry. Rosalie would have loved to answer all his questions if he too had an interest in cars. Would have loved to, if she wasn’t deeply offended by my actions or if I had any intention of Edward meeting any more of my family members.

“Ready?” I bit my lip as I forced out any inconsiderate plots of murder that threatened to distract me from being a defensive driver.

“Mhm,” Edward answered.

I reversed out of the parking slot slowly, but as I looked in the rearview once I’d straightened out, I saw the fleeting image of Rosalie’s exquisitely beautiful and exceptionally angry face. I quickly readjusted the mirror to remove my sister’s reflection and sped out of the parking lot in a way that could have taken out a few unlucky students if I didn’t have above average years of driving experience.

Peripherally, I watched as Edward’s thick eyebrows raised, but he decided not to question me. Once we’d reached the main road, I slowed my speed so as not to rush through this time, even though I knew for his safety and my sanity, I should. As I drove, his right hand moved in odd shapes again against the arm rest of the passenger side door as though he were playing piano once more.

I decided to bite and use up some of my limited air supply.

“What are you playing?”

“Clair de Lune again,” he replied. Then, he began to hum the melody aloud for me as he moved his hand.

I thought to offer to play the song for him through the speakers, but I decided against it as I listened to Edward’s soft, velvety voice hum beautifully through the song, breaking the silence.

The ugly, slush-like falling of snow transformed into a falling of rainwater, and Edward’s voice was orchestrated by a lovely symphony of raindrops.

Before his voice could weave into the more involved moments of the piece, Edward stopped.

I looked over at him, curious for the reason as to why. His face was turned away from me so that all I could see was his untidy bronze hair as he gazed out the window. I pulled in front of his driveway and parked against the curb.

Miraculously, I’d made it again. Carefully, I inhaled through my nose to experiment with my control. The sweet bouquet of the boy’s blood was potent and even more mouthwatering than usual from the snow turned rain that’d wet his hair. I hadn’t considered the possibility that he could smell better than before, and I kept myself from groaning aloud as I dug my nails into my own palms. The tingling sensation in my nose was as though I’d sniffed some powerful chemical, the burning sensation in my throat as though I’d taken a long drag of a cigarette. But more painful. More demanding. Desire, need flew from my core out towards my extremities, and the beating of his heart pumping the blood through his body drummed loudly in my ears. It seemed to move through me, my frigid body almost twitching with every pulse, ready to lunge forward and crush his neck to my lips.

“What was your mother like?” He asked me suddenly, his voice soft. Edward turned from the window to face me, and I was bewildered by the intensity of his expression. His eyes were light and beautiful against the gloomy grey of the sky, and they squinted slightly as though studying my face like this information was absolutely essential. But this was not what stunned me, as I’d already seen the severity of this expression before in our ephemeral time together. It was the unexpected vulnerability of his stunning face. The more time I spent looking at him, the more I realized how beautiful this human boy really was. And it seemed a great tragedy for this beautiful boy to harbor such devastation in his eyes.

Whereas previously in his presence, my thoughts had become incoherent due to a lapse in control, now my thoughts were incoherent in distress and desperation to understand what had gone wrong and how I could fix it. I was momentarily dumbfounded, but I pulled myself together after the soft sound of a few droplets of rain against the roof reminded me that he was waiting for an answer.

“Well, she looked a lot like me, but prettier,” I began stupidly. He raised his eyebrows. “Or at least, she used to look a lot like me, and I used to look a lot like her. I don’t so much anymore.” It’d been so long since I’d really spoken about my mom, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. I knew I should have made some comment about whether or not she looked like Esme or Emmett since our story made us siblings, but I didn’t want to taint the rarity of sharing who she was with a lie.

“She was more outgoing than I am,” I continued, thinking through the foggy memories I held onto from my human life.

“That’s difficult to believe,” Edward teased quietly, his lips curving into a half smile.

I laughed, listening to the melodic sound of it, thinking of how it symbolized how very much different I was now from the human girl my mother knew.

“I was always very shy,” I smiled, before speaking up again, caught in the echoes of my past. “She was brave and irresponsible and slightly eccentric. And she was a very unpredictable cook!”

I laughed aloud again thinking of some minor explosions in our tiny kitchen and some questionable dishes. Edward laughed too, but when our laughter faded into the falling of the rain, my smile faded.

“She wasn’t perfect,” I admitted. “I think I recognize now that she was very fallible. I worshipped her when I was younger, but when I think back, I do see how in some of the ways she raised me, I was done a disservice… I grew up too fast. When she died––“ I sighed, feeling insincere and guilty about perpetuating this lie when I really should have said when I died, “––Esme became more of a mother to me, and even Rosalie’s been more traditionally nurturing than my mom ever was… But still, she was my best friend.”

“You miss her,” he murmured simply. I met his gentle eyes.

“Yes,” I bit my lip.

“How old are you, Bella?” Edward asked. “And not the formulaic, theorized version where you were born in your thirties. How old are you really?”

