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another-fantasy-world · 3 years

Note

hi could you please make another alice cullen x fem!reader?? i really really love your last one you made, it was so beautiful <3

||AN|| Thank youuu! I'm happy you enjoyed my last one, also, thank you for requesting!

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Pairing: Alice Cullen x Fem! Reader

Summary: Alice with a human girlfriend who’s more vampire-like than her.

Warnings: None? Fluff. Happy Couple.

Word Count: 2,084 words

GIF isn’t mine

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You were always the night owl, lived off coffee and good books and you only wear dark colors. Your routine includes waking up at 10 pm, Cooking and eating your dinner at approximately 11:30 pm, Studying until 6 am, Taking a shower, Make your coffee, and be at school at 7:00 am where you meet up with you too-bright-and-jolly girlfriend, Alice Cullen. After school you then either head home to your own house, or to the Cullens household, either way you crash into anything soft and just ultimately pass out, and your cycle repeats. Sometimes your girlfriend would join you in studying even if she didn’t need it, Sometimes you’d do other things with your girlfriend, some of the things you do aren’t appropriate for a house full of vampires with super hearing, and not to mention her nosy brother who had the ability to read minds.

“Get out of the way before I pummel you to the ground asshole.” You grumbled to the guy who’s blocking your way and was staring at your girlfriend like she’s a piece of meat. You hated that but you couldn’t do anything. One, pretty sure it’s illegal to kill someone even if you’re thinking about all the ways you could and Two, you miss you girlfriend’s cold hand holding yours.

You see him shiver before grabbing his things and scrambling away, his goons hot on his tail.

“You have the most creative mind I have ever come across. Really? Using his blood as paint after you use gamma rays to blow up his uhm. Yeah. Where would you even get gamma rays?” Edward scrunches his face as they all approach you.

“Pretty sure Carlisle would hook me up with some.” You smirked then kissed your girlfriend’s forehead, You held her hand in yours as she giggled, getting out of her trance like state.

“Carlisle denied.” She kissed your cheek before dragging you inside the school, where they all separated like the goddamn sea in that one bible story.

Safe to say, you were pretty feared in the whole town. Socially isolated, always has a cup of coffee in hand, dark marks under your eyes, a blank looks often settles on your face,always had earphones in, glared at people who made your family uncomfortable, scared people without trying and a student could’ve sworn he saw you drink someones blood which he says was inside your coffee cup. It was beetroot juice since you ran out of coffee but needed something hot to drink, so you made beetroot juice, with lots and lots of sugar. You were dubbed as a vampire or a witch, which was hilarious considering your girlfriend is a vampire. A bright, happy, sparkling vampire who doesn’t sleep in coffins whatsoever.

“Have a good day baby, see you at lunch.” Alice kissed your cheek before bouncing in her classroom followed by Emmett who winked at you and Rosalie who raised her brows at you and told you to behave.

“I always behave!” You argued with a small pout on your lips, barely noticeable but Rosalie just smirks before walking gracefully into the room, sitting in between Emmett and Alice who just shooed you away.

“It’s never a good day.” you whispered while walking away, fully knowing that they could hear you.

Lunch came so slow that by the time you sat at your usual spot, you already had thoughts on murdering your history teacher who ‘unintentionally’ spat at your face and drizzled her spit on your face like a waterfall.

“It’s only been half a day Y/LN, You’ll get through it.” Rosalie slides her tray of food over to you while petting your head.

“i don’t understand why you choose to go through this over and over again.” You groaned, laying your head on Alice’s shoulder. They just laughed and proceeded to talk about things that you don’t even bother to listen to.

“You’re coming over today right?” Alice asked you with that bell like voice that you so loved

“Hmm? Oh yeah, Cuddles?” You whispered to her, internally groaning at how soft you’ve become for your girlfriend.

“Yes please. You’re warm.”

“And you are freezing cold.” You retorted, stealing some of her fries

“It comes with the package. Now come on, I’ll walk you to your room.” She pats you head while moving away, packing her things. Which low-key made you whine.

“But I always escort you to your room.” You complained

“That’s true, but I figured you wouldn’t be opposed to change.” She smiled, offering her hand which you took.

“Edward?”

“Nope. Not telling you. I am not going on another shopping spree with that little devil of yours.” He sped walked away, dragging Bella with him

“I think you traumatized him real bad, Ali.” You chuckled

“Good.” She exclaimed

12 midnight, and you just woke up to Alice holding you while reading a book, She smiles at you before tapping her lips, asking for a kiss. You shook your head no, trying to get out of her arms to brush your teeth.

“Nope, kisses first before brushing.” She grips you tighter

“Eww. Morning breath. Alice please!” She just grins before showering your face with kisses.

“There. You can go now, Esme just finished your dinner.” She beamed at you, pushing you into the large bathroom that she has before sitting on the sink.

“Uhm...” You stare at her, confused

“What?”

The both of you took an hour long shower, you didn’t even need to shower, Alice just persuaded you into doing so. Earning you different looks from different vampires the moment you walked down the stairs.

A suggestive smirk from Rosalie and a laughing Emmett A smirking Jasper A confused Bella with a disgusted looking Edward A smiling Esme holding a bowl of food And lastly, A laughing Carlisle.

“Oh my God.” You groaned, walking to the dining room, thanking Esme for the food.

“Really Y/N?” complained Edward who’s cuddling a still confused Bella

“What? Just because you decide to wait until marriage does not mean I have to.” You smirked, winking at Edward who would be blushing if he was human.

“Don’t talk while your mouth is full.” Scolded Esme who’s also trying to keep her laugh in

“Yes Mom. Anyways, Bella I love you, but you look like you’re about to shut down and ready to be pawned like an old computer.” You told her, biting into a chicken leg

“i’ll take her home.” Edward says, grabbing his keys and waits for Bella.

“Why is she here anyways” Grumbled Rosalie, who everyone ignored while you just tapped her head

“Let’s play chess when you get back!” You shouted after him

You finish your food quickly and washed your plates, much to the distaste of Esme, leading your giggling short girlfriend to the couch beside Jasper.

“Jasper~ Wanna watch documentaries of wars and judge everything they did wrong?” You ask Jasper who’s nodding at your request. Alice plopping herself on your lap as she stares at you laughing and smiling with her family.

She’s really happy to have found you the way she did, She reminisced the time when the two of you first met. You were browsing racks and racks of clothes, taking black colored blouses, shirts and button-ups that are your size before walking into a dressing room. While you were in the room, she started to have a vision about the two of you together, having dates and you carrying her shopping bags in this same store, making her all giddy. She was with Rosalie at that time, who just stared at her with a look of slight confusion as she basically bounced to you. You at first was taken aback that someone was actually talking to you, and it was a cute girl at that. Alice greeted you with a smile and a hello before handing you a green blazer and tie, telling you emerald green compliments your eyes and outfit before paying for what you were buying, writing her name and number on the receipt, leaving you dumbfounded at the store

At first she thought that the both of you wouldn’t work out, especially because of all the chaos that recently happened to her family and leaving forks. But you made the effort of always texting her little notes and telling her how your day was, even if she didn’t reply, slowly she felt herself fall more in love with you, letting herself reply and indulge in the visions that she had that involved you. Once she told her family about you, they were a bit skeptical, especially since Carlisle tended to your knuckle wounds one too many times. But upon seeing the love sick look on both your eyes and the loud complaining of Edward at how sickeningly cute your thoughts were of each other, they eventually accepted you as one of their own despite being human.

And now she stares in awe as you spent about 2 hours criticizing documentaries with Jasper before Edward comes home, and when he did, you played a couple rounds of chess (You always lost, which made Edward laugh every time.) before she decided that she’s bored with you losing to her brother every round and just decided to pick you up and dash to her room.

“What was that for love?” You ask her when she settled herself in your arms

“I just. I was bored and I realized that it’s been too long since we cuddled.”

“It’s literally been 4 hours since I woke up bumblebee.” You ran your hand through her hair

“I missed you. 4 hours is too long.”

“Awe. I missed you too. Want to pick up where we left off on How to Kill a Mockingbird?” You ask her

“Yes please, I love hearing your voice.” She puts her face on the crook of your neck as you read to her, one of your hand intertwined with hers.

Even though she can’t fall asleep anymore, she loves the way your voice sounds, it calms her down and she could easily compare the “peace” she feels right now to the “peace” she could remember feeling when she was asleep. She really did love you and she doesn’t hesitate to let you know. In multiple various ways.

Like now, she cut off your reading when her soft lips touched yours. You immediately let go of the book to hold her face lovingly as you put all your feelings into the kiss like you always do. You always felt like your words are never enough, so you always try to express your feeling through physical affection.

As if remembering you need your air, she slowly pulls away, her forehead touching yours as you catch your breath.

“I love you” she whispers, kissing your nose

“I love you too.” You smiled, pecking her lips

Your moment was then ruined when Emmett started banging his fists on the door, loudly exclaiming that you all have to get ready for school. You growled lowly, rolling your eyes.

“Alright! Geez.” You grumpily picked up the book that was tossed to the floor before walking to Alice’s closet where you also keep some of your clothes in...

Only to see that they weren’t there.

“Uhm Alice? Darling? Where are my clothes?” You ask her

She walks to where you are, peeking in slightly before pecking your lips.

“Oops. Accidentally sent all them to your house. Guess you have to wear my clothes then.” She smirked at you, pulling out a lemon yellow trench coat, a rosy pink turtleneck and hot pink pants with a blue belt.

“Baby, Alice. Love. Darling. Bumblebee. Please don’t do this to me.” You pleaded but she just shook her head, handing you the clothes before threatening you with no kisses and cuddles for a week if you refuse.

Your shoulders sag with defeat as you change into the clothes Alice gave you, pouting while walking down the stairs of the Cullen Household. Alice smiles brightly as she hooked her arm around yours. Chuckles and giggles erupted the moment they saw you which made you grumble and murmur underneath your breath as you sip your cup of coffee made by Esme.

“You-”

“Not a word.” You growled out, blushing furiously as you laughing girlfriend holds your hand while walking through the halls of Forks High school.

Your girlfriend can be annoying at times, add that to her chaotic family, but you would never trade it for anything. Ever.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #Alice Cullen #alice x reader #alice x you #alice cullen x reader #alice/you #cullens x reader #anon #anon asks

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ellohcee · 2 years

Note

🌈

Jasper swallowed as he watched David keying in his purchase on the register. He’d decided today was the day, so now had to be the time, right? He hesitated, standing in the silence of the shop as the familiar smell of coffee and old books comforted him. A smell that he’d started to associate with his friend… “Say uh, Davey?”

“Yes?” he asked, eyes flickering up to Jasper, his normally sweet smile tempered a little by worry, hearing the hesitant tone in Jasper’s voice.

This is it, just ask.

“I was wondering if uh… if…” Jasper hedged, pausing, feeling the bit of nerve he’d worked up starting to fail. Fuck. “If… You… could tell me what kinda coffee that is you always have?” he finished lamely, immediately hating himself for the odd look David gave him, pausing as he he stared at Jasper curiously.

“Of course, it’s just a house roast. I’ll write down the brand name for you,” the redhead said kindly, sounding a little off himself. “This one comes to $3.87.”

“Cool, thanks,” Jasper replied, pulling a few ones out of his wallet and handing them over. What a fucking coward, good god what he wouldn’t give for the floor to open up and drop him into a bottomless pit right now, never to darken the doorway of the little bookstore ever again-

David handed back his change and waited for the receipt to print out, ripping it off and grabbing a pen. Jasper watched him glumly as he wrote, but didn’t focus on what David was doing because the last thing he cared about right now was coffee. He just wanted to go home and drown his mortification in something strong.

“There we go,” David said, folding the receipt so it wouldn’t smudge ink when he stuck it in the book. “All set,” he said brightly, holding the book out to Jasper.

“Hey, thanks dude,” he said, a little somberly, as he took his purchase. “I’ll seeya later.”

“Sounds good, bye Jasp,” David replied.

The bell jingled above his head as Jasper stepped out of the store, sighing quietly once he was outside and taking a moment to just stand there, tiredly annoyed. Finally he held the book up and pulled the receipt out. He unfolded it just for the hell of it to see what the coffee brand was, and stopped in surprise to see a phone number written below it. He stared at the writing for a long moment before turning to look over his shoulder through the display window.

David was watching him, looking a little hesitant. When their eyes met he gave a nervous smile and a little wave, looking red in the cheeks.

Jasper’s mouth hung open just a little before looking down at the receipt and back up at David, finally giving a befuddled but delighted grin, waving back.

David’s smile grew and Jasper felt like he’d been hit by a truck, turning to continue down the street. He shoved the book into the pocket of his jacket and stared at the receipt in awe.

How had he totally fucked that up and still gotten David’s number?

#ellotalks #jaspvid

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troped-fanfic-challenge · 2 years

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AUTHOR REVEAL of the TROPED CHOICE: HORROR FICS!

i dug this grave i call my home (so long, farewell, i’m on my own) (Rated E) [JATP - Reggie/Bobby] by @flynn-taylor

Content Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death (The Mods ask you to please mind the tags and Author’s warnings!)

Summary: As soon as he reaches the hospital, Bobby goes numb.

The adrenaline dissipates to leave him empty, running on instinct and only his most basic human instincts. He can breathe and he can blink but he cannot cry or process the words he is being told.

All Bobby can think about is the fact that he is alive while his friends lie dead just down the corridor.

