#a very surprising yet wonderful encounter and the beginning of a beautiful friendship. time to scream again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wellsayhelloaagin · 3 years

Text

Till Forever Falls Apart

Summary: A mission goes terribly wrong and the consequences are fatal.

Pairing: Wanda x Female Reader

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 6.6k

A/N:. italics at the start are a flashback, in case anyone gets confused.

The inspiration came for this story after reading Liar by @peabrain112 so you should definitely go read it because it's an incredible story that haunts me.

The sunlight streaming in through the window woke you that morning.

You open one eye, squinting at the bright light before promptly closing it again. You roll over in an attempt to block it out and go back to sleep but instead encounter a warm body on the other side of the bed.

You smile to yourself and move closer to Wanda, slinging an arm around her waist and burying your face in her hair. You’re just about to fall back to sleep when you hear her let out a soft groan, her body shifting in your arms. You open your eyes again, your Y/E/C eyes meeting the green orbs of your girlfriend.

She groans again, burying her head in your chest and you chuckle lightly at her antics. Neither of you would consider yourselves morning people, but Wanda hated them far more than you did. You glance at the clock on your bedside table, registering the time.

You press a light kiss to the top of her head and you feel her sigh softly. “Time to get up sleeping beauty,” you whisper softly in her ear.

“Five more minutes,” she whines, pulling her head up to look at you, an adorable pout on her lips.

“No can do darling,” you say, quickly kissing her bottom lip, her pout melting away under your lips, “We have to be down at the briefing room in half an hour.”

She pouts again and once again buries her head in your chest, tangling her legs with yours under the blankets.

You close your eyes and bask in the moment for a few more minutes, thinking about some of the memories you shared with the woman in your arms.

You had been dating Wanda for a few years now, and you were positive that she was the person you would spend the rest of your life with. When you first met you had instantly found her attractive. Her wide green eyes and charming smile drew you in instantly. But the more you got to know her, the deeper the attraction became. You quickly became friends, spending all your spare time together.

You became a formidable team and the two of you were constantly assigned on missions together. You worked so well together, each of you anticipating the other’s needs and you had a 100% success rate on missions you shared.

You danced around your feelings for Wanda for months before you finally built up the courage to ask her out. You were worried about ruining the friendship you had with her, preferring to have her in your life as a friend than not at all, and you weren’t entirely sure she felt the same.

She had been surprised by your request. She had been harbouring feelings for you as well, but never dreamed that you would feel the same. She quickly accepted, and the two of you went on your first date.

It was a complete disaster. You had organised a romantic picnic on the roof, with a projector set up where you could watch old sitcoms with Wanda under the stars. Except nothing went according to plan. First, some of the food you prepared went missing from the fridge (you later found out that Thor had been visiting and didn’t realise that you sticking a post-it note with your name on it on the food meant that he couldn’t eat it), then when you attempted to turn the projector on you ended up breaking the circuit for the electricity on the roof, sending sparks flying from the powerpoint. When you went to go back inside, you found that the door had closed behind you, locking the two of you on the roof. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, the clouds opened up and it began to rain.

You had looked over at Wanda, tears forming in your eyes at how the night had turned out. You just wanted to spend time with her and show her how much you cared but everything had gone wrong.

Wanda noticed your tears and wordlessly took your hand, leading you into the middle of the open space of the roof. She guided your hands to her waist, hers wrapping around your shoulders, and she began to rock slowly back and forth. You caught on quickly and began to sway with her, humming a tune under your breath. The two of you danced in the rain for a few more minutes, the stars your only source of light. You remember thinking how beautiful she looked at that moment, her damp hair sticking to her face and a soft smile on her lips. When she began leaning towards you, you met her halfway and your lips met in a soft kiss. You knew then that you loved her, that she was the one for you.

You open your eyes again, staring at the ceiling of your shared bedroom. After that first night, your relationship with Wanda continued to grow stronger. She was the one thing in your life you could count on, she knew you better than you knew yourself. The two of you were each other’s best friend, and she made your life complete.

You glanced at the clock again and saw that you only had twenty-five minutes before you needed to be downstairs, so you poked Wanda in the shoulder lightly.