I tensed, wondering if he was asking this again because he’d taken note of how I didn’t directly answer this question the last time he asked.

“Seventeen,” I answered automatically.

“You don’t seem seventeen,” he responded, reproachful.

The tension left my body at the tone of his voice. I smiled again easily.

“Sorry?” I asked, biting my lip to hide the smile, unsure of how to respond.

Edward chuckled and the subtle crinkles by his eyes lit up his face. “Well, I wish you’d been given a happier, normal childhood.”

“I’m fine,” I shrugged, brushing it off. “I hardly remember most of it, and what I do remember reminds me that I probably didn’t have much chance at a normal childhood to begin with. I was terribly shy, remember.

“I did do girl scouts, though….Oh, and ballet briefly,” I admitted, unsure as to why I was volunteering so much information about myself. Wasn’t the purpose of me sitting here to uncover information about him?

“Why does that make you… embarrassed?” Edward’s eyebrows pulled up.

For an odd moment, I felt betrayed by the flush of my cheeks before I realized there was no blood rushing to my face. I blinked, bewildered by the peculiarity of this long buried instinct to become frustrated with my easy blushes when I hadn’t blushed for years. I felt self conscious as I wondered what Edward saw reading my expression to so perfectly decipher my feelings.

“I was very uncoordinated,” I dismissed his question as I fought the urge for my hand to flutter to touch my cool cheek.

“Now that truly is difficult to believe,” Edward half-smiled. “I can’t imagine I’ve seen anyone as graceful as you.”

I laughed aloud at his compliment, though I didn’t doubt his sincerity. I knew this was true of myself. It was true of all of our kind to appear fluid and effortless, but still, no one had ever applied the word to me. My vampiric poise was irrelevant and unimpressive to my family, and the very few humans brave enough to overcome their nerves to compliment me typically found their words to fail them.

“You’re very odd,” I beamed.

“What do you mean?” The bronze-haired boy asked, again wanting to be let in on the secret. While I had an insatiable thirst, it seemed he had an insatiable curiosity.

“How old are you really? Your word choice is bizarre for someone your age, you know.”

“Oh,” he laughed easily. “Well, I’m actually not seventeen. I’m eighteen. But I’ll try to strictly adhere to a more teenage vernacular, so I can compliment you in a more acceptable way from now on.”

I looked out at the dim light of the brewing storm, my smile fading as I decided that I should probably allow him to escape me before I did something I’d regret. But I knew I wasn’t resolved enough to completely leave him alone. He made me monopolize too much of the conversation, and I wasn’t satisfied with what I knew about him yet.

I sighed aloud, and Edward, too, looked out at the rain darkened sky.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked hopefully, making the assumption that our conversation was coming to an end.

“Yes,” I promised reluctantly. My eyes flickered back over to his pretty face, studying the lines of his strong jaw, his chiseled cheekbones, his full lips, committing this inconsequential face to memory as I silently resolved that this should be –– and would be –– one of the last times I’d allow myself to be this close to him. Tomorrow may well be the very last.

Likewise, as though his thoughts were in the same vein, his beautiful green eyes studied my face as well, though he did so in that mysterious way of his where he looked at me as though hoping to read my mind.

He sighed, then collected his backpack. Edward opened the door, stepping out into the bitterly cold weather. A shiver ran through his lanky body, making my body tense with perverse excitement. I cringed away from the deadly instinct and swallowed against the dryness of my yearning throat.

Edward’s tall, lean frame leaned down to peek into the car.

“Goodnight, Bella,” he spoke softly.

“Goodnight, Edward,” I almost whispered, gazing into the beauty of his dazzling green eyes.

Edward smiled his half smile, and closed the door, escaping into the building torrent of rain.

I gasped in relief at his absence, then stiffened realizing how the cab of the car was still heavily perfumed with his scent. I took in another deep breath, forcing myself to confront the burning thirst again, willing myself to manage it. I sighed as I hit the gas, making Edward disappear behind me.

Both my control and the rain pour strengthened significantly as I turned onto the long drive leading to my house. I grimaced as I wondered how I’d face my family and explain the complete reversal of what I’d promised to do. I didn’t have time to consider for much longer as suddenly, a figure appeared instantaneously in the drive. I slammed my foot on the brake immediately in shock at its appearance, not wanting to total yet another car against one of my siblings.

I peered through the windshield, unable to see through the complete downpour that submerged my vehicle as though it were underwater. It was annoying for my perfect sight to be obstructed by anything, rainwater or even the transparent windshield because of my eyes’ desire to focus on the microscopic scratches.

The car violently screeched against the muddy pavement, and it looked as though we would have to bid this car goodbye until the figure hidden by the storm placed their hands out on the car roughly and forced it to a stop. The tires screamed in protest, and the metal groaned as it warped into the shape of the palms. I listened as it unnaturally bent again in a piercing moan as the figure fixed the indentions they’d created.