All three of them.

or the very angsty and highly graphic take on how bobby copes with the deaths of sunset curve

the final girl (Rated E) [The 100 - Octavia/Lincoln] by @northernxstories

Content Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Summary: Submission for the Troped Horror 2.0 - October 2021. Happy Halloween All! Enjoy my spooky tale!

touch my tears with your lips (and we can have forever) (Rated T) [JATP - Alex/Willie] by @willexmagic

Content Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Summary: “Can I get a name?”

Willie bites his lip, glancing around at the very empty coffee shop. “I didn’t think that would be necessary.”

“Just, um, protocol,” Alex answers, and Willie wonders if he’s imagining the faint pink tinge on his cheeks.

Or, Willie keeps coming back to one specific coffee shop in order to catch the attention of the cute barista.

Tell Me A Story (Rated M) [The 100 - Echo/Niylah] by @sailawaymayday

Content Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Summary: Echo starts a new job at an old historic house working overnights. The stories the cute barista tells her are just stories, right?

Welcome to Arkadia High, where you are all going to die! (Rated T) [The 100 - Gen Fic] by @thelittlefanpire

Content Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Summary: The Delinquents spend Halloween weekend filming a ‘90s-inspired Horror movie at their high school as Wells Jaha comes to terms with the end of his best friends’ relationship

Dance When You’re Undead (Rated ) [The 100 - Octavia/Clarke] by @kinetic-elaboration

Content Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Warnings

Summary: Octavia returns from a night of scaring to a party in full swing at the Monster Academy dorms.

not you (not anymore) (Rated T) [The 100 - Jasper/Murphy] by @wwjacksparrowd

Content Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Warnings

Summary: It’s been six months since Jasper moved into his newest foster home. It was average enough to start with - Jaha is decent as far as foster parents go, and he gets along pretty well with Raven, the other foster kid in the house. He’d like to do a lot more than just get along with Murphy, his new neighbor (though he’s pretty sure that’s hopeless so long as he can’t learn to stop putting his foot in his mouth) but even as things are, he’s happy enough just having Murphy around as a maybe-almost-friend. For the first time in a long while, life is pretty okay.

Then Alie moves in.

The Jaha household is in for one hell of a Halloween….

Money Can’t Buy Me Love (Rated M) [The 100 - Octavia/Roan] by @loveislarryislove

Content Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Summary: Octavia and Bellamy had drastically different upbringings. He’s the son of one of the wealthiest men in the city and goes to the fanciest school in the city. She… is not and does not. But when she sneaks into the Halloween party one of his classmates is throwing, she’s determined to make an impression anyways. It just might not be the impression she expected to make.

laughing at clouds so dark above, the sun’s in my heart (i’m ready for love) (Rated G) [JATP - Julie/Luke] by @kybee1497

Content Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Summary: Luke was music. He was always humming under his breath or scribbling down lyrics on the closest surface he could find: receipts, grocery lists, notepads, his bare arms or the skin poking out through the rips in his jeans, Julie, if she was in reach, as well as the notebook he was supposed to write in. His guitar was always within reach, half the time because he took it with him, and half the time because Julie summoned it with a snap of her fingers when he started to fidget, fingers plucking at invisible strings as he thought. He made it look effortless, flexor digitorum superficialis and the flexor digitorum profundus flexing his fingers as they picked out chords with an ease that was captivating.

It was fascinating, knowing exactly what it was that made up the man she loved. She knew the components of a body, how it all worked together, and why, but she still was in awe that something as simple as the human body could hold all the energy, passion, and life that was Luke.

—————

All the Winners can be found here.

We hope you enjoy these scary fics from our talented Tropesters! Make sure to leave kudos and comments to show them some love! And don’t forget, if you missed the initial writing deadline you can still submit your fics to our Non-Anon Collection at any time! Thank you all so much for participating in this event! Now that winners and authors have been revealed feel free to post about your fics, create artwork for it, if you like, and don’t forget to tag us!

Happy Halloween! xx S&B

#troped choice: horror #troped choice 6.0 #troped: horror #author reveal #the 100 fanfiction #jatp fanfiction

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fatiguing-thoughts · 4 years

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“New Moon” - Jasper Hale Miniseries Part 2

I woke up in the morning to an empty side of the bed next to me.

“No, no, no!” I exclaim, running my hands sporadically throughout the spot where Jasper laid next to me last night.

This couldn’t be real, but it was real.

I grabbed my phone off the desk and called Jasper.

“Sorry, the number you have called is out of service.”

I called the rest of the family, all the same. I wanted to scream, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My head was spinning, I was having a panic attack. I felt like I was dying.

Before I knew it, I hit the floor.

I woke up hours later, waking up to my living nightmare. It felt like my heart was ripped clean out of my chest, with no promise of return.

How could life rob me of the people I loved most in my life? Take away my families that gave me love, twice?

When the car accident happened on my way home from high school graduation, it killed my entire family. I was the only survivor. I moved to Washington to start a new life, I was too depressed to live in my home anymore, I couldn’t bare to live in that house. I moved to Olympia and attended Evergreen State College. Portland became too much for me, I had to go.

After I met Jasper and his family, things grew easier for me. The hole in my heart slowly filled. I felt loved again, people cared for me like a family. They loved and respected me; I was not lonely anymore. Holidays weren’t spent crying alone anymore, they were spent surrounded by love. I miss my family dearly but was grateful for a second chance for a family. But now, it was once again ripped from my hands at the hand of someone else.

I stumbled over to my desk, looking at the pictures of my handsome boyfriend and myself. I noticed that he took one; I hope he looks at it as much as I look at them.

I thought back to how I met Jasper. I was shopping in Port Angeles, as I like to drive and take road trips at any given chance. I ran into three beautiful women on that rainy day. The tiniest of the three, who I then learned was Alice, looked at me, stared blankly, and dropped what was in her hands at that time. The other two women turned to look at me, before going back to her. She whispered something to them. They all looked at me quizzically before approaching me. I hung out with them for quite some time, befriending them. I know now that she had a vision, she knew I was Jasper’s mate. Rosalie and I clicked very well. We exchanged numbers and agreed to hang out at some point. I spent the rest of the day with them. At one point their adoptive brother, Jasper, met up with us as he needed to shop too.

When Jasper and I made eye contact, all of the air left my lungs. I almost collapsed to the floor, my knees buckled and I gripped onto Rosalie’s arm for support. Alice was smiling uncontrollably as the same thing seemed to happen to Jasper.

“Hello, my name is Jasper Hale.” He says, reaching out his hand for me to take.

“I’m (Y/N Y/L/N).�� I said, short of breath, meeting my hand to his.

He grabbed my hand and kissed it, causing me to blush uncontrollably.

The sweet memory caused me to smile, before heading back into reality.

The situation daunted on me, I was alone. I had nobody with me, wouldn’t have anyone with me for quite some time. My best friends, my family, my love-- they’re all gone without a trace.

So I did what I could, I laid in my bed and stared at the ceiling for God knows how long. I had class in an hour and had to go, so I wouldn’t lose sight of my goal. Only now there was a new motive: to see Jasper sooner.

I went to my class, but none of it felt real. It was all a blur. When I returned to my dorm room, I stared out my window.

And that’s how I spent all of my time now, watching the world around me change as I stayed the same. I was too depressed to do anything extra. I went to class, tried to listen, and did the work I had to do. People spoke to me, but it fell upon deaf ears.

I left Jasper and Rosalie voicemails on a daily basis. I wrote letters for Jasper daily, planning to give him them all at once when, even though it felt more like an if, I ever get to see him again.

Being indefinitely separated from my mate left me feeling as if I was living in hell. My nightmares came back, and they came back worse.

I would wake up screaming, having the RA banging on my door to see if I was okay, as people called it in thinking someone was dying. Though I wasn’t physically dying, I felt like I was. I was emotionally and mentally drained as the weeks went on. Weeks turned into months. By the time October rolled around, I still hadn’t talked to anyone. I was so isolated that I even forgot that other people attended this school.

Until one day, a kid in my busines statistics class spoke to me.

“Hey, do you know what we’re doing? I don’t really understand this.” He says to me, trying to smile in a friendly way.

“Uh, yeah.” I say shyly.

I explained the problem to him and turned my attention back towards the lecture.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” He said nicely.

“You know my name?” I said surprisingly. I was so down and lost in my own head, I never learned his name.

“Well, it is on your paper.” He said chuckling.

“Ah yes. That’s true. And your name?” I ask, trying to force myself to talk. After all, this is the most social interaction I’ve had since Jasper left a month ago.

“Mark. It’s nice to finally hear something out of you.” He teased.

I smiled back and chuckled out a “Yeah, that’s fair.”

The class came to an end and with that, I left to go sulk in my room.

Every class, Mark tried to talk to me more and more. He was very nice, I just didn’t feel a need to make any friends anymore.

“Hey listen (Y/N), I know you didn’t do anything for Halloween. Thanksgiving break is coming up in a couple of weeks. I think you need to have some fun. My friends and I are hanging out this weekend at my place. I think you should come by and try the whole, social, thing.” Mark kindly offers.

I sat and thought about it. What was there to lose? I didn’t necessarily want to go, but maybe it would be a nice distraction that wasn’t staring out my window all weekend.

“Ok Mark. I’ll stop by for a little while.” I said calmly.

“Oh wow, actually? That was easier than I thought.” He laughs.

He hands me his phone with a new contact page up. I add myself and hand the phone back.

The class ends and I head back to my dorm.

After sitting for about an hour looking out my window, my phone buzzes. It was Mark.

“So we’ll see you tomorrow at 6:30. Please try to have fun.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there. I’ll try my best.” I respond.

I started writing Jasper’s letter before I stare at the backpack I’ve yet to open.

I can’t explain why I couldn’t. I was just so nervous. But it was time. It’s been almost two months since the Cullens left.

I unzip the massive backpack and see an absurd amount of cash, some papers, and some little packages. I open the papers first. One is the address of the new apartment and the other two are sealed with my name on it.

I open the first one and see a receipt? I look closer and see that he had paid off the duration of my tuition here. I almost cried at the thought of it, and I would’ve if I had any tears left.

I open the second one and see his handwriting. I stopped breathing for a second.

“Dear (Y/N),

I’m so sorry for what is happening Darlin’. I hope this ends sooner than later because not being with you is the worst pain that I could ever fathom. I hope you treat yourself well, please take care of yourself. I can’t wait to see you again, my love. Soon enough, we’ll have forever together. Do well in school, it’s important. I left you what I think you’ll need in this bag, please don’t miss anything in it. I will see you soon enough, doll.

Love always,

Jasper Whitlock Hale”

My tears dropped upon the paper. I opened the rest of the bag.

I saw a little rectangle box. I opened it and gasped. It was a necklace with a “J” on it. I held it close to my chest before putting it on.

It almost felt like he was real again. It felt like I wasn’t just imagining everything that happened to me.

I grabbed a picture of he and I before climbing into bed and holding it to my chest. I laid there until I fell asleep holding it.

When I woke up, it was 10 am. I did some homework and decided to finally go see the apartment that Jasper picked for me.

I ate some breakfast and got in my car. About an hour or so later, I pulled into the parking lot of a cute complex. I go up to mine and look around. It felt so empty despite being furnished. I walk into the kitchen and see a note on the counter. It was from Jasper.

“Hey Doll, it looks like you found the apartment. I hope you like what we’ve done with it for you.”

I almost instinctively crumpled the note up in my hands as I held it to my chest, but stopped myself. I put it back on the counter before finding my bedroom. It was customized just for me, that’s for sure. My eyes welled up with tears and I couldn’t control myself when I saw the framed picture of Jasper and I on the wall. I looked out the window and admired the view of the tree line. I missed my boyfriend more than anything. This was going to be hard. At about 4 or so, I decided to head back to school after dropping some of my stuff in the apartment.

I get back and get ready to go to Mark’s hangout. This would not only be my first social setting in some time, but my first big group of people in months. I was so afraid I could get sick.

I drive to the address that Mark gave me and let him know I was there. I looked around and noticed that this was definitely a frat house. Well, let’s hope for the best.

He came outside to come get me. I exited the car and followed him inside to see about 25 people in the living room and kitchen area. This was going to be a nightmare.

“Hey (Y/N), thanks for coming. Can I get you something to drink?” Mark offers.

“No thank you, I have water with me.”

“What? You don’t want a shot or anything?” He asked me confused.

“Mark I’m driving. I also don’t drink, but thank you.” I tell him.

As I look around I become increasingly aware of the fact that I’m the only female here.

“Did I crash a boy’s night or something?” I ask him.

“No I just wanted everyone to meet you.” He says.

“Oh?” I said puzzled.

“Is this her? Is this (Y/N)?” A large man comes up and asks Mark,

“Yes it is.” Mark answered. “(Y/N), this is Joe.”

“Hi Joe. Nice to meet you.” I said shyly.

“Hello. You’re right Mark, she is really pretty. You should ask her out.”

Ah there it is, the reason I was invited.

“Please go away, Joe.” Mark said as he pushed Joe out of the conversation.

“Well…” Mark trails off, looking at me.

“Well what?” I ask back.

“Would you wanna go out some time?” He asked nervously.

“Mark, I’m flattered. Thank you but I’m actually with someone. It’s pretty serious. I appreciate the gesture, though.” I say nicely.

“So why are you alone all the time?” He asks me, with kind of annoyed tone.

“Because he’s not here right now?” I said questioning his tone.

“Well, let’s just get you to have some fun tonight.” He said, pulling me further into the house by my hand.

As I walk through, all I see is drunk men. I haven’t been this uncomfortable in so long.

I sit on the couch alone and look around. I check my phone, nothing.

“What’s a pretty girl like you sitting all alone for?” I hear from above me.

My stomach turned as I look up and see a guy about the size of Emmett.

