#i feel like a maniac right now because my brain is spinning so fast | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrpenguinpants · 3 years

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Childe: First Kiss HCs

I tend to make things gender neutral by not putting in pronouns and just using “you” but you can definitely read this as female^^ But I completely agree, I love this boy so much. He’s my favourite character to play (im so sorry razor) until Xiao comes out. I literally have a genshin team named “waiting for xiao” and it’s just Childe and Zhongli haha.

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Today’s appreciation post goes to childes-starconch. Fitting that this is a Childe fic but ty for your support^^ I always notice you pop up as soon as I post a fic and I really enjoy seeing you. Hopefully you read this since tumblr won’t let me tag people, for whatever reason I don’t know anymore, but just saying hey, I see you 💕💕

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I’m just gonna piggy back off my last Childe fic. I’m sorry.

Semi Part 1: Fiance HCs [honestly, one of my favourites haha]

Xiao Ver: First Kiss HCs

Venti & Kaeya: Mistletoe HCs

Venti, Xingqiu, and Razor: Kissing HCs

[Masterlist]

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[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover@youaskedfurret @snowy224

@youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @dandelily @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife @dokidokisama @simpygrimoire @minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess

For some reason I can’t @ certain people. I’m talking to tumblr about it.

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Childe: First Kiss HCs

Childe was never one to shy away from affection, be it holding your hand in his or wrapping an arm around you, he was always happy to be close to you. He was always a bit territorial which lead to some embarrassing situations for you but it was from a good place in his heart. But when it came to public kisses, he preferred to keep it between you two. It felt too private of a moment that he didn’t want to broadcast to the rest of the Fatui, especially to the other Harbingers. That is to say, if he actually kissed you in the first place. For all the two braincells Childe had, one was fighting and the other was protecting his loved ones, just imagining kissing you was too much for him and he needed to go find some poor recruit and beat his inner problems out. The Fatui recruitment process would always dwindled down during his inner turmoil sessions that Scaramouche himself, had to throw his goddamn hat at Tartaglia, and yell at him to hurry up and fix his problem. It was clogging up the air.

When he tried to think about it, it shouldn’t be this hard to simply lean in for a kiss. But it was his first and while Childe might run into whatever danger or prospect of a fight without a second thought, he didn’t want to ruin it. What if he accidently bonked his forehead with yours? He should remove his mask then right? Just in case? He’s only given forehead and cheek kisses to his younger siblings so it should be the same right? Yeah he could do this, this was just another battle for Tartaglia to conquer!

But whenever he would see you or you would both sit and bask in each other’s presences. He couldn’t bring himself to initiate something or heck, even looking at your face made him a bit hot under the collar in sub-zero temperatures. He can almost hear Scaramouche and Signora laughing maniacally at him behind their hands. He’s the youngest of the Harbingers, he should get a “get out of jail for free” card that all youngest children have whenever they get into trouble. But in this case it’s murder. He quickly slaps his cheeks to get his mind off fighting for one second which startles you beside him.

The first time you’ve seen Childe shy was when he first confessed to you, stuttering that he liked you and just really badly wanted to hold your hand without using the frost of Sneznaya as an excuse. You flushed pink but nodded that you returned his feeling and slipped your hand in his. Whatever shyness Childe had was quickly wiped off his face and he cheered and brought you in for an eskimo kiss. Rubbing your nose with his as he laughed in joy, the tips of his ears and cheeks still coloured pink. You always hold that memory dear to your heart because not only was it the start of your relationship, it was the first time you felt you were staring at Ajax. Not Childe. Not Tartaglia. Just Ajax.

But now, you’re not to sure what to call this. Lately he seemed to be out of it, always staring off into space or frowning at some poor poor snowmen that did not deserve that much pressure. Was being a harbinger starting to take it’s toll on him? Did something terrible happen to his family or was the Tsaritsa being too hard on him? You were beginning to get concerned because you’ve never seen this much mental turmoil in him. This never really happened before and he usually bounced back pretty fast. Would it be better if you left him be and he sorted it out himself? Would it be better if you asked?

Childe is startled out of his thoughts of possible committed murder because he’s too scared to ask his own partner if kissing was something they could do, when he felt your hand slowly nudge his. No matter how many times he holds your hand, you’re always warm. It could be snow storming outside and the only heater he would need would be you. He offers a small but warm smile as he laces his fingers with yours. He remembers when you first started going out he was so scared about boundaries and what was okay. Brushing your fingers together and overall, not doing a good job at saying he wanted to hold hands that even he cringes slightly at his younger self - even though it wasn’t that long ago and he’s doing it again just with kisses - but now he borderline clings to you like some overgrown animal. Scaramouche’s words, not his.

It’s still evening in Snezhnaya and the Tsaritsa herself seems to be taking a vacation because there’s only a light snow falling down between the two of you. You’re both sitting outside his house while his family is inside, warm and having fun playing games. He breathes in, closes his eyes, and let’s the world fade away just a second. He slowly brings his other hand to cup your cheek, his hands are always numb and the tiny pin pricks are dancing on his fingers again before they fade away too, and guides you towards him so he can place a small kiss on your fore head. Then tilts your face to the side so he can kiss your cheek. Brings his nose near yours to nuzzle against. Then hesitates when his lips hover above yours.

“Ajax is there something bothering you?” you ask softly, you’re so close to each other that all you can see is him. The small puffs of breathe you both take bounce off each other’s face before evaporating into the air. You never really took the time to appreciate Ajax’s bright blue eyes. His pupil from this distance seems to be slitted too.

“Hm? Ah no, of course not. Where did you get that idea?” he tries to laugh it off and tries to move back before you quickly bring your hand to the back of his head and nudge him forward so he stays in place. It wasn’t like him to run away from something, it was really starting to bother you what could get Ajax of all people to retreat from something.

“You know if there’s anything that’s bothering you, you can talk to me right?” you asked as you brought both your hands to cup his face as you softly rubbed circles just under his ear. He closed his eyes and hmmed happily at your actions and nuzzled further into your hand before turning his head inward to kiss your palm. Before relaxing and parting his eyelids half way as he seemed to be back in concentration mode. Before awkwardly saying what was troubling him these past few days.

“So wait, you mean to tell me that this entire time I was worried about you. How out of it you were and how many fights you’ve been getting into. Was because you wanted a kiss?” you asked dumfounded as he pouted but nodded. You sighed but bonked your foreheads together softly, “You’re such an idiot....C’mere.”

“Wha-”

You grab the scarf on his harbinger uniform and tug him forward as your lips slot over his. You kiss him hard and for a few seconds as Ajax just stares at you as his brain tries to catch up, before his eyes seem to dilate and he kisses you back just as hard. All his past worries are quickly thrown out the window as slowly pushes you on your back, cushioned by the soft snow, as he basks in the feeling. It’s a bit sloppy given this is both your first kisses but that’s what adds to the charm. You both have to separate at some point for oxygen but Childe looks like he’s ready to dive in again.

“One more,” he pants as he goes in for another but you quickly place your hand in the way so he ends up kissing your palm. He whines but you chuckle at him, place a small kiss on the back of your palm of where his lips would be, and push him off you. You’re both still outside his families home and you aren’t in the mood to be caught in this kind of position. Especially not in front of his younger siblings. He rests his cheek on your shoulder and looks at you, trying to make his eyes bigger and look like a kicked puppy. You sigh as you give a small pet on his head, running your fingers through your hair. What a troublesome partner you’ve gotten.

“Alright, one more.”

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My entire taglist was just made for the “Enemies” to “Lovers” post and I still haven’t started hehe. Trust me, it’s coming. I’ve got requests for it and we’re slowly getting there. The entire time I’m writing this I’m just thinking “honey..no, that’s not how this works.” God you’re so dumb. I hate you. You’re my favourite character. Pour one out for Xiao, I was going to make this a crack fic too but ended up making it somewhat serious.

So yeah, xiao is a cat and childe is a fox. In other news, water is wet. But I did actually google fox behaviors just for this shitpost. ALRIGHT TIME TO SPIN THE WHEEL OF “WILL TUMBLR BE NICE TO ME?” OR DO I NEED TO DOUBLE REPOST AGAIN.

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badfvith · 4 years

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burning to the ground | draco malfoy

Request: love your draco work 😍so requesting something where you’re a Weasley and dating draco set in the half blood prince where the borrow sets on fire. where draco apparates to the burrow to tell you to get out because he knows Bellatrix is coming but your family don’t know that you’re dating. just imagining family angst but a really scared and afraid draco 💖💞 A/N: okay so i freaking LOVED this request. i seriously think this might be one of my favorite pieces i’ve written. the end makes me 🥺 (all of yall out there like me who have seen the movies 80 million times will hopefully understand) i hope you like this!!! 💓 warnings: a bit angsty but i promise it’s also fluffy too dw word count: 1786

Christmas. The most wonderful time of the year. Or so they say.

This Christmas was hosted at your house, “the burrow” as everyone called it. You didn’t have much being 1/8 Weasley children, but what you did have was an overwhelming sense of family and love. Your mom decided it was only fitting to invite Remus and Tonks, and of course Harry (who was basically another one of your brothers at this point) as he had been staying with all of you for the year.

This Christmas was different than all the others. Conversations were less about trying to guess what gifts everyone got each other and more about what they thought the Death Eaters’ next moves were. It was obvious that everyone was on edge.

You all walked your guests out at the end of the night. You were leading the pack, and stopped on the porch to hug Remus and Tonks goodbye.

“It was delicious Molly, really.” You heard Tonks say and turned around to see her hugging your mom. Your focus then turned from that sweet moment to a very distressed looking Remus staring out at the landscape ahead. You had to admit, the front of your house looked a bit intimidating in the darkness and the slow breeze swaying the weeds near the water, but nothing too horrifying that it would cause this sort of reaction from Remus.

“What is it sweetheart?” You heard Tonks say softly, putting a hand on his arm. He shook his head briefly but didn’t respond.

You took a few steps forward to get a better look at what Remus might’ve been eyeing, the floor boards creaking underneath your feet. You heard some shuffling around behind you and saw that Harry and Ron had now made their way outside as well, standing closely behind you.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Remus said, finally breaking the tense silence. “We should go.”

“Thank you again for everything.” Tonks said waving to us. I gave her a smile and the two of them took each other’s hands and started to walk away.

“Alright. Let’s all go inside then.” Your mom said hurriedly.

You heard everyone moving behind you, but you stood still where you were.

“(y/n)! Let’s go!” Ron yelled.

You turned around and waved him off. “I’ll be there in a second.”

“Whatever.” He replied.

After a few more minutes of staring out into the darkness, you convinced yourself that both you and Remus were crazy and that there was nothing there. You took one last good look before turning around to go back inside.

“(y/n)!” You froze. Nope. There is no way this is happening. All night long everyone has been freaked out over Death Eaters and the second you turn around an unknown voice calls your name? You took a deep breath, in which you prepared yourself for death. Why didn’t you go inside when Ron called you?

You slowly turned around, expecting to see Voldemort himself pointing his wand at you. Instead you were met with the all too familiar platinum blonde hair, all black suit, and worried expression of your boyfriend Draco.

You felt a rollercoaster of emotions swim through your brain and your body. A choked half laugh half cry left your throat as you stared at him, wide eyed.

“(y/n)...” He said quietly, for the second time that night.

“Draco.” You replied, before slowly walking towards him and practically falling into his embrace.

This year had been tough for Draco and for your relationship. The beginning of year was...an undertaking to say the least, with Draco keeping you completely in the dark about his father, his family, and his commitments to the Dark Lord. However finally one day he broke down and told you everything which ended in an entire night of cuddles, tears, “i’m so sorrys” and “it’s not your faults.” You have never loved anyone like you loved Draco, and you knew he felt the same. You both hadn’t meant to hide your relationship for this long, but this year everything had gotten so complicated. You decided it was best to keep it a secret from both of your families, obviously knowing the rather difficult history between them. So now that your secret boyfriend who was tasked with killing the most powerful wizard in the world, who would probably be killed by your father if his father didn’t reach him first, had randomly showed up on your lawn on Christmas night, you knew something must be wrong.

“I love you.” You said quickly as you pulled away to look up at him. “But why in the world are you here?”

“You have to get out of here. Now.” Was all he said. There were tears pricking his eyes so you reached up to cup his face, softly stroking his cheek with your thumb.

“What? Why?” You pressed.

“It’s not safe here anymore. I can’t lose you, I can’t–” He said before breaking into a cry.

“Shhh baby.” You said, letting his head fall against your shoulder. “One step at a time okay? Just tell me what’s happening.” Your voice was soft but you were feeling anything but calm right now. There were a million things running through your brain, number one being the fact that you were in plain sight with an entire family of hardcore anti-Malfoys sitting about 10 feet away.

After a few more seconds he lifted his head back up to look at you. “You have to get out of here. She’s coming. I heard their whole plan I know that they’re comi-”

“What in the bloody hell is HE doing here?!” You heard. Your jaw dropped open and you jumped away from Draco. You turned around to see Ron and Harry in the doorway with their wands pointed at him.

“I don’t know but I don’t think he’s here to say Merry Christmas.” Harry spat. He started fast walking towards the two of you.

“STOP!” You screamed, before you fully thought it through.

“WHAT IS GOING ON?” You closed your eyes as your dad’s voice boomed through your ears.

“Shit.” You whispered.

“Expelliarmus!” Harry fired at Draco. You didn’t even notice Draco pull out a wand; your head was spinning with how to handle this situation. Draco’s wand went flying out of his hand and he quickly ran to grab it.

“Stupefy!” Your dad yelled, causing Draco to groan as he was thrown farther backwards. You were frozen to the spot, not having any idea what to do. Your dad ran towards Draco, towering over him on the ground.

“Mr. Weasley I-” Draco started.

“What did you say to her?!” Your dad yelled again. “What do you want?” Draco tried to sit up but Ron came over and fired another spell at him.

“STOP IT!” You cried.

“Go inside (y/n)! You shouldn’t be here.” Your dad said, turning back to you. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t stand here and watch your family torture your boyfriend. All of the people you love most in the world were fighting right in front of your eyes and it was tearing you apart.

“I’ll ask you one more time Malfoy. What...are...you doing...here.”

“DAD!” You exclaimed and finally got the courage to march over there.

“I told you to go inside (y/n!)” He shot back.

“No!” You choked out. “I LOVE HIM.”

The four of them snapped their heads in your direction, and Ron’s wand fell to the ground out of his limp hand.

“WHAT?” Harry asked firmly.

A tear fell down your cheek as you ran over to Draco. You helped him off the ground before you replied to anybody.

“Look...I know this is... this is the worst time and it’s not how I wanted this to happen. This is my boyfriend.” You said, a dry laugh following your statement at the utter ridiculousness and horrid timing of the situation. “We didn’t get to finish our conversation before you all came out here like maniacs but I promise this is the last person in the world who is going to try and hurt me. Or any of us.” You pleaded.

“Have you gone mad?!” Ron yelled.

“Well this is a turn of events I wasn’t expecting.” You snapped your head to see Fred and George on the porch smirking and pretending to eat popcorn.

“Is it so hard to believe this? Crazier things have happened in our lives!” You exclaimed, exasperated. This entire night felt like it had taken at least 5 years off of your life.

Your dad nodded at you slowly. “We’ll deal with this later. But for now, I would still love to know what was so important to tell you that he needed to disrupt our Christmas.”

Draco swallowed hard. He looked over at you and you nodded, signaling that it was okay. “I...I came here to try and protect her. A-and all of you. The death eaters are all at my house. I heard them say they were coming here tonight.”

“Merlin’s beard.” Your dad said quietly.

“Draco...what?” Shocked was an understatement.

Before anyone could get any more questions in, a swirling black mist no one could mistake for one of the Death Eaters themselves came hurling out of the sky and landed in front of you.

“EVERYBODY GET OUT OF HERE NOW!” Harry screamed.

The high pitched laugh of Bellatrix Lestrange rang through the air. Harry immediately ran after her through the bushes as more came down from the sky. You recognized Fenrir Greyback, the unofficial Death Eater but very official aggressive werewolf, and a few others.

“SHIT.” You said as everyone around you started fighting. You grabbed your wand out of your pocket but before you could fire a spell felt Draco envelop you in a hug.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen...but don’t forget that I love you.” He said, his tears falling onto your face due to your close proximities.

“I love you too. I’m so sorry.” You said, and gripped onto him like your life depended on it.

Being a Weasley was complicated. Actually, no it wasn’t. You couldn’t dream of a more loving, caring, or hilarious family to be a part of. Obviously you had your petty sibling fights and teasing, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle.

Being a Weasley was complicated when the love of your life was a Malfoy. And as the screams of your family, black clouds, and fire engulfing your property occurred around you, you couldn’t help but miss the times when being a Weasley was easy. When you all sat in the living room in your matching pajamas, hearing your mom’s voice telling the stories of Babbity Rabbity, or The Three Brothers traveling at midnight.

tags:

@tinylumpiaa @kashishwrites @lateautumn @ask-sirius-queer-black @inkhearthes

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lamiasluck · 3 years

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Cheers to the Future

(Working for with this new version of Host I created. What if he didn’t mind Author and actually respected him? Much to think about.)

Author wrote his future self a letter to reflect on things. Host always cherishes the the gesture. It’s not everyday he can see relics of his past life.

@emptynarration @alvie-ashgrove @shy-marker-pliers @juju-on-that-yeet @m4delin @verse2wo @ferociousfangirlofmanyfandoms @lildevyl

Warnings: swearing, minor violence

Dear my future self,

I’m writing this stupid thing because I need something to calm me down. Another damn character ran away, again. A surprisingly fast guy, considering he’s some brain dead office monkey. I don’t remember his name, but my bat had his goddamn name written all over it! People just don’t get it. Their safety doesn’t matter in this; I want to have fun. But whatever, maybe you’ll have better luck getting that through people’s heads. And it better work! I can’t imagine myself doing anything else. I’d rather die than become boring like that.