My windshield wipers swatted away a flood of water. Finally, I could make out my sister Rosalie, her hair dripping wet down her back like a supermodel who’d just emerged from a pool on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Her exquisite face was absolutely furious.

I gulped, feeling like a child who’d just been discovered sneaking home past curfew.

I felt uncertain as to what to do and why she’d chosen to stop me here. Surely she could wait for us to be under the cover of the garage before she chastised me. Not wanting to be drenched by the rain, I revved the engine to ask her to move aside, but the car didn’t inch forward against her strength. Beginning to feel annoyed, I revved the engine again loudly and for longer, but still, she didn’t move.

“Rose,” I hissed as I hit the brake again so that the car could roar viciously in the storm, only to be cut off by the voice of my adopted mother.

“Girls!” I couldn’t see Esme through the obscured glass behind the downpour, but even with the barrage of the rain, I could hear her lithe steps run furiously to the front porch. “Please!”

Rose’s head snapped up to look in Esme’s direction before turning to glance unhappily back at me. She stepped aside, and I sped into the garage, parking the car hastily.

I exited immediately and went to expect the damage to the front of the hood. It was only a minuscule bend from having been pushed and prodded back and forth, and I was positive Rosalie could make it look like new, though why it had been necessary to punish the car was beyond me. It wasn’t even mine.

I wheeled around once I’d heard the near-silent steps of her run, a wave of anger making me forget my guilt.

“Are you insane?!” I demanded.

“I could ask the same of you, Bella!” Now free from the obscurity of the rain, I could see in perfect detail the stunning fury of her glorious face. Her golden hair had been darkened by the rain, and it was slicked back effortlessly, like a glittering waterfall down to the middle of her back. She looked like a wrathful god, but I couldn’t find it in my stubbornness to care about how valid her anger may be.

“Okay, but did you have to take it out on the car? What did it ever do to you! You couldn’t have waited another twenty seconds to confront me? Well, you have my attention now, Rosalie, so say whatever it is you want to say!”

“You’re just unbelievable, Bella!”

“He’s not going to say anything, Rose! We already talked about this yesterday. You heard Alice! He’s not a threat to you and Emmett, so I don’t understand why you’re taking this so personally.”

“Exactly, Bella. I heard Alice. Which is precisely why I fail to understand as to why you wouldn’t understand why I’d take it so personally. After all these years of sisterhood, how can you not understand how I feel about this?”

I frowned, my forehead puckering, but still, I retained my anger. She huffed, continuing.

“If it was an inevitability, I’d understand. However, it hurts me deeply that you recognize the choice that you have. The choice that Edward has. And still, you’re willing to play with his mortality as though it were a game, when I never had that choice.”

I froze, the realization dawning on me that she was right. No matter the ways in which I tried to justify my actions or spin my intentions, she was right. Another part of my mind acknowledged that while I was aware of right and wrong, I wasn’t certain that what was right would be enough to keep me away anymore.

We stared each other down much like we had yesterday. Only today, rather than anger, her face was contorted in hurt, and mine was contorted in hopelessness.

“But… you found Emmett when he was still human…” I weakly protested, selfishly trying to highlight the irony, though I knew it was pointless as I wasn’t advocating for Edward to be changed either. That was too complicated a thought to wrap my mind around. But whatever may happen –– and I was still very much aware of the worst of possibilities –– I didn’t want my sister to hate me for it.

“He was dying, Bella,” Rosalie whispered. The anger on her face had completely faded, and in its place, pain marked her eyebrows, her full lips, her golden, sad eyes. In her sadness, she looked like a work of art, like one of those paintings of a weeping saint. “It’s not the same.”

I didn’t have a response to that, and I felt as though I was at an impasse, both with myself and with Rosalie. Because I knew the promises I’d made and broken, but I knew the promise I’d made to Edward today, and I had no willpower, no desire, and no intention to break that promise.

“You may not feel anything for him now,” Rosalie began, her eyes intently fierce as they bore into mine to warn me. Only this warning felt significantly more horrible than I’d imagined it may be, because it wasn’t made in anger, but in desperation and love. “But if Alice is right, you will. And it seems to me a horrible way to repay someone you love to steal their life, their future, their soul from them. You should leave him alone now while you still can, because once you love him… it’ll only hurt more one way or another. And you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your existence. I know I have.”

And with that, Rose turned, her face cold and sad, and she left the garage.

#equinoxjw #twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #twilight au #twilight fanfic #the twilight saga #twilight saga #twilight #edbella #edward cullen #bella swan #edbella fanfic

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bubbleweirdo · 3 years

Text

Alegría

Chapter: 5/?

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Summary: A wild night for Joy.

Words: 2.917

Main relationship: Javier Escuella/OC

Other relationships: Charles Smith/OC, Arthur Morgan/OC

Characters: Van der Linde gang

Author's note: Hi, I'm back... For now, at least lmao

While trying to write chapter 6 I realized I never posted chapter 5 and that... maybe... it was time to do it................. Anyways, hope y'all find it enjoyable!