Emmett. I miss my chaos twin. I miss them all so much.

I lost my track of thought when I felt the couch dip next to me and someone throwing their arm over my shoulder.

Once again, the feeling of nausea was returning. The pit in my stomach was turning.

“So, what’s your name? Jasmine? Jade? Am I close?” He says, reaching out to twiddle his fingers around my “J” necklace.

I quickly grab my necklace from his grasp.

“No, my name is (Y/N). The J is my boyfriend’s initial. His name is Jasper.” I snapped at him.

“Oh, so where is your boyfriend, then? Why would he leave you all alone? Doesn’t seem like he cares very much if you’re alone all the time, or if you came here alone.” He said in a whisper as he caressed my arm. I could smell the liquor on his breath.

I wish I knew where he was.

“He does, he’s busy doing something important.” I said harshly as I pull my arm away quickly.

My phone begins to go off in my pocket, I get up to look at the screen. It’s an unknown number. Hell I’d answer anyone, even a spam call, to get out of this situation right now.

“Hello?” I say into the phone, happy just to have a break in whatever that situation was turning into.

“(Y/N), leave. Now.” It was Alice.

“Alice?” I basically scream into the phone.

“(Y/N), please leave. Never speak to them again. Get out, go home.” She says as I hear the call end.

I ran out of the house, started my car, and left. My worries weren’t for nothing. They were going to hurt me.

But as I drove home, none of that really stayed on my mind.

Alice called me; I couldn’t even trace a number. I couldn’t call back. For once I felt like they were real again. I began to cry, I missed them so much. The most I heard from them in months was a fifteen second phone call. I didn’t get to talk, it was just so I wouldn’t let myself get hurt.

I pulled into my usual parking spot and headed up to my dorm room. Hoping that this semester ends soon enough. I only have two weeks before Winter break. This couldn’t come sooner.

I crawled into my bed, staring at the J on my necklace until I fell asleep.

Jasper’s POV

Hearing the phone call was too much for me.

Hearing about Alice’s vision was too much for me.

This was all too much for me. I needed to see (Y/N).

I needed to go there and kill every single one of them. If it wasn’t for Emmett and Carlisle holding me back and calming me down, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.

I was sick of just hoping my fragile (Y/N) would be okay. It wasn’t enough for me that Alice was watching with her visions.

I have an anger so deep within me that I could destroy anything in my path. So that’s what I did with Emmett. We went outside and broke boulders about fifteen miles from where we were staying. It was how I was gonna keep myself calm.

“I’m really sorry Jasper.” Emmett says to me.

“Thank you, Emmett.” I look back at him.

“We all miss her too, I know it’s different. But it hurts us too. I wish she could’ve come. But we’ll see her soon.” He says to me.

“I want it more than anything. I would also like to show up to that party.” My voice trailed off. If vampires could cry, I’d have been crying from the start of this conversation.

“I know, but we can’t. We have to be happy nothing happened to her. So I really can’t let you go do that.” He pats the back of my left shoulder.

I nodded to him. Emmett was truly the best brother I could ask for. Rosalie picked an amazing mate, and I owe her one for that.

“Do you smell that?” He says, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“Bears?” I say, a little bit of the predator side in me taking over.

“Yeah, I think it’s time for dinner.” He says smirking.

And just like that we were off, racing to find a bear.

*********

Word Count: 2973

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goldeneyedgirl · 3 years

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TwiFicMas20 Day 3: Married in Vegas

I hope December is treating everyone well <3 Today’s offering is ‘Married in Vegas’. G requested it to be included in FicMas months ago, and it’s here. In pieces, because I may have over-estimated how ‘ready’ it was to be seen.

It also degenerated into something terribly depressing, when I was definitely going for something happier, rom-com meets coming of age, so large chunks definitely need to be rewritten.

Oh, and if you want more of a specific fic, you NEED to tell me, or it will simply languish on my harddrive, forgotten forever.

Onwards!

I meet him on a Thursday night, in the shitty little bar where I work. We talk, he drinks, and then he leaves.

By Saturday night, I am Mrs Alice Whitlock-Hale, with a ring bought from some cheap jewellery vendor and a plastic flower crown in my hair.

It was the best night of my life.

Okay, so I could start at the beginning. But the true beginning is a four-year-old girl being left behind when her mom runs away with her baby sister, and the middle is when, at fourteen, that girl is thrown out of her father’s house. She tries to go home once, at sixteen, only to find out that her dad and step-monster moved away. Left the state and left her behind without so much as a forwarding address.

But that story is depressing as hell, so we’ll start when things get interesting.

My ‘husband’ – Jasper Whitlock-Hale - was a strapping 6-foot-something soldier fresh from his last tour – honourably discharged, he was quick to inform me when we first met, and I could tell that was a point of some pride for him.

I worked at a bar called ‘Sassy’s’. It had been opened in the 70s and I was pretty sure it hadn’t been cleaned or redecorated since those halcyon days. The current owner was Bruno – his son, Emil, was the manager. They were both decent, in that they paid me on time and never groped me. It’s pretty sad when those factors qualify as ‘decent’, but you tend not to be too picky when you’re applying for work at places like ‘Sassy’s’.

Especially when you’re an underage runaway.

How were we still in business? Well, we did dollar beers after nine at night (it wasn’t good beer), and we served pretty good nachos, and we had a huge flat-screen television. Oh, and we ignored any kind of gambling that happened in the dark corners.

It started off as a totally normal night – the usual crowd waiting for their cheap beers, wiping down sticky tables, and killing time. If I was lucky, there wouldn’t be any decent sports playing tonight, and no one would bitch much if I switched the channel over.

He walked through the door just after nine, limping quite obviously. He was wearing a button-down shirt, jeans and a worn leather jacket. He looked kind of haunted – but that isn’t exactly unusual in Vegas; if you don’t arrive with regrets, you’re probably going to leave with them.

He also looked too young, too clean and way too promising to be a patron at Sassy’s. I was slinging beer at that point, as he approached.

“Beer, please,” he said as he sat at the bar.

“Dollar, thanks,” I said with a smile, grabbing a chipped – but clean – glass, and grabbed a dish of peanuts. They were pretty good – more than often, they were my dinner.

“Thanks,” he nodded once, staring at the amber liquid for a moment. He looked exhausted.

I kept working – stacking fresh glasses, packing the dirty ones into the ancient dishwasher behind the bar that Bruno had installed last summer, so proudly. Pretty sure it was older than me, but it meant that I didn’t have to deal with the washing-up anymore, so I smiled and thanked him, as if I didn’t spend at least half a shift trying to get the damned thing to work.

“Mija!” Luis ducked his head out of the kitchen, passing me a plate.

“Thanks,” I said. “Need a drink?”

“Nah, just fine girly.”

Luis had it easy. He was in college, so this was a part-time gig for him – he only came in two nights a week. He earned twice what I earned, but we didn’t get as many orders for food, so he got to sit in the tiny-ass kitchen (seriously, two people couldn’t fit back there) and study. He’d make me dinner every shift we worked together, which was nice of him. Tonight was grilled cheese.

On quiet nights, I liked to prop the kitchen door open, and sit on the bar and listen to him talk about his classes while I ate. He was always hinting about me going to college, about financial assistance and scholarships, but it just wasn’t going to happen for me.

I had a mouthful of food when the group in the corner started yelling for more drinks. These guys knew Bruno and Emil, so I had to tolerate their smart-ass mouths. They liked to tease the ‘princess’ who worked there. I got that from a lot of regulars, but these guys liked to imply that I was a whore, and tell me they’d wait for me after work to ‘test me out’.

Luis said it was because they were testing me, and they were pissed that Bruno never fired the white girl. Camila, one of the ex-waitresses, was the daughter of one of them and that was why they never tipped me. A form of protest. I never breathed a word about it, and treated them just as well as any other customer.

“Beers, gentlemen,” I said, sliding the tray onto the table. “Can I get you anything else?”

“I’ll say,” one of them leered and another slapped me on the ass. I rolled my eyes and turned to go back to the bar.

“Rough night?” the guy at the bar said as I returned.

“What? Oh, them,” I shrugged, picking up my sandwich. “They’re here every night.”

“They act like that all the time?” he asked.

“Yeah, but they’re just blowing off steam. Don’t like that I kept my job and one of their daughters didn’t,” I said. “Can I get you another?”

“Please.” He watched me move carefully. “What’s your name?”

“Mary,” I said, placing another beer in front of him, and grabbing a soda for myself.

“Jasper, ma’am,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Jasper. You from around here?”

By closing time, Jasper had nursed four beers and half my sandwich – which he inhaled like he hadn’t eaten in a while. We’d chatted. He’d just returned from his third tour in the Middle East – he didn’t say much about that, though I heard some pride in his voice when he mentioned it.

We talked about Vegas a bit, about the things he missed when he was overseas (his aunt’s chocolate cake, the cool forests of Washington state, and books). He was just passing through Vegas, here for a few days. Trying to adjust back to civilian life.

He stayed as I cleaned up, loading the dishwasher and scrubbing down the benches and tables. He watched as David and Sammy came up to pay, smirking as I leant over the bar to reach the money, giving them an unwilling flash of my pitiful cleavage.

All twenty-six dollars of it, in crumpled bills.

“Thanks,” I smiled brightly, handing them a receipt and a package of matches with the logo on it. They grunted at me and left. Their table was a mess of napkins, peanuts and glasses.

“Hope they tipped you well,” Jasper said as he watched me load the tray.

“Oh, they don’t tip. They hate me,” I said, as I piled the garbage onto a tray.

“How long were they here?”

“Since five. It’s fine, really,” I said. “It’s tradition.”

“No, it’s being an asshole,” Jasper muttered.

Luis chose that moment to leave the kitchen, bag on his shoulder.

“It’s closing time,” he sung at me, just like every night. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!”

I snorted. “Well, Jasper, it’s been nice talking to you, but I have to lock up,” I said with a little regret. He was a nice guy, and nice guys didn’t spend a lot of time at Sassy’s.

“Do you need a lift home?” he offered and then froze. “Sorry, that sounded really… seedy. I was going to offer to split a cab.”

“Thank you, but Luis gives me a lift,” I said.

“Okay. Do … you work any other nights this week?” he asked, almost shyly.

Luis was doing his best to be invisible, grabbing the trash and dragging it out the back.

“Tomorrow morning, from eleven til seven, I said. “Beer is full-priced, I’m sorry to say.”

“Okay. Thanks. It was nice talking to you,” he said again, fumbling with his words.

“You too. And if I don’t see you again, have a good time in Vegas,” I said, and, leaving money tucked under his glass, Jasper finally rose and limped out.

I sighed; dumping the glass in the sink and counting out the four dollars for the till, I jammed the tip into my bra. There wasn’t much else to do – I was opening tomorrow; we opened from 11am til 1am, so it would be me who unpacked the soda in the backroom, and the glasses and ran a mop over the perpetually sticky floor. So I could go into the kitchen and change out of my uniform and go and find Luis.

Once the hot pink wig was peeled off, my black hair stuck clammily to my face. My make-up had mostly melted off and it was a relief to tug on my leggings and hoodie and grab my bag.

Luis was waiting for me in the car as I locked up.

“So, you and soldier boy,” he began as soon as I got in.

“Ugh, really?” I pulled my tip out of my bra. “He was alone, and flirting with the waitress. Won’t see him again.” It had been a quiet night – fourteen dollars, plus whatever Jasper had left me. I mean, on average, I made maybe twenty-five dollars in tips a night.

And I stared. Two twenty dollar bills were staring at me, along with six dollars. A forty six dollar tip for four dollar beers. And half a cold grilled cheese sandwich.

“No, he didn’t like you at all,” Luis drawled.

“Shut up,” I grumbled, but inside I was giddy. He was dashing, and smart and polite. And now I could make my rent.

“Here were are. Sleep well,” Luis pulled up in front of the apartment block.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said, spinning my keys around my finger, and headed home.

The apartment block was a grim brick building of roughly eighty apartments. I lived in number 48. Well, I rented a room in number 48. The apartment was really Victoria’s. Victoria had two kids and never actually told me what she did for a living. Nothing would surprise me. She was a bitch, didn’t give a shit about her kids, but rented out the third closet-sized bedroom complete with air mattress and a locked closet full of canned soup to me for the princely sum of eighty bucks a week.

What did I know about my new husband?

He walked with a limp – I was guessing an injury that got him discharged from the military.

He had a twin sister – one he spoke of with equal parts affection and irritation.

He liked history – American military history, specifically.

He was raised in Texas, until his mother died when he was 10. He and his sister were packed off to live with his mom’s best friend and her husband in the wilds of Washington state, where he stayed until he finished high school. He never mentioned his father.

And he was a consummate gentleman.

I, on the other hand, lied my head off.

Well, I only told the usual lies – I was 21, earning money for college, hoping to be a nurse one day. Oh, and when he asked about my family, I told him they were dead. It was better to keep it simple, it meant there were no questions.

We got married on the Strip, Saturday night.

And when he woke up Sunday morning looking hilariously horrified at the fact we got married, I might have exaggerated how drunk I was.

That makes me sound like the worst kind of person, and I don’t think I am, really.

I mean, he was dressed very nicely, he had a black AmEx, and was clearly educated. But I didn’t want to take advantage of him, truly. I wasn’t looking for money or anything. He was so nice, so handsome and he made me feel safe. And before she left me, my mom always told me that life was meant to be full of adventures, and I had to get out there and grab them with both hands. She didn’t leave me with many good memories, so I kind of held onto that advice.

Just once, for a moment, I wanted to pretend to be the type of girl who could marry someone like Jasper Whitlock. The kind of girl who got to stay in beautiful hotel suites.