“C’mon babe, we need to get up,” you say, holding back a yawn.

Wanda just shakes her head and buries further into your chest. You huff out a breath and try and think of a way to extract yourself from her iron grip around your waist.

You’re dragged out of your thoughts by wet kisses being trailed along your neck, your stomach instantly clenching. You close your eyes and savour the sensation as Wanda’s lips travel down your neck, inching closer to the tops of your breasts that are exposed by your sleep top. Her hands trail up your sides and you shiver at the sensation.

Before she can reach her destination and distract you completely, you come to your senses. With a frustrated groan, you halt the movement of her hands and she looks up at you with a frown on her face.

“Waaaaaanda,” you growl out at her playfully, “We don’t have time for this. I need to shower and I need coffee before I deal with Rogers this morning.”

She huffs at you, her eyes narrowing before she rolls off you and onto her back beside you.

“Fine,” she relents, sounding very much like a toddler who just had their favourite toy taken away.

You sit up slowly, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. You stand up and walk over to your adjoining bathroom, pausing in the doorway to look back at your girlfriend.

She’s also out of the bed now, and as you look at her she stretches her arms above her head, her shirt rising up and exposing her stomach. You feel your resolve weaken as you take in her sleep rumpled hair and exposed neck. Surely you could survive without coffee today?

“Wanda?” you call out to her, and she turns to face you. “Maybe we can be late, just this once,” you say as you turn and walk into the bathroom, already shedding your shirt.

There’s a wicked glint in her eye as she follows you quickly into the bathroom.

You’re impressed that you’re only two minutes late to the briefing. You wonder if anyone would even notice you were late, forgetting about Steves incessant need for punctuality.

You feel his glare on you as you walk into the briefing room, your hand in Wandas as she walks beside you, both of you sporting damp hair from the shower and matching grins. The two of you take a seat at the end of the table, and you try to ignore the knowing look Natasha gives you.

“Ok now that we’re all here,” Steve begins, sending a pointed look your way, “I’ll let you all know what’s going on.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics and hear a soft giggle escape Wanda’s lips. You turn to her and make a face, which causes her to laugh louder.

Steve clears his throat deliberately, looking at the two of you again. You smile innocently up at him, unable to feel guilty at interrupting his meeting when Wanda is smiling at you the way she is.

“Alright,” he begins again, keeping an eye on you to make sure you’re done interrupting. You turn your attention to him, knowing that whatever he’s about to say is important. You do take your job seriously after all. “We intercepted a coded message from Hydra yesterday. They have a warehouse a few states over full of weapons that they’re looking to move tonight. We don’t know where they’re moving it to so we only have one shot to intercept these weapons.”

The team all begins to ask questions about the mission, and Steve goes over everyone’s roles. You’ve been partnered up with Wanda, tasked with finding the Hydra agents inside the warehouse and taking them out. Once all the finer details have been worked out the team leaves to go get ready. The light airy feeling you had from this morning is now replaced with a fierce determination.

As you and Wanda return to your room to get ready, you notice how quiet she is. It’s not unusual for her to be lost in her thoughts before a mission, but something about the way she’s avoiding your gaze fills you with worry.

“Hey,” you say softly to her, and she looks over at you. The look in her eyes makes your heart leap to your throat. “Are you ok?”

She blows out a breath before answering you. “Yeah, I just have this really bad feeling about today that I can’t shake.”

You walk over to her and wrap your arms around her shoulders, she leans into you, relishing in the comfort you provide.

“We’ll be fine,” you try to reassure her, but she pulls back to look into your eyes.

“You can’t promise that,” she whispers, her eyes full of fear and apprehension.

“Ok you’re right, I can’t,” you begin, moving your hands to cup her cheeks, “But I can promise that I’ll do everything I can to make sure that we both walk out of today.” You lean down and place a gentle kiss against her lips.

“And besides,” you continue after you pull away, “I don’t feel like breaking our streak of successful missions just yet. I don’t want to mess up perfection.” Your joke has the desired effect, and Wanda smiles up at you.

“You’re such a dork,” she says, pushing your shoulder lightly.