The same day she and Javier returned from the stage robbery, Dutch arrived at night with a boy riding behind him. Joy was on duty when The Count appeared with the two men on top of him. After greeting her, Dutch took him to the entrance of the camp, where they both dismounted. She followed them with her eyes curiously, but immediately focused back on her task. However she could hear from where she was how Dutch presented him to the others: Leonard Summers -“But you can call me Lenny!”-.

The next day after lunch, Dutch called her to his tent, where the newcomer was too.

“Miss Joy, would you be so kind as to take Mr. Summers into town? And by the way help him choose a good mount, I know you have an eye for it.” He asked with a charismatic smile.

“Sure, why not?” She replied looking at the guy. “Let’s go?”

“Uh, sure, let’s go.” He said with a kind smile.

Joy walked over to where the horses were grazing looking for Berry, who was rubbing her head against the body of Old Belle, Karen's mare. Before guiding her to the beginning of the road, she walked over to the Nokota and patted her on the neck. Once there she mounted and held out her hand to Lenny, which helped him up.

They trotted through the grove that led to the main road and headed for the town.

“And what has Dutch seen in you, Mr. Summers?”

“He saw me running away from bounty hunters and helped me avoid them. After that we talked, and well, here I am I guess.”

“Sounds like Dutch.” She chuckled.

“I’m very grateful. Since I was fifteen I’ve been alone, running from one place to another.”

“How old are you now?”

“Eighteen.”

Joy turned her head and looked at him, incredulous. It had seemed to her that he was at least twenty, like Sean or Mary-Beth.

“What?! That young?! I thought you were older.”

Lenny laughed out loud.

“That flatters me.”

“Now I feel like I'm babysitting.” She said playfully.

“That’s rude Miss Joy!” She burst out laughing and kept teasing him along the way. He was complaining but seemed to be having fun too. They arrived at the town stable and asked the stable keeper to show them his horses for sale. After taking a look at each one, Joy selected two: a grey Kentucky Saddler and a palomino Mustang.

“These babies are in great shape and look pretty sweet.” She said, stroking the face of the first. “I think you could use a horse like that, affable.”

He watched them both thoughtfully.

“I think I will keep this one.” He decided, pointing to the Mustang. The man nodded and while he went to look for the mare's documents his assistant began to prepare her to saddle and bridle her. When he returned, she was ready and Joy paid the corresponding amount while Lenny kept the papers.

“What are you gonna call her?” She asked once they were out.

“Maggie, I think.”

“Suits her. As sweet as her.” She smiled.

“Will you accompany me to the general store? I want to buy chewing tobacco. Then we can have a drink. He said walking towards the establishment.

“Okay!” The two of them entered the store and while Lenny picked up the box, Joy peered through the products. A fishing rod caught her attention. It looked consistent and was definitely in a better condition than the one Tommy used. He didn't complain about it but many times when she accompanied him to fish she could see how the reel wasn’t working exactly as it should. She remembered that it would be his birthday soon, maybe she could give him one. She had enough money to afford some of the more expensive ones but she didn't have much idea of which one would fit her brother better so she decided that she would ask Javier to accompany her when she went to buy it, he had more idea about that.

Lenny paid and they both headed for the saloon. There were quite a few people and a man played a happy tune on the piano. They ordered their drinks and sat at a table to talk.

“So you like horses?” He asked her, drinking from his glass.

“Yeah. My family used to have quite a few, we would sell them at Valentine's and Strawberry's stables, but when my parents passed away I couldn't deal with so many anymore so we just kept Berry. What do you like?”

“Reading, I guess. A lot of things can be learned.” Joy rested her chin on her hand.

“I envy you. I know how to read but it’s so boring…”

“That's because you haven't found one that you like.”

“Maybe. My mother started buying me romance novels when I was twelve and let me tell you, they were tedious. At first they were fine but when I grew up I realized that they were just absurd fantasies.”

“I heard they’re quite corny.” He commented.

“They are.” She huffed. “I suppose I am resentful because they put an idea in your head about what love is that in the end doesn’t match reality...” She took a drink from her whiskey.

“Hadn’t thought of that. Not that I have read any.” Lenny said with a shrug.

They continued talking for another couple of hours, they had gotten along well. Then Joy realized that a girl who was leaning against the wall behind Lenny kept looking at him. She was young, perhaps of his age, and had her brown hair half tied. It was clear from her gaze that she wasn’t exclusively interested in the money she could get out of him. She probably hadn't tried anything because Joy was there. She leaned across the table to whisper to him.

“Pssst. Pretty girl interested in you behind you.” He looked at her confused.

“What?”

“Good luck.” She rose from her seat and raised her voice enough that the girl could hear her well. “Sorry boy, I'm not interested in you, you're too young for me.” She sighed theatrically and walked away to the bar under the stunned gaze of her new friend. Out of the corner of her eye she could see how the girl sat in the seat that she had just left and began to talk to Lenny. He was nervous but she seemed to like that. After a while they both got up and went upstairs. Joy smiled to herself.