He kept apologising to me, seemingly more shocked that I had slept on the hotel couch than the idea we had gotten drunk, married and might have had sex. He looked completely panicked, pacing and muttering and staring at me like a stranger.

I took advantage of the giant bathtub and the endless selection of bath gels and lotions whilst he tried to be subtle about the panicked phone calls he was making, his knuckles white as he gripped the damning piece of paper that declared us husband and wife in the state of Nevada.

I emerged smelling of cherry blossoms and lavender. I mean, I only had the previous night’s clothes – my black mini-skirt, leggings, a Sassy’s tank top and my poor flats – but at least I was clean and tidy.

“I need to shower,” Jasper managed as I came out. “There’s coffee and juice if you want something.”

“Thanks,” I smiled.

As I went to grab a drink, his phone buzzed and I looked down to see the messages flash across the screen, one after the other.

ROSALIE (CELL) 9:17:04am: Cut the tramp loose. C spoke to E & u can annul when u get home. JFC.

CARLISLE (WORK) 9:17:11am: I’ve spoken to Eleazer, and he’s willing to work this out.

EDWARD (CELL) 9:17:24am: Tell me this is a joke or something. Rosalie keeps shrieking every time she calls.

ESME (CELL) 9:17:31am: Rosalie told us. Bring her home with you and we can fix it. Love you XOXO

BELLA (iMessage) 9:17:49am: R u ok? Saw on R’s FB what happened.

EMMETT (CELL) 9:18:00am: Did u srsly marry a stripper in Vegas?!?

EMMETT (CELL) 9:18:09am: Rose is losing her shit. Nice knowing u.

EMMETT (CELL) 9:18:34am: At least send pix of what she looks like dude.

I turned away from the phone, though it was fascinating watching the messages pop up. My cellphone was a beat-up second-hand Sidekick Tiffy had given me for my seventeenth birthday, the back bedazzled in pink and purple, and the only text messages I got were from Luis, Emil and Bruno, about work.

Or Victoria, bitching about the rent.

I grabbed my drink and sat on the couch, flipping on the television whilst I waited for Jasper to finish in the shower. He emerged, looking calmer, though pale and hung over, snatching up his phone, with a towel slung around his hips. I tried not to stare – goddamnit, this guy should not be marrying strange bartenders in Vegas. He would have absolutely no trouble getting a date. I knew I was bright red, refocusing on whatever cartoons were playing on the screen.

Jasper took me to breakfast at the hotel restaurant afterwards - I felt super underdressed with my sweater over my top, as I was served the fanciest eggs I had ever seen. Jasper crumbled a bagel up and drank about a gallon of coffee, barely meeting my eyes. I figured I might as well take advantage of my wedding breakfast, and also helped myself to fruit salad that included fruits I wasn’t aware were even available in America, and a doughnut that looked hand-painted with icing.

“I have some appointments today,” Jasper said, finally, when he finally pushed his plate aside. “We could meet for dinner later.”

I popped the last bite of doughnut into my mouth and wondered if he was planning on leaving town, leaving me behind.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

I had the day off, surprisingly enough. Normally on my days off, I had plans – sometimes I worked for a catering firm I was registered with, for some extra cash. Sometimes I’d hit the thrift stores to try and pad out my meagre wardrobe, or go and sketch or read in the park. I hated hanging around the apartment, since Victoria, James and Laurent kept unpredictable hours and could be there all day.

But today, I had nowhere to be. My phone needed charging and I could do with a few extra hours of sleep – a headache was definitely lingering. Plus, if breakfast was any indication, I needed to dress up for dinner. I was pretty sure that breakfast had cost more than my entire wardrobe. But I had one dress that was passable.

Luckily, the apartment was empty when I slipped in and collapsed into my bed, noticing only for a second that the hotel couch was far and away more comfortable than the ancient air mattress Victoria provided.

I was woken at five pm by a text message from Jasper.

360-555-0134 5:03:44pm: My meetings are done. Just heading back to the hotel for a shower. Our reservation is for 7:30pm. Pick you up at 7?

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face – I hadn’t been sure I’d ever hear from Jasper again. But he was taking me out to a fancy dinner. Hell, I would have been over the moon if we went to a movie and ate hot dogs in a park. Flipping open the keyboard, I tapped out a response.

775-555-0182 5:04:59pm: Sounds good – am sending my address. Hope your day was good.

I had two hours to get ready for the fanciest meal of my life.

I could so do this.

—

Considering my resources, I didn’t think I looked too bad. I’d left my hair loose, since I didn’t own a curling wand or straightener, and managed to paint my nails with the half-empty bottle of nude pink I’d found amongst my stuff.

My dress was a black polyester number I had fished out of a basket at the thrift store and had cost me eight dollars. It was a baby-doll style and I thought it made me look older. My shoes were black wedges that were nowhere near fancy enough, but I didn’t own any proper heels.

I had run to the drug store around the corner for a lipstick, a deep crimson that made me feel much older and more glamorous. The effect was somewhat spoilt by the fact I didn’t own a decent coat, just a purple cardigan and a hoodie. And the only purse I owned was a silver crossbody-bag that looked like I had only paid two dollars for it.

At seven on the dot, I emerged from my room to find Victoria, the kids, James and Laurent eating pizza.

“Look at you, baby,” James was practically drooling as I walked through, jamming my wallet and phone into the tiny bag. “Told you she was gorgeous.”

Laurent made a non-committal sound but his gaze never left my legs, ew.

“Where are you going?” Victoria demanded, glaring at me. She definitely preferred me as skinny, bedraggled Mary instead of girly Alice.

“I have a date,” I said.

“A date? Finally working for the money, Mary?” Victoria said. “Thought you were too good for that.”

I made a face at her. “A date. With a guy. Where he takes me to dinner and we talk.”

“You didn’t come home last night,” Victoria said carelessly, and I caught a dark look pass over James’ face. “Excuse me for assuming that you’d come to your senses.”

I swallowed my vulgar response and grabbed my keys. “Don’t wait up.”

My stuff was packed up – in the end, I had only a small duffle bag and my messenger bag of stuff for nineteen years of life.

Jasper was planning on driving back to Forks over two or three days. He had considered – and offered – to pay for us to fly back, but I’d never been in an airplane before, and figured a road-trip would give me time to prepare to meet Jasper’s family.

I wasn’t expecting it. Not for James to half-punch, half-slap me, and shake me by the throat. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs burning, slightly disoriented from the blows.

James half-threw me against the fridge, the handle digging into my back. I dropped my bags as he grabbed me by the scruff of the shirt and pulled me back towards him.

“You think you can leave?” he spat at me. “Stupid bitch, think you’re better than this?”

I tried to pull away, but I was too small.

“You’re just like Vic. Just like ‘em all. You’ll come crawling back when that prick gets bored,” he purred at me, one hand sliding down my stomach and I suddenly was terrified. “I’m not picky, I’ll take you back – when you beg.”

“James.”

We both jerked around to see Laurent standing in the doorway, with one of Victoria’s daughters in tow.

James pasted a bright smile on his face. “Just sayin’ good bye to Mary here. Takin’ her chances in sunny California.”

Laurent looked from me to him and shrugged. “Coming?”

James looked back at me and sneered. “Yeah. The trash can take herself out.”

Within seconds, they were gone, and I was alone. I span on my heel and headed to the bathroom.

I stared at myself in the mirror. My throat was red, where he’d shaken me, and my eye and cheek were already swelling – and my lip was split. My back and shoulder ached, plus my right ankle was tender.

Thankfully, the collar of my cardigan would cover up my throat, and my sunglasses would cover up my eye. Hopefully, my lip would stop bleeding by then. Nothing that indicated James had hurt me. But I didn’t want to hang around, in case he came back.

Snagging my bags off the floor, I dropped my keys on the kitchen table and fled apartment 48 for the final time.

Jasper was waiting in the bar with a coffee and the paper when I showed up. I’d tried so hard to dress nicely – a blue shirtdress and lavender leggings – but the women in the hotel foyer made me look like a middle school student.

“Hi,” I smiled as I reached the table.

“Good morning,” Jasper said, jumping up to take my bags. “Can I get you anything?”

“An oj?” I asked, looking around at the fancy surroundings. I wasn’t sure anything as pedestrian as an orange had ever crossed the threshold of this place.

“Certainly.” A hotel employee suddenly appeared at Jasper’s elbow. “Could you put these bags with mine? And the lady would like an orange juice, and perhaps the brunch menu?”

“Of course, Mr Whitlock,” the employee said.

I wriggled around in my seat, gazing around the bar. One woman was wearing the most incredible red and gold heels, and another had an embroidered floral dress that was to die for.

“The hotel had some computer difficulties this morning – we should be able to leave soon,” Jasper said to me, drawing my attention back to him. “I’d like to make it to Boise tonight.”

“Sounds good,” I said, as a waiter swept to my side, placing the fanciest glass of juice in front of me, and a tasselled menu. “Thank you.”

“I’ve already eaten,” Jasper said, looking guilty. “Early start. But please, get whatever you want.”

“O-kay,” I said. I wasn’t very hungry, and my throat hurt after James’ assault, but I needed to eat – I wasn’t sure if we’d stop for lunch. Rule number one was never, ever turn down free food.

A hotel employee appeared at Jasper’s elbow the second my breakfast plate was cleared, to let us know that the ‘issues’ had been fixed, and our luggage was in the car.

It was happening. We were going.

Mary-Alice Brandon: now leaving Las Vegas.

The motel was neat and pretty clean, with two double beds and a TV. We’d grabbed burgers through drive-thru, and were ready to settle in for the night.

I had some ancient pj bottoms and a tank top to sleep in, and didn’t think of anything else as I left the bathroom, my hair hanging loose.

“What the hell happened to you?” Jasper was at my side in a second, his eyes wide.

“What?” I gave him a confused look, and belatedly realised that my make-up was washed off and in my tank top my throat was bared, the bruises that James had given me so much darker and angrier than before.

“Oh, um, my landlord’s boyfriend had a problem with me leaving,” I said uncomfortably.

“Jesus,” he murmured. “We can find a doctor in the morning.”

I waved it off. “I’ve got painkillers in my purse. Just have to wait til I heal.”

Jasper was determined to buy me clothing as soon as we finished breakfast, and I gave up and let him drive me to the Gap outlet. It was a novelty to be able to purchase whatever I need, something I wasn’t used to, as I carefully chose jeans and dresses. I also picked up a winter parka on sale, when Jasper warned me how wet and cold Forks was.

But when Jasper went to pay, he gave me a Look. “My sister spends more on a single pair of shoes,” he grumbled at me as I gathered my bags.

“I’ve got everything I need, I swear,” I said. “Probably too much, honestly.”

On the way from Seattle, I tried to memorise everything about Jasper’s family and friends, so not to fuck this up worse than it already was.

There were his ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’, Esme and Carlisle. They had one biological son, Edward, who was 22 and married to Isabella, with a toddler named something strange. Ness, Jasper called her.

Jasper’s twin sister, Rosalie, was engaged to a man named Emmett, who was also one of Jasper’s best friends. They were building a house in Forks, and were getting married at the end of the year.

Jasper’s best friends were Emmett and a man named Peter, Jasper’s roommate in college, who now worked at a law firm in Seattle and had a girlfriend named Charlotte whom Jasper called ‘an angel’, and designed wedding dresses.

I felt like I needed flashcards.

#twificmas20 #ficmas20 #alice cullen #jasper hale #alice/jasper #jalice #twilight renaissance #twilight fic #human au #getting married in vegas #wip #my fic #my fic: vegas

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jandjsalmon · 4 years

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FICS I’VE READ THIS WEEK (18)

Hello everybody!! It's been an interesting week. Despite fandom drama and horrific hockey performances, I hope you all are having a good one. I am currently posting this from the beautiful Icefields Parkway between Banff and Jasper National Parks here in the Rocky Mountains. It's been a lovely road trip to make up for having to cancel our trip to Mexico, Hawaii, and NYC this year.

It was my birthday this week - I made a few changes to my online experience the past few months and it was a very interesting experiment. I may muse on that in a later post - but I do want to say thank you to all of you who sent asks or messages - here, on Facebook, and on Instagram. It was a lovely day. I felt very loved, despite turning a very old number. Lol.

Also - given the last few days, I took the opportunity to reread a few fics this week that may not be to everyone's taste - but that I have always loved - and they reminded me how much I love the fictional version of two very real individuals so much more than the actual people. Such an interesting epiphany. Another reason to never want to "meet your heroes" - and a stark confirmation of my "regular people with an irregular job" mantra. I'm grateful for that insight. And for the wonderful friend who wrote such beautiful and poetic works.