You clutch your hand to your chest in mock outrage, and she laughs at your theatrics.

“I may be a dork, but you’re the one who loves me anyway,” you reply, your arms wrapping around her waist as she rolls her eyes at you.

“Yep, silly me,” she teases before leaning in to join your lips once more.

An hour later you’re sitting on the quinjet, looking over the blueprints for the warehouse for what felt like the hundredth time. You wanted to make sure you’ve memorised every single room, you didn’t want to give the Hydra agents any chance to get away. Natasha pours over the blueprints with you, she was entering through the opposite side of the building to you, tasked with extracting any files from their databases before they could erase them.

The rest of the team were sitting quietly throughout the aircraft, each one doing a final check of their equipment. You could see Wanda out of the corner of your eye, summoning red balls of energy in her hand, getting warmed up for the action.

“Well I think we have it all covered,” Natasha said, rolling up the blueprints. “As long as there aren’t any hidden rooms that aren’t on the blueprints this should be a fairly straightforward mission.”

You nod at her before walking over to sit with Wanda. As you sit beside her, the energy from her hands disappears, her eyes changing from glowing red to back to green. You reach down and grab her hand, warm from using her powers, and bring it to your lips, placing a soft kiss against her palm.

“Ok everyone, we’re about five miles out from the warehouse,” Steve said, standing in the middle of the space. The jet begins to lower to the ground, landing in a field surrounded by trees. You all stand and form a huddle around Steve, a tradition that was started a long time ago.

“Stay safe out there, make sure you look after your partner, and stay focused on the mission. If everything goes to plan we’ll be taking a lot of weapons out of Hydra’s hands tonight.” As Steve spoke, you gripped Wanda’s hand tightly, and she offered you a reassuring squeeze.

As you always did at the end of the huddle, the team ended up in one large group hug before parting. It really was one big dysfunctional family, and you knew that no matter what, the team all loved one another.

The plan was to travel by foot to the warehouse, wanting to keep the element of surprise. While Tony had installed a stealth function on the quinjet, no one wanted to take the chance of alerting Hydra to your arrival before the ambush started. One of the pilots was going to stay on board, and when you breached the facility they would fly the jet closer for extraction.

You said your goodbyes to the team before you all parted ways, heading in different directions to your starting locations.

You didn’t talk much to Wanda as you walked with her, still going over the blueprints in your head and preparing for what lied ahead. Her hand was steady in yours though, and every now and then you would catch each other’s eye and smile softly.

The comms crackle to life every so often with the team stating they are in position and waiting for Steve’s signal. You can’t help but notice the way Wanda tenses every time someone starts to speak. You frown as you realise she’s still feeling uneasy after your conversation earlier.

When you reach your position, hidden in the loading dock of the warehouse, you press the button of your own comms device before speaking. “All set Cap, awaiting orders.”

“Roger that,” you hear in your ear as he responds to your message.

You check your watch and notice that there’s still a while to wait before the action is scheduled to start. It was decided that waiting for nightfall was the best option, everyone agreeing that the cover of darkness would benefit the team.

The sun is beginning to set, casting an orange glow over the whole area. You look over at Wanda and once again find yourself captivated by her beauty.

She’s looking away from you and you study her profile in the dying light. The curve of her nose; the light dusting of freckles across her cheeks; the delicate column of her neck, which was one of your favourite places to get lost in; the way her soft lips were turned up ever so lightly in a gentle smile. You once again find yourself overwhelmed with your love for her.

Wanda glances over at you and catches you staring, her nose scrunching up and her eyes twinkling with amusement. “What?” she questions when you continue to stare at her, “Do I have something on my face?” She brings her hand up to brush at her cheek, smiling over at you.

“Marry me?” you blurt out, and Wanda’s eyes go wide, her hand frozen on her cheek.

“What?” she chokes out after a moment.

“Uh, I mean. Shit, not like that. I just, I didn’t mean,” you stutter out as your brain tries to catch up to your mouth. “Ughhh,” you growl out frustratedly, burying your head in your hands.