I want a library full of books in the future. And I better have written every single word in them. It’ll be a whole collection of characters that get it. That they don’t matter, only the story does. You better understand that, too. I’m tired of thinking of the morality of it all, everyone keeps telling me I’m wrong and horrible. I know that! Dear god, I don’t need to hear it all the time. The same dialogue over and over drives me insane. I can only imagine how exhausted you are of that by now. Though, maybe you have a better way to make them understand what we mean. If only I could hear it… Nothing pisses me off more than an entitled character too stupid to consider the bigger picture. Now I’m repeating myself. I’m the asshole here. Well, I’m going to commit to it now.

I want things from you, even if you are me. You should have more power. I want you to be stronger than me, which is impossible already, but the only one able to do that is me. I want you to be a fucking god. It’s what we deserve.

Guess this wasn’t as stupid as I thought… I feel better after writing this. I’ll go out and get another character. Start things over. I’ll even keep this piece of scrap somewhere safe, in case you do read this in the future. If you’re alive. You better be. I hope life’s more of a joyride to you. That’s my dream, stick with it.

- Author

The Host fondly brushes his thumb over the worn paper. It’s long since weakened with age, feeling flimsy in his hands and crumpled. The messy handwriting is charming to see with his narrations, but at least they’re full paragraphs. He can never find himself jotting down more than a few notes for his radio broadcasts. His infliction makes him unmotivated to put in the effort. Not like anyone else sees them besides him, anyway.

Author had such a way with words. Like how he kept swearing constantly even when writing a letter. A charming touch, added more personality. The Host doesn’t curse nearly as much. As it turns out, swearing aggressively puts many characters at unease right off the bat. He learned that soon after Author died.

This isn’t the first time he’s read this, nor will it be the last. Hell, he practiced his narrations reading it when he got reborn. It’s nice to reflect on who he once was. Author was always an interesting man, but far too narrow minded to improve for his own benefit. The Host wouldn’t be here if Author wasn’t so rash, though. He’s grateful for such a unique creation. No human is born like this. That always brings a smile to his face. Perhaps, he did turn into the god Author had wanted. He certainly feels like one with his power.

The letter is carefully folded up and put into a safe drawer. It’s been taken care of expertly all these years, with only a small tear to prove otherwise. The Host wonders what Author would think of him some days. He lives in the same body as the writer, but it feels odd to call himself “The Author.” Perhaps, The Host is something Author expected. To be killed and reborn anew, into something greater than man. Maybe that’s why he stupidly faced every danger head on, tempting fate to turn him into a god, to complete his origin story. Or maybe, Author would be absolutely disgusted by The Host, scared even.

“No, I don’t want to die! I want this power. I don’t want you having it!”

With golden eyes widened in horror, while his shaky hands grips his bat like it’ll protect him. Expression morphed into a harsh, but confused glare, as he stared at his future. Why, The Host can practically hear him screaming curses at him. It’s always amusing to think about, but they’re only predictions of the impossible. All he can do is honour Author’s name. While he may not be a writer, he’s quite the storyteller. And, he’s gotten better at controlling those pesky characters’ minds. Though-

“Let me out!” a panicked man’s voice screeches from the other room. There’s sounds of a struggle, before The Host hears a loud thump, followed by a pained groan. Poor soul must’ve tipped over his chair. “You can’t keep me in here!” Still as determined as ever, though.

- Sometimes he has the same problems Author did. While he may have improved how he plays mind games, something Author never had the patience to do, there are always times a character’s too vain to understand the message. Some things never change. It never bothers The Host too much though, at least not enough to make him as angry as Author would’ve been. He alway finds ways to have fun with it. Again, another thing Author could never do; go with the flow and make every situation his. As they deserve.

With age comes maturity, The Host supposes. As if he’s the shining beacon of maturity.

With a grin on his face, he grabs his trusty, metal bat and stands from his desk. Well, Author’s bat, but he still cares for the weapon. “Another damn character ran away,” he repeats Author’s words with a giggle. “Or, almost ran away. The Host tries to be smart enough to catch them afterwards.”

He walks over to the room he keeps his uncooperative characters in. This guy did end up tipping his chair over, now flopping around like a suffocating fish. The sight makes The Host laugh through his narrations. He walks up to the character, dragging his bat against the floor to make a dull, scraping sound. The way the character yells and begs makes his grin grow wider.

“Now, now, friend,” he crouches down next to the character’s head, “with all that screaming, he may tear out his vocal cords.” He presses the end of his bat against the poor man’s throat, effectively quieting the screaming into a pitiful whimper. “None of that now, The Host wants to show his friend why he should’ve behaved.” He stands up then, spinning his bat in his hand.

“No, please-”

“It may be a long and hard lesson to take in.” He raises his bat over his head, “If it makes him feel better, The Host found it hard to learn himself.”

“God, please, no!”

“God only wants to make a good story. Let fate take its course.” He swings the bat down hard into the character’s ribs, laughing maniacally once he hears a sickening crack. The man shrieks in pain, but no one will hear him within the vast and empty forest. No one besides The Host. “Don’t worry, it’s for the greater good!”

Time to make Author proud.

#The Host #The Author #fanfic #markiplier egos #markiplier

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 4 years

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I have a silly Napoleon ask for you: if he suddenly woke up in the present day what do you think he would a)like most about it b) like least about it c)get unreasonably addicted to d)decide to do for a living

hahah I’ve answered a similar one before here and here.

Most Like About It: A lot, I think. Central heating. Guys, he’d fucking love central heating.

In general, he’d love most technological advances. Cars, planes, trains etc. like he’d be very into that. “Bertrand we’re going to ride the TGV all day every day. Look at how fast we are going! This is genius.”

“Bertrand WE ARE IN THE SKY. This is AMAZING. We are going from Paris to Rome in a matter of HOURS. HOURS BERTRAND. WE DON’T HAVE TO CROSS MOUNTAINS.” (sorry just assuming this is exile Napoleon who woke up in modern day.)

Public transit in general - the metro, buses - anything that makes life more efficient for people. Dishwasher, washers/dryers, modern electricity, laptops, printers, ball point pens etc.

I suspect he’d be a big supporter of public health care and all the advances made on vaccines and medicine in general. 100% would hate anti-vaxxers. Pro-modern glasses (he’d get himself a pair asap. Then they’d explain contacts to him and I think he’d be like “WAIT NO, I WANT THOSE.” He would not be into lasik, I suspect).

Modern hygiene! Razors, tooth brushes, floss, moisturizer - general daily body care he’d probably be keen on. (All that stuff we take for granted.) Though maybe not all of it, he was quite traditional in certain things (his penchant for older fashion, par exemple). Maybe he’d keep the old straight razor shaving approach. But modern dentistry would be a huge improvement and I can’t see him being against it. Especially as someone who had a tooth extracted in the early 19th century.

‘Oh they give you pain killers now? Fantastic.’

‘Sir, we just numb the area where we are doing the work.’

‘So it doesn’t impede my awareness? Amazing. Please, fix all my teeth right now.’

He’d also support the greater access to education that exists, especially compared to his day. Also, streaming services. He would binge so many things. ‘Bertrand we are watching every thing this very soothing sounding British naturalist made about planet earth. Holy shit look at that they’re under water! They’re at the bottom of the ocean! Bertrand look at this. if only Josephine were here. She’d be so excited.’

Pro-zoom/Microsoft teams/facetime etc. 100%. ‘If I had this instead of people relying on my bad handwriting ...’

Oh, he’d like the EU as a concept. Except he would be very disappointed that France wasn’t at the helm. I think France’s position globally would disappoint him, overall. But yeah, the broad principles espoused by the concept of the European Union would appeal to him.

Brexit though. Lol. I think he’d enjoy watching England shoot itself in the foot. But if you asked him for his opinion, as in “do you think the UK should do this” he would answer no. They should remain.

He would like globalization, trade agreements, things like NAFTA, CETA etc. Supporter of big government. Reduction of religion in public sphere. Though would he be pro-banning visual manifestations of faith? (i.e. Hijab etc.) I don’t know. I doubt it. Simply because he was very focused on religion in government, so if churches aren’t involved in decision making, what citizens get up to on their own is their business (so long as you don’t cause problems). But I don’t know, he might be pro-it, because he was also into assimilation and creating a broad sense of a French culture. I could see him really going either way on it. It’d probably come down to whatever he thought would garner the most public support as a political move (since a lot of his more liberal moves as a leader were tied to understanding that marginalized communities would gun hard for him if he helped them).

He would be pro-mask wearing for COVID because he wasn’t a fucking idiot and lived in a time when pandemics were still a real going concern.

He would also probably like how comfortable modern clothing is. I don’t think he’d like how cheap and made-to-wear-out that most brands are, but he’d like the over all philosophy. Like Napoleon would dig t-shirts. Lounge wear. The fact that jeans have some stretch in them. That sort of thing.

Least Like: I think he’d be very wary of the internet. For many reasons. For the lack of government control (Napoleon “What is a free press? never heard of her” Bonaparte). But also, because of the misinformation problems. The side effects many of us are now bearing witness to, and experiencing the ramifications of.

He would dislike the whole fake news nonsense. Oh this man was a master spin-doctor, very good at twisting a narrative around to suit him, but he still did have respect for and a firm belief in basic facts. Especially fake news that usurped the sound advise of scientists and doctors (i.e. COVID nonsense).

Free press, I think he would be wary of it. Mostly from a government control perspective. Like as a day-to-day citizen, since he wouldn’t be anyone in power in this hypothetical, I think he’d value it. He would do that disassocative thing he did when he talked about things in the abstract. That cold, calculating way he would position himself in a situation and be like “Ah yes, these are the things that need to be tamped down if you want control of a populace as a monarch”. Then he had his more liberal, call-back-to-that-misspent-jacobin-youth moments where his views shifted.

I suppose it would also depend what age this hypothetical Napoleon is. He softened a lot in retirement exile. Napoleon at the height of his power, thirty-odd years old, different man to fifty year old Napoleon.

Would not be into women in politics. He’d be like ‘Why is there a woman in charge of Germany? Also what happened to the Habsburgs? Where’s Prussia? Silesia? What the FuCk is happening in the Balkans? I’m very confused about Europe’s current geographic layout. ...Corsica...still doing you, I see.’

He’d dislike Trump and his cronies. As I wrote before: “ I think Napoleon would find Trump disgusting on a personal level. Uneducated, incapable of holding a real conversation, gauche, anti-intellectual, anti-fact-based discussion, anti-science, anti-art etc. He’d also feel that Trump is disgracing the position of President and that he is unworthy of leadership. Napoleon would also find Trump physically repulsive as he could be a wee bit shallow in some of his assessments (though, very early modern to 19th century to assume your physical appearance is a manifestation of your interiority).”

Steve Bannon’s fiddling with finances? Napoleon would find that repulsive. Mitch Mcconnell disgracing his office by fucking around with constitutional loop holes? Napoleon would think it a disgrace.

He had a lot of respect for America’s experiment with democracy. Like, quite a lot of respect. So I think he’d be vastly disappointed in not only the person occupying the white house, but also a lot of the apathy in voting that is going around. (Yes, this coming from a [mostly] absolutest monarch, too.) But Napoleon valued and respected the notion of civic duty. If you live in a democracy, you have a duty to participate. To opt out is to shirk that duty which he would find insulting and distasteful. Because, I would argue, he was very much a believer in people doing right by their fellow citizens.

Get unreasonably addicted to: MODERN BATHS. HE WOULD NEVER LEAVE THE BATHTUB. THEY CAN HAVE JETS AND EVERYTHING BERTRAND THIS IS GREAT.

Also central heating. Saunas. Jacuzzis. He was like a wee lizard seeking warmth at all times.

I think he’d be into driving. I don’t know if he would be good at it. Don’t let Napoleon take the wheel, guys. But if someone else was driving he’d be that person “go faster. you’re driving like my grandmother.” And gods, he’d do dumb shit like drive like a maniac around the arc de triumph six times in a row because he’s an adrenaline junkie and a risk-taker (it’s that bored ADD brain of his). The autobahn would be his dream.

I think he’d be super into epic fantasy series. Like the big sweeping ones like Lord of the Rings. I think less so GRRM because GRRM is unrealistic and Napoleon is pedantic. Especially about politics and war. Exhibit A: consider Napoleon’s very detailed nitpicking of Virgil on his inaccurate rendition of Troy from a military perspective. Therefore, I suspect GRRM’s lack of accuracy in how society works, how war works, how politics works, all the plot holes and illogical character decisions, would drive him up the wall. Napoleon liked Homer because he could tell Homer had been to war. And you can tell Tolkien has been to war. Also LOTR hits all those notes of high-hearted emotion and big sweeping scenes that Napoleon so liked in Ossian and the Illiad etc.

All this to say, overall, as a genre, I think those big, sweeping fantasies with lots of plot, politics, intrigue, soaring battles, great heights of emotion - he’d love that. It would hit all of his buttons for what he liked in fiction. Lots of emotion, lots of action, lots of big scenes, lots of crazy shenanigans. This can also be applied to Sci-fi. I think he’d be a big nerd on that too. But the science would have to make sense.

I think he’d be into Star Trek, particularly Picard, if only for the philosophical aspects of it. He liked those sorts of questions and hypotheticals. So I think he’d binge all of The Next Generation (among other seasons).

Do for a living: Teach? God knows. This is Napoleon from 18-something who just woke up? He could be paid for consultant work for historians and film crews and the like, I guess. Just to tell them how accurate stuff is. Of course, be wary, this is Napoleon I Am A Spin Doctor Bonaparte.

I think he could lean into writing histories - particularly the classics, early French and European history - that sort of thing, where he already has a strong background in it and it wouldn’t require him basically learning an entirely new trade. Like, will Napoleon ever fully be a natural with computers and cell phones? Probably not. Could he be like your old school Professor emeritus who still churns out papers and does 90% of it the old fashioned by-hand way? Yes. And Napoleon had a bunch of histories planned on St. Helena that he wanted to write, so I think he could do that.

As this is literally Napoleon Bonaparte he’d get a book deal in seconds. There’d be a bidding war over it.

Thank you for the ask! This was very amusing :D

#napoleon #napoleon was his own shitpost #napoleon bonaparte #napoleonic #napoleon in the modern day #ask #reply #anon

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sea-side-scribbles · 3 years

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Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/74036610

Chapter 54

Nick was sorry for leaving Arthur, but he was also glad to go out at nighttime, so nobody would see him walk around - and if his band and Virgil were still asleep, they wouldn’t notice that he was gone.

Anyway, when he left the hatch, he found that all his hopes had been in vain.

Tonight of all nights, the street was crowded with Bobbies. He wondered if it was because of the gig, because his fans went rampage after it.

Hiding in an alley, he warily eyed the tall men patrolling. They were usually nice, he thought, but now he had a bad feeling and he didn’t know why.

He sneaked along the alley, finding that even his breath was too loud. When he turned the corner, a Bobby was promptly also turning the corner from the other side, and both of them stared at each other for a moment.

“Mr. Lightbearer“, the taller man shouted and fastened his steps. “Wait!“

He alerted even more Bobbies that were near.

“Mr. Lightbearer!“, Nick now heard from everywhere, alongside with he pattering of footsteps into his direction.

He panicked and ran. It was horrible. Whenever he ran along a narrow street, there were at least two directions the Bobbies could come from. And when he considered the options why they probably chased him, he felt even worse. Cowering in a dark entrance of a shop, he watched the Constables gather at a crossing nearby. He prayed for them to walk in the other direction, but they came closer. Pressing himself against the wall, his head was spinning.

Should he run? Stay and hope for the best?

He was paralyzed when a Bobby paused to look around, close to his hiding spot. Then he made an uncertain movement and the taller man noticed it and started to walk right towards his direction. Nick broke into sweat.

He could stay, greet him as always, and casually ask what the matter was.

Or, he considered eyeing the truncheon on the man’s belt, he could skip being nice and run for his life. At the last possible moment, he started to run, as fast as he could, rounding another block that he knew because there hat once been a dealer. His trash bin was his only hope. Quickly, he crawled into it and listened to the footsteps coming closer again.

Why did Kitty talk?, he asked himself. She got everything she wanted! The ring didn’t have a diamond, but who cares? It was a personal item, worth a fortune if she sold it to fans!

After a few minutes, he noticed to his relief that the Constables didn’t expect him to be in a trash bin and went away. Nick oriented himself and left his hideout to very carefully sneak home.

He was completely out of breath when he arrived at home. After entering through his backdoor and stumbling through the kitchen, he unwillingly looked for the others. He was here to say he was okay, after all.

And if they jumped at him and called him a murderer, that was the risk he had to take.

He received stares when he came into the living room. A bit embarrassed, he stopped in the doorframe and mumbled a “Hi guys…I’m back…“

He was ready to run if he needed to.

The first one who got up was Virgil. Nick saw that his face was pale and his eyes were red. He immediately felt sorry for him.

“Nick! Oh, I’m so glad you’re back! Are you okay?“

He walked over to him and Nick was happy to fall into his arms, relieved that his manager didn’t think bad of him. Virgil hugged him tighter than usual, his hands moved along his back, probably searching for bruises.

“I’m okay…“, Nick said quietly. “I’m on Joy again…How are you?“

“Well, we were worried. You’ve been talking about blackmail. Is that true?“

He shoved Nick away a little to look him into his wide innocent looking eyes.

“Yes“, Nick said. „It’s such a mess.“

“What happened?“

Nick sighed because he had to explain it all for a second time. He sat down with Virgil and the band and told them how he got into the mess with Kitty and her murdered husband.