Anyway, here is my reading list for the week of August 14th to August 20th

Week 1 (119 chapters)

Week 2 (158 chapters)

Week 3 (81 chapters)

Week 4 (98 chapters)

Week 5 (117 chapters)

Week 6 (99 chapters)

Week 7 (88 chapters)

Week 8 (149 chapters)

Week 9 (194 chapters)

Week 10 (220 chapters)

Week 11 (157 chapters)

Week 12 (97 chapters)

Week 13 (89 chapters)

Week 14 (44 chapters)

Week 15 (78 chapters)

Week 16 (72 chapters)

Week 17 (160 chapters)

Week 18 (119 chapters)

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RIVERDALE (Bughead) - 9

Five Times Veronica Met Betty's Boyfriend (And One Time She Didn't) by @dmux86 (chapter 4)

Certain Things (That I Adore) by @bigdsgirl (1/1)

Daemon Bound by @writeradamanteve (chapters 13 and 14)

an unexpected visitor by @fallout-mars (1/1)

kiss me once, kiss me twice by @thetaoofbetty (1/1)

hazy by @literatiruinedme (1/1)

one single thread of gold (tied me to you) by @thesunandthestarss (chapter 2)

always already by @sullypants (chapter 3)

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Bughead Rereads - 5

I’ll Dance With The One That Brought Me by @thepointoftheneedle (1/1)

Hey Pixie Dream Girl, I'm Coming For Your Man! by @thepointoftheneedle (1/1)

kiss me, keep me by @thetaoofbetty (1/1)

Virginia Is for Lovers by @bugheadsextape (1/1)

black velvet by @thetaoofbetty (1/1)

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MISC. NON RIVERDALE - 56

Xin ai, thy name is Serenity by Jazz4 (Mal/River) - 1/1

The Long Way Home by hereswith (Mal/River) - 1/1

Never Go Back by hereswith (Mal/River) - 26/26

Past, Present, and Future by ArabellaFaith (Mal/River) - 6/6

Golden Hour by @new-ham (Harry/Allie) - chapter 7

A Royal Engagement by bradleymartin (Harry/Allie) - chapter 7

The Tale of Six Weddings by Katlyn1948 (Arya/Gendry) - chapter 5

ask to be unbroken (or be brave again) by @theblackestfrost (Laura/Sweeney) - chapter 12

A Natural Perspective by Quokkasandnothingelse (Five/Vanya) - 3 chapters

No Individual Stronger than the Collective by mymindismyweapon (Five/Vanya) - chapter 8

Labor of Love by @263adder (Five/Vanya) - 1/1

Experiment 10080 by @263adder (Five/Vanya) - first two chapters

It Wasn't Her by @mynewblackdress (Five/Vanya) - 1/1

Somebody that I Used to Know by @mynewblackdress (Five/Vanya) - chapter 2

A Gold Metal in Mental Gymnastics by @fiveyaaas (Five/Vanya) - 1/1

Until I Am Whole Again by @fiveyaaas (Five/Vanya) - 1/1

Watch Over You by @fiveyaaas (Five/Vanya) - 1/1

All Too Familiar by Anonymous (Five/Vanya) - 1/1

loaded lies by @liquidsparks (Five/Vanya) - 1/1

When I wish (I wish for you) by NicePlaceToBe (Five/Vanya) - 1/1

Foundations by @doomsdayfive (Five/Vanya) - first chapter

Bruce and Maisel by @allthyheart (Midge/Lenny) - chapter 10

Jail Receipts, Joints, and Drink Tickets by faroffsmoke (Midge/Lenny) - 1/1

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Misc Rereads - 49

The Perfect Job by ada511 (Mal/River) - 1/1

An Imperfect Vision by ada511 (Mal/River) - 8/8

Flee by ada511 (Mal/River) - 2/2

A Bad Day by ada511 (Mal/River) - 1/1

The Trigger by ada511 (Mal/River) - 15/15

the musings of tenderness by @paperlesscrown (SH) - 16 chapters

Tomorrow by @paperlesscrown (SH) - 1/1

Coming Home by @paperlesscrown (SH) - 1/1)

Apparitions by @paperlesscrown (SH) - 1/1

drunk in love by @paperlesscrown (SH) - 1/1

immaculate by @paperlesscrown (SH) - 1/1

asleep by @paperlesscrown (SH) - 1/1

#fics i've read this week #reading fics with jandy

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autumnblogs · 3 years

Text

Day 3: Vendetta against Bro

Welcome back to more Homestuck Liveblogging. Picking up with Nannasprite as she prepares to give John the Dirt.

https://homestuck.com/story/421

Sburb’s opening move is to take John’s Dad away from him. If @mmmmalo‘s theory about psychological storytelling is to be believed, Sburb provokes fear and then manifests it in the form of a character’s antagonists. If you wonder why I bring them up so much, it’s probably because I’ve been reading their blog lately. I am almost always game for more Homestuck theorization, and would love to be able to reference more people and engage with their thoughts in my theoryposts and liveblogging, so if you know somebody with good takes, please pass them along my way.

The Incipisphere, like John’s name, was invoked into existence by player/character action, but paradoxically, has always been that way. By engaging with Sburb, John authenticates its retroactive existence, like a mailman taking a signature of receipt for a package.

When we engage with the fixtures of our cultures and material realities, we too, authenticate them. This can be good or bad - when we communicate with each other, recognize each other, we authenticate each other too. Observing and being observed is a mutual act of validation for everyone involved. I see you seeing me seeing you.

I’m full of horseshit again. Read some more horseshit after the break.

Content Warning for this one: Pedophilia Mentions.

https://homestuck.com/story/422

There’s a lot to unpack in this sequence of pages, and I’m almost certainly going to miss a lot of it, but I’ll come back to stuff that I miss as it comes back up in later pages.

As a Crucible of Unlimited Potential, Skaia can become absolutely anything, and the shape that it will take on will be influenced by the actions of the players. But it isn’t anything yet.

This is the second time in two pages that Nanna has brought up the light-darkness dichotomy of the forces at play in the Medium, and after just talking about the act of mutual authentication through mutual observation, my brain is screaming the words Hegelian Lens at me. Might go somewhere with that too.

I also wanna call attention to the name of the Medium. As a story about stories, it only makes sense that the name of Homestuck’s main otherworld should evoke the field used to propagate mass communication.

https://homestuck.com/story/423

I’ve always thought that it’s interesting that of the two forces in the Medium, the players have natural allies in the form of Prospit. The choice here is not to act on behalf of one or the other, the choice is between Action and Inaction. Not doing something is itself, doing something.

https://homestuck.com/story/427

You Can (Not) Redo.

Sburb relentlessly drives its players forward. If you attempt to go back, or stay where you are, you will be punished. No getting your parents back, no getting your planet back.

What’ll it be John? Advance or Advance?

https://homestuck.com/story/431

John is extremely resistant to being made to do things that he doesn’t want to do anyway, even by Narrators.

More thoughts about Cake and Baked Goods in Homestuck and in relation to John. The other main characters baking is associated with in Homestuck are all women - The Condesce, Meenah, Jane, Nanna - and baking in general is pretty strongly associated with women, moms, etc. I’ve always thought it was a little out of place amongst Dad’s other character traits, which are definitively masculine. Maybe it’s for exactly that reason - baking is culturally feminine.

Maybe John’s resistance to baked goods is because he’s uncomfortable receiving feminine affection (especially, but not only from his Dad). It’s like getting kisses from your Mom in public or other public displays of affection between men and the women in their lives, or even men and other men in their lives. John is certainly pretty clueless about affection from women when he receives it later in the story. On the other hand, he responds very well to masculine displays of affection, like the aloof but ebullient cards he gets from his Dad, or the one-upsmanship between him and Dave.

(I’ll have to think some more about the capitalism thing from my other post.)

https://homestuck.com/story/433

More of Rose seeing enemies in every shadow. Then again, could it be Jasper’s fault that they’re in this mess?

https://homestuck.com/story/442

I think the fact that we jump to this point in the past suggests that Rose is probably reminiscing about this spot, going along with my theory that when the Narration is focusing on a character, it’s also giving us that character’s stream of consciousness - we’re experience what Rose is experiencing.

That probably goes a long way to excusing the kind of puzzling, irritating experience we have of our first minutes with John. Due to his tendency to get distracted by things and forget how things work, we have to suffer through his own inability to navigate his disorderly environment exactly the same way he does.

Oh, so that’s why this story gets compared to Ulysses.

It is Jaspers’ fault that they’re in this mess. My hypothesis gathers more data.

https://homestuck.com/story/444

The third of the prose poems. Drat. Got to Dave’s Poem before I even had the chance to write about Rose’s Poem. Guess we’ll come back to this one later later.

https://homestuck.com/story/445

I’ve almost certainly missed a few of these gags by now but “Left him hanging long enough” is one of the jokes that Homestuck reproduces over and over again. Homestuck reproduces itself frequently, like variations on a theme. Its self-referential nature could be called incestuous, as it turns one-off gags into recurring gags.

https://homestuck.com/story/448

While Bro and Dirk are both definitely irony ninjas where Dave is just performing irony to get his Bro’s approval, I think all the irony is an effort to distance themselves from the fact that they really do sincerely enjoy the things they’re “ironically” into. That too, is probably ironic.

Unfortunately, the actual subject matter of Bro’s interests, while innocuous in a vacuum, are still extremely inappropriate to leave out where a thirteen year old can have access to them. Bro probably isn’t a pedophile, but between the martial education, and the uncomfortable degree to which he involves Dave in his sex life, his relationship with Dave recalls pederasty which is one of many, many links between Dirk, Bro, and the Classical Hellenes, and Monastic Shudo, a similar practice historically attested from their beloved Japan. (The term Platonic Relationship is called that because Plato is one of the first Greek Philosophers to argue that maybe it would be better for students’ education if they weren’t also sexually involved with their mentors? Or so the story goes.)

I may have a bit of a vendetta against Bro Strider, which probably has at least a little to do with the fact that, when I first read Homestuck, I got fooled into thinking he was kind of awesome, and it wasn’t until I was able to deal with my own childhood abuse and the fact that I had been indoctrinated with a lot of the very same toxic ideas bro inculcated in Dave that I was able to realize that Bro Strider is kind of a horrible guardian, so I have a sort of special ire directed at this character. Maybe I’m afraid in another life, I could have grown up to be that kind of creep. I’m glad I didn’t.

https://homestuck.com/story/449

All throughout this section, the narration suggests that Dave is both subconsciously aware that his Bro’s pasttimes make him uncomfortable, but trying to soothe himself by affirming them. So, in spite of my sharing some youthful confusion with Dave, the Narrative at least communicates to us from the very beginning that something is off about Bro.

https://homestuck.com/story/452

To interrupt my dark and brooding reverie, please enjoy some Skate 3 Glitches.

I guess here’s a good place to note that I am going to be using the #personal stuff hashtag to denote when a post contains me alluding to my own dark and troubled past.

https://homestuck.com/story/457

The password is six letters long, and based on the fact that it’s the most awesome thing that it could be, I have no doubt that it’s Strider.

https://homestuck.com/story/465

Yup.

https://homestuck.com/story/466

It warms the cockles of me heart that Dave’s first inclination when he starts to flip the fuck out is to reach out to John Egbert.

https://homestuck.com/story/484

8^y

https://homestuck.com/story/485

Remember that one-upsmanship I was talking about? Any chance Dave and John get around each other, they talk each other down. I’m not sure if Andrew was saying anything about Toxic Masculinity at the time. I expect, like a lot of us, he didn’t have those words on his mind in 2009, but that’s textbook toxic masculinity, and I think when viewed as a complete work, Dave and John’s growth out of it is a sign of healthy maturation. Build each other up, boys, don’t tear each other down. In this life, we’re all we’ve got, and you owe it to each other.

https://homestuck.com/story/503

Leveling up is one of those weird things about Roleplaying Games that I didn’t realize until some point in the last two years is kind of an integral fixture of them. Overcoming hardships permanently makes you stronger in games that have an experience-level feature in them, and once you’re strong enough to beat a challenge once, you’re almost always strong enough to overcome that challenge in the future.

It’s a kind of storytelling that on closer examination is weirdly propagandistic, but it’s actually all over media. It’s pretty rare for a story to say “When you overcome a challenge, good job. You will have to overcome that same challenge again and again - maybe every day of your life.” The interesting thing, and I might come back to this, is that I think Homestuck actually takes this latter approach. Exactly the same emotional struggles they begin the story with are the ones they spend all 8000 pages of Homestuck agonizing over, and these characters will probably spend their entire lives wrestling with the baggage of their youth.

Suffering and toil is the fate of humankind, I suppose.

https://homestuck.com/story/518

Surrounded by Idiots.

https://homestuck.com/story/538

Saw is a story about a serial killer who subjects his victims to gruelling trials catered to make them face their own fatal flaws and emerge changed into better people, which is a lot like authorial scorn, which Andrew describes thusly in the commentary for Vriska’s introduction: “It's not as ill-willed as it might sound, but more of a universal principle of storytelling that for things to be interesting, harsh outcomes must befall those you create, in response to which they may thrive or fail. Which to the casual observer may read as hate.“. Lord English and Caliborn bear visual similarity to Jigsaw’s creepy puppet avatars, and serve as instruments of Andrew’s Authorial Scorn. Bro reproduces the same kind of creator’s hatred that Lord English bears toward all of Paradox Space, and reproduces it for the dubious benefit of his ward - Dave is to overcome the challenges thrust upon him in order to become strong.

https://homestuck.com/story/571

Dave does not care for being watched.

https://homestuck.com/story/588

If Dave’s first instinct for when he’s uncomfortable is to go talk to his friends, his second instinct is to attack.

https://homestuck.com/story/625

I don’t remember where I read it originally, it’s too far away in the past, but each of the items in the Rocket Pack is representative of one of John’s friends. The Cinderblock Dave, the Flower Pot Jade, the Violin Rose. John’s friends, his connections and bonds (Blood) tie him down and prevent him from indulging his most impulsive behaviors (Breath).

https://homestuck.com/story/631

In addition to Mad Science (or perhaps as an aspect thereof) John demonstrates remarkable lateral thinking.

https://homestuck.com/story/635

Alchemy has helped me get my thoughts in gear on a subject I glossed over the other day - the way the characters’ personality traits and objects fill the background radiation of the comic. In a way, the same thing is going on when the characters produce all kinds of neat shit from the odds and ends around their house as is going on when Sburb populates itself with symbols from the characters domestic lives.