You huff out a frustrated breath and curse your lack of filter. You slowly drag your hands down your face and chance a look at Wanda. She’s still frozen in shock, her green eyes still staring at you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “Forget I said anything.”

You watch as her face falls, her brows furrowing as a frown graces her features. “So you didn’t mean it?” She asks you.

You take a breath to try and compose yourself before you reply. “I mean, it’s not that I didn’t mean it you know? It’s just that it’s way too soon, isn’t it? I mean we’ve only been dating for two years. Yeah, we’ve known each other longer than that, but does that count? And yea every time I think of my future, I picture the two of us together. But I honestly hadn’t given it too much thought. I was just standing there and you looked so beautiful, I mean you always do, but with the sun setting you were just glowing and all I could think about was how much I love you, and how lucky I am to call you mine. But you deserve a grand proposal, with like flowers and a string quartet and fairy lights or something. It should be special you know and thought out. I mean I don’t even have a ring for crying out loud. And you deserve more than a half-formed thought blurted out right before the start of a mission because I’m an idiot who doesn’t have a filter.” You started pacing as you ranted at her, missing the amusement on her face. You stop and turn to face her, a blush on your cheeks as you once again realise you just spewed out your thoughts to her without thinking.

She just cocks an eyebrow at you before responding. “You about done yet?” She asks her tone light and teasing.

“I think so,” you quip back, nodding at her. “But I-” you try to continue before she cuts you off.

“Zip it, it’s my turn to talk now.” she levels you with a stare, and you stop mid-sentence, making a show of zipping up your lips. She laughs lightly, before taking a step toward you, grabbing both your hands in hers.

“Y/N, these past two years have been the best years of my life. You make me happier than I can ever remember feeling. With the Avengers, I found a family. But with you, I found a home. When I picture my future I see you in it as well, you’re it for me. There’s no one else I could ever want more. So sure, some people may say it’s too soon, but screw them. I love you, and you love me. It should be that simple.” She squeezes your hands lightly, and you feel tears swimming in your eyes.

“So, what are you saying?” you ask, unsure if you’re reading into her words too much.

“I’m saying yes,” she whispers, before cupping your cheeks and bringing your lips together.

The kiss is chaste and sweet. When Wanda pulls back you can see tears trailing down her cheeks. Your own tears of happiness have begun to fall, and you feel as though your smile will split your face in half.

You gaze at your girlfriend, no wait fiance, and she returns your stare, her eyes shining with love. You feel your heart soar as you begin to think of how you get to spend forever with Wanda by your side.

The comms crackling to life bring you both back to reality. “One minute until breach,” You hear Steve say.

You drop Wanda’s hands, placing one last quick kiss on her lips, before the two of you crouch down and creep over to the door at the edge of the loading dock.

“30 seconds,” Steves’s voice breaks the silence again, and you draw your gun from its holster. You see Wanda summoning wisps of energy in her hands, her eyes shining a deep red.

You square your shoulders, tense and ready to fight. You know what you have to do. You’re good at your job. You were determined to make it out of this mission alive. You glance over at Wanda, knowing that you needed to make it out alive for her. You had your whole future ahead of you, and you wanted to spend it with her.

“Standby in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…”

The mission started off exactly as planned. Once Wanda had blasted open the back door of the warehouse, the two of you methodically made your way down the corridors. Hydra agents had tried to stop you, but the two of you were a well-oiled machine.

You fired rounds off, hitting your targets every time. Wanda used her powers to fling assailants out of the way. You cleared room after room, making your way to the basement where you knew the weapons were being held.

You could hear through the comms that Steve had already made it to the weapons, his route clear of enemies. Natasha had already made it through their firewall and was in the process of downloading their encrypted files. The rest of the team were having similar successes. Everything was going according to plan.

You made your way to the top of the basement stairs, Wanda right behind you. You descend quickly, meeting Steve and other members of the team in the well-lit area. Natasha informed you that she had checked the security cameras and it looked as though all of the Hydra agents were taken care of.

Wanda and Steve had begun to move the weapons, using their enhanced abilities to their advantage. The rest of you walked along with them, keeping an eye out for any rouge agents lurking around corners.