A man stood beside her at the bar. He was tall, because of how his clothes adapted to his body, he didn't seem very muscular, but neither was he untrained. His short black hair was slicked back but some strands fell on his forehead.

“Hello Miss.” He greeted her, fixing his green eyes on hers. Joy raised an eyebrow, amused. He was handsome.

“Hello Mister.”

“Can I invite you to a drink?”

“Sure. A whiskey for both of us.” She asked the waiter.

“I see that you have good taste.”

“So it seems.” She said raising the glass to her mouth without breaking eye contact.

“What would you say if after this you and I go somewhere else?” He asked doing the same. Joy almost choked on the question. Trying not to laugh, she replied.

“You are very direct, aren’t you?”

“I don't have time for games.” He said winking at her and shortening the space between them.

Normally going so fast would have been a reason to reject him, but it had been a long time since she had relationships and honestly? That man was very attractive. She drained the glass in one gulp and set it on the bar.

“Alright.” She agreed, walking out the back door of the saloon. There was nobody there. She turned to look at the man but he put her against the wall and kissed her passionately. She gasped when their tongues began to play with each other. He continued to kiss her neck, as he unbuttoned the buttons of her shirt and lifted the chemise, revealing her freckled breasts. He grabbed one eagerly and twisted her nipple, causing a moan in her. He pulled down her pants and bloomers and brought his mouth to her crotch. Joy sighed, anticipating the contact, but what she felt was... discomfort. The stranger used his tongue at full speed at her entrance, causing more discomfort than pleasure. She cursed in her mind, she had to stop him but she didn't want the meeting to end.

“Didn't you say you didn't have time for games? Fuck me!” She said between mock gasps.

“How rude. What do you say?” he replied, continuing whatever he was doing down there.

“Please! Please…!” -Please stop.-

“Well then…” He got up, quickly pulled down his pants, lifted Joy by the legs, and inserted his member into her. She welcomed him willingly, clutching at his shoulders as he rammed her faster and faster. The man, between grunts, pulled out to come. When he caught his breath, he lowered her to the ground and began putting on his clothes.

Joy followed suit, somewhat disappointed but not entirely dissatisfied. She wished she had an orgasm, but she had missed the feeling of being full of someone and had enjoyed it.

“It was good.” He commented.

“Yeah. Lucky that no one was here.” He smiled.

“Well, I’m leaving. Miss…” He said goodbye with two fingers to his forehead. She replied the same, amused and went back inside the establishment.

After an hour chatting with the bartender, she checked that Lenny was still with the girl -she asked her coworkers and also put her ear to the door of the room they were in to make sure- and decided that she wasn’t going to wait any longer for him, who knew when they would finish. Before riding Berry and heading back to camp, she stroked Maggie's neck. She couldn't help it, if she had a horse nearby she needed to pet them.

When she arrived Javier was on duty.

“Who’s there?”

“The joy of the house.” She answered dismounting.

“How come you are so late? And hadn't you go out with the newbie?”

“Oh, don’t worry, we went drinking and then we parted to have our own fun. And it seems he was having a greeeeeeat time.” She giggled and winked at him. Javier cleared his throat, uncomfortable. Weird. Normally he would joke back. Maybe he didn't like Lenny? “Anyway I was wondering if these days you could come with me to choose a fishing rod for Tommy, his birthday will be soon.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Thank you!”

Once at camp Joy changed her clothes, putting on her nightgown and loosening her two braids to collect her hair back into one only. Going to her bedroll, she noticed that her brother was still awake.

“How come you're not asleep yet?” She asked lying down facing him.

“I was worried you weren't coming back.” Joy smiled bitterly.

“I'm sorry I worried you.”

“I know you can defend yourself but... I'm afraid something like what happened at home will happen again.” Tommy confessed, his eyes watered.

“Oh, Tommy, my boy…” She kissed his face and when she pulled away she started stroking his hair. “I love you, you know that, right?” He nodded.

“Me too.” Joy smiled.

“How about I sing you a lullaby to sleep?” He nodded again. She cleared her throat and started:

“Hush, little baby, don't say a word,

Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird.

And if that mockingbird don't sing,

Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring.

And if that diamond ring turns brass,

Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass.

And if that looking glass gets broke,

Mama's gonna buy you a billy goat,

And if that billy goat get cross,

Mama's gonna buy you a rocking horse.

And if that rocking horse turns over,

Mama's gonna buy you a dog named Rover.

And if that dog named Rover won't bark,

Mama's gonna buy you a horse and a cart.

And if that horse and cart fall down,

You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town…”

And they both fell asleep.