“I have no idea what really happened“, he concluded. “Perhaps I didn’t even see it. Could’ve been anyone…“

There was silence for a while. Nick could almost hear them rack their brains.

“She can’t make you a murderer that easily“, Virgil started thinking out loud. “We could still charge her instead.“

“Oh, please, Virgil, no publicity! You know there’s still a lot of people who would believe her. And what’s the point of winning in court if nobody buys my records anymore?“

“And what if we make her forget?“, Brad suggested.

“How do you plan to get so close to her?“ Nick didn’t want them to get involved into Arthur’s plan.

Brad shrugged. “We could pay her a visit, say we want to congratulate her for becoming Mrs. Lightbearer…and we present her some Oblivion-mixed tea.“

“What if she’s making us tea from it?“, Chris wanted to know.

“We won’t stay for long…we’ll have to go, you now, writing songs…“

“And what if she’s having a tea party with all her friends the next day and they all get insane?“, Morrie asked.

“Who would know?“, Brad shrugged again. Chris had to chuckle at that.

“Probably their husbands?“

“I don’t know…it’s very risky…If they link this to us somehow…it would only make it worse“, Nick mused.

“We need to make sure she’s the only one taking it“, Morrie went on.

“How? By grabbing her and pushing it down her throat?“, Matt felt uncomfortable about it.

They pondered.

“Well, she’s also not very fair…“, Brad considered it.

“She could’ve done it herself“, Morrie said, dropping everyone’s mood some more.

Nick defended her again. “No, I don’t think it was her. She couldn’t do it….She’s a bit crazy but not violent.“

“So, what else could we give her?“, Brad went back to planning.

“Maybe you shouldn’t risk your own reputation like this“, Nick said. “I should do it.“

“Oh, come on, if you set one foot out of your house, every paparazzi around would stick to your heels! But us? Nobody recognizes us on the street! We can do it!“

Everyone nodded and Nick gave them a doubtful look.

“The only other option is that you marry her“, Chris pointed out.

“I could drug her after she moved in an nobody would know“.

“But then you need a divorce.“

“Should be easier when she doesn’t know what’s going on.“

Morrie stepped in: “Don’t give in to her game, she could drug you too! We don’t know what she’s capable of!“

“She’s just a nice girl that fell in love with the wrong guy! She’s not a killer!“

“So, you’ll marry her?“, Morrie asked with a horrified expression.

Nick shrank a little. “I don’t have to do it soon“, he said quietly. “She could forget it all by herself.“

“No way! That girl will never forget you! Especially not when she sees you in the press almost every day or hears your records everywhere!“, Morrie urged him.

Virgil, who had listened all the time, spoke up again: “If you plan to drug her, I’ll cover you. I’ll tell everyone you weren’t there if they ask me. I don’t want to lose you to a maniac fan.“

“See, with Virgil at our side, what could go wrong?“, Chris tried to comfort Nick.

“Maybe you’re right…“, he said quietly, avoiding their looks. “Thanks for caring“, he still added even quieter.

Somehow, he managed to get out of the room, with the excuse that he was tired. It wasn’t even wrong. He dragged himself along the stairs and stopped in front of his door. Listening to the silence, he soon heard other footsteps approaching, that were certainly Morrie’s. He expected his lover to come and have some more words with him. Nick just looked forward to cuddle with him again after all the talking.

Morrie appeared at the corridor and saw his lover waiting for him. Nick was surprised that Morrie pulled him into a hug.

“What are you doing?“, Morrie whispered. “What are you doing to yourself…to me…?“

When they had shut the door behind them, he went on: “Do you still plan to marry her?“

He sounded more afraid than anything else.

Nick cupped his face with his hands. “I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. Your career is just starting and there’s so much that could go wrong. I caused this mess and I should get rid of it myself.“

“But there’s no other way!“, Morrie urged him. “I don’t want her to get you! I don’t want her to put her hands on you again! Don’t do this to me, Norrie!“

“Alright…“, Nick fought with himself. “But I won’t let you go until your plan is absolutely perfect! We still have time to think this through. I’m engaged - so what? That doesn’t mean anything, I could still break up with her.“

“No, you can’t! She’ll sue you!“

Nick fell silent. Morrie too, and they hugged again.

“You scared me, you know?“, Morrie whispered, “You’re such a good actor, you really looked like she means the world to you.“

“Oh, god, Morrie, I was so afraid she’ll notice that I don’t want her at all…“

“Don’t do that again“, Morrie pleaded.

“I won’t, I promise.“ Nick kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair.

“Do you? Since you’re such a good actor, you could lie to me and I wouldn’t know…“

“But, Morrie, no…“ Nick looked him into the eyes. “I can’t lie to you. You’re too smart for me.“

Morrie closed his eyes and turned away.

“Then tell me what’s wrong“, he begged. “I feel that something’s off! I don’t want to be so blunt! I want to trust you! But you don’t tell me anything! You’re putting yourself in danger and all I can do is watch!“

“I’m sorry.“ Nick was nervous. “But…I wasn’t keen on telling you that I’m the suspect in a murder case!“

“Because you were afraid I’ll believe it? Because you don’t trust me?“

“I trust you, Morrie…But it wasn’t quite a nice story to tell…“

“That’s what I mean!“, Morrie blurted out. “It’s not a matter of trust if you tell me just the good things! You should tell me your problems too! We should be a team!“

“I’m sorry.“

Morrie hung his head.

“I know I can’t make you trust me. I understand. I just don’t know if I have the strength…“ his voice began to shiver. “I’m tired. I should go to bed,“ he added rather stiffly and moved to leave the room.

Nick was quickly behind him.

“Please stay! I do trust you! Don’t leave me!“

“Then tell me what’s going on.“ Morrie’s eyes searched his. “What’s happening?“

„It’s going to be alright, my love“, Nick said, putting all his hopes and dreams into these words. “We’ll find a way out of this. She won’t get me…“

“Is there more?“

“No…we’ll become rich and famous, and then I’ll marry you.“

Morrie froze and silenced. Nick used the moment to pull him into a kiss, but before their lips met, the other man turned away and escaped his grab.

“Morrie?“, now Nick was pleading.

“I don’t want to be like this, but where have you been?“

Nick had expected that question to come at him eventually. “I ran back to Kitty….I tried to argue with her, make her stop…Well, surprise, it didn’t work.“

“You tried everything, didn’t you?“ Morrie sounded sarcastic.

“What do you mean?“, Nick shyly responded.

Morrie sighed deeply. “You had sex tonight. I can smell it.“

Nick fell quiet, wondering how the hell he smelled that.

“I can’t smell her perfume“, Morrie whispered, eyeing Nick, who shrugged helplessly.

“Perhaps she did wash it off? She was already in bed…“ Nick wiped his neck, thinking. “Look, I was out of my mind and I can’t remember much…“

Morrie didn’t move. Nick closed the distance between them and lay his arms around his lover’s shoulder. Their hearts were beating against each other when he said: “Look at me…look and me and tell me I don’t love you.“

Morrie’s brown eyes searched him. Nick stood completely still, afraid of making any wrong move.

Suddenly, Morrie’s finger stroked his cheek.

“You can always make me feel like you need me“, he whispered.

“I do need you“, Nick insisted. “I do…“

„For what?“

Nick was confused for a second.

“For life?“, he answered. „Trust me, I will marry you…if you still want me…“

Morrie’s hand remained on his cheek. “I guess I won’t be bored with you.“

Nick tried a smile, not knowing if his lover was joking or complaining.

Morrie stayed and Nick did his best to make him not regret it.

The next day came and Arthur prepared his mission as good as he could. He sneaked around the music shop to find out when it would supposedly close and Kitty would go home, and then he looked up her house for a good spot to get in. Luckily, it had a backyard with a second entrance that he could pick without being seen. Behind that he assumed a Downer detector.

Well, it helped to be a bit jolly while drugging other people against their will…

Not that he felt sorry for her. He rather despised her for making his lover suffer. And after all, Wellies loved to forget, didn’t they? She’ll live happily ever after, not knowing she even had a husband.

At night, Arthur put his plan into action. He shortly stopped by the shop to see if it was really abandoned. Could be that she was still at work for some reason. But all was well. At her home, all her windows were shrouded in darkness, so he assumed she was asleep. He picked the lock first before he took the Joy and entered her kitchen. It was silent, only the clock at the wall next to the dining table was quietly ticking. The carpet dampened his footsteps.

Normally, he would look around for food or other useful things, but this time he only wanted to get this over with. He had a syringe prepared. Oblivion was a pill, but in his hatch he had managed to grind it into a powder that he mixed with water, so that he could let it drop into her mouth she’d swallow it. Theoretically, it should work. He had more pills with him, just in case he needed another option. He quickly ascended the stairs and looked into every room that was open, just in case she was not in her bed yet. Also, because he had no idea where her bedroom was. He saw photos of Richard Bates in neat frames at the wall and felt watched.

But Richard wouldn’t mind, right? He wouldn’t want her to marry someone else anyway.

When Arthur reached the third floor it was still very quiet, and when he found the empty bed, he thought he should’ve known that something was wrong. He looked around in the room, but she was nowhere to be found. Why would she hide anyway? She also didn’t jump out of any corner to attack him when he rummaged the other floors again.

Entering the backyard, he felt nervous.

Did she have to visit a friend just tonight of all nights?

He also felt unsure about what to do. Simply because he didn’t want to leave empty handed, he went back to the shop. All lights were still off, but he considered she could be working in a storage room that had no windows.

The shop had a backdoor, too and after picking it, he found himself in a storage room that was full of shelves and boxes. Nobody was there.

Arthur by now ignored that Kitty needed to be asleep for his plan to work, all he wanted was to find her.

The next door opened into a larger room. The counter was right in front of him and something large lay on it. With a bad feeling in his stomach, he stepped closer. Seconds later he regretted it.

It was Kitty, or better, what was left of her. She was covered in blood, certainly her own, because her stomach was open and her insides spilled out. It looked like someone had angrily hacked into her and pulled everything out he could grab. Arthur wasn’t an expert though. It was only his very first impression before he hastily left the shop again out of the backdoor and didn’t stop his escape until he was back in his hatch.

The news that Kitty was gone on holiday spread rapidly around town. It reached Nick when he was shaken awake by Morrie who seemed to be out of breath.

“Kitty Bates is dead“, he rasped instead of wishing him a good morning.

Nick, still half asleep and very slow on the uptake, mumbled “What?“

“Kitty Bates“, Morrie explained slower, "…She’s dead.“

He fell quiet, as if he just now realized the gravity of his news.

Nick eyed him, slowly processing his words. His stomach seemed to understand them first. He gulped. “Really? Are you sure?“

Morrie silently handed him the newspaper he had been holding all the time. Nick’s gaze fell on a photo of a cheerfully smiling Kitty, surrounded by a colorful frame of hearts.

Gone On Holiday, said the headline, and now Nick’s brain began to understand, the way it started to spin.

“But…how…what…“ Nick stared at Morrie and Morrie eyed back. Nick saw that his lover was looking at him rather warily, but his own look wasn’t any less concerned.

“You didn’t…?“

“Hell, no!“, Morrie blurted out. “We didn’t go near her.“

Nick stared back at the photo, terrified by his own thoughts.

“Norrie“, his lover said quieter, still concerned. “You said you only argued with her. Is that true?“

Nick heard how uncomfortable he felt asking this kind of question, but he was still upset.

“You think I did this?“, he shouted.

“I don’t think you would hurt anyone on purpose, but…do you know something? You were so calm yesterday, just as if you wouldn’t mind marrying her anymore. Perhaps there was another reason.“ Morrie didn’t look at him anymore. He spoke to the wall, that wasn’t staring daggers at him like Nick was.

“I was calm because you were helping me!“, he shouted. “All of you had a plan and I thought it’s going to be okay! And now this…What the hell do you think of me?“

Nick was on the edge of tears. Regret burned in his chest. He blamed himself and didn’t really know what for. For trusting a Downer? That he didn’t see through the beautiful eyes of that sweetheart to find the rotten core inside?

“Norrie…“, his lover’s voice was shaking too. “What if you saw it? I’m just trying to help.“

“How is that helping me?“ Nick slapped Morrie’s hands away. “You could’ve done it yourself! You’re getting the most out of this! Now the problem is solved and she’ll never touch me again!“

Now Morrie was upset. “Does that mean I need you more than you need me?“

“For fuck’s sake, Morrie, that’s not the point! We’re both suspicious! But I’d never suspect you!“

“Really? You suspected me right after looking at the announcement!“

“No, I thought it was Oblivion that killed her! Is that possible?“, Nick asked, full of hope. “Can Oblivion accidentally kill?“

Morrie shook his head. His expression was pitiful again. “Not the way she died.“

Nick looked back at the newspaper.

“It’s not in the article, but people talk about it. Virgil got the information out of Hunt. She died just like her husband, completely dismembered.“

Nick pressed his eyes shut. “God, that’s awful.“

“Norrie, if you remember anything“, Morrie urged him again.

“Stop it, Morrie, I’m not a killer!“

Nick turned away from him and left the bed.

“Where are you going?“ Morrie sounded like he was about to panic. Nick didn’t answer while stomping down the stairs.

“Norrie!“, the call echoed through the corridor.

Nick stopped at his front door to take another look at his lover.

“I’m going to see my therapist!“, he shouted.

“What? Now?“ Morrie helplessly stumbled.

“Yes! Now! With all this shit going on, I need treatment! Either that or my entire stash of drugs! What would you prefer?“

Morrie opened his mouth but had no words. Nick slammed the door shut in his face with a simple: "Bye!“

He had never reached the tunnel suite in such a short amount of time before. He could’ve been more afraid, thinking about how Kitty and Richard died. He would probably stand no chance in a fight. But his anger blurred his mind, his disappointment and regret.

Because his suite was empty, he hammered against the door to Arthur’s hideout. It was locked, what looked like a confession to him.

“Come out, you coward! Look at me and tell me what you did!“, he yelled.

“Who’s there?“, Arthur’s shy voice sounded though the door.

”You know very well who I am!“

“Nick?“

“Open the door!“, Nick shouted and hammered some more.

“I won’t let you in unless you calm down!“

“Afraid of looking at me, are you? Is it so hard to use your weapons on someone who’s not asleep?“

“If you think that I’m nothing but a rotten killer, I’ll never open that door for you again!“

Arthur’s words broke through Nick’s anger. Reconsidering what just had happened, the feeling of regret became even stronger.

“Arthur, just tell me you didn’t do it!“ His voice was a mere whimper.

“You really think it was me…“

“I’m not thinking anything! I was out of my mind! Please, come out!“

“What will you do to me?“

“Nothing, I swear! I’m unarmed! I wouldn’t have a chance against you! Please, come out!“

He heard Arthur unlock the door and a moment later, the tall man stepped out, his expression was a mixture of disgust and disappointment. And sadness.

He remained stiff when Nick fell into his arms.

“I’m so sorry!“

Arthur pushed him away.

“What did you want to do with me?“

“Nothing, I just wanted to talk!“

“Some way of talking! You had the accusation already finished! You had no doubts it was me!“

“Please, you needed only one word to convince me I was wrong!“

“Well, what a lucky bastard I am! One wrong word and I’d be pushing up daisies!“

“No, I could never hurt you! Except…with words I guess….“ He sobbed. “I’m so sorry…I promise I won’t hurt you again.“

“Great!“, Arthur snapped. “So it’s all over! Let’s pretend it never happened, take our Joy - oh wait, I’m not taking any Joy! I will always remember this!“

Nick opened his mouth, but Arthur wasn’t finished.

“I thought you were not like the other Wellies! I thought I could trust you! I was fine with staying here, waiting for you instead of living my life with you as any normal person would! Do you know how it feels to be a Downer? An outsider people can thrash in the streets and no one cares? You made me feel different! You treated me like a human being! Someone you wouldn’t blame for everything that goes wrong and treat like a pile of trash if you need to vent! But what do you really think?“

“I’m sorry…“, Nick said meekly, cowed by Arthur’s outburst. „You were just the only person I knew who was there…“

“So what? When you told me that you were in Bate’s house the same night he died and that you were innocent, I believed you! But you’re not a rotten Downer like me, right?“

“Arthur, please don’t call yourself that! You’re a person, and what a wonderful person you are!“

Nick felt that these words had lost their magic in this moment.

“I was always so happy to see you…“, Arthur said bitterly.

Nick dared to come closer. “Me too…Please, I’ll make up for everything!“

„I don’t know, Nick“, Arthur touched the doorframe and backed away into the room behind him.

Nick darted forward, grabbing the other man’s arm.

“I love you, Arthur!“

Arthur gave him one last sad look before he freed himself and closed the door.

#nick lightbearer #nickxmorrie #nickxarthur #whf arthur #arthur hastings we happy few #whfarthurhastings #whf nick #whfnick #morrie memento #morriememento #whfmorrie #whf morrie #we happy few #whf #wehappyfew

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thekidultlife · 4 years

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To Aru x SVT: Jihoon | Short Story #1

Author’s Notes: Hi this is Hyeri!! I’m trying something new with this series where there would be minimal romance and more on action, friendship and general world building! I wanna try practicing writing action packed scenes because I don’t think I’ve really ever focused on it before. Anyway, this story is of three parts, and based on the anime/light novel A Certain Magical Index and its spin-offs! I hope you like this one? I tried ;;w;;

Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader (if u squint)

Genre: Sci-fi, Action, Romance (if u squint)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: N/A

JIHOON’S PROFILE

A_Certain_Ordinary_Day

Seventh Mist Mall , School District 7, Academy City

11:32 AM

“This is Judgement! Surrender now before—“

—!!

On a rather monotonous and boring day in Academy City, a large explosion shook an entire mall.

“This is Y/N from the 166th Branch Division.Yanagi can you hear me?!”