The quinjet was quickly loaded and you all began congratulating each other on another successful mission. S.H.I.E.L.D was minutes away, ready to take the Hydra agents into custody. Natasha had finished downloading the files and was making her way back through the warehouse to the aircraft with Sam in tow.

“Hang on,” you hear Steve call out behind you, where he had been counting the boxes of weapons, “I think we’re one short.”

You look over to the captain and see his brow furrowed as he counts again. You jog over to him, and he turns to face you. “We must have left a box behind somewhere.” He frowns, unsure how the whole team could have missed something as important as this.

“Don’t stress Cap, Wanda and I will run back in to grab it.” You clap a hand on his shoulder in reassurance.

“Just be careful Y/N,” he says, tone serious “Even one box of explosives in the hands of Hydra is dangerous.” You nod at him before making your way over to Wanda.

“There’s a box unaccounted for,” you tell her quietly, “I said we’d go back for it.”

She quickly begins to follow you back to the warehouse, and the two of you waste no time making it back to the basement. You search around the empty area, not finding anything.

“You sure there’s one missing Rogers?” you say into the comms, growing frustrated with the search.

“Positive,” he replies, and you trust him, so you continue to look.

“Maybe it’s not down here,” Wanda suggests, and you agree. You decide to search the rooms one by one to see if it was hidden somewhere else.

“We may need some help,” you call into the comms, “we’re going to need to search of the entire warehouse, it’s definitely not down here.”

“Copy that,” you hear Natasha reply, “We’re on our way back in.”

You begin to climb the stairs with Wanda in front of you, looking down at your feet so you don’t trip. As you ascend, you notice the corner of a wooden crate peeking out between two of the stairs.

You halt your movements, calling out to Wanda to grab her attention. “I think it’s hidden under the stairs there,” you say pointing at the crate.

Wanda motions you to move out of the way, using her powers to lift the box carefully. It begins to float through the air towards the two of you.

Just as the box reaches the bottom of the stairs, you notice a shadow cross the doorway. You look up expecting to see a member of your team, but instead, you’re met with the face of a Hydra agent, a dagger in his hands, the blade glinting in the light.

In the second it takes for you to call out to warn Wanda, he has already thrown his weapon. You feel it lodge in your abdomen, a sharp pain blooming from the site. You’ve already raised your gun and fired off a round, the bullet hitting him in the chest as he falls to the floor.

The commotion causes Wanda to lose focus, and she drops the crate to the ground. There is a second of quiet before the unstable explosive inside detonates, sending the two of you flying. The stairs you were standing on collapse into a pile of debris and you feel yourself hit the hard concrete floor, the force of the impact driving the knife further into your body. You grunt out in pain, as the dust settles in the air around you.

You can hear Wanda’s cries of pain nearby, and you try to call out to her, but your breaths are coming out in short gasps. The pain from the stab wound is radiating through your chest, and your vision starts to blur.

“What happened, we heard an explosion?” You hear Natashas voice in your ear, breathless as if she were running.

With the little energy you could muster you raise your hand toward your ear to reply, “Basement,” you manage to choke out.

“Is everyone ok?” You hear Sam this time, the rushing of wind accompanying his voice leading you to believe he was flying toward you.

“No,” you groan out, the pain intensifying. You suspect that you have some broken ribs with the effort it’s taking to breathe.

“Y/N?” you hear Wanda calling out, her voice desperate. The dust is clearing now and you can see her frantically searching for you in the rubble.

Her eyes find you and she immediately runs over, falling to her knees beside you. Tears fill her eyes as she notices the knife in your side and the way your chest is rising and falling with shallow breaths.

“Hang in there baby,” She whimpers, as her tears begin to fall, “Help is on the way.”

You cry out in agony, the pain intensifying with every passing second as your adrenaline starts to wane. Wanda lifts her hand from the floor, intending to reach out and smooth your hair back from your forehead in an attempt to comfort you. Instead, she gazes at it in horror, her hand covered in a warm red liquid that she quickly realises is your blood. She can feel it seeping through her pants as she kneels beside you.