Four days had passed and on the last one it had rained. Far from being uncomfortable, Joy had appreciated it. It was a hot summer and as soon as the first drops hit the ground they were very well received. The next day had stopped raining, but the smell of damp earth was still there, the ground covered in puddles. That's where the game started for her. After finishing all her tasks Joy looked for Tommy. He was behind the camp with Jack, drawing strokes on the ground with a stick.

She sneaked up from behind making a silent gesture to Strauss, who was sitting on a log doing the math and could see Joy's intentions perfectly. He only looked at her for a moment with a polite smile and turned his attention back to his work, ignoring her.

When she was close enough she flexed her knees and jumped into a puddle without any regard, splashing at Tommy and Jack.

“Hey!” the older boy yelled, falling forward in shock. Jack started to laugh and plunged into the puddle, jumping over and over. Tommy pounced on her and they started a fight, splashing and pushing each other.

“Stop! What are you doing?” Abigail exclaimed, hurrying over to them. Tommy stopped dead in his tracks and jumped up, straightening up.

“I’m sorry Miss Roberts.” He apologized, embarrassed. Beside him Jack had stopped jumping.

“Oh, come on Abby, we’re just having fun.” Joy said pouting.

“Y’all are getting dirty and that’s just more work for later!”

“Come on Abby!”

Abigail looked at her impassively. She sighed.

“Okay, help me up.”

As soon as she held out her hand Joy pulled her and dragged her along, staining her with mud.

“Joy Collins, you are…!” She screeched before splashing her. Joy laughed and Abigail followed suit, never stopping her attacks. Realizing that his mother had joined the party, Jack allowed himself to keep jumping and Tommy joined him.

They had made quite a fuss, and an authoritative hawk took them out of the game.

“Miss Collins, Miss Roberts, set an example for your children and clean yourselves immediately! We are a gang of outlaws, not one of savages.”

They both nodded and Grimshaw walked away to speak to Pearson. Abigail tapped Joy on the shoulder in a friendly way and stood up.

“Come on, we have to clean us up.”

They took spare clothes and soap and approached the river, moving away from the camp a little to have privacy. They cleaned themselves thoroughly and helped the children to do it as well. When they were done, the boys ran out to grab a plate of stew.

"Be careful!" Abigail warned them. She turned to Joy. "I must admit that I had a good time."

She smiled.

"That was the plan! We all need a moment of fun sooner or later."

"You’re right. Being a mother is difficult and even more so if there isn't..." She stopped and sighed.

“I understand.” She put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “If you need anything you know I’m here.” Abigail nodded and put her hand over hers before leaving.

“So mud fights, how mature.” Daniela said sarcastically.

“Yes, you should try, it's fun.” Joy replied with a smile, rolling her eyes.

“I pass. I prefer to see them. I liked how you fooled Abigail.”

Joy laughed. She picked up a plate of stew and sat next to her. Laughter drew her attention from the main fire. Javier was telling one of his adventures to Jenny. Since that conversation they had in the cabin, the two of them spent more time together. They had always been close but now they were almost inseparable. Joy supposed that he had decided to turn the page on his love from Mexico and start something with her. She was envious of how well they got along. She also wanted a relationship like that and she had long since given up hope with Mary-Beth, you could tell she only had eyes for men.

She sighed and Daniela giggled.

“What?”

“No, nothing…” She replied with a certain sarcasm. Joy eyed her suspiciously, but decided to let it go.

They continued talking quietly until Javier's voice caught their attention. He was still sitting by the main fire, Jenny was gone and he was singing in spanish.

“What do the lyrics say? Sounds sad.” Joy asked Daniela curiously.

“Oh, it is. He sings it once in a while. Talks about a man who feels betrayed by the woman he loves because she’s in love with another man.”

It wasn't difficult for Joy to understand why he sang that song. It wasn't so easy to get rid of those feelings even though he was now with someone else, she supposed.

“Sometimes I would like to know what his songs say.”

Daniela giggled again.

“Seriously, what's wrong with you?”

“Nothing, nothing... If you want to know what they say, I can teach you spanish.”

“Would you really do that?”

“Uhuh, why not?”

“Because right now you’re the most suspicious person I've ever seen.”

Daniela laughed out loud.

“Calm down bonita, I'm serious.” she held out her hand.

“Mm…” She looked into her eyes before shaking her hand. “Alright…”

“It’s settled then.”

#Javier Escuella/OC #Javier Escuella/Reader #Charles Smith/OC #Arthur Morgan/OC #Javier Escuella x OC #Javier Escuella x Reader #Red Dead Redemption 2 #Fanfic #My writing

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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years

Text

gotta get down on friday

we have fun in the royai support group discord server

the challenge was to write a fic based on/including lyrics from rebecca black's "friday" so here u go. i wrote the most important fic i will ever write in my life and did it for the meme 🤙

rated: t | words: 2058 | tags: alcohol, night out, team bonding, fluff, pre-canon, fluff, drunkeness

read on ao3

“Are you free on Friday night, Lieutenant?”