Billows of smoke filled the entire seventh floor of the building, as shards of glass were scattered everywhere. Seventh Mist which was supposedly a popular meeting place for students with schools inside the district was in disarray, yet it was difficult to ascertain the status of those inside the mall as dust and debris covered everything like a thick blanket.

“Goddamn it, they’re not responding. We need ground crew in there immediately!”

Your heart was racing, but this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. As the chief officer of the 166th Branch Office of Judgement, which is a city-wide, student-run disciplinary committee, you were in charge of directing and planning what actions to take during emergencies like this, which isn’t really a rare circumstance, considering the fact that Academy City offers powerful abilities to hormonal teenagers.

“I’ll send in a message, Chief,” a colleague of yours, a middle school student with telepathic abilities, offered through your earpiece.

“Alright. Tell them we need to evacuate those inside the mall,” you replied back, closing your laptop as you ran outside your apartment with plans to go near the area as much as possible.

“To all Judgement members around the vicinity of Seventh Mist, please confirm your safety to your branch office immediately. If you are fit to perform emergency measures, please do so with caution. I repeat, to all Judgement members—“

You could also hear the message inside your head as you took off on your bicycle, tires screeching as you arrived at the 167th Branch Office, just a few meters away from the mall. You could smell the scent of burning and pulverized concrete as you waded through the streets, the surge of adrenaline keeping you alert.

“Chief of the 166th Branch Office, Y/N reporting!” you shouted as you entered their office.

You could feel the tension in the air as three people busied themselves to and fro inside the room. Papers were scattered and phone calls were being made while some were in their laptops providing tactical support to the ground team.

“Oh god, thanks for running all the way here Y/N!” Their chief, a high school student stood up from his seat in a panic.

“No problem,” you replied coolly, keeping your excitement at bay. “So, what’s the situation? Have you called Anti-Skill already?”

“We have. They’re helping as of the moment,” he replied as he sat back down on the chair in front of the computer. “So far the evacuation process is under control. A lot of injured but no one dead, fortunately.”

As you peered behind him, you could see numerous windows on the numerous screens before you. Some showed footage of surviving cameras, some contained information of all known people who entered the mall using facial recognition software and electronic data of those who had transactions in the mall at the time the explosion happened.

“So, the explosion happened at half past eleven this morning,” he began explaining as he moved the cursor around the screen, looking for something. “We suspect that these three students are responsible for the explosion—Erizawa Rena, Nakamura Aoi and Ito Shizuka—all students from Kirigaoka.”

As he brought a video footage on the forefront of the screen, you narrowed your eyes and watched closely.

“There was a big fashion event being held on the seventh floor and they thought it’ll be a nice place to set off an explosion,” the chief narrated as it happened on the footage. “They themselves created it. One of them wrapped the whole floor with copious amounts of propane and the other girl seemed to have pyrokinetic abilities and ignited the place. A Judgement member spotted them but they were too late.”

You raised your brows at how fast Judgement processed the data. “What about the third girl though?”

“We have suspicions that she might be in charge of defending their group from the explosion,” he replied with a shrug. “Not that surprising considering they came from Kirigaoka.”

Kirigaoka Girls’ Academy. It was a prestigious school at the ranks of Nagatenjouki Academy and Tokiwadai Middle School, yet it was different than all of them because they only take students with rare and unusual abilities. What could’ve caused these three girls to bomb an entire mall?

“Chief! We found them!”

Your thoughts were interrupted as someone in charge of tracking the culprits yelled from behind you. Immediately rushing to her side, you took a peak on the laptop screen and saw live footage from a street cam just a few blocks away from the mall.

“Good work, Rika!” the chief of the 167th Branch smiled and then gave you a pat on the shoulder. “It’s your time to shine now, Y/N. Judgement is ready to mobilize.”

With a bright grin that was almost bordering maniacal, you sprinted to the four-monitored computer and then opened your own laptop. Cracking your fingers as the software booted up, you read all the details you needed to know about the location, the targets and the Judgement members at your disposal.

“Alright, here we go,” you muttered on an earpiece which was connected with a cable to your laptop.

“On your mark, Y/N!”

A voice crackled on the ear piece, the rush of adrenaline rising in your veins once again. Time to catch some bad girls.

“Teams A and B flank to the left; at 13th to 16th street. Team C and D, got to the other side. We’re going to surround them,” you ordered as your laptop began whirring. “I hope everyone has fireproof gear.”

You watched as points on the map on one of the monitors began to move into a pincher attack, all proceeding smoothly and swiftly. You then closed your eyes.

12.56% chance of attacking Judgement head on. 32.06% chance of escaping underground. 65.77% chance of creating another explosion to scatter our forces and escape.

Your ability on simple terms was called Precognition. It allows you to see fifteen minutes into the future, but it was far from the likes of spiritual practices like divination and horoscope. You would calculate probabilities of how the future would unfold and categorize them into percentages, much like the chances of drawing a yellow marble in a mix of seven different colors. After calculating those probabilities, you choose one which has the highest chance of happening and then exercise appropriate action. It was much more complicated than that of course, which is why you would often borrow the computing power of your laptop so your brain wouldn’t overload.

“Electromasters, I want you to disperse the gas molecules as much as you can,” you said through the earpiece. “They’re gonna burn up the place so anyone who can control air particles and so on would be a great help.”

—!!

A powerful shock sent static to your earpiece. You inhaled sharply.

They’re already starting? This is definitely a diversion. I was right.

“You guys okay?” you asked, worry in your voice as your brain processed their next steps.

“We’re fine, Y/N. Good thing you warned us about the explosion,” the team head answered. “But at this rate, we couldn’t get close to them at all.”

You clicked your tongue. They were right.

The fires keep anyone out of close contact with them. You’d guessed they wouldn’t have any combative ability, just a lot of cleverness.

“Alright. For now, continue chasing after them and stop them from creating more explosions,” you instructed them and then turned to the chief of the 167th branch. “I need you to get someone.”

It was almost lunchtime.

Lee Jihoon stepped out of Nagatenjouki Academy with an aloof disposition. Today was another boring day in class and he just wished he could stay in his apartment and write songs all day. Maybe he should get a proxy too, like that other Level 5.

With his headset on, he blocked the incoming noise from the outside world with loud music. He hated it when he could hear things he shouldn’t be hearing; like his apartment neighbors at night. But then again, it was useful. He just needed to control it.

His life since being sent by his aspiring parents to Academy City aftet he just graduated from kindergarten was rather eventful. Maybe it came with the title of Level 5, maybe it was something about his overall luck, but there were just a lot of things going around in this city which many people wouldn’t really notice; things just hiding in plain sight.

~!!

Jihoon’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing—rather, it was the tingly feeling of sound waves moving against his skin as it vibrated into frequencies he can detect despite the noise cancelling headset. Removing the headset on his ears, Jihoon answered with an irate tone.

“What is it?”

“It’s Judgement. Y/N is calling for you.”

“He says he’s coming.”

You could hear the chief of the 167th Branch call out to you as you continued to maneuver Judgement’s forces to stall the three girls. It has been a few minutes.

“Make sure he’s coming in quick because most of my calculations are reading huge possibilities of escape, and they’re already tired with all this running around,” you replied back before checking the camera feed of where Lee Jihoon was.

It should be noted that you didn’t meet him in any kind of Judgement operation or some kind of battlefield. Lee Jihoon was a classmate of yours in Nagatenjouki, and you were the kind and responsible Class President who would go out of your way to deliver class notes to him if he often inclines himself to skip class during afternoon periods, which was a lot of accumulated debt for Lee Jihoon.

“Alright guys. Just a few more minutes. I sent for some help and—“

“Hi, Class Pres. Heard you need me?”

The person you were talking to didn’t even have the chance to reply or for you to even finish your instructions at all before a familiar voice spoke through the earpiece; probably snatched from the previous owner.

“Hi, Jihoon. That was fast,” you replied back.

“If you have a bicycle, an esper ability and loads of boredom, nothing is impossible,” Jihoon replied with a truly jaded tone. “So, what do I do?”

Jihoon stepped in the middle of a wide road.

People were already evacuated as per your instructions, and any kind of traffic was diverted away from the area. It was too dangerous.

The plan was already in execution but his role will be coming in much later. So with an eager look, Jihoon just stood there with hands in his pockets, waiting. He could hear the rumbling noise in front of him even though he couldn’t see it. It was probably a few kilometers away.

“Judgement will be chasing the targets to your position and until they come, stay put and don’t do anything funny.”

He remembers you reminding him sternly of his job and he might’ve replied unenthusiastically to you, but truly, he was brimming with excitement. As the rumbling of explosions and the whistling of wind coming from the firestorms grew louder, the wider his smile becomes.

“Once the targets come within fifteen meters of Lee Jihoon, get away as quickly and as much as possible.”

Jihoon hears you warn the Judgement units through their earpieces. Even at more than twenty meters, he could still hear you. That was probably a sign of his abilities growing, or maybe your voice was just distinctive that he could easily pick it up. Whatever. That was a question for another time.

He could now see the three targets you were talking about—just three girls in their school uniform looking weary and exhausted. Just because you have powers doesn’t mean you could run around forever. It’s just a matter of using them effectively.

Jihoon grinned and prepared himself.

“Let’s turn this shit up.”

—!!!

A low and heavy vibration immediately fell around the area like waves of force that washed around every object in the vicinity. It was so strong that it seemed like the whole area was shaking continuously.

The targets were instantly on their knees, clutching their chests.

“What…what is this….?”

Low frequency noise—one could say that bass sounds, if loud enough can easily emit this kind of noise and cause nausea, heart palpitations and weakness to anyone susceptible to it. Yet with Jihoon’s sound wave manipulation, he can easily increase the intensity of this noise enough to incapacitate anyone within fifteen meters of him.

“That wasn’t too hard, was it?”

Jihoon spoke as he walked towards the targets and looked down on them with a smile, as they gazed at him in horror.

“Who—“

He smirked.

“Time to go to jail, girls.”

“I didn’t know you were friends with Shockwave!”

The chief of the 167th Branch exclaimed after confirming that Anti-Skill members had brought the three girls into custody. Though you were still curious why they did it.

“He’s a classmate. Nagatenjouki isn’t really short of Level 5s, you know,” you replied as you removed your earpiece with a sigh; your braincells tired of all that fuss.

“That means you’ve seen the Number One Level 5 esper? I heard he goes to school there.”

“Nope. He has a proxy, which is totally unfair,” you replied with another sigh. “I wish I had a proxy to do my equations for me.”

“Same here, but like hell, seeing Level 5s in combat is just so cool! It's like you're watching a movie. He easily brought them to their knees in one move.”

“That’s true. They’re like superheroes—“

“Y/N, you there?”

Jihoon’s voice echoed from the doorway of the office and you instantly stood up and greeted him.

“Oh, I’m here! Good job out there, Jihoon!” you replied with a big smile.

He only shrugged at your comment. “I do need some exercise from time to time. Sitting in a classroom isn’t really going to make my abilities improve.”

You laughed. “You’re right. Oh, by the way, how would you like to be compensated? I know last time you declined but this one was pretty tricky.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jihoon held up his hands. “You don’t have to and you do bring me notes from time to time, so there’s that and—“

His stomach growled.

You glanced at him with a grin. “Well, at least your stomach is being honest.”

-Hyeri

TO ARU x SVT series

#seventeen #svtcreations #caratwritersclub #seventeen drabbles #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen woozi #lee jihoon #to aru x svt

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yandere-wishes · 5 years

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Sweet Blood // Yandere!Vampier! Malleus Draconia x reader//

There had always been an eerie atmosphere surrounding Night Raven. The elevated edifice along with the ghoulish woods that surrounded it had been outcasted from the luminous tiny villages and civilizations that occupied the same land.

Inside the laws of life itself seemed to be mangled and tormented, giving birth to a monstrous manner of existence. The entire student body seemed to be living double lives that they themselves were not aware of. Their form of speech, comportment, socializing and the methodology that was taught, differed vastly from those of the exterior world.

This had left you pondering most restless nights as to how someone as ordinary as yourself had been permitted to attend such a surreal school.

The night began like any other, the moon hung in the onyx tapestry of the sky, shining rays through the large glass windows littering the hall walls. The sound of mysterious hooting and chirping filling the night with only a slight sense of livelihood.

You rushed down the noir passageways to your first class. Feet hitting the navy tiles in a fast-paced tempo. Your mind was scattered, lungs heavy and heart even heavier. Never did you notice the large crack in the flooring. Toe boxing slipping between the parted marble, you crashed knees and palms first onto the hard, cold tiles. Pain shot through your body, skin tore away freeing an oozing red liquid. Salty tears pricked at the corners of your pretty eyes. Shaking you brought yourself to rest on your bruised knees, staring down fearfull at the wide-ranging gashes on your flooded palms. You were about to start crying when you heard footsteps stopping in front of you, through glossy eyes you looked up and the mysterious person.

Malleus Draconia a third year and dorm leader of the ever-mysterious Diasomnia stared back down at you. Murky emerald green eyes were fixed on your red palms in a dazed and feral manner. He slowly, almost predatory crunched down to your level, He gripped your right wrist tightly digging his black nails into your tender, soft flesh. Yanking it closer to his mouth he began to lap at the blood with his tongue. With a trembling airy noise leaving your mouth, you attempted to squirm and wriggle out of this tight grasp.

"Stop" he demanded, lifting his eyes for a millisecond to send you a warning glare.

When you didn't heed and continued your feeble attempt to free yourself, he grabbed the collar of your uniform and roughly dragged you closer to his chest. Incaging you between his free arm and knees. Your tears began to flow again, not at the stinging pain but at the unorthodox thing he was doing to you. Minutes flew by like hours as you remain trapped, close to the dragon boy.

"Malleus-sama where are you? The class has already begun!"

Finally you though, never had Lilila's voice sounded so sweet to your ears. He quickly jogged up to your capturer and tugged on his shoulder.

"Come on already" The "older" fae whined.

Reluctantly Malleus released you as you melted to the floor a shacking sobbing mess. Lilia couldn't have cared less and simply walked away only looking over his shoulder to note if Malleus had pursued or not.

His shadow never left you and ever so quietly he whispered "Your blood tastes to fresh and sweet...I want more". He then walked over to where his companion was tapping his foot and huffing impatiently.

Despite how preternatural the school's atmosphere may have been, it couldn't have been as terrorizing as it was now. Everywhere you went you caught a glimpse of raven-colored hair and even darker horns following you. You'd also began to note a presence in your room in the dead of night. Something was watching you as you attempted to fall into slumber. In the afternoons when you'd wake up, your body seemed to be littered with small puncture wounds or scrapes. Everywhere except your neck.

Mozes prattled about some war which happed only forever ago between the four branches of dark fairies when they'd first immigrated to the "human world". You could practically feel your brain melting in boredom. How you longed for that sweet-sounding bell to simply ring, but once.

A poke to your back jolted you out of your thoughts. You spun around to find Silver handing you're a letter with a dark green seel. His expression was one of boredom, eyes fixed on the professor and not bothering to address you. Blinking, you slowly plucked the letter from his outstretched hand.

"What's this for?" You asked curiosity lacing your voice.

"Don't know~" Silver paused letting out a long yawn. "Don't care"

You shot him a quick glare before turning back in your seat. Carefully you cracked open the seal letting little crumbs fall onto your lap.

Gliding the letter out you began to read.

Dearest (Y/N)~

I deeply apologize for my eccentric behavior in the hallway yesterday. You'd find that I'm not habitually so idiosyncratic. As a means to repent, I would be delighted if you were to accept my invitation to dinner tonight in the Diasmonia dorm.

Sincerely yours~ Malleus Draconia (Dorm leader of Diasmonia)

Your heartbeat quicked as you put down the letter. Was that maniac serious why would you accept his invitation after the stunt he'd pulled. No no, this was too much no way in hades where you going to that cursed dorm to meet with the diabolical man.

After the bell had finally rung, you began to walk to the exit. Planning on just relaxing in your dorm room. As you stride towards the door, a string hand rapidly wrapped around your wrist and pulled you forward. Tracing the arm to its owner you quickly noticed that it belonged to Silver.

"Silver what the heck! Let me go now!"

The silver-haired boy didn't even acknowledge you. The more you tugged attempting to liberate your arm the tighter and tighter his grip got.

Had Diasomnia always been so far? It seemed to take you and Silver hours just to get there. After what only felt like hours of walking did the gothic noir castle. The hulking oak doors seemed to open on their own once they spotted Sliver. He didn't stop, he continued tugging you up a flight of stairs not bothering to address you even as you tipped and tumbled.

Finally, he led you into a large room. It seemed over-decorated and rather victorian to say the least. A thick sadness loomed in the room, manifesting itself in tiny dust particles covering every inch of the room... except a jet black dress with neon green details that laid lifeless on the king-sized canopy bed.

"That's yours" Silver gestured to the dress with a lazy smirk" I'm sure he'll like it". With that, he spun on his heels and marched out.

When the door slammed behind him you quickly rushed to the window. Ready to jump out, you suddenly noticed how high up you were. Muttering curses under your breath you walked over to the bed. Slumping on it you glared at the dress. "What in god's name is going on?"

Finding no other immediate solution you reluctantly through on the dress. Brushed your hair and knocked on the door. Silver pushed in open permitting you to exist.

"Malleus-sama is waiting for you on the fifth floor in the dining room." Monotonous as always.

You practically ran up the stairs taking them two by two. The sooner you found Malleus the sooner this nightmare would be over. When you finally reached the top of the velvet cover stairs you say the green-eyed boy waiting for you outside of an open room. You quickly jogged up to him.

"Malleus what is the meaning--"

He left, slowly walking into the room. An action practically ordering you to follow. Entering the room you quickly noted the lavish and immense dining table. It was covered by a pitch-black table cloth. And yet no food there was simply a golden jewel oriented cup.