She lets out a choked sob before raising her hand to her ear, and you hear her panicked voice through the comms. “You need to hurry, Y/N, she’s been stabbed. There’s blood everywhere and oh god, please just hurry.”

“We’ll be there in a minute, hang in there Y/N,” You hear Steve reply, his voice steady and even.

You look up at Wanda, frowning when you notice the gash above her left eyebrow. Her eyes are looking at you, full of fear and panic. Tears are streaming silently down her face, her bottom lip trembling. Even at this moment, you still find yourself captivated by her beauty.

“Wanda,” you say, your voice strained as you struggle to draw a breath, “I love you so much.”

You see realisation dawn on her face and she starts to shake her head back and forth, clenching her eyes shut. “Stop,” she whispers, “Not like this.”

You draw in another shaky breath, determined to say your final goodbye before it’s too late. You can feel the shock setting in. The pain is starting to fade now, your thoughts becoming a cloudy haze as you struggle to stay awake.

“I love you, and I’m so glad I got to meet you,” you continue, each word rasped out between stuttered breaths. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I am so thankful I got to call you mine”

“No, Y/N,” she cuts in, grasping your hand in hers, “You can’t die. Not like this, not now. Help is coming, you have to hang on for me baby. Please, can you hang on for me?”

“I’m so c-cold,” you stutter out, your body trembling, your eyes beginning to close.

“Y/N, look at me. Don’t close your eyes, stay with me,” Wanda is gripping your face between her hands as she pleads with you. You strain to keep your eyes locked on hers, your eyelids feeling heavy.

“That’s it, Y/N/N, just a little longer,” she smiles down at you. “Help will get here, and you’ll be ok. Then we can get married and live a long and happy life together. You just need to hold on a little longer, can you do that for me?”

You try to reply, but you can feel your energy fading fast, so instead, you nod slightly. Wanda notices and bends down to press a soft kiss against your forehead, her lips warm against your cool skin.

You hear a flurry of movement nearby as the team rushes into the room. The voices all begin to blur together as Wanda fills them in on what happened. You look up at her and her eyes still haven’t left yours.

Suddenly you’re being lifted into Sam’s arms, the pain returning as he takes off, rushing to get you to the hospital before it’s too late. You close your eyes now, no longer able to fight the darkness that drags you in.

Your last thought before you pass out from the blood loss is of Wanda.

The first thing you notice when you regain consciousness is the incessant beeping of a machine nearby. It lulls you from your peaceful slumber, and as you slowly wake up you begin to remember the events of the day. They flash before your closed eyes in quick succession.

The explosion, the pain, the knife being thrown at you, fighting the Hydra agents, Wanda crying over your body, Wanda smiling at you, Wanda accepting your proposal.

Your eyes snap open and you regret it almost immediately. The bright lights above your bed burn into them, and you start to bring your arm up to block the fluorescent light. Regret number two; the sudden movement of your arm jostles your body and you feel pain shoot across your chest. You groan out loud and hear the beeping of the monitor pick up its pace.

This attracts the attention of Wanda, who is by your side in an instant. “You’re awake,” she breathes out, and the smile on her face is so wide it’s almost comical.

“How long was I out?” you question, your voice raspy. You realise how dry your throat feels, and look around for something to drink.

As if sensing your discomfort, Wanda grabs a cup from your bedside table, filling it with cool water from the jug resting there. She places a straw in the cup and brings it to your lips, and you greedily gulp down the cool liquid, the scratchiness of your throat dissipating immediately.

“Better?” she asks, quirking her brow. You hum in agreement. “A few hours,” she says, answering your earlier question, “We got here about seven hours ago and they took you straight to surgery. You’ve been in recovery for about three hours now.”

You nod, the action causing your vision to blur. You close your eyes again and grimace at the way your whole body feels as though you’ve been hit by a truck.

Wanda notices you tense and grabs your hand in hers gently. “Are you in pain?” she asks quietly and you nod again, a small whimper escaping your lips. “I’ll go grab the nurse,” she says quickly, kissing the back of your hand before carefully placing it back on the bed and rushing out of the room.