“I can be, sir.” Riza lifted her head from her paperwork and looked towards the Colonel’s desk. He was turned to face the window in his chair, gazing out of it thoughtfully as he tapped his pen on his lips. “What do you need?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head, turning to face her. “Just you.”

“Me?”

That threw her completely. What would he possibly need her for on her night off –? Unless it was for more unfinished paperwork. Her stomach dropped, but it was quickly halted. Thankfully.

“I’m thinking of getting the team together for a night out.”

A night out? This was unexpected.

“Is that what you’ve been contemplating, staring out of that window, instead of work?”

Her challenge was conveniently ignored.

“We can go to the pub, have a few drinks, shoot some pool. It’ll be great!” Roy already looked so excited by the prospect.

It would be a good team building exercise, she supposed. They knew each other in a professional capacity, but not in a personal one. And while Riza wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of bearing herself to the strangers on her team – aside from Havoc – she could see the benefits. It had the potential to form tighter bonds with her new teammates, who’d she’d only known for a few short weeks.

“So, can I count you in?” Roy’s expression told her that he sincerely hoped she’d say yes as he eagerly awaited her answer.

It would be nice to get out of her apartment on her night off and enjoy herself. They hadn’t had much of a chance since being assigned in East City because they were still trying to get settled into a new routine.

“Gotta get down on Friday,” he joked with a playful smirk, trying to entice her further.

Riza snorted and shook her head fondly at his antics. “Okay, sir. I can be available on Friday evening,” she confirmed.

“Excellent,” Roy grinned. “Okay, I’ll go and wrangle the rest of the team!” He eagerly rose from his chair, rounding his desk. “Although I don’t think they’ll need too much convincing.”

“Havoc will definitely be up for it,” she reassured. “He always was a fan of a night out with friends in the Academy.”

Roy paused, absorbing this new information. “Did you happen to partake in those nights out too, Lieutenant?” He turned to face her expectantly.

His question was innocent enough but still Riza pursed her lips. This man knew her better than anyone – and was already aware that she, Havoc, and Rebecca had all been through training together – but still, her drunken embarrassment was best kept to herself. Well, what she remembered of it anyway.

“I did,” she replied carefully and offered him no more than that.

Both of Roy’s eyebrows lifted with intrigue. He hadn’t expected her to say yes, but what was she supposed to do with Rebecca Catalina and Jean Havoc as her friends through her Academy years? Plus, she wasn’t afraid of letting her hair down. Far from it, especially when in good company. Glancing over at her commanding officer, ignoring all titles and positions at the moment, she knew Roy would be the best company. She’d feel safe with him by her side. Havoc too. And if this was something Roy wanted to do for his team then Riza would support him.

It would be fun.

Roy approached her desk with a smirk, dragging Riza out of her thoughts. “You’ve never told me of any drunken stories, Hawkeye,” he commented, coming to a stop before her, hands slotting into his pockets. She didn’t know why he suddenly had an interest in her possible drunken antics. Or why.

She shrugged. “You’ve never asked.”

“Am I allowed to ask about said drunken antics?” He was treading carefully with his question but there was a hint of amusement on his face.

“No,” was Riza’s firm reply.

His laugh brightened up his entire expression. “I didn’t think so. Still, can’t fault me for trying,” he added, lifting his hands in surrender.

Riza hummed noncommittally.

“One day I might worm it out of you,” he murmured lowly, expression turning thoughtful. The office was empty so there was no risk of being overheard. Still, she appreciated his effort to maintain the secrecy of their past, as she’d requested. “Oh!” Roy exclaimed suddenly, as if he’d though of an extremely brilliant idea. “Or I can go and ask Havoc about them?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she threatened as she snorted at his hilarious suggestion.

“Maybe I would,” he grinned, unafraid.

“Havoc knows better than to tell anyway.”

Roy pouted. Actually pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“Maybe,” she replied with light scorn, turning her attention back to her work.

After writing for a few moments she noticed he still hadn’t moved. Electing to ignore it, Riza ploughed on ahead with her work, but then he still didn’t move from his spot. Riza glanced at him and geared up to ask what he needed but his soft smile made her pause and her writing trailed off. He was looking at her like… Well. Like he shouldn’t be.

Like he was completely enamoured by her.

“What?” Riza prompted him out of his thoughts. Despite her heart fluttering within her chest and her stomach flipping pleasantly with the way Roy was looking at her, they couldn’t be risking moments like this anymore. Not while they were in the positions they were now. They couldn’t afford it if they wanted to succeed.

Roy snapped out of whatever thoughts he’d found himself trapped in and grinned. He shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I can’t wait for Friday.”

Without another word he hurried out of the office and turned in the direction of the cafeteria. Riza was left staring after him, wondering what had just happened.

* * * * * * *

There was a chorus of happy cheers as everyone on the team greeted one another in the pub Roy had arranged for them to meet at. Riza hung back and let them get it out of their system before she entered the fray. Roy noticed her distance from the group – of course he did – and diverted his attention from the conversation before him. He shot her a smile and there was a slightly puzzled look on his face. He was wondering if there was anything wrong. She shook her head to placate him but that wasn’t enough. He excused himself from an already tipsy Havoc and walked over.