Clowns become a threatening symbol throughout all of Homestuck, basically because there are a bunch in John’s house from a Doylist perspective. From a Watsonian perspective, Sburb seems, through the vehicle of destiny, to deliberately latch onto things from the players’ lives that will help them to contend with their anxiety and trauma. John has bad dreams about clowns, and seems to conceptualize himself as a clown in his self-critical estimation of himself. Maybe even as a Dark Mirror of his aspirations to be an entertainer? Is a Circus Clown a funhouse mirror version of a stage magician? I don’t have a follow up to that question, but it makes me think. If you checked out the essay from Malo I linked earlier, you might recognize some other things that John is afraid of which characterize his session, like his alleged fear of heights, and his anxiety about confronting his Dad.

I think that’s all for this evening. Another 200 pages down.

Cam signing off, alive and not alone.

#homestuck #liveblogging #commentary #authentication #validation #irony #personal stuff #authorial scorn

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thtdamfangirl4 · 3 years

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thanks @pretend-im-normal for this set of questions!

i shall start with a christmas ask game (yes i know it’s january 28th) created by none other than archie’s husband

1. Their favorite Christmas tradition

I think for Archie it has to be baking christmas cookies. He loves doing it even if it’s just him, but especially doing it with the people he loves. He takes the decorating process way too seriously (this may or may not be inspired by my real life) and all the bois pitch in and reginald’s are always disturbing but annoyingly delicious and dorian’s are always a little goth and octavius’s are fabulous and archie keeps telling him that louboutins are not a christmas item but octavius insists that since he asked for them for christmas they should count, and archie loves him so he lets it slide. Eustace very carefully decorates and does his best and every time you eat one you can tell it’s full of love. Jasper wants everything to be as colorful as possible and he covers them in sprinkles. And nathaniel, lovely nathaniel, can’t decorate for shit but he just has fun with it and laughs the whole time and that makes archie’s chest feel tight for reasons he can’t explain until later. And then Archie and Nate finally start dating and during their first Christmas, aside from the bois cookie night, they do one of their own and Archie shows Nate how to decorate the way he does and Nate can’t quite get there but he’s following each direction with fervor and they look pretty good and he’s so proud of himself and Archie sneaks mistletoe into the kitchen and kisses him and now they do it every year, and every year Nate gets a little better. And eventually they have kids and they join the tradition (even the annual cookie decorating night with the bois), and Cam is fantastic at cookie decorating and Ben eats the dough and Archie swats him teasingly with a wooden spoon every time and Evie mixes icing colors cause she’s great at art and Nate washes dishes and makes a valiant effort and they dance around the kitchen and sing christmas music playing from Archie’s phone and he smiles the whole time and every year, he pulls out the mistletoe and kisses his husband and the kids go from thinking it’s cute to thinking it’s gross and embarrassing and all the way back to thinking it’s adorable when they’re old enough and one year Evie snaps a picture of it and it’s on the Christmas card the next year. Christmas is his favorite time of the year, and cookie days just feel like this magic untouchable place where he’s with his family and doing what he loves and to him, it is Christmas personified.

2. Their favorite Christmas song

It’s very hard to narrow down, so I’ll give a top three: All I Want for Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey, Last Christmas by Wham!, and Mary Did You Know by Pentatonix.

3. Their least favorite Christmas song

This will not come as a shock, because well... I’m Archie. It’s Michael Buble’s version of Santa Baby. He loves most of Michael’s Christmas music, but in his words, Michael Buble “needs to man up and be willing to fuck Santa or don’t bother singing the song.” He just made it weird by having it be Santa Buddy and Santa Pally. And Archie loves this song. He tweets Michael Buble about it every Christmas, begging him to erase it from existence.

4. Their general feelings about Christmas

Archie goes feral for Christmas. He loves everything about it. Fun, family, love, festivity, good music, good food, an excuse to bake 24/7, baby Jesus, buying presents, getting presents. Archie prides himself on being the Christmas Bitch. He’s especially fantastic at gift-giving.

5. Their favorite Christmas treat

Octavius’s homemade pizelles dipped in spiked hot chocolate.

6. The best gift they ever received

When Evie is like 20, she gives him a scrapbook for Christmas. It’s filled with pictures of Archie, Nathaniel, the kids, and the other bois over the years. Every page has Taylor Swift lyrics that relate to the images and stories, as well as messages she’s written and cute captions. In addition to pictures, there’s little mementos like ticket stubs or receipts or notes she’s collected from her dad and her aunts and uncles and scattered throughout the book are cutout lines from a printed out version of the poem he wrote for his and Nathaniel’s anniversary. Archie cries for like 3 hours.

7. The worst gift they ever received

One year, Jessica gets him in the PTA secret santa, and she gets him a few workout shirts and an expensive bottle of red wine. He’s so offended. To an outsider, this may seem like a nice gift, but it’s very clear that she got him the shirt because she disapproves of his crop tops. And she knows full well that he doesn’t really like red wine. He’s a white wine bitch. She knows. It’s been discussed.

8. The best gift they ever gave

He likes to joke that the best gift he’s ever given is the supplementary bundle of “free sex” coupons he gave to Nathaniel their first Christmas together (he also got him a fluffy bathrobe, a playlist of songs that remind him of nate, an anthology of queer writing and letters from historical figures, and a trip to color me mine, don’t worry). But the real best gift he ever gave was years later, when they’ve been married for 5 years. He surprises Nathaniel with a trip to New York, where he’s also gotten them tickets to a revival of Hamilton, they go on a tour of diner breakfasts, and then have a shopping and spa day. And then he has them get dressed up but Nathaniel doesn’t know why and after they go to a fancy dinner, he takes Nathaniel to the Woolworth building on Broadway (where the ball scene from Enchanted takes place), and the whole place has been rented out there’s the actual singer from the movie and they slow dance in the romantic lighting to So Close (their wedding song) and it’s endlessly romantic and both of them are crying a lot little.

9. The worst gift they ever gave

No. Archie has never given a bad gift in his life.

10. How they decorate their house

dude. DECK THE FUCKING HALLS. There are two trees. One is picture perfect and looks straight out of a hallmark movie, and the other one is covered in popcorn strings and tacky ornaments from movies and shows and homemade ones by the kids and Ben always puts too much tinsel on it and Cam eats the candy canes so it’s a little wonky and that one is not-so-secretly Archie’s favorite. Beautiful wreaths on the doors and windows outside. Beautiful real-looking garland and berries and red ribbon and little bells decorate the banisters and staircases. There are lights everywhere. Christmas paintings. Outside is decked the fuck out in lights of all colors, he loves the icicles, no blow ups, but he does get a moving reindeer made of lights, and it’s a whole winter wonderland. Lots of seasonal scented candles. White lights on the mantle. Always a fire burning in the fireplace. A beautiful handmade and well-lit nativity scene. Cinnamon scented pinecones everywhere. Santa, reindeer, and snowman figures are in a lot of places. He puts mistletoe above every doorway, molding, entryway, high cabinet, or anywhere he can hang it because the man loves love and he wants as many excuses as he can get to kiss his husband.

11. Their favorite Christmas memory

On Evie’s first Christmas, she gets all fussy and cries a lot while they’re at Octavius and Dorian’s for Christmas Eve and so they go home early and they put her to bed but it’s only like 8pm. So they have their own end to the night and it’s just them in their pajamas, watching The Holiday and Love Actually while drinking tea and they just cuddle up under a blanket. Archie gives Nate forehead kisses and they fall asleep curled up on the couch halfway through The Year Without a Santa Claus. And he wakes up and Nate isn’t there anymore and he finds him holding Evie in her rocking chair humming Christmas songs to her and he just watches from the doorway until Nate finally looks up and smiles at him. And then they get everything ready cause everyone they know is coming to their house for Christmas and Evie wears an adorable Christmas onesie and they all open presents but. Those like 12 hours. Cuddling with Nathaniel and watching christmas romcoms and waking up to see his husband rocking their beautiful baby daughter to christmas songs. Yeah. That one’s his favorite.

12. Their least favorite Christmas memory

When he was like 12 (back in the regency days) he got sick on Christmas and couldn’t go to any of the events or parties and he hated it. But other than that,,, there’s a reason Christmas is his favorite time of year. It’s magic for him.

13. if/Where they travel for the holidays

Nah. He always stays home. He’s the Christmas Hostess With The Mostest. Always home for Christmas. He, Nathaniel, and the kids do go to Disney World for the week before/including New Year’s one year though.

14. Who they spend the holidays with

Obviously: Nathaniel, Octavius, Dorian, Reginald, Jasper, Eustace, Tyler, (and eventually) Evie, Ben, and Cam, and Eustace and Tyler’s kids. Gigi, Chloe, Jackie, and Liza, switch off every year whether they’re with family or the bois. Lynn and Suzanne always come to Christmas Eve and stop by on Christmas day before going to see their families. Every once in a while, Reginald brings a Doug who had nowhere else to go.

15. All of their Christmas traditions (not just their favorite XD)

jesus. well some have been listed. Cookies, decorating, hanging mistletoe fucking everywhere. he starts listening to Christmas music on November 1st. Snowball fight with the whole crew. Snowman contest with the whole crew. Getting drunk and watching Hallmark/Netflix Christmas movies. Making cinnamon rolls for christmas morning. wearing an entire christmas wardrobe in the month of december. Christmas treats at the bakery. Looking hot at Nathaniel’s work Christmas party. Wrapping presents for weeks after the kids go to bed. Making the world’s best hot cocoa. Bugging Octavius for his pizelle recipe (he won’t give it up). tweeting one direction and begging them to reunite for a Christmas album. Rewatching all the holiday seasons of the Great British Bake Off. Making roast for Christmas dinner. Making mulled wine at some point. Game day with the crew the day after Christmas. Writing Nate a poem every Christmas they’re usually really bad . eating one candy cane per season out of obligation and then going back to his hatred of mint. buying a million seasonal items at Bath and Body Works. watching It’s a Wonderful Life with Nathaniel on Christmas Eve Eve. Dressing his kids in christmas pajamas. That’s all I can think of for now.

okay i’m finally done this took me almost two hours oh my god. happy frat boi-ing.

#regency frat bois #rfb #archibald q pemberton #we stan one (1) crop top queen #archie #nathaniel qolicott #natchie #natchie and their kids #the bois #octavius sinclair #dorian fitzgerald #reginald worthington #eustace marfleet #jasper sculthorpe #christmas

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yeoldontknow · 5 years

Text

How It Starts

Author’s Note: a ko-fi drabble request for @yehet-me-up who wanted me to pull from my prompt book. the selection was ‘a man and a woman buy drugs.’ this is not about drugs, but theres a lot of addiction so *shrugs* i guess thats the same hehe also surprising no one - this is not a drabble Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader (oc; female) Genre: fluff; romance; some smut; au Summary: When Junmyeon meets you, he tries not to tell himself its fate. In the end, he has to accept that probably is. Rating: NC-17 Warning: explicit sexual references; light dirty talk; mentions of come play; mentions of rough sex Word Count: 3,118

From the beginning, he had decided your meeting was purely coincidence. That, in the end, his life was just a series of seemingly intertwined coincidences.

That he had kept seeing you, someone who likely had always existed in town yet somehow, for him, had been separate from his awareness, was because he had just been left by his lover, who had hair just like yours. They say it is only when you miss things, or are made aware of one, that you notice all the rest like it, and it never slipped his attention that his focus had been placed on you.

And, especially, that you are not remarkable.

Junmyeon told himself this after the brief transience of every encounter, every meeting, reminding himself there are others, and more, just like you, in the effort of calming the rhythm of his heart. Always, he would fail, mind racing back to the image of you, the scent of your perfume, the echo of your laugh and carrying them deep into the core of his veins. He flowed with you, he thought, flowed not unlike water, ebbing against your current until finally, finally, he would learn to keep you near.

Later, though still more quickly than he would have imagined, he supposed your encounters were something far more purposeful than coincidence, not necessarily fate but something akin to it. Tremors of a live once spent together, you would call it, bodies and souls vibrating in memoriam of a marriage, a family, a love distanced in time but resonating just the same.

Later, he would lie awake at night, quaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm and call it. destiny. Pulling you to him, he kissed your head, eyes wide awake and aware, and breathing into the understanding you were an inescapable force, much like gravity. Much like the knowledge that, just as he could not remember when he fell in love with you, he could not remember when he accepted that he likely always had.

But, until your hands first touched in the chemist shop, he had assumed little, if anything at all, about your future relationship.

Skin met skin as though a chemical, cosmic chain reaction; reaching for the same box of Ibuprofen and fingers retreating as if scorched by fire. You smiled at the touch, pulling you hand back and insisting he take the bottle, pride mixing with a nervous edge in your words. A flush crept into your cheeks, a hauntingly gentle smear of pink that gave the appearance you were glowing, glowing beneath his gaze, and Junmyeon, even then, insisted no sight had ever been so powerful.

He said excuse me, a depressingly short and depressingly vague statement as he pulled his own hand away, awkwardly gesturing to the bottle for you to take. Out of fear of being impolite, he had somehow managed to make things worse, likely even uncomfortable, and he felt heat flood his ears as he bit his lip to look away from you. There was a power to the anxious delight in your eyes, the sort that made him shift his weight from foot to foot. It was easier, then, to move his legs rather than his arms, which likely would have betrayed him, reaching to pull you close without his permission.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked, though he was unsure why.

Just like you, this event was not meant to be remarkable. And yet -

‘Y/N.’ You stammered out the word with a nervous twitch to your nose, cocking your head to the side with a shy grin, before shuffling to the next aisle.