Half an hour later, after the doctor had checked you over and the increase in your morphine had started to take effect, you were sitting up in bed. Wanda sat cross-legged on the edge of your bed, her hands playing with yours as they rested in her lap.

“So what happened?” you asked her, her hands stilling momentarily. “The last thing I really remember is Sam lifting me up.”

She takes a deep breath before replying, “Well he flew right out of the warehouse and straight here. The doctors had already been called and alerted of what was going on so they were ready when you arrived. By the time the rest of us made it here, you were already in surgery.”

She laces her fingers with yours, her thumb stroking the back of your hand. “It was touch and go for a while there, but they managed to repair the damage from the stab wound. You have three broken ribs and a lot of bruises but that’s it. You’re so lucky.”

“I don’t feel lucky,” you try and joke, “Looks like I’ve got a lot of bed rest ahead of me and you know how bored I’m going to be.”

Wanda looks up at you, her eyes swimming with tears. “God I was so scared Y/N,” she whispers. A sob escapes her then as the tears begin to fall. You pull her towards you, and she melts into your touch, head resting on your chest as she cries. You wrap her in your arms and hold her tight, your hand gently stroking the hair on the back of her head.

“Hey, shhh, I’m fine now,” you try to soothe her. “I’ll be ok.” You press a kiss to the top of her head.

“I didn’t think you were going to make it,” she confesses, pulling back to look into your eyes. “There was so much blood, and then you were saying goodbye and I thought that was it.” She closes her eyes as she speaks, screwing them tightly shut as if to shut out the painful memories.

“Well, I couldn’t leave you yet. We have a wedding to plan after all,” you say, your tone light and teasing in an effort to break up the tension of the room. Wanda chuckles lightly and wipes the tears from her face.

“Next time I have a bad feeling, we stay in bed. Deal?” she asks, although her tone leaves no room for argument. You just nod at her and she laughs, leaning down to place a short but passionate kiss against your lips.

“What about you,” you say, and she looks at you with confusion. “How are you feeling?” you clarify, gesturing to the bandage on her forehead, obscuring the cut there.

“Oh,” she says, raising her hand to touch the bandage like she had forgotten it was there. “I hit my head when I fell, it’s not that bad though. I didn’t even need stitches. Besides a headache that won’t go away, I’m fine.” she shrugs as she finishes before a sly grin takes over her face. “So about this wedding…?”

The two of you spend the next hour discussing the plans for your wedding. You both agree that you don’t want anything big and lavish, preferring instead to have something small and intimate with the people closest to you. You decide on the roof of the compound to hold the ceremony, a callback to the location of your first date.

All the details fall into place easily and you find yourself growing excited at the thought of being able to call Wanda your wife. An interesting turn of events considering she’s only been my fiance for a day, you think to yourself.

“Ok, so now the big question,” you ask as you lean against Wanda, who has joined you in the bed. Your legs are tangled under the blankets, her arm is around you as you rest against her chest. “When do we want to get married?”

“I’ve always liked the idea of a fall wedding,” she replies, her hand absentmindedly tracing patterns along your back, “How about September?”

“Sounds perfect,” you say, “Only fourteen more months until I get to be Y/N Y/L/N-Maximoff.”

“Actually, I meant this coming September,” she confesses quietly, and you sit up to look at her properly.

“You’re serious?” you ask, studying her face.

She sits up too, taking your hands into hers.

“Y/N, I almost lost you today. I don’t want to waste any more time. I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, so why wait? You’re my forever, so let’s start forever as soon as possible.” She looks at you tenderly and you can’t help but lean into her and press your lips to hers.

The kiss is slow and languid, full of love and promises. When you pull away, you rest your foreheads together, both of you smiling.

“Ok, let’s do it,” you whisper, your breath fanning across her face, “let’s get married in September.”

Wanda squeals and hugs you lightly, careful of your injuries.

“Well now that’s all worked out,” she declared, moving up to stand beside your bed, “I’m going to see if I can get a nurse to give me something for this damn headache.”

She bends down to kiss you lightly, “Back in a minute,” she murmurs against your lips.

“Mmmmk, love you,” you hummed as she pulled back.