“You made it,” he breathed excitedly.

“I did. I didn’t want to let the team down, sir.”

“You could never, Riza.” His smile matched his tone and expression. It was soft as he reassured her. The excitement was clear on his face and he looked truly overjoyed. Riza’s stomach fluttered.

“I didn’t want to miss it,” she revealed quietly, leaning in slightly so she could be heard over the team’s laughter.

She’d had a glass of wine while getting ready for the night. It had helped settle her nerves about meeting everyone outside of work for the first time. Although Havoc and Roy were going to be there, she still didn’t know Breda, Falman, or Fuery very well. She’d wanted to but there hadn’t been an appropriate opportunity yet. It was their first “team night out” and she’d been excited at the prospect of being a part of it. Riza wanted to be a part of something good, for a change. She’d have kicked herself in regret if she couldn’t make tonight.

Roy’s grin was infectious. “I told you it would be fun,” he winked.

“Gotta get down on Friday, right?”

As she quoted his own words back at her Roy’s jaw went slack as he stared at her in surprise before he broke out in laughter. “We do. And I can’t wait to spend it with you.”

“Now you’re talking dangerously,” she urged quietly.

Roy just shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s still the truth.”

Riza frowned at him. “Anyway,” she urged, trying to steer the conversation towards safer territory, “on top of that, I know how to handle Havoc when he’s drunk. I couldn’t subject you all to that on your own.”

Her expression turned confused as Roy wrapped his arm around her shoulder and guided her forwards towards the team. Both his hands came to rest upon her shoulders as they walked, and he gave them a gentle squeeze.

“Every day you become more of an enigma, Riza Hawkeye,” he spoke lowly into her ear. His breath caressed her skin gently and it made her stomach flutter again. His hands increased their pressure as he squeezed her shoulders while steering her over to the team. “I love that about you,” he whispered, “on top of everything else.”

Before she could reply or properly react he walked ahead and left her, asking who wanted a drink. The first round was on him. Havoc and Breda cheered loudly and quickly placed their order. Falman and Fuery were next, leaving Riza for last. They greeted her warmly once they noticed her presence, however her replies were slightly dazed as she was still reeling from what Roy had said.

“Hawkeye?” The culprit looked expectantly at her for her order, ignoring the fact he’d just announced that he loved her in a very public place. It hadn’t been loud but… But… But he still did it! He should know better –!

“Hawkeye.” Roy commanded her attention easily, his voice soft and welcoming. Her breath caught in her throat.

Glancing around she saw that no one was paying them any attention. The rest of the team had wandered over to their table to talk as they awaited their drinks. The bar was empty still, aside from them.

“What would you like to drink?”

Her eyes met his. His expression was open and unabashed, as if what he’d said had been no big deal.

Voicing it publicly was a problem. However there was no one around. Still, it couldn’t become a habit. Riza would make sure of that. It was dangerous. Their feelings had always been there though and had been for years. Riza’s had never changed. One night, underneath the desert sky, he’d confirmed it was the same for him. It was a comfort to know, Riza thought, and it was always nice to hear.

But still, she huffed in thought.

Riza placed her order after shooting him a warning look and he smirked, promising he wouldn’t be long.

After taking a seat at the table Havoc threw his arm heartily around her shoulders and left it there until their drinks arrived. Although almost being thrown off balance by his enthusiasm Riza didn’t mind it too much, because it was Havoc. Aside from Roy, he was one of her oldest friends. The heavy weight of his arm was a comfort and helped remind her that she was in the company of friends and teammates. Plus, it had been a while since she’d sat and had a drink with Havoc and that had always been a good time back in the Academy. She was excited.

For all the emphasis Roy had put on the importance of “Friday night” and how excited he’d been to go out with them all, Riza had to admit; it had made her look forward to the weekend ahead. She decided that “partyin’”, as Roy – and then everyone else – kept drunkenly calling it throughout the night, with this group was a good time. They’d chant “partyin’, partyin’, yeah!” as more drinks were brought to the table and it made her laugh. Riza knew once tonight was over she’d be looking forward to the next one.

It was early days, and their friendships were brand new for Riza, but they’d all accepted one another so easily and had eagerly welcomed Riza into their circle. She’d been almost afraid that after being so hard on them all at work initially they’d be put off by spending time with her outside of it. However, her fears were completely alleviated after tonight.

They were a good bunch of guys. They would be an amazing team all together, Riza was sure of it.

As Roy, Havoc, and Breda had drunkenly sung off key towards the end of the night, the evening had definitely been “fun, fun, fun, fun.”

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai oneshot #emma writes #lmaooooo this is. this is certainly something anyway #this is so dumb ushfdg #but i did it for the meme so idc really #i just wanted team mustang to sing friday by rebecca black

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