It did not escape him that you had reached for a painkiller, nor did it escape him that you abandoned the bottle altogether, mysteriously cured or forgotten altogether.

First impressions would imply that you were chronically nervous. Second and third impressions would allow him to lean toward chronically excited. It was only after an unclear amount of time, that he was able to conclude that you were a bewildering, endearing mix of the two.

Upon your third meeting, in a Haggin’s parking lot, Junmyeon took the initiative and asked softly - so softly for a moment you did not hear him - for your number. His boldness wavered only for a moment to reveal his internal uncertainty, retreating within himself as soon as he finished speaking, eyes wide with amazement. To the naked eye, it would be imperceptible; to you, it was the bravest act of humanity you had ever seen, the discrete way he bit his lip in the aftermath an addicting display of his boyish charm.

This sort of terror calmed only after you scrawled your number, with nervous and shaky hands, on the back of a receipt. Pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose, you regarded Junmyeon with a calm, soothing expression, choosing to be brave when he could not. And, for the first time, you smiled. A sea of warmth pooled itself in the center of Junmyeon’s stomach, a terrifying mix of emotions that sprinted him towards an end - not an ending, just an end that would result in his skin on yours once more - and he excused himself before he could give himself away.

Pushing his cart towards his cat, he said nothing, simply shook his head over and over, fraught with an overwhelming sense of desire.

And he would never see it, but you stood still, unblinking and wringing your hands together as you watched him leave, moving further and further away from you, fraught with an overwhelming sense that you would never receive a call after such an abrupt goodbye.

Junmyeon called after five hours, his understanding of the rules of dating somewhat skewed, twisted by the force of his eagerness. He assumed this would be okay, that it would be an acceptable thing to do because, really, you had not necessarily agreed to a date, and therefore, the etiquette of starting a new relationship did not apply. He wanted it to be, oh how he wanted it to be, but the future hinged on you - your wants, your needs, your laugh, your smiles.

If you had noticed the soft, special way he regarded you; if you had noticed the way he his eyes lingered on the shape of your neck, shoulders, and lips; if you had noticed, in any sense, the way he could not escape you, would you, perhaps, want him too and with just as much force?

You agreed to meet him at the Lion’s Head Cafe, a bistro equidistant from both your houses. This, he notated with regret, was another sign you might not crave him with as much voracity as he did you, and so he surrendered to the idea he would have you, just not all of you. And this, he thought, would be satisfying enough, for any of you was a treasure.

Junmyeon got there first, hands fisted in his pockets, feet shuffling against the cobblestones as the summer air seemed to oppress him. Even his cream short sleeved shirt seemed to stifle him, the fabrication clinging to his skin as a consolation for the way you would not. Later, though still soon enough to surprise him, Junmyeon would admit to you he was falling in love with you, with only your name and number, as if these two things were enough.

He was rushing. He did not seem to mind.

You arrived minutes later, eyes fixed on his and approaching him with a smile. Your gaze did not waver, did not pull away from his, greedy for everything he was in that moment. And he felt it, felt it down to the marrow of his bones, surprised by the force of you, as always. He thought you would be shy, nervous, anxious - all the things you had been when you unsure you were wanted.

Now that the opposite had been proved, his breath caught in his lungs as you showed him how it looked to bloom.

At a small table pushed towards the back, the dim light leant itself for private conversation, a sense of intimacy naturally born through context and sentiment. Meals ordered at the same price was a politeness, a kindness of full intent to halve the bill, but still he hoped you would let him pay. You were making efforts to not give yourself away, running your fingers up and down your wine glass, without taking any sips. He realized then you don’t really drink, not if you can help it, and counted on one hand the number of times it touched your lips. This, for him, was a comfort, a sign that you wanted him - at least, wanted to be something you thought he might like.

Conversation flowed well, almost too easily for two people learning to get to know one another. Your taste in music and literature was similar, yet different enough he could learn from you. But he learned, more quickly, that books and the stars were your passion, a smile pulling at the corner of your lips like a secret every time you mentioned how they bring you hope. He liked art, knew quite a lot about it, and you leaned forward, eager in your interest, to hear him discuss Rothko and colour and listening to him discuss Jasper Johns and Rothko, as he watched the colours of you change.

As the night wore on, he found it endearing that your hands would move through the air, fluttering and trilling, when you discussed your dreams. More still, he found it extraordinary the way your laugh seemed to consume the room, to cause a lull in conversation that gave the appearance all eyes were on you.

And most of all, he found it impossible to want to leave, especially when you looked at him so full of wonder and affection.

‘I have to admit something,’ he said, absentmindedly prodding the last bits of food on his place with his fork.

‘Tell me,’ you said, sipping your water and not the wine.

You smiled as you placed the glass back on the table, cocking your head to the side with an expression that made his chest constrict.

‘This,’ he began, voice unsteady, before silencing himself with a grimace. ‘It’s hard for me to consider this...the company of just friends.’

He didn’t mean to rush himself to the finish, but, with you, it seemed that was all he was capable of.

Pressing your hands into your napkin, you smiled. ‘Then, how are you considering it?’

A pout formed in his bottom lip, once that he did not intend, but, with you, it seemed he had little control over his body. ‘That entirely depends on what you want.’

You remained quiet, eyes sparkling and expression placid, urging him to continue.

‘I asked for your number,’ he teased, ‘and I asked you to come here with me.’ Leaning forward, he dropped the volume of his voice with a wink. ‘It seems the ball is in your court.’

For a moment, you remained quiet, having your fill of the closeness of his features. Your gaze walked over his skin, igniting a fire in the base of his spine, and you took your time. You took your time having want you wanted of him, keeping him on edge and hungry, before you leaned into the back of your seat with your secret smile once more.

‘I have something to admit, too,’ you announced, coy smirk tugging at your cheeks.

Mirroring your position, Junmyeon reclined in his chair and crossed his arms. ‘Oh?’ he teased in interest. ‘Tell me.’

‘I’ve spent all night wanting to touch you.’

The bill came, as if in warning or protest or, more likely, in encouragement, but he ignored it. Not once did your eyes move away from his, to the sleep black leather of the fold, or even to the waiter, to spy who could bring an end to such an evening. It appeared none of these things mattered to you, not with the way you held his stare, focused with an intent that felt like a storm. On him, you looked and looked, studying all the parts that comprised his whole, tearing your way through to his heart.

But, in this, you were not alone.

It was difficult for Junmyeon not to sigh as he watched your fingers move along the glass - even more difficult not to reach out to hold your hand, to press the pads of his fingers against your knuckles and remind himself you are just as tangible and real as you are ethereal. He wanted to move he hair from your eyes, to feel the silk fabric of your dress against the nakedness of his chest, and, most of all, to feel you hold him where he wanted to be most - inside and all over you.

Eventually, he reached for the bill, deciding that the sooner he could exist the sooner he could have his fill. And as he moved, so did you, fingers colliding just as they had before, releasing a deluge in his heart. An electric current sauntered down the nodes of his spine, making him shiver and making your own fingers clench to fists before releasing once more. You trembled, almost imperceptibly, before licking your lips, suddenly parched.

Purposefully, Junmyeon pulled the billfold towards him, not allowing you to protest the action.

‘I want to take you home,’ he said, not bothering to look at you as he clicked the pen. ‘I want to take you home and I want you to let me in.’

He didn’t mean to sound so direct, but he scribbled his name with the same intensity as he spoke, driven, once again, towards an ending.

‘I’ve never been good at pretending once I know the truth,’ he continued, closing the fold and looking at you once more with heat in his eyes. ‘I can’t pretend the mere sight of you breathing in that dress isn’t making me hard.’

Anyone else, he was sure they would have slapped him, pushed themselves away from the table and told him to never call them again. But you sighed, chest heaving and breasts pressing against your dress enough to make his joints tight, and matched his intensity with ease.

‘Is the ball still in my court?’ Your voice was unwavering as you spoke, confident and sure, and wholly unlike how he had come to know you. He learned, then, that in desire you, you are neither shy nor excited, merely aware and expectant of being adored. ‘Or are you going to take what’s already yours?’

Walking to your house was a brief torture, one that Junmyeon can to consider a cosmic design. The moonlight played with your skin in a way he though brutal, shimmering as if from within and making his mouth run dry. Your draw, he decided, was a work of art, one he wanted to kiss and kiss and kiss until you too believed this was so. The slope of your nose had a profound effect on the way his hands ached to hold you, wanting to glide over the curve and feel your breath.

Pressing his arms to his side, he walked beside you with hurried steps, faltering when you came to pause in front of him.

‘Is this your house?’ he asked, keeping his tone cool as he looked around the street.

‘No,’ was your reply as you stepped towards him, getting close enough for your chests to touch.

A breeze rifled through the trees, a summer wind that carried the scent of your perfume into his open mouth, resting on his tongue and making him groan. Discreetly, you brought your hand to his groin, palming his semi-hard state with a grin.

‘I just wanted to make sure you weren’t backing down.’

Leaning up on your toes, your lips touched his with the barest of touches, your hand running through his hair with purpose before pulling away from him altogether and continuing to walk. As you departed from him, he found himself paralyzed, crippled by a wanting that nearly brought him to his knees.

When you reached your door, you pushed through without glancing behind to see if he would follow, knowing and trusting that he would be close on your tail. You said nothing as you lead him inside, kicking off your shoes while keeping your eyes train on his lips. Grabbing your hips, he pulled you to him, angling you for a kiss without letting your lips meet.

‘Take me to your bedroom,’ he murmured, breath igniting a warmth in your skin. ‘Unless you want me to fuck you on the stairs.’

‘That sounds fun,’ you giggled, nipping at his bottom lip. ‘Maybe next time.’

You lead him up the stairs, hand entwined with his and keeping distance enough to make him frustrated. He expected to carry you there, to move your bodies there as if by magnetic force, but you made a point of showing him you would savor your brief moments of control teasing and teasing until he would break beneath the sheets.

In your bed, he learned you were greedy, demanding of his hands all over you much the way he wanted you all over him, cascading through and through until he was drenched. He learned his lips on your cunt put your hand in his hair and your voice on the walls, his name on your tongue just as biblical as a flood. He learned the clench of your walls on his tongue was an addiction, a sensation he wanted to feel again and again until you were trembling with the force. He learned you wanted to be bruised, wanted to carry him with you for longer than he would remain inside you, proud that he had stained you your favourite shade of purple.

Beneath your sheets, he learned you deserve a crown. That, more than anyone he had been with before, you took to him as though you were sewn from him, wrapping your thighs around his waist in coronation and refusing to let him leave. Hair splayed beneath you, strewn about the pillows, he wanted to paint you, to idolize you, and then, most of all, to defile you, to cover you with marks and his come until you accepted these things as your finery.

In the dark, he learned you liked the stars so much because you were one, glowing and burning beneath him until he could touch your core.

He learned love and sex are usually mutually exclusive, but not always.

And that the way things start, with a touch and a whimper and a smile, is usually how things end.

#suho x reader #exosnet #prettyboysnetwork #kpopwonderlandtag #kwriterskollection #junmyeon x reader #suho smut #junmyeon smut #suho au #suho fanfic #suho scenario #junmyeon scenario #junmyeon au #junmyeon fanfic #exo au #exo smut #exo scenario #kim junmyeon

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twilight-secret-gift-exchange · 4 years

Text

Finch’s Diner

twilight secret gift exchange for @randomdemi Enjoy!

“You held out your hand, and I took it without stopping to make sense of what I was doing. For the first time in almost a century, I felt hope.” - Eclipse

I walked at a human pace through the backstreets of Philadelphia. I thought about running, but it wouldn’t have made any difference if I did; it didn’t matter when there was nothing to run from and nothing to run to. I did my running, and nothing was chasing me anymore.

My throat burned with each intake of breath; I would need to hunt soon. It was raining, so the streets were virtually empty. No one was around for me to chase. I had to go somewhere else. It would look suspicious, standing in the rain, soaked to the bone. That is, if anyone bothered to watch me. These days, I was good at staying unseen.

I kept walking for a few blocks, encountering no one. I had put off hunting too long. If I wasn’t careful, I might make a scene. I couldn’t help it. But the relief of satisfying my thirst wasn’t enough anymore to outweigh the horrible dread I felt when I did.

Across the street was a diner. The big neon sign reading Finch’s had caught my attention. I needed to get out of the rain; I needed to decide what to do next. I crossed the street.

As I approached the diner, I started to feel better. Maybe I was just pleased to make a decisive action, instead of wandering aimlessly. Maybe it was the promise of a potential meal. The irony of it was a little funny--almost human. I usually avoided places where humans congregated, especially during the daytime. But for some reason this place felt...safer somehow. A shelter from the storm if ever there was one.

I walked through the door, a bell announcing my presence. I automatically looked down, though my eyes were dark enough now to not draw undue attention. The warm air, thick with the breath of cloistered humans and the scent of their blood, burned my throat deeply. This feeling was familiar enough, but for the first time ever, it was second to a different, unfamiliar feeling. It felt light and fluttery, yet it was powerful enough to outdo even the entice of blood. I didn’t think anything could be powerful enough to do that.

I took off my leather jacket, brushed my wet hair out of my face, and stealthily looked around the diner. No one was paying me any attention except for one person. A girl sat alone at the counter. She had turned her stool to face the door. Her red lips framed a bright, beaming smile.

I glanced behind me to see if she meant it for someone else. There was no one there. It had to be for me then.

When I looked back at her, she laughed giddily. That same light, fluttery feeling hit me again in a stronger wave. It was coming from her, radiating from her with such force, such an enticing pull that I couldn’t help stepping toward her.