“Love you too,” she called out over her shoulder as she walked toward the door. You smile and settle down into the bed, closing your eyes and relishing in the content feeling. You’re not sure you can remember a time you were this happy.

Wanda’s gasp of pain made you look up, your heart dropping as you saw her clutch her head and fall to the floor. Her body began to convulse as you jump out of bed, wires tearing from the machines and setting off alarms. You reach her side, ignoring the pain in your body, and kneel beside her. Her eyes have rolled into the back of her head and you feel helpless as her body slowly stops moving.

“Wanda, hey, wake up!” you cry out, clutching her shoulders tightly. “Help!” you yell out, screaming desperately over and over again, hoping someone would hear you.

Suddenly the door opens and the room is flooded with nurses and doctors. You feel arms lift you away from Wanda and back towards your bed, but you don’t pay them any attention, your eyes glued to her prone form on the floor. There is a flurry of movement as they examine her before she’s lifted onto a stretcher and wheeled away. You pray for her to be ok, but your prayers aren’t answered.

Later the doctors will sit you down and explain what happened. You hear the words intracranial hematoma and we did everything we could, but all you can register is the overwhelming pain radiating inside of you. Wanda was gone, and you now had to find a way to go on living without her. You had promised each other your forevers, you just didn’t think that forever would fall apart so soon.

Taglist: @olsensnpm (let me know if you want to be added to the taglist)

#wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda mcu #wanda marvel #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda angst #wanda imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x you #s writes stuff #kate if you find this no you didn't

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gwynrielsupremacy · 3 years

Text

THIS IS PART 8 NOW :)

Of "Time to rest your weary head" (or 'Azriel surprises Gwyn for her birthday'!!!!)

Check out the whole story here

Since last chapter was so short, I made this one bigger - and I absolutely love writing through Gwyn's perspective. I always try to be as mindful and careful as I can when I write her POV and address her trauma, but if there's anything you feel could be done differently, please let me know! :) and thank you so much for reading. Your support means everything to me <3

HEY GIRLS @katiebellf @starbornsinger @madie2200 check out my new chapter!!! and if you wanted to be tagged on this too, feel free to comment ;)

A few days passed by, and Gwyn could say she was already feeling at home in the House of Wind. She continued attending the services at dawn, pushing herself at training, then having lunch with Nesta, Cassian and sometimes Azriel, and at last spending her habitual hours in the library doing research work for Merrill before returning to the House. It was a routine she was kind of used to by now, and it made her happy.

She hadn’t been to Velaris after dinner with the Inner Circle and was secretly growing impatient to visit it again. She was planning to go shopping with Nesta and Emerie, but didn’t summon courage enough to invite them. Something about strolling around the city streets at dusk made her a bit nervous. Although she didn’t feel like admitting it out loud.

She was proud of herself, because she truly felt she was overcoming her fears. These last months were ones of a slow, but effective healing journey. She felt herself being less intimidated around others, mostly males like Cassian and Azriel. Rhysand was more distant, but even the worry she felt at dinner that night had faded. She saw Azriel almost every day and nothing seemed to have changed between them; so she believed in Rhys’s word when he promised her not to tell him.

Something caught her eye and interrupted her line of thought. She was sitting in a comfortable armchair by the fireplace at the House’s private library after a particularly exhausting afternoon, trying to read a not-too-smutty book Emerie had lent her, and immediately raised her head from the shadow near her feet to the door, where Azriel stood by.

“How long have you been there?” She asked and quietly hoped her blushed cheeks went unnoticed by him.

Surprisingly enough, sharing a hallway with Azriel didn’t mean they saw more of each other. He was so quiet she couldn’t detect his presence in his room, and usually she woke up before sunrise, so they didn’t meet each other until breakfast. A part of Gwyn couldn’t help but feel a little frustrated by that.

“Not much.” He said, stepping into the library. She motioned him to seat on the armchair across from hers, and so he did. “Actually, I just came here to ask you something.”

Oh.

She felt something flunk in her chest; it’s been a while since they last met at the training ring late at night, and that was because lately her nightmares were keeping themselves at bay. She remembered their last encounter, his hazel eyes shining under the moonlight as