"What's the point of going to such extravagance to invite me to dinner if there isn't anything to eat" You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at the raven-haired boy.

"My, my how rude you are little beastie. I go to such troubles to make this meal enjoyable for you as well and you speak to me in such a manner?" His brows frowned and lips split into an easy smirk.

"Yes, Malleus you are supposed to make an evening entertaining and enjoyable when you invite guests over. That the whole point of a dinner party." Was he so clueless?

"Guest? My whatever gave you the inkling that you were to be my guest?"

Your mind rushed back to the letter, re-reading it and trying to find some clue as to what he was saying. "You apologized for your rube and frankly nauseating performance yesterday!" At this point you where fuming how the dare he treats you as such was this all a game to him.

"Humans aren't very bright now, are they? The letter was a formal apologie yes, I don't usually treat my food in such a foul manner. Then again I'm mostly used to attacking my meals."

You slowly stepped back preparing to make a run for the door. Food, was he planning on eating you? Was he truly a sick psycho as you'd previously suspected? As you began to turn, he quickly lunged towards you, causing you to fall whilst he hovered above you.

He opened his mouth teeth began to grow sharper and sharper until they were practically miniature knives in his mouth.

"What- what are you?" Fear soaked your voice, the room began to spin. Your leg hurt so badly, there surely must be something broken.

Malleus shook his head, eyes locking with yours. "Dear (Y/n) I'm no different than any other creature in this school, we are all bloodthirsty, no difference there".

Slowly things began to fall into place. That's why they were so different so peculiar. The ideologies and behavior in this school were so monstrous because they were monsters!

His teeth slowly descended onto your neck, pocking and cracking the delicate flesh. It felt like thousands of needles being plunged into your skin simultaneously. Pain coursed through your neck traveling at lighting speeds to your arms and legs and every other inch of your being.

"Malleus stop please it- it hurts" you whimpered.

He pulled back to stare at you, bright crimson dripped from between his fangs, spilling over your dress and his clothes. Carelessly he wiped the back of his sleeve over his mouth.

"(Y/n) you should be thanking me! Not complaining so much! You'd be dead by now if I hadn't deemed you worthy of being my blood bank." He was furious pale face turning ever so slightly red.

"I'm not food Malleus! You aren't permitted to keep me!" You screamed tears flowing from your eyes and voice cracking.

"I can do whatever I please with a useless human such as your self! I'm eternal I rule over the night. You and your kind are nothing more than overly selfconscious monkeys."

His fingers wrapped around your neck and slammed your head down.

"I own you (Y/N) you are mine to feed off of, mine to do with as I please, YOU ARE MINE".

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jasperwhitcock · 4 years

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equinox | chapter 06 –– “open book”

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

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

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

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

also… the beige… that’s for y’all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

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

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

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

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

“Are you irritated with me?” I countered.

“Never,” he beamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes.

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

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

“I’m sure you slept just fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” he relaxed, easily grinning again.

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

“Are you?” He countered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinked, looking down at where I suddenly appeared.

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

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

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

“And why not?” I demanded.

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

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

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

“Just one?”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

“Are you done?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As am I,” he reminded me. I winced.

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

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

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

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

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

“We did,” I admitted. “Go ahead.”

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

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

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

“And have you?”

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

I frowned, and Edward laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re annoying, did you know that?”

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

“Okay, I’m getting up––”

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

“Okay,” I said stupidly.

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

I waited for him to laugh again.

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

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

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

“You carry around a bible?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something like that.”

“Well, aren’t we all?”

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

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

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

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

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I didn’t know what to say.

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

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

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

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

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

“So what do you write?”

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

“Do you ever feel creepy?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

I laughed along with him.

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

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

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

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

Edward winked, and I forced myself to laugh.

“So would yesterday earn me some points?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything to get into heaven,” he laughed.

* * *

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

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

#equinoxjw #twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #twilight au #twilight #midnight sun #edward cullen #bella swan #edbella

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el-gilliath · 4 years

Text

This is based on this prompt by @monluna-dreamer. It’s also one hundred percent dedicated to @bestillmyslashyheart who angsts with me, gives me ideas and tips, and asks just enough questions for my mind to start spinning. I love you, Marlo.

WARNING: Temporary Character Death

It’s not a secret. Nothing about them has ever been a secret. It just hasn’t been spoken about out loud. In the beginning fear kept them back, DADT and Jesse Manes hanging over them like a deep, dark abyss they could never cross. Eventually that abyss filled with sand, planing out into something that was rocky, but still doable.

It’s still rocky, even if they’re working on being better. On communicating, something that has never been easy for them. First because of fear, then because of distance. Now they’re just stuck in a pattern. But it does help that they’re together, in the same place. Makes things a whole lot easier than it has been for the last ten years.

They both know they want to be together, ten years, fear, distance and dramatic declarations have told them that, even if they’re not that good at saying it out loud. Even if Alex’s defenses spikes at the sight of his father and Michael’s sarcasm turns things a bit sour. They’re cosmic. They can’t and won’t give up. They’ve come too far for it.

The panic that overcomes Michael as he hears about the shooting in the hospital isn’t something he takes lightly. Firstly because he knows Isobel was there visiting Liz. Then he remembers that Alex was supposed to have PT. Everything in him stops, coming to a frightening halt as his brain processes the information. Because if Alex is at the hospital, PT or no he will be obligated to do something. He wouldn’t let himself not do something. Alex Manes might not have been born for protecting but it’s everything he is now, after ten years in the Air Force. Standing by while innocent bystanders are hurt is not his style. It takes all Michael has not to drive like a maniac over to the hospital. He’s relieved when he sees Isobel, Noah, Max, Liz and Kyle, even Maria is there. He still gets that sinking feeling in his gut when he can’t locate Alex.

He gets out of the truck and sprints over to them, calling out Isobel’s name and crushing her into a hug when she sees him. He doesn’t miss the way Kyle eyes him warily, as he’s the only one that actually knows about them. Which probably means what he thinks it means.

He can hear Isobel prattle on about her memories but he doesn’t pay her all that much attention as he turns to Kyle.

“Is he in there?”

“Guerin-,“ Kyle starts. Probably trying to dissuade him from going in. Fat chance of that happening.

“Kyle! Is he in there?!”

He knows they’re all watching him, as Kyle swallows hard, before he does one sharp nod. “He wouldn’t leave.”

“Then I’m going in.”

And before anyone can stop him, Michael runs into the hospital. He has to get to him, has to get to Alex. Of all the days he had to be in PT, this had to be it. He moves slowly, ducking out of sight as police and firefighters move around or towards him. No one is stopping him until he finds Alex.

He weaves in and out of hallways he shouldn’t know as well as he does, until he’s just around the corner from where Alex does PT.

It steals the breath from his chest as he finds Alex leaning against the wall. His entire being is unable to move as he notices the blood seeping between Alex’s fingers where they’re pressing against his stomach.

“Alex,” he whispers out, his mouth won’t make proper noise. It doesn’t matter, as Alex turns towards him. His service piece is in his hand, and he holds it steadily on Michael, his face a mask of calm control. The control cracks as he notices who he’s pointing a gun against.

“Michael,” Alex groans out as he drops the hand holding the gun. “What the fuck are you doing here? There’s an active shooting going on you idiot.”

Michael ignores him as he runs over and presses his hands over Alex’s on his stomach. “What am I doing, you’re bleeding, Alex!”

“I’m aware of that.” Alex answers calm as a cucumber. Sometimes Michael absolutely hates his military training. “The shooter caught me off guard as I was coming into the hall. My physical therapist is already dead.”

“We need to get you out of here.” Michael is turning frantic now. The blood is leaving Alex too quickly.

“No time, you need to text Kyle where we are, he’ll come in when it’s safe. Hopefully it won’t be too late.”

Michael’s heart screams at the calm words leaving Alex’s mouth. “You’re not dying.”

Alex looks at him, a pained smile on his face. “I might not have a choice, Guerin.”

“The fuck you don’t, you are not dying on my watch, Manes!”

Alex gives him a sharp look at the Manes, but doesn’t say anything. He’s stubborn, but so is Michael. Arguing gets them nowhere.

“Text Kyle, Michael,” Alex replies instead. He’s swallowing hard, his breath turning shallower. His skin is turning pasty, Michael isn’t afraid to admit he’s really, really worried.

“Just hold on, Alex,” he whispers. Alex shoots him a small smile, but even that doesn’t really help. Alex is dying, and they both know it.

He gets his shitty phone out and texts Kyle, a simple Hallway H, Alex dying and shoves the thing back into his pocket. He ignores it when it buzzes a minute later in favor of putting his hand back over the bulletwound, grimacing when Alex groans in pain. His eyes are closing on their own, now, his breath shallower than ever.

“Michael,” Alex forces out. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to be fine, Alex.”

A shadow of a smile appears on Alex’s lips. “Lies.”

“I don’t lie Private, you-“

“I love you.”

The softly spoken words take the wind completely out of the rant Michael was gearing up for. He knows Alex loves him, of course he knows. He just wishes they were said at a different time and space. Not when Alex is dying.

“I love you too,” he still replies. The smile on Alex’s face makes it worth it.

The next few minutes passes. His phone vibrates every now and then in his pocket but he still ignores it, he favores watching Alex grow weaker. He won’t take his eyes off of him, he won’t leave him alone. He never does look away.

———

Jenna and Kyle round the corner 10minutes later. Both of them know the second they see them that they’re too late. Kyle calls time of death in a broken voice, as Jenna salutes Alex. Michael’s hand has migrated underneath Alex’s sweater. None of them notice his palm glowing red.

———

He follows Jenna and Kyle out of the hospital in a daze, his mind blank, the chaos silent in the face of overwhelming loss. He knows it won’t last long as his eyes follow the stretcher where Alex’s body is. Alex’s body. It still doesn’t make sense.

Nothing makes sense.

“Michael?”

He hears Isobel’s voice like a distant echo, like he’s trapped under water unable to breathe. He sees her in his peripheral vision coming closer to him, her hand stretching towards him. He still flinches when she touches him.

“Oh, Michael,” she says, her hand leaving him after the flinch. “I take it you knew Alex better than any of us think?”

“Museum guy,” he hears Maria murmur, and someone inhales sharply beside her. Probably Liz. “You’re the guy Alex has been feeling hopeful about, the one he’s been seeing on and off for ten years.”

Their voices and questions starts from behind him, Isobel, Noah, Maria, Liz. Strangely not Max. But he can’t differentiate or focus on them. Because the stretcher Alex is one has stopped, and they’re about to take him into an ambulance. To drive him to the morgue.

He falls to his knees. He can’t fathom staying standing any longer. The love of his life is dead.

He’s aware of the tears starting to fall as he looks down, he doesn’t want to see them loading Alex into the ambulance. He’s vaguely aware of Max sitting down next to him, his hand on his shoulder. Max doesn’t say anything, just sits with him as tears stream down his face. Michael appreciates it more than he can say.

“Dr. Valenti! I thought you said this guy was dead!”

Michael’s head snap up quicker than he thought possible. Max’s hand on his shoulder tightens slightly, while Kyle makes a noise in derision.

“Of course I did, he is! I called time of death myself!”

“Well then his heart restarted somehow, cause he has a pulse.” The EMT says and wisely moves away as Kyle rushes over.

“Holy shit,” Kyle says and Michael scrambles to his feet. Alex was dead, he saw and felt him die. His panic rises.

“Handprint,” he whispers. Max stiffens next to him.

“Kyle, you should check his wound.”

Kyle looks at Max, his eyes widening as his gaze quickly jumps to Michael. Michael can only shrug, it’s not a power he’s supposed to have but Alex was dead. Something happened.

“Let’s get him into an exam room, now!”

And Michael can only watch as Alex is hastily taken away, Kyle leaving them with a nod as if to say he’ll take care of it. He’s never been more petrified in his life.

“You healed him?” Isobel hisses from behind him. He hears Maria inquire about what she means by heal but he can’t worry about her (and Noah, fuck) finding out their secret right now.

Especially since an entire hospital might figure out shortly.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “But he was dead and now he’s not. So I did something.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Max says with a squeeze to his shoulder. “Let’s just see if Alex survives first.”

“You… you don’t think he’ll survive?”

“I don’t know, Michael. I hope he does.”

He breaks down once more, painful sobs shaking his frame. He’s quickly surrounded by Isobel and Max, both of them hugging him close as he cries bitter tears into the fast approaching night.

———

It’s touch and go for a long time. Alex’s heart threatens to stop a couple times in surgery as they remove the bullet, and Kyle has to be exceedingly careful in case a handprint starts to appear on his skin. But thankfully it doesn’t, and thankfully Alex pulls through. Michael cries, again, when he hears the news. He can’t help but be grateful.

He’s less grateful a few days later when he feels pain. A lot of pain that he knows doesn’t belong to him. It starts small before it blossoms over the next couple of hours. And as he gets a frantic text from Kyle telling him to come to the hospital, NOW, he knows without a doubt that a handprint has appeared on Alex’s skin.

He races over from work, after throwing out an excuse for Sanders who just grumbles and waves him off. Kyle meets him at the entrance, face scrunched up in a frown but he doesn’t say anything as he turns and walks to Alex’s room after Michael comes over. He just follows, knowing that Kyle won’t say anything until they’re behind closed doors.

He doesn’t like to see Alex lying in a hospital bed. But seeing him awake negated that.

“Alex! You’re awake!”

Alex turns to look at him. He’s obviously tired and in pain, but he still smiles, beautifully. Michael’s heart soares at the sight.

“Hey, Guerin,” he says. He even sounds tired and Michael can’t help but lean over and kiss him. He’s alive.

“Okay, careful with the kissing. Don’t jostle him too much, he did just have surgery.”

“Spoilsport,” Alex replies as Michael jumps away, sending Kyle a tired glare.

“Maybe, but I’m not keen on you dying again. Even if Guerin can apparently bring you back from the dead.”

Alex cough-snorts. “Don’t make me laugh, Kyle. It hurts to laugh.”

“Sorry,” Kyle answers. “But now that you’re awake and with a very sparkly handprint on your stomach, I think we need to get you out of here.”

“Is that safe?” Michael asks.

“It’s fine, I’ll stop by everyday and make sure everything is healing the way it should. But if yould be better if someone stayed-”

“Of course I’m gonna stay with him,” Michael interjects. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The rush of love and affection feels strange in the pit of his stomach. But glorious at the same time. He smiles at Alex, taking his hand as he tries to project his own love right back. It’s weird, but knowing his handprint is on Alex’s skin makes him want to see it. It makes him proud that Alex is alive because of him. He never wants to lose him again.

“Did anyone see it?”

“No, only me so you don’t have to worry about that. I’ll give you a minute while I go get the discharge papers.”

“Hey Kyle?” Kyle stops in the doorway and turns a questioning look at Michael. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you. You saved him, not me,” he says with a sharp nod as he leaves. Michael nods back, even if Kyle doesn’t see him and turns back to Alex, who’s watching him with a smile

“You ready to take me home?” he asks, squeezing his hand softly.

“Always, Alex.” He can’t help but lean over and steal another kiss, regardless of Kyle’s warning. “Always.”

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #my fic #i promised marlo i wouldn't kill alex #so he was only dead for half an hour tops

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bestfrownsforever · 4 years

Text

Frown of Doom: Chapter 3

(Cover art by @usf2020)

The fortress doors opened and Master Frown flew in as fast as his body could carry him. He yelled as he slammed his fist into his desk, almost crashing into it.

“THIS DOESN’T MAKE SENSE!” he shouted, “WHY IS SO HARD TO KILL THOSE TWO IDIOTS!? I’M SUPPOSED TO BE STRONGER THAN THEM! THAN THIS!”

“Well technically they’re not idiots,” Brock said, walking in from behind, “Hawkodile’s been fighting since like, forever, and Dr. Fox is really really smart. Plus she’s got hundreds of inventions, so…”

“Brock, what are you doing?” Master Frown asked as he turned around, “I thought I told you to watch Unikitty!” “Oh,” Brock nervously said, “you did, buuut I heard you come in, so I-“

“And what’s with that key in your hand?” Master Frown raised his voice as he walked closer to Brock until they were inches apart and Brock started to sweat.

(Arty by @friffinx)

“Oh I…uhh…”

“Brock, this doesn’t have to do with Unikitty, does it?”

“No, it uhh…I just, uh…” Brock stammered, sweating even more.

“TELL ME OR I’LL MAKE YOU SAY IT!” the Doom Lord commanded as his eyes burned brighter and he held his hand to the side of his head.

“OK OK FINE,” Brock confessed, “it’s the key to Unikitty’s cage! We came up with a plan to bring you back to the kingdom so we could…you know, help you.”

“Of course you did,” Master Frown groaned, his eyes getting dimmer with disappointment until they glowed brighter again with his wide grin, “But now I’ve got an even better idea!” “Oh no,” Brock whispered as Master Frown giggled. “Oh yes,” Master Frown said, raising an arm out in front of Brock, “If Unikitty still thinks that talking and some dumb science magic will fix everything, then I’ll just have to give her a reality check!” Brock shut his eyes tightly with pain, struggling to keep himself together. “And you’re gonna help me whether you like it or not.”

Brock’s eyes opened with red light back shining in them again.

“My apologies,” Possessed Brock calmly said, “I’m ready when you are.” “Good,” Master Frown said, “now come on!” He began excitedly making his way to the conference room with Possessed Brock following him.

: ~~~ :

Hawkodile had been sitting on the same foyer room couch for hours. More than anything, he wanted to get off his numb tail end and stretch his legs beyond kicking them up and flexing them. But though he hated admitting it, Rick was right: he had to stay seated until he was in a better condition. But by nightfall, Hawkodile was feeling a little better; though his arm still hurt, Richard cleaned, disinfected, bandaged, and even sewn it up surprisingly well. Still, as Hawkodile held his arm and waited for his blocky friend to return again, he kept worrying about Dr. Fox. He thought about her the most since she ran off, and she still hadn’t come back from the lab.

“I’m back,” Richard announced from afar, carrying casting tape and more bandages to wrap around Hawkodile’s injured arm.

“This should keep you from trying to use your arm while it recovers,” he said, busily making the cast, “I know it won’t help you recover any faster but this is the best I can do until Dr. Fox comes back.”

“Look, Rick,” Hawkodile said, “you’ve already helped out a lot. If you think about I should be-“

“No,” Richard nearly yelled, “you won’t be fine, so stop saying that you are or you will be! How many times do I need to tell you that you can’t jump back into a fight with an arm ready to fall apart!? You still need time to recover!”

“Well yeah,” Hawkodile almost laughed, “I was gonna say that I should be ok enough to see Dr. Fox. After, you know, everything that happened, I just hope she’s doing ok down there.”

(Art by @arekusatheamazingx)

“I can understand where you’re coming from,” Richard said, “but really? I’m sure that if she’s working on anything at the moment, it’ll take a lot of time considering how the fight affected her. She’s undoubtedly struggling and under a lot of pressure.”

“Yeah, me too!”

Richard floated back an inch as Hawkodile continued.

“That’s why I want to talk to her! And hey, since plan A didn’t work, maybe we can try something different to save Unikitty.”

Hawkodile’s nervous, wide smile and shrugging shoulders seemed like enough to not convince Richard, but Rick knew that they were running out of options that’d work fast enough to at least see Unikitty again.

“Well possibly,” Richard admitted and helped Hawkodile stand up.

“Alright,” he said as he led Hawkodile to the lab, “let’s just hope it’s good enough.”

: ~~~ :

Unikitty kept her restless eyes on the conference room doors, and when they opened she gasped with joy, ready to cheerfully ask Brock about the key. But when she saw that Brock’s eyes were red and Master Frown came in after him with eyes just as red and spinning the keys around his hand with his magic, she gasped far less excited.

“Awww,” Master Frown mocked her, “you thought you could make your way out of this easy-peasy, huh? Well not this time, you sushiney little slob! And you know why? Because you’re in my NEW world now, and you’re never leaving it!”

Master Frown unlocked the cage and Unikitty prepared to zip out, but he grabbed her tail; first with his red aura and then his hands.

“A-a-aah,” he teased Unikitty as he dragged her midair to the closet, “nope! You’re staying right here, ‘Princess’!” He threw her into the conference room closet, slamming the door shut and locking her inside.

Unikitty looked around the dark, damp closet. She started thinking that when Master Frown said he became bigger and stronger, he meant it, but still tried to stay positive. What could really be worse than killing the other Doom Lords anyway?

The first thing that caught her eyes was a projector. She stepped closer, noticing that there was film inside. She wasn’t sure if she should play it but asked about it anyway, to which Master Frown yelled “YES”. So she started up the projector and watched the film begin. It was a piece of found footage.

“Who does Master Frown think he is?” the person filming said, “Master Doom didn’t deserve it! No one did!”

Master Papercuts was hiding in an alleyway.

“What's he doing,” the hollow-eyed Doom Lord said, “going around all proud of killing people for doing our jobs better than him? Ok, sure, when I first walked in I freaked out seeing them all dead and ran out before he could catch me. Does that mean I’m gonna run away some more and let them die in vain? Nope nope nope nope nope nope NOPE! Because I’m better than him! I’ll avenge them and become the real best Doom Lord ever! A new wave of really really bad papercuts is beginning, and there’s nothing, I repeat NOTHING that can stop me from-“

“No witnesses,” Master Frown said, suddenly sliding in behind his co-worker with the same axe he killed the others with.

(Art by @x-master-brock-x)

The screen turned to static and Unikitty gulped in fear, trying to distract herself from the fact that Master Frown would take down any opposition for sure. But then she found Master Papercuts’s hat hanging from the ceiling on a string right in front of her, screamed, and as she backed away, tripped over a gun on the floor. Though hesitant, she picked it up along with the flashlight next to it. It was a blaster roughly the size of her arm with a small note taped across the grip. Unikitty turned the flashlight on with one paw to read the small writing:

“I’ve been on the run for two days now. Reporting a murder should’ve been easier, but every police station in this dreaded town is the same. Turns out I ‘don’t have evidence’ or a ‘good enough alibis’. What part of ‘My brother got killed by a maniac and now the guy’s after me because I was a witness and want to keep our home safe’ don’t you understand??? But I can’t keep this up anymore. I’m too tired, weak, and hungry, so unless I can find an officer that gets stuff done “

The delicate writing stopped, and Master Frown’s sloppy handwriting invaded the rest of the note.

“U’LL DIE TRYING, HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Unikitty got goosebumps. “This is fake, right?” she insecurely asked.

“Flip it over,” Master Frown yelled from outside.

Unikitty sorrowfully gasped as she did. Snippets of two “Missing" posters were also taped to the grip. Both victims’ posters were cut in half, one half each taped together to make what looked like an amateur craft project with the face and names sloppily scribbled out in black and red.

“YEESH, WHAT ELSE IS IN THE CLOSET!?” Unikitty cried, stomping on the ground out of fear. Se heard something small and metallic fall off a shelf from behind her as a result and turned around. Lying in the shadows was a pen, and as she picked it up, she paid attention to the buttons on the side: play, pause, rewind, fast fowrd, and a red recording button. Though more terrified and wondering why someone would make a pen that could record things, she gulped and pressed the play button.

“Hey, you wanna see something cool?” It was Master Frown’s voice.

“Uhh…sure, what is it?” She assumed the other voice was a Frowntown citizen’s.

“See this pen right here?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

SLAM!

There was an unfinished scream, and the recording ended.

Unikitty moved her paw closer to the tip of the pen to put it away, but felt something icky and gagged. She moved the pen closer to her face to see what it was, and found the victim from the recording’s eye and brain bits still there rotting away on the pen.

She screamed, one so loud and blood-curdling as the pen flew out of her paws, that turned into ugly sobbing. Master Frown held his head closer to the closet door, enjoying every second of her pain.

“You hear that!?” he excitedly asked a softly grinning Possessed Brock, “OhHOHOHOHOOOOOH, YES, YES! I LOVE IT!!!”

“OK OK, I GIVE UP!!!” Unikitty bawled, banging on the closet door, “PLEASE, MASTER FROWN, PLEASE LET ME OUT OF HERE!!!”

“See!?” Master Frown yelled triumphantly, “Now you know what you’re dealing with! And if you try to find a way out again, YOU’RE NEXT, you hear me!?”

“YES,” Unikitty kept crying, “JUST PLEASE, LET ME OUT!!! I DON’T WANNA BE IN THIS CLOSET ANYMORE!!!”

“Good,” Master Frown growled happily. He unlocked the closet, to greet a traumatized Unikitty, her body white as snow and shaking so much that she could hardly stand, and her eyes ready to pour more buckets of tears. “Now BACK IN THE CAGE WITH YOU!” He tossed her into her tiny prison, and as she crash-landed inside, he slammed the cage shut and locked it.

(Art by @usf2020, again)

“No…” Unikitty whimpered as she struggled to move until she could stand and yell “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?”

Master Frown and Possessed Brock left the room without a word.

“What have you done?” Unikitty whispered again before breaking down.

: ~~~ :

Hawkodile and Richard entered the lab in shock. It became a mess of broken objects and stained walls and floors, one so messy that they couldn’t even see Dr. Fox herself until they spotted her in a curled up, shaking, panicking mess on the floor. Tear marks stained her furry face and her glasses were cracked.

The two looked at each other, unsure of how well talking to Dr. Fox would go. But they knew she’d get worse if nothing was done, so they walked slowly towards her. Richard stopped a few yards away to give Hawkodile more space, and the bodyguard stopped once he felt close enough to Dr. Fox. He knelt down and softly asked for her by name, to which she turned around, screamed, and turned back, hyperventilating louder and faster than before and trying to cover herself up with bent and crumpled up papers.

“No D-Dr. Fox, it’s ok,” Hawkodile hopefully tried calming her down, “It’s just us.”

“NO!” Dr. Fox yelled, “Please go away! It’s best for all of us if just you leave me alone…”

“No, it’s really not,” Hawkodile tried to explain, “Because without you we have no chance at stopping Master Frown and saving Unikitty! Now look, I know that today’s battle was…not that great for us, but it’s all just one little slip up if you think about it-”

“NO IT’S NOT!!!” Dr. Fox had enough strength to say to Hawkodile’s face, “I MADE THE GREATEST MISTAKE I POSSIBLY COULD, DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND!? THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING ABOUT ME, NOT JUST AS A SCIENTIST BUT AS A PERSON! AND TO YOU OF ALL PEOPLE, SO HOW CAN YOU SAY THOSE THINGS!? I DON’T WANT ANYTHING LIKE THIS TO EVER HAPPEN AGAIN!”

Hawkodile thought about how he likely still wasn’t helping but felt that he had to keep trying.

“No, I know! Believe me, I know. You’re right, this did happen to me. But look, it was an accident. So even if I’m still in a lot of pain, I can’t really get mad at you because this is something none of us have ever prepared for. So right now the best thing we can do is get up and try again. And better! Think about it: this is Unikitty we’re fighting for. She’d wouldn’t give up on us if her life depended on it, and right now her life depends on us. So I don’t know but if I were you, I’d get myself together and back on the team, and find her before it’s too late.”

“I-I know,” Dr. Fox sniffled, “I want to as much as you do, Hawk…but what if I mess up again? You could all die, Master Frown would win, and it’d be my fault!”

“Listen Doc,” Hawkodile gently put his arm on her shoulder, “you’re putting too much pressure on yourself. There’s no way we’d let you do all the big stuff alone. I can still fight!…” He looked back at his other arm. “Well I’m gonna need some help first, but that still kinda proves my point. If we’re gonna fight Master Frown again, we need to stick together. And it’ll be different this time, I promise.”

Hawkodile held Dr. Fox’s hands and looked deep into her eyes. “I’ll give you all the help you need.”

(Art by @its-a-me-lava)

“Hawkodile…”

Just when he thought all his words meant nothing, Dr. Fox hugged him.

“You’re right! It was dumb to think I’d be the kingdom’s big hero anyway. We gotta give each other the help we need. In fact, I think I can fix your arm and find a way to successfully raid Frowntown!” She got up and walked out from under her desk.

“Of course, we have no idea how successful it’ll be, but hey, we still gotta try, right?” Dr. Fox turned back to Hawkodile and winked at him. He blushed and giggled.

“Yeah…we do.”

Richard leaned over gave a small smile, proud of his friends.

“So what do you say, guys?” Dr. Fox asked her friends, already regaining some confidence, “Let’s head back out there!” She held a fist up in the air. “For Unikitty!”

“For Unikitty!” Hawkodile joined her. The fist bump turned into them holding their hands…and Hawkodile blushing harder.

The three walked upstairs to discuss potential rescue plans when Puppycorn suddenly greeted them.

“There you guys are!” the prince said, relieved, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Why are you still not telling me what’s going on? I miss Unikitty just as much as you do, you know!”

Dr. Fox, Hawkodile, and Richard looked at each other, trying to decide who had the best answer to give him. But Richard got the most stares, so he sighed and floated closer to Puppycorn.

“Well, Hawkodile and Dr. Fox just agreed to go to Frowntown and rescue Unikitty.”

“Aww yeah!” Puppycorn shouted as he wagged his tail, “Can I come?”

“For the last time,” Richard sighed as Hawkodile and Dr. Fox cringed behind him, “no.”

“AGAIN!?” Puppycorn angrily protested, “But why!? And you better tell me this time!”

“Ok slugger,” Hawkodile explained, “we know how much you love your sister, and trust us, we’d like to have more on the team. But Master Frown’s become really dangerous as of late, and you’re uh…”

“Too inexperienced,” Dr. Fox continued for him, “Let’s put it that way. We’re doing this to keep you safe, Puppycorn! Hawkodile and I know a bit more when it comes to actually fighting and can’t afford to lose anyone else like we did Unikitty. You see what he did to Hawkodile, right? Just imagine what he could do if he got his hands on you.”

“Yeah it’d hurt,” Hawkodile tried putting it lightly.

“Indeed,” Richard agreed.

(Art by Michelle, who’s not on Tumblr)

“Well you know what else hurts?” Puppycorn pouted, “Being left out of something huge because you think I’m not smart enough to understand it! And it’s not fair! If you’re so scared of losing me, what about Hawk and Dr. Fox!? You can still lose them out there when they’re fighting! Unikitty’s my big sister! And I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again! So if you can’t save her, then I want to.” He looked away and hung his head to the side.

Everything was quiet until Dr. Fox gasped and shouted “THAT’S IT! Puppycorn, you’re right!”

“He is?” Hawkodile and Richard asked.

“I am?” Puppycorn happily asked after them.

“Yes,” Dr. Fox joyfully explained, “Hawkodile and I can do the fighting, but you can do the rescuing! Why didn’t I think of it before?”

“Wait, you’re right!” Hawkodile agreed.

“Yeah,” Puppycorn shouted, “let’s do it!”

“Hold up,” Hawkodile held Puppycorn by the head to stop him from running, “we still need to fix my arm. Plus we’re gonna need more weapons and gadgets and I’ll have to show you some ways to defend yourself if you get in trouble.”

“Ok cool!” Puppycorn said, his tail wagging again.

“Which means we probably won’t leave until tomorrow,” Dr. Fox added.

“Ok,” Puppycorn’s mood didn’t change as Hawkodile let him go and he ran around in circles, “we’re still gonna save my big sis together, woo-hoo!!”

Richard knew he couldn’t stop them from doing something this risky and even a little stupid, but also that it was the best they could do.

“Just be careful out there,” was all he could say. “Don’t worry, Richard,” Dr. Fox told him, “we’ve got this completely under control, right guys?”

The brick gave her a stare of disbelief as Puppycorn and Hawkodile cheered “Yeah!”

Dr. Fox put her fist in the air again. “Come on guys, for Unikitty! Again!”

“Yeah, again!”

“Aww yeah!”

: ~~~ :

As the sun rose over Unikingdom the next morning, the castle residents prepared to for the day’s big fight.

“Ok,” Hawkodile instructed everyone, eyeing Puppycorn specifically, “so one more time this way no one forgets: Dr. Fox, Puppycorn, and I are heading to Frowntown together and Rick will stay here to take care of the kingdom until at least one of us gets back.”

“Yes,” Richard said as he wearily looked at his friends, hoping it wouldn’t be the last, “just remember to please be careful out there.”

“We gotcha, Rick,” Puppycorn gave him a salute, “we promise, we’ll have Unikitty with us when we get back!” He ran off giggling.

“Yeah,” Dr. Fox stepped closer to her floating gray friend, “if we’re successful, we’ll be right back.”

“We got this,” Hawkodile reassured Richard, putting his hand on Dr. Fox’s shoulder. Then he pointed and yelled “Now let’s move out!”

The mission had begun.

That same morning, Master Frown watched the dull excuse for sunlight drift over Frowntown from the Doom Lord fortress rooftop.

(Art by me)

“Today’s going to be special…I can feel it.”

His evil giggle echoed through the town.

Well…happy St. Patrick’s Day! :D

(Sorry if the wait for this one was a bit longer than expected.)

But wow oh wow, we’re roughly halfway through the AU’s story already! Feels like just yesterday I was still working on the asks and still thinking about how the story would end.

A few more co-artists joined since last time as well, so not all of them got to work on art this time. But the ones that did are, again, credited above. I also promise that you’ll get to see more of them and their art in the upcoming chapters, so keep your eyes peeled!

(Even if chapter 4 is about as long as chapter 1 was and may take a while.)

See you soon! ;)

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bijackkellys · 4 years

Text

thunderstruck ; part one

lazarus, or the return of jack kelly

Fandom: Newsies (All Media Types) Relationships: Jack Kelly/David Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer Word Count: 1,651 Dedications: a huge shoutout to my gf, beta reader, and number one fan @mistyw273, and to @dimenovelcowboy for supporting me endlessly. tag list (if you’d like to be added to this list just send me an ask or dm!): @santa-fe-maniac @pulitzers-world @yo-let-me-get-a-milkyway @verified-dumbass @jewishdavidjacobs @agentsnickers @thetruthabouttheboy Author’s Note: hey readers! i want to start by saying thank you so much for all the support and interest so far—i was honestly not expecting to get so much feedback with just the introduction but i'm really thrilled so many people are here for the ride! i figured i would go ahead and put part one up; this is the only back-to-back update i'll be doing, but i wanted to have more than the prologue out there. from this point forward i'm going to try bi-weekly updates on tuesdays and fridays (that's tentative and subject to change depending on how things carry on, though!). again, thank you for your interest and i really really appreciate the feedback, it honestly means the world to me. with that, let's get on with part one!

read it on ao3

five months later.

JACK DOESN’T KNOW WHEN he started running, and doesn’t know where to stop.

Right now the world is this hazy, deafening thing. The streets loop endlessly around him, too bright and too loud, a mix of over-saturated colors and sounds he can’t pull apart. In the middle of it all he feels as if he’s drowning. He’s drugged up to his eyes, this much he can tell—there’s little else that he’s aware of, though, except for his feet pounding against the pavement and this base, animalistic instinct in the back of his brain telling him to go. To run and run and keep running.

So he does. Buildings and road signs and people dissolve into background noise as he tears through the streets. Someone is after him; as disoriented as he is, he’s sure of it, and it’s that hot rush of fear that keeps him going more than anything else. A spike of adrenaline pushing him forward.

Maybe he’s lost them miles ago, but it’s not until the moment he thinks his legs will give out underneath him that he collapses against the back wall of an alleyway, sputtering for a breath. His lungs burn and he feels dizzy, but Jack pushes past the blurred images in his head and the low ringing in his ears to catalog what he knows. His name is Francis—no. He swallows dryly and starts again. His name is Jack Kelly. He’s eighteen, maybe nineteen, now, depending on how much time has passed. He’s an art student, and a superhero, and there was a fire, and then—

And then everything fills up with static and the feeling of hands on his skin and this harsh, chemical smell. His stomach turns.

Jack hates feeling like this, like he’s been separated from his own thoughts. The lack of control that comes with the clouded figures where his memories should be is enough to make him vulnerable in a way he hasn’t felt in years, exposed like a copper wire that’s been stripped of its casing.

And the current—that’s gone altogether. There are silver cuffs biting into the skin of his wrists; the seam that held them together is broken along a jagged edge, but the slim band of green light lining them means they’re still suppressing his powers. Jack aches for the buzz of electricity to come back, needs them off. He twists his hands desperately and in doing so, makes his drug-addled brain suddenly aware of a cold piece of metal clenched in his fist.

He opens his palm. It’s a flash drive. His mind dredges up a fuzzy memory of ripping it from a computer port in what he thinks might have been a control room. He doesn’t know what it contains, but if he’d held onto it so desperately that it became second nature, then it must be important. He needs to find a computer, he thinks abruptly, and then stands up and immediately sways on his feet.

Okay—okay. Not yet, maybe. Before that, he needs food and water and rest. He needs the lodging house, except he has no idea where he is, and in the state he’s in, he barely knows which way is up. He needs—he needs to call Crutchie.

Jack is struck suddenly by the overwhelming desire to hear his pseudo-brother’s voice, strong enough that his chest physically hurts from it. It’s been—weeks, maybe? months?—the longest they’ve gone without seeing each other since they were kids. If he can get his hands on a phone and get Crutchie on the line, he thinks, then powerless and drugged or not, he’ll be okay.

It’s not much of a plan, but it’s a start. All he has to do is find a phone. This is easier said than done, though; there’s still a payphone booth left next to a nearby subway station, rusted from lack of use, but he doesn’t have any money. He’s aware of how he must look, a boy in tattered clothes with cloudy eyes and words slurred together, begging for change. More than one person threatens to call the police. Most of them just push him away. Jack feels his desperation pitching upward quickly, tightening in his throat.

When a stranger finally hands him a few quarters with a wary look, he’s not sure if it’s fear or pity or some combination of the two that makes her do it. He’s grateful all the same. He rushes over to the booth, blood roaring in his ears from the anticipation. His hands are shaking so hard that his fingers stumble over the keypad, but he knows Crutchie’s number by heart, is sure he could dial it in his sleep. It goes to voicemail and Jack shoves the receiver against his ear.

“Crutchie, it’s me—it’s Jack. Please pick up.”

When he slides the second quarter into the slot and calls again, it barely has a chance to ring.

“Jack is dead.” Crutchie’s voice comes through, wavering. Jack almost chokes on his relief.

“I’m not,” he says, and there’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, and then a noise that sounds like a broken sob.

“No—”

“Crutchie, I’m here. It’s me. I’m not dead.”

“How…”

“I don’t know,” Jack says, truthfully.

“You—you can’t—fuck, Jack.” And in the middle of everything, Jack is caught off guard because Crutchie almost never swears. There’s a long quiet, broken by just the static-filled sound of Crutchie crying. Jack’s own cheeks are wet. “It’s been five months,” he gasps finally. “I thought—we all thought you died in that fire. Holy shit. Where have you been?”

Jack’s head spins. He hadn’t even realized how much time has passed. Five months...it’s June now, then, and the spring semester of classes is already over, and he’s nineteen, and there’s this gaping chasm of lost time in his head—

“—ck? Jack.”

He realizes that Crutchie is calling his name abruptly, and Jack blinks, trying to clear his thoughts. “Yeah, I-I’m here. I don’t—everything’s fuzzy, Crutchie, I don’t know what happened, where I’ve been—” His words trip and stumble over each other. “I’m gonna try and find my way back to the lodging house, I’ve just gotta—”

“No, no, wait, you can’t,” Crutchie cuts him off, suddenly fierce. Jack pauses.

“What do you mean?”

His response is quieter this time, tentative. Slow, like he’s walking on his toes. “Jackie...how much do you know about what’s been going on?”

Dread pools in Jack’s chest, hot and fast. For as long as they’ve known each other, he’s only heard Crutchie sound like this, scared and small and hesitant, a few times before. Something has gone deeply wrong; he knows it in an instant, maybe should have realized it even before now. “What is it, Crutchie?” he demands.

Crutchie takes a shuddering breath. “They said you set the fire,” he says, and Jack’s stomach plummets. “It was all over the news—they said the hospital wasn’t an accident, that Strike—that you—had planned the whole thing, did it on purpose.”

“No...” Jack feels nauseous, dizzy, sure in that moment that he’s going to be sick all over the pavement. His memories of the hospital brim with fear and heat and voices that echo in his skull, and the idea that the public believes he’s the cause of that, of all that death and destruction, hurting innocent people—he can’t stomach it. Doesn’t know how to.

“Jack, people were angry. Really angry. Not just at Strike—there was a whole new anti-super wave, worse than it’s ever been before, and now everyone thinks supers are dangerous and they started... taking people.” Crutchie’s voice goes even lower as Jack feels his heart crawl up into his throat. “They—we call them Snatchers, we think they’re in league with the police—they’ve surrounded the lodging house and swarmed half the city, dragging kids with powers off to someplace called the Refuge.”

Everything goes hot and sharp for a moment, a quick snap of recognition that burns like fire. Jack tastes metal in his mouth, chokes on it. “That’s where I was,” he says hollowly. He knows it even through the fogginess in his head.

“Oh, Jackie,” Crutchie begins, but Jack doesn’t let him finish.

“Are the others—is everyone okay? Race, Specs, Elmer—did they get taken?” The lodging house is a frequent stop for super kids who need a place to spend the night, but the three of them and Jack are the only permanent residents that have powers. If the Snatchers found them, they’d have been dragged off to the same fate that Jack has only just escaped. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Crutchie says yes.

“They’re holed up with Spot in Brooklyn,” Crutchie replies, and Jack lets himself exhale. “I haven’t been talking to them a whole lot, because they’re trying to stay under the radar, but the last time I heard from them, they were okay.” He gives a rattled sort of laugh, devoid of humor and more exhausted than anything. “Shit, Jackie. Everything fell apart without you.”

Jack passes a hand over his face, wants to cry. Wants to scream and tell Crutchie that he’s lost and drowned and terrified, that he feels more helpless than he’s ever been, that for all the time he’s spent playing hero he doesn’t know how to save anyone from this. Instead, though, he sets his jaw. “I’m gonna fix this, Crutchie,” he says, half-promise and half-prayer. He’ll find a way.

“Jack—” Crutchie begins, but what he’s going to say next Jack doesn’t find out. The timer clicks, and there’s a robotic female voice in place of Crutchie’s that tells him the call has timed out.

The line goes dead and then Jack is alone all over again, the vow he made weighing as heavy as the shackles on his wrists.

#THUNDERSTRUCK #newsies #newsies fanfiction #jack kelly #davey jacobs #katherine plumber #katherine pulitzer #jathvey #javid #jatherine #datherine #newsies the musical #livesies #fanfiction #writing #my writing #umanawrites

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lunnamars · 4 years

Text

copycat

In the midst of all the suffering, in one last effort, her eyes met his and she smiled. A sweet smile she reserved only for him.

(and as a reader kindly told me, I should be putting a side note of my babies being kinda OOC. I'm okay with it in this story, but so all of you know)

It was her blood pouring out nonstop and what it represented that kept him from thinking rationally.

If there was one thing Zoro was proud of, it was his ability to analyze any situation and be able to stay calm on critical occasions. Just like this one.

The difference was that he was doing quite the opposite of what he was trained to do because it was her blood pouring out nonstop and what it represented that kept him from thinking rationally.

Zoro's hands were red and sticky from pressing the wound on Tashigi's back. The bright red blood, the strong smell of iron and the sound of every drop running down his hand and dripping on the floor were starting to make him sick, his stomach twisting as if his body wanted to throw out everything he ate or drank in the past forty-eight hours.

It was her blood pouring out nonstop and what it represented that kept him from thinking rationally.

Tashigi was already in a half-awake and half-sleepy state, but Zoro couldn't, under any circumstance, let her close her eyes. One hand continued to press the wound to her back and the other held her face. Now it was the bright red blood, the smell of iron, the sound of every drop dripping on the floor and her face dirty with the fresh blood that was in his hand that made him sick again, but she needed to pay attention, she needed to look at him.

“Oe, four-eyes, don't you fucking dare to die on me.”

The words were harsh, but the situation was critical and he was unable to stay calm. With every desperate step from Chopper, every weeping from Nami, every yell from Smoker, every gasp from Robin, every curse from Sanji was making the swordsman lose his fucking mind. With each passing minute, it was as if all those noises were slowly muffled and only Tashigi's shallow breathing remained.

Her eyes didn't seem to focus on anything and neither did his. He could only hear her whispering disconnected phrases and every time Zoro told her to not be stubborn at least once in her god damn life because if she kept talking, more blood would come out and God (or any divine entity that exists in this world) knows he was about to lose all sanity.

“I… hurt… Smoker-san… guys… I…”

“For the last time, just keep quiet, four eyes. I’m just asking that of you, damn it. Can you fucking do this just once?”

Zoro really didn't want to swear that much, but all of his brain efforts were focused only on making that woman not close her eyes and, at the same time, continue to stop the blood until Chopper managed to do something.

After getting out of her stupor, Robin also started using Hana Hana no Mi to help him with the task. Because he only has two hands and no one was stopping the blood that spurted from the wound in Tashigi's chest.

Zoro was never a religious man and he doesn't even believe in anything divine, but what he wouldn't give now for his prayers to be answered. Please don't let her die, please, please.

But how do you survive a sword through your chest?

He doesn't know anyone who has survived. But who knows, maybe Tashigi will be the first.

Tashigi. Honored captain, defender of justice, admirable swordsman, co-leader of the Navy revolution, war heroine, daughter of Wano, Kuina's older sister.

The woman who has no regard for her own life if it meant protecting others.

The woman who just sacrificed herself to save his life and his crew’s.

The woman he argued the day before and said so many bad things was now on her knees in front of him with a sword stuck in her chest and blood spurting everywhere.

Tashigi was losing consciousness and was losing fast.

“Hey, hey, hey, just keep looking at me, Tashigi.”

She did, but he could see that her eyelids were getting heavier and heavier.

Please don't let her die, please please.

The lips that he wanted to kiss so much but didn't have the courage now were stained red and heaven knows how he preferred it to be lipstick and not death. Every time she tried to say something, she ended up spitting blood and his face was already soaked, but Zoro couldn't, for anything in this world, care about it.

Robin released him from the task of stopping the bleeding and he managed to put both hands on Tashigi's face to force her to look at him. His hands were completely painted red and he hated to wear her blood - hands, arms, face, chest, everything. It didn't suit him well and he was really about to lose his fucking mind.

She blinked heavily but was managing to maintain eye contact and Zoro let himself be hopeful. Chopper ran around, trying incessantly to control the situation, but the swordsman could see how his little paws were shaking and how his eyes were red from crying.

If Chopper said there was no solution, it was because it was the end.

Please don't let her die, please please.

Not her, please, please.

There was so much he still wanted to say, she couldn't leave now. He wanted to say good things, not the bad things he spat on her face. Instead of saying that she would never be as good as her sister, he wanted to be able to say that she became so strong that she became his rival and that he was so proud of her that the feeling couldn’t fit in his own the chest; he wanted to say that she was an incredibly strong woman and that standing her ground after everything she had been through in life was admirable, but instead, he called her weak.

He vomited so many mean words because uncontrollable anger washed over him when she volunteered for a suicide mission. Wano's war was nearing its end, but they lost so many people in so many bloody battles. Zoro did not want to lose her. My God, not her.

Death, take someone bad, not her. She's too good. Please.

He hurt her. It was the first time that Tashigi didn’t argue back and Zoro found it very strange. But if that was what it took for her not to go out the door and return in a coffin, it would be worth it. She might hate him for the rest of her life, but she would hate him alive.

"After all, I thought you didn't think that way about me anymore. Too bad because I don't think the same about you anymore."

Zoro never saw such sadness overflow in her eyes as at that moment. Not even when she told her story to the Straw Hats - and that sadness was similar to what he saw so often on Robin's face. But what she expressed right after hearing his angry words was as if someone was putting a knife in the swordsman's heart and spinning. She knows that pain now.

“Oe, four-eyes, you're doing well. Just keep looking at me, okay? If you keep doing well, how about I let you train with Wado or Enma? You are now like a sword goddess here in Wano, right? They all obey you, so what do you think?”, Zoro knew he was being a blabbermouth, but he needed to keep her awake and maybe talking about swords could keep her focused on him.

“Sandai… don’t… obey me… you… only master…”

“I know. You found her for me, remember? Do you remember, Tashigi?”

The swordsman looked at Chopper out of the corner of his eye and saw the little reindeer crying copiously on Usopp's lap. Then, Zoro realized that he had no solution. That was the end.

His heart just stopped beating and he couldn't think of anything else. His mind was empty with just a white noise in the background.

No no no no no. Please don’t.

Zoro was sure that he must be looking like a maniac, with extremely wide eyes, frowns and a completely unformed smile. Smiling might make her endure a little longer, so he tried, but it was in vain.

Tashigi could no longer lift her head and Zoro could feel the life being drained from her. He held her face tightly as if that simple act could prevent her existence from leaving this world.

“C’mon, four-eyes. Hold on a little longer…“

“Ro… ronoa…”

“Come on, there's still so much for you to do-”

He felt someone's strong hand on his shoulder, but he felt no comfort at all. This person didn’t want to say that everything would be okay - the gesture was asking him to accept and let go.

No, no, no.

“Zoro. There's… there's nothing else we can do.”

Sanji's voice sounded as choked up as his. Zoro was sure that the cook was crying and then realized that the blood that was running down his face didn’t come from an injury. It was his own tears melting it.

Tashigi spat violently again and he understood that she wanted to say something.

“G-guys, I…“

Zoro already had a scold on the tip of his tongue, but Nami grabbed his arm. The girl bit her lip to keep from crying, but she was failing miserably. She sobbed desperately in the same way as Robin and Chopper. Sanji, Usopp, and Franky wept silently. Torao watched with a frightened expression, not knowing how to react and Smoker did the same.

Zoro didn't even want to think about Luffy's reaction when he found out.

Over the past few months, Tashigi has stood by the Straw Hat by Smoker's order to fight on behalf of the Navy revolutionaries for Wano - her home that has been denied to her for so many years. The captain was extremely suspicious at the beginning of the alliance, but Luffy always manages to unite any type of person and Tashigi was no exception. She fought alongside them and for them.

Her courage seemed to know no bounds.

That's probably why it didn't take long for the crew to fall in love with her and consider her one of them. And being considered part of the Straw Hats meant that she’d have all the treatment that anyone in the crew did. It meant that they would all protect her no matter what.

So where did they messed up so that Zoro was holding a nearly dead Tashigi in his arms?

“Guys… t-thanks for t-taking care… of a weakling like me…”

Zoro couldn't believe the words she had just said. She was dying and that was what she thought? How idiotic were they to make this woman so kind to think that until the last seconds of her life?

“No, Tashigi-chan!!! Y-you're not weak!! If it weren't for you, this war wouldn't be w-won!!”, Nami screamed and with eyes filled with tears.

“Y-y-you're our m-m-mate, Tashigi-chan!! I don't w-w-want you to go!”, Chopper cried like a baby and it was almost impossible to understand what he was talking about.

“Y-you are o-one of the m-most brave person I have ever m-met, Tashigi!!”, Robin's voice was completely choked.

They all gathered around her, hugging her and holding her tightly, trying to keep her there, with them. Everyone hoping for some miracle, anything that would make her not leave them.

Zoro continued to hold her face while everyone cried and sobbed hysterically. In the midst of all the suffering, in one last effort, her eyes met his and she smiled. A sweet smile she reserved only for him.

She whispered with great difficulty, but no one seemed to hear.

Zoro did.

“I-I… I re-really wanted… to be more… than… a copycat for you… Zoro.”

The swordsman's eyes widened and his heart ached as if it was squirming inside his chest. But no, he wouldn't let it be that way. He had been a coward all these months, never admitting any feelings for her and always admiring her from afar as if the mere thought of getting close to her was wrong.

And now what he has left is a feeling of guilt and regret.

He could have lived so many things in the past few months, but he had been a coward.

He wouldn't be a coward now. She deserved much more than his cowardice.

Zoro leaned in and kissed her lips. Their foreheads touched and whispered in a shaky voice.

“You’re anything but a copycat to me.”

She was almost gone, he could feel it. He kissed her again.

“You are everything.”

She was crying silently, but couldn’t speak anymore. The only thing he had in those last moments was her smile.

"You too."

Zoro opened his mouth to speak, but the sparkle in Tashigi's eyes had already faded. He only held the shell where she lived and he never thought he’d feel so much pain in his life.

It was unbearable and suffocating.

Zoro howled and cried desperately along with his companions. He hadn't cried like that since Kuina's death and even so, now it was so much more. He didn't know how to stop and he didn't even know if he wanted to stop.

His head was heavy, his body ached, his chest looked like it was going to explode, he couldn't feel anything but suffering, but he was able to hear clearly when Luffy cried out Tashigi's name in anguish.

“Zoro, her funeral is today. You coming?”, Sanji's voice was so hoarse that if it weren't for the years they spent together, he wouldn't have recognized the cook.

Zoro remained silent, his eyes fixed on the waves breaking lightly in the ocean. Probably a considerable amount of time had passed because Sanji spoke again cautiously.

“I think she’d like you to go.”

It had been three days since Tashigi's death and Zoro had entered a cycle of monstrous violence. No one survived against his swords and no one was able to stop him.

Not even his crew.

The captain's death raised indignation inside everyone's chest and even those who had given up fighting decided to step on the battlefield once again. The woman had become a symbol of resistance and neither Kaido nor Orochi would be able to contain the rebellion.

Because this war had taken a woman pure and just. There was no way to forgive that.

Since then, Zoro has survived on sake. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep, he didn't say anything, he just fought. Until Sanji decided to stop this rampant train of self-destruction before it was too late. The cook confronted him ("You're doing everything contrary to what she wanted!! She died to save us and you want to kill yourself!? Fuck you, Zoro!!") and this resulted in a nasty fight between them. Not even Luffy was able to intervene.

Sanji always had that collected manner about him, but he was also in a rage, just like Zoro. The swordsman noticed by the abrupt way he spoke and the bad words he used. But he also realized afterward that Sanji's real intention was to get him to expel all the accumulated anger before it grew to alarming levels. It was better for him to blow up on Sanji now than to blow up on the entire crew. They wouldn't stand a chance against Zoro's bloodlust. Then the cook withstood all the blows, returned all the attacks, sometimes allowed himself to be a punching bag and other times he just screamed at him. Sanji was trying to tire Zoro at all costs.

When neither of them could stand it anymore because of so many injuries, Zoro let out a cry so painful that Sanji ended up hugging him. He understood the swordsman's despair because Tashigi had become a great friend of the cook. The tiredness won and the two could only cry. Soon after, the two felt Luffy's embrace and tears and when they least realized it, the entire crew enveloped them in a huge hug.

Zoro didn't know how much time they stood there in that way because everything looked like a blur, but when he came down from his numb state, he noticed Sanji was holding out a large plate of food for him.

"Please, Zoro, eat. Things are going to get harder now because her death was a huge blow to us and we’re going to need you."

That was the day before. The two ate together and Zoro needed to thank him because Sanji had been, in fact, very patient and, despite suffering too, was willing to help him. Despite always bickering with each other, the swordsman knew that Sanji was a very valuable friend and one who understood him the most.

“I'll go.”

Sanji nodded and kept silent. After a while, he spoke again.

“They’ll grant her the maximum ranking. It should be Vice-Admiral, but they want her to be remembered as an Admiral.”

The cook lit his cigarette and after just one drag, Zoro snorted.

“As if she’d care about that shit.”

“Yeah.”

Tashigi never cared about ranks and Zoro knew that. The only thing that mattered to her was protecting people. For her and Smoker, ranks were just names to inflate empty people's ego.

“Come on, Zoro. Everyone must be waiting for us by now.”

“Yeah.”

Halfway he stopped and Sanji did too when he realized that Zoro wasn’t following him. He looked confused and his expression was one of inquiry.

“Sanji.”

Zoro noticed that the usual eye covered by the blonde bangs widened for a fraction of a second, but then he just nodded, telling him that he was paying attention.

“Thanks.”

Sanji smiled slightly and turned away, walking towards Sunny's exit again.

“Come on, moss head.”

The funeral was pompous, but it had great honor in the whole ceremony. Zoro couldn't say what it was, but he felt as if everyone present had a huge regard for Tashigi. Hiyori asked for the woman to be buried in her country of ancestry and the Navy granted the request. Luffy asked Smoker for him and Zoro to carry her coffin and the Vice-Admiral had no strength to deny it. Thus, Smoker, Rear-Admiral Hina, Luffy, and Zoro were the last to see Admiral Tashigi's face before she was delicately delivered to the soil.

Zoro was so numb that he didn't even feel his fingertips. Beside him, Nami and Robin were crying profusely - the first hugging Luffy as if her life depended on it and the second had the face hidden in Franky's neck. The two were the ones who became closest to Tashigi and Zoro could imagine the pain they felt for the loss of their friend.

He knew it well because he had lost a friend, a rival and the only woman he loved (and would love) in his entire life.

After the whole ceremony was over, Zoro waited patiently for everyone to say his last goodbye to Admiral in front of her tombstone so he could say some last words to her.

I don't know if there’s this afterlife shit, but if it does, I hope you’ll listen to me, Admiral Four-eyes.

All of the Straw Hats were gone and the last one in front of the tombstone was Smoker. Zoro decided to approach.

Smoker probably noticed the swordsman's presence but chose not to recognize it. The two remained in heavy silence and neither moved. Until suddenly, the marine looked at the sky and grunted.

“You know, that idiot was completely head over heels for a pirate.”

This caught Zoro's attention. Smoker lit only one cigar.

"She did some crazy shit because she said she needed to reach and overcome the damn pirate. She trained her finger to the bone and whenever I asked why he, she always replied that it was because he was the best swordsman she had ever met.”

Smoker took the cigar out of his mouth and held it between his fingers. Zoro bit his lip because he didn't want to collapse in front of the other man.

“She also told me once that he and his crew saved her and made her see how wrong we were.”

Zoro clenched his fists so hard that he was afraid of tearing his hand. Smoker continued.

“She said that this pirate was different. That the bastard and the crew were different and that she’d protect them at all costs.”

The Vice-Admiral continued to stare at the cigar in his hand.

“Tashigi usually had a bunch of imbeciles drooling over her, but she never gave them the time of day. She told Hina that although she hated the fact, she had already been swept off her feet in Loguetown.”

Zoro's shoulders were shaking and his eyes started to water. Smoker sniffed but the swordsman gave the marine privacy. He took the cigar and put it in the base of the tombstone. The pirate seemed to have lost his voice during the Vice Admiral's monologue, but now, in the silence, he seemed to find it again to make one last request.

“Smoker. Can I have Shigure?”

The man answered nothing, just took the sword from his back and handed it to Zoro. The swordsman held Shigure with both hands and for some reason, he could feel Tashigi. Now you’ll be with me, four-eyes. Smoker rubbed his face and turned to go. Before actually leaving, he seemed to hesitate, but stopped and put a hand on Zoro's left shoulder.

“Stay safe, boy.”

And with that, he headed for the exit of the cemetery, leaving Zoro with his chest hurting more than the healthy limit. He sat down, crossed one leg on top of the other, rested Shigure on his thighs and meditated, focusing only on the presence of Tashigi and the longing that suffocated him. He doesn't know how much time he spent there, in that position, with the wind blowing through his hair and swinging his three earrings, but meditation helped to calm his heart.

When his breathing seemed to ease, he decided to throw words at the wind.

“Seriously, how stupid I was… do you forgive me, Tashigi?”

Your sister was my friend, but you were… the most important woman to me.

Zoro looked at the sky and remembered the day when the two decided to have a truce and how Tashigi slept so close to him that she was able to warm him up in the cold night.

“Is there such a stupid thing as another life, Tashigi?”

Zoro covered his face with his left hand and swallowed all the misery.

“Can I meet you in another life?”

The swordsman fought bravely so that no tears would even come out, but judging by the sight that turned into a blur, he must have failed miserably.

“My dream is for you too now.”

Zoro decided to stay for a while, but he knew he was just delaying the final goodbye. Nothing would bring her back, but Shigure would stay with him forever. He even wondered whether his body would support the weight of yet another sword, but he would manage. Finally, with swollen eyes, he untied the black bandana he always carried on his arm and stuck it with a knife Tanto in the base of the headstone.

He got up and headed for the exit. Life needed to go on and it's not like he was going to forget about her. He didn't even know how it would be possible to forget her.

Me too, four-eyes. Since Loguetown.

This time, I wanted to go full angst because I woke up in that vibe hahaha and this fic is test for me to train that style. So if anything feels out of place, I apologize.

Again: everything happens after Punk Hazard, but with headcanons related to the current canonical arc.

A quick reminder that English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes.

#zoro x tashigi #zotash #roronoa zoro #tashigi #opfanfic #fanfiction

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abbyilr1967 · 5 years

Text

The Fear Of Losing You

Summary: You and your boyfriend Jake are assigned a drug bust case and while on your stakeout things go wrong, and now Jake has 24 hours to get you back.

Warnings: kidnapping, blood (not really gore), angst, little bit of fluff

Word Count: 2,100ish.

You and Jake have both arrived at the precinct early Monday morning. This is crazy because before you and Jake started to date he always arrived ten minutes late or more. You settled down at your desk to do your paperwork while Jake was goofing around using his pencil as a mustache. It ultimately fails and his pencil falls to the floor causing you to giggle at his misfortune.

“Y/l/n, Peralta, my office please,” Captain Holt asks of you

You and Jake give each other a questioning look because you have both never been called into his office together. Not since Holt told both of you that he wouldn’t pair you up on cases because he was concerned you would goof off or lose focus.

“Please shut the door,” Holt asks once you’ve entered.

“The reason I’ve called you in here is that the Major Crimes Unit has asked that both go undercover as a couple looking to buy and sell drugs to befriend them so that we can take down one of the biggest drug families in New York,” Holt states firmly.

Jake looks to you with a wide grin and you know he is thinking of something witty to say in response.

“Now usually I wouldn’t have paired you together, but the Unit asked for both of you specifically. So it out of my control,”

“It’soutofmycontroltitleofyoursextape,” Jake replies as fast as he can.

“Thank you Sir, we won’t let you down,” is your civil response as you grab Jake by the arm and pull him out of Holt’s office.

“Y/n can you believe we got a case together!” Jake says excitedly while wrapping his arms around you. He lifts you up and spins around before dropping you back to the floor.

“I know,” you start, “it’s amazing but we have to take this seriously if we can show Holt that we can work together without getting distracted he might put us on more cases together,” you say pulling away from his hug to sit back at your desk.

“Right, this is James Thunderstone, very serious detective,” Jake replies in his best British accent, which receives a giggle from you.

Jake and you have been preparing for your first stakeout to get an idea of what you’ll be walking into. You both have for duffles full of the essentials like weapons, snacks, and some blankets in case it gets cold. You and Jake had been stationed on top of a building close to the drop-off and exit warehouse for the drugs.

You had already been on the roof for three hours and there was nothing, so you and Jake had decided to pass the time by seeing who could catch the most peanuts in their mouth in a row when you both hear the sound of something rustling below. Jake and you both instantly grab your guns and peer over the side of the building to scope out the area. It takes you a minute before you spot a black van. You and Jake watch patiently while the doors of the van open to reveal a person with a bag over their head.

That all you need to start to run towards to stairs when Jake grabs your arm.

“We aren’t supposed to interfere with them, it could blow are cover,” He whisper shouts at you.

“I can’t just let them hurt that person,” You say before wiggling out od his grasp and sprinting towards the starts while Jake chases after you.

You are all the way down the stair and out the door before Jake can stop you. You sneak up behind the van and wait for the clear. When you have an opening you run into the warehouse. Jake is following closely behind you because God knows he wouldn’t want you to get hurt.

“Y/n lets go, they left,” He says. You have already started to wander your way through the corridor of shelves and boxes.

You let out a defeated sign before you turn around to face your boyfriend and leave the warehouse before you’ve blown our cover. When you are met with a very tall man dressed in all black.

“Y/n Go!” Jake shouts as you both begin to run in the other direction, to again be met with another large man dressed in all black. They have you trapped between them, the large man behind you clapped one hand over your mouth and one around your stomach. The same was happening to Jake, you both were struggling against these two men while they are pulling you in the opposite direction.

“Y/n!” you could hear Jake screaming for you, but you couldn’t see him anymore. The large man had brought you back to the black van, and before throwing you in his colleagues put a big black bag over your head and cuffed your wrists together with your own cuffs. Shoving you inside the van you get squished between two people so there is no chance of your escape.

Jakes POV

He kept screaming for Y/n as best he could until the large man who had his hold on him bashed his head against the side of a wall. This gave Jake a major headache, and probably a concussion, while this was all happening Jake could hear the screech of a car and the popping of a trunk, and before his brain could comprehend what was happening he was being thrown into the trunk of a car, and driven to God knows where.

When He came to he found himself by the dumpster in some alleyway in downtown Brooklyn. When he tries to get up his head pounds and he groans in response.

“Shit,” he says. He pulls out his phone and calls Terry.

“Sergeant Jeffords,”

“Sarge it’s Jake,” He groans as he tries to take a breath and realizes he might have a broken rib.

“I need some help,” he says trying not to break down.

“Where are you? are you ok?” a concerned Terry says.

“I’m fine and I’m on the corner of Fulton and Jay street,” He sighs. “Terry… something really bad happened,” Jake says trying to hold back a sob.

“Boyle is on his way to get you, Jake, just stay on the line with me and breathe, Ok?”

It takes Terry telling him to breathe for him to realize he hasn’t, and he starts hyperventilating.

“Calm down Jake, it’s going to be fine,” Terry says

“You don’t know that they could do anything to her,” he says between breaths.

“Who Jake, Who?” Terry asks.

“Y/n,”

Readers POV

When you woke up the bag was still on your head, and you could feel that you had been restrained to a chair.

“Hey!” You yelled “Help! Someone, anyone Help!” is all you could get out before the bag is ripped off your head and you are face to face with your captor.

“Jimmy Figgis,” you state.

“Hey Pretty Lady, so I hear you and Detective Jake Peralta were sneaking around my warehouse,” he says maniacally.

“We were looking for that hostage you kidnapped, what did you do with them anyway?” you ask.

“That’s none of your concern,” he says. He comes closer and caresses your cheek. You flinch away and he grips your jaw tight in his fist.

“So I suggest you tell us what the NYPD is up to, and I won’t have to bust up that pretty face of yours,” he whispers in your ear.

“I would never,” you say with gritted teeth. He lets you go and back hands you across the face before he walks away, his goons follow him out of the room, leaving you alone in the dark.

Jake’s POV

Boyle had brought Jake back to the precinct, where he told the whole squad what happened.

“I can’t lose her, sh-she’s my everything,” he says looking to the Sarge and the rest of the Squad.

“We will find her,” Rosa says almost emotionless, but what else did he expect.

“Ya, this is our top priority,” Holt says. “Everyone start working on possible leads as to where Y/n is, dismissed,”

Everyone rushes back to their desks to start looking for possible surveillance footage, and any possible leads on her whereabouts.

It had only taken about ten minutes of Jake being back in the precinct for a letter to arrive for him. He sat back down at his desk to open it. The envelope had no return address and when he opened it he found it to be written using cut out letters. Jake looked down at the letter and began to read it. After he finished the letter Amy could hear him start to breathe very heavily.

“What is it Jake,” without saying a word Jake hands the letter to Amy. she gives it a quick skim.

“Sarge! We got a problem,” She shouts.

“What! What's going on,” he says

“It’s a ransom note, they want to meet at their old warehouse and want two plane tickets to Mexico for Y/n’s safe return, any funny business and we take her far far away,” Amy says

“They wanna meet tonight,”

Reader’s POV

It had been several hours Jimmy Figgis kidnapped you and kept you locked in that dark windowless room. Your joint had started to become stiff from being in the same position for a long period of time. The sound of the deadbolt lock slicing through the silence, when we door starts to open the light causes you to squint, Jimmy and His goons walk in again.

“So Sweetheart, are you ready to tell me your plan, why were you and Peralta in my warehouse,”

You don’t give him a response. You just give him the coldest stare you can.

“Not ready eh? Why don’t my friends here try to persuade you,” He says

That when his goons come up with knives in their hands. They take the blades and set them along your exposed wrists.

“One more time, why were you in my warehouse?” you can feel the anger boiling inside of you, and before your brain can react you’ve spit in his face. He takes his large hand and wipes it off.

He gives both his goons a glare and they both start to slice through your delicate skin.

Trying your best to hold in your cries, you groan and moan. As the tears are threatening to spill from your eyes, Figgis comes in really close to your face and asks

“Why were you in my warehouse?”

When Figgis was done interrogating you, your arms were covered in your own blood, along with the cut on your cheek and one to you collarbone. Figgis had again left you alone in the dark, when you all of a sudden heard a loud crashing.

That's when you heard the battle cries of NYPD officers.

“Jake! Amy! Sarge! Someone I'm here!” you screamed, your voice still sore from all the screaming you had been holding back.

“Y/n? Baby are you in there?” You want to cry hearing the voice of your boyfriend.

“Yes, Jake please get me out!”

That's when Jake busts through the door gun pointed, the tears you had been holding back had begun to fall.

“Y/n! Oh my god,” Jake says had he runs over to untie you. You reach up to wrap you arms around him, not caring about the immense pain you about to feel.

“I was so worried about you, I didn’t know what I would do if I lost you,” Jake says between pants. He’s buried his face in the crook of you neck.

“Did you get him? Figgis?”

“Yes, he can’t hurt you anymore,” you and Jake both sigh with relief.

Jake picks you up bridal style and carried out back out to the ambulance they have waiting. Jake is there to hold you while the medic wraps your wounds. He’s whispering ‘I love you’s’ in you ear and rocking you lightly to comfort you. Once the medic is done Jake and you both walk back to his car so he can take you home.

Once you arrive back at home Jake helps you get inside and into bed, he slips in beside you and spoons you while planting sweet little kissed to your temple and cheek.

“I love you so much Y/n,” Jake whispers to you

“I love you too,” you whisper back.

I hope you like this, I had a really fun time writing it and hope to write more Jake Peralta fics because he is literally my favourite character ever. Leave me feedback because I like to hear what others think of my work.

#brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta #b99 #ray holt #terry jeffords #amy santiago #charles boyle #rosa diaz #nbc brooklyn 99 #reader insert #reader #brooklyn 99 fic #nine nine #angst with a happy ending #angst

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