In one quick, graceful movement, she hopped off the stool and approached me. I instinctively took a step back. She was my kind; I could tell from her scent. But her eyes were neither red nor black; they were gold. And though she flashed her teeth at me, there was no trace of aggression or challenge. I couldn’t make sense of her. No strange vampire had ever approached me with any other intent than a threat. But still she smiled, and still she exuded that bright, irresistible feeling.

She stood right in front of me, looking up at me expectantly. She was tiny; even in her high heels, she only came up to my chest.

“You’ve kept me waiting a long time,” she said in a high voice.

I didn’t understand what she meant. I didn’t know her, but she acted as if she knew me. I bowed my head apologetically. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

She held out her hand to me, and I took it in mine easily without a thought.

“I’m Alice.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” I said, prompted by some long-unused script. “I’m Jasper Whitlock.”

“I know,” she said with a smile.

Before I could reply, she said, “Come on, I saved you a seat,” and led me by the hand to her stool at the counter. She hopped up again, and smoothed the skirt of her yellow dress. She turned to face me, ignoring her full cup of coffee. I took the stool next to her, which she had saved with an umbrella on the counter. Evidently, she had been expecting me.

I was baffled, but I wasn’t stressed or paranoid. My most overriding emotion was something light and buoyant, too big and new to name. It felt overwhelmingly right, like this was exactly what I was meant to be doing.

“Did...did you know me as a human?” It seemed unlikely. Surely if I remembered anything, I would have remembered her. But I couldn’t think of any other explanation.

“No. I don’t think so, anyway. I don’t remember being human.”

Just then, a waitress came up to us. It caught me off guard, I wasn’t used to humans being so close. Not when they were alive anyway.

I could hear her heartbeat accelerate with the fear that told her I was dangerous; I could smell the blood that it pumped; I could see her pulse in her neck. My throat enflamed, my mouth filled with venom, my muscles tensed, and I very nearly pounced. Alice’s hand on my knee stopped me.

Too quiet for the human to hear, Alice whispered, “You won’t hurt her, Jasper. Just focus on me.” Unthinkingly, I did as she said, and looked at her. Waves of warmth and trust and faith rolled from her, crashing into me. It smothered the thirst just enough.

The waitress asked, “Is there anything I can get you?” very timidly.

I felt Alice squeeze my knee. “No, thank you, ma’am,” I said, my eyes locked on Alice.

“Anything else for you, Miss?”

Alice turned to face the waitress. “No, thanks, I won’t be needing anything else.” The waitress put a receipt on the counter and hurried away. She felt concerned for Alice, but her own fear won out, and she was relieved to be away from me.

After she left and I was in better control of myself, Alice said, “See?” sliding her hand off my knee. “I told you you could do it. Give it time, you’ll get better at it.”

I didn’t quite believe that, but she seemed so sure. “How do you do that so easily?”

“Practice. And it helps that I stopped eating them years ago,” she said very matter-of-factly.

I was flabbergasted. Not feed on humans? Was such a thing possible? I thought of how thirsty I was now and how I was only able to bear it because of the strange and wonderful feelings emanating from the woman in front of me. “How?”

She gave me a knowing grin. “There are things in this world, Jasper, that you’ve never dreamed of. I’ll tell you all about it later.” I was beginning to get used to not knowing what was going on around Alice. It was strangely thrilling.

“What are you?” I asked rather impertinently, but Alice didn’t seem fazed.

“I’m like you,” she answered cheerily.

“Respectfully, ma’am, I think you’re very different from me.”

She let out a giggle. “That may be true. They do say opposites attract…”

Suddenly, that fluttery feeling faded. Worry rushed in its place. I looked at Alice, but she only stared blankly into space. “Alice?” I whispered urgently.

A second later, she snapped out of it and smiled at me. The fluttery feeling returned as if it had never gone. “We better get out of here before the rain lets up,” she said nonchalantly, not acknowledging whatever it was that just happened.

Swiftly, she handed me her umbrella, put money on the counter for the coffee, hopped down from the stool, and slipped on her raincoat. She took me by the hand, which elicited a new fluttery feeling of my own, and led me out the door.

It was still pouring; the clouds still a dark gray that showed no sign of parting. I opened Alice’s umbrella and covered both of us with it. Alice led me down the street, in the opposite direction I had come. She walked at a quick human pace--a little too quick maybe, but she was short enough that it wouldn’t draw attention. Occasionally, she would turn a corner quickly, guided by some unknown influence I could not see. I followed her without question.

The rain was starting to let up, just as she had predicted. By the time it slowed to a drizzle, she stopped abruptly on a deserted street and turned to me. “You look like you could use a drink.” She was so casual, so familiar. I had never met a vampire who spoke or acted like her.

“I suppose so,” I said, unsure what she was getting at. I didn’t know what to expect with Alice.

“What do you say to trying something a little...unconventional?”

It seemed that everything from the moment I met Alice had been unconventional. I wondered what was considered unconventional by Alice’s standards.

“Hold on. I don’t know what to make of you. It feels like you’re always two steps ahead of me. Just give me a chance to catch up. Have we met before?”

“No. At least, not in person.”

This didn’t clear things up. “But you know me, and I don’t know you.”

“Yes.”

“You see, I just don’t quite understand how that is, Alice. How do you know me?”

“I have watched this day play out in my head about a million times,” she said wistfully. “A million different meetings. So it feels like I’ve known you for a very long time. I knew I couldn’t sneak up on you; I had to wait for you to find me. And I don’t like to be kept waiting,” she said with a wry smile.

“Is that...like how you knew about the rain? And in the restaurant, how you knew I wouldn’t…?”

“Yes. Exactly like that.”

“So you...see things, before they happen?”

“I see possibilities. Things that might happen.”

“And I was one of those things?”

She smiled widely at me. “Darlin’ you were the thing. The first thing I saw, and the first thing I was ever sure of. I’ve waited a very long time for this day.”

That light, fluttery feeling hit me again, only even stronger, more resolute. Like Alice said, it was something I was sure of, something I inexplicably and automatically trusted.

“But now you’re here!" Alice exclaimed. "This is the first time I’ve ever wanted to be in the present more than the future.”

It was an odd thing to say. I didn’t even fully understand what she meant by it, but nevertheless I felt intimately connected to the sentiment. “Me, too.”

I was obligated to always look ahead--to anticipate, to strategize, to plan. Now, I didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time, I felt comfortable with that. More than comfortable, I felt at ease, safe, optimistic even. I felt hopeful.

“Now,” Alice grinned, “about that drink.”

#twilight #twilight saga #alice cullen #jasper whitlock #twilight secret gift exchange #jasper #alice #fanfic #gifts

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volturialice · 5 years

Text

and thou art distant in Humanity

welcome to an edbella thing feat. vampire!bella and human!edward and a bookstore. it’s @cullen-collective‘s birthday request! title from Isabella, or the Pot of Basil by John Keats.

rating: gen

pairings: bella swan/edward cullen

length: 1.4k words

part 1/2

Bella has never minded being alone. It’s being alone among other people she can’t seem to handle.

This time it was Emmett’s fault, of course. Things often are. Sometimes Bella wonders whether the whole bear incident was as entirely unprovoked as her brother claims, because his ability to attract trouble is every bit as formidable as her own.

Usually, it’s fine. It’s not as if you can get into too much trouble as an immortal, indestructible vampire. At least Emmett has just enough sense not to cross the Volturi or pick a fight with another coven. And he has Rose to keep him in line.

And content as she is with solitude, sometimes Bella wonders what that would be like. She loves her family, but it would be nice to have someone who was all hers. Someone to hunt with, talk with, share with, spend eternity with. The usual stuff.

And yes, all right, someone to have sex with. It’s awkward, having to sequester herself in the library all night every night until the others zip downstairs at dawn, all giggly and handsy or mellow and blissed out. Bella’s library is probably the most well-stocked and beautiful one in the country, but sometimes it feels more like a self-imposed prison than an escape. Still, she makes the best of it. Lonely cell or cozy burrow, it’s her space.

Which is why it feels like such an affront when Emmett trespasses. Most of the time, Bella doesn’t mind being the perfect victim for his pranks—just stuffy enough to get offended, just cool enough to forgive. But Emmett can’t always tell when he crosses a line. Bella hides hurt feelings so well that probably no one can, except maybe Jasper. She doesn’t know why it’s so hard to admit when she’s been hurt—maybe some buried thing from her human life, an enduring desire to please everyone all the time, to never be a burden. That sounds about right for a girl from 1918.

So she doesn’t say anything to Emmett about the ruined copy of Little Women. What would be the point? It’s not as if she can’t replace it. They’re billionaires, for crying out loud. She swallows back the little twinge of grief, the voice that protests, Renée bought me that book in 1909, a birthday present, we read it aloud to each other on summer evenings by the open window—and accepts the post-it note Alice hands her, with the address of the closest used bookstore—Masen’s Books—in elegant, looping scrawl.

Bella should check it out, anyway. It’s always the first place she goes whenever they move to a new town. A way of getting her bearings. She loves the old-book smells, the quiet shuffling of feet and pages, the way the towering shelves seem to swallow up sound and make her feel like the only person on Earth—insulated, small, safe. Most of all she loves the link to the past, the tangible history in her hands when she picks up an old volume that someone else might have loved, once.

Masen’s Books is about as close as Bella will ever get to being in heaven. Its two labyrinthine stories are divided into careful subsections, so many genres and special interests competing for attention that Bella almost doesn’t know where to start. She finds Little Women immediately—not a 1909 edition, but 1929 isn’t too bad, and at least it’s a sturdy copy, with its simple teal-blue binding in pretty good condition for something nearly as old as she is.

But why stop there? There’s so much to look at. Anthologies and literary criticism, philosophy and religion, books in a host of other languages—French, Spanish, German, Vietnamese—and even a section of antique travel guides. Esme would love the Baedekers.

She’s flipping through an Icelandic translation of Pride and Prejudice when she hears the human approach. Even after all these years of living the charade, Bella still has to remind herself not to look up until it’s appropriate, until she hears his polite cough.

It’s a boy, probably somewhere in his late teens or early twenties, with glasses and an untidy mop of bronze hair. Bella watches his green eyes widen as he takes in her appearance. So much for dressing down and blending in today.

“Um. Pardon me, miss, but I just wanted to let you know that we closed five minutes ago,” he stammers. Bella bites back her smile. He’s blushing. It’s kind of cute. (She ignores the stirrings of thirst low in her throat.)

“I’m sorry—I lost track of time.” She explains. A quick scan with her senses tells her she’s the only customer left—how embarrassing. This poor kid probably wants to lock up and go home, and here she is, head in the clouds, forcing him to stay late.

“It’s fine,” insists the boy. “I don’t mean to rush you. I just didn’t want you to be alarmed that the door is locked.”

“No, no, I won’t keep you any longer. I’ll just pay for these, if that’s okay,” says Bella, feeling the odd urge to blush herself. Is he always so accommodating, or is he making an exception for the pretty stranger?

“Of course. It’s, um, right over here.”

Bella follows him to the register, the one area of the shop she hasn’t explored yet. Now she sees her folly—she should have started here. There’s a great glass-encased shelf behind the cash wrap, locked, full of what look like the oldest and best-preserved volumes in the store. All the special, exceptional books must be here—a store this meticulously curated is bound to have some signed copies, a few first editions. Just looking at the ornate spines and gilded pages sends a shiver of greedy excitement down Bella’s spine. She’ll have to come back sometime for a closer examination.

The human boy rings up her purchase. Bella likes the way he packs her books into the bag—gingerly, as though each one is a rare exotic fruit he and mustn’t allow them to bruise. He slides a bright green flier into the cover of Little Women.

“Your shop is beautiful,” offers Bella as she hands him her credit card.

“Oh, thanks.” He fumbles the credit card swipe, tries again. “It’s my parents’ shop, really,” he admits, eyes downcast as if it’s crucial that he watch the machine print her receipt. His eyelashes are the same red-bronze color as his hair. “I just help out Tuesday through Friday, and run some of the programs.”

“Programs?”

“Book clubs, mainly. They’re all listed on the flier.” He tucks Bella’s receipt into the bag. “I’m Edward Masen, by the way.”

“Bella Cullen,” says Bella. She bites her lip and holds in a wince as she takes his proffered hand. It’s always a little disappointing to watch humans flinch from her cold skin.

But Edward doesn’t flinch. “Is that short for Isabella?” he asks, passing her the bag of books.

“Yes,” says Bella, letting her arm sag as if it’s heavy. “But no one’s called me that in a century.” She grins at her little joke, and though Edward can’t possibly understand what’s so funny, he smiles crookedly back.

When Bella gets home and opens Little Women, the flier almost falls out. It’s such a lurid shade of neon that she has to stop herself from comparing it to the calm, sea-glass hue of Edward’s eyes. What a strange, errant thought.

The list includes a study group and four different book clubs. Bella’s eyes are drawn to the last one:

New this fall!

Come read and discuss Romantic poetry

Thursday evenings from 6-8

BYO refreshments

She thinks of the well-worn copy of Keats’ Realms of Gold, and Other Works that has never left the end table in her bed-less bedroom, and of the time she tried to discuss it with Carlisle and was interrupted by Emmett and Jasper crashing through two walls and a dining table. It’s a stark contrast with the memory of Edward, handling each of her books with fastidious care.

Maybe it would be nice to have a reason to leave the house once in a while (the high school charade definitely doesn’t count.) And maybe it would be nice to hear some new people’s opinions. Maybe a book club is exactly what she needs.

#fic: mine #bella swan #edward cullen #did I think I would ever write edbella? nope #did I intend to make it this long? also no #long post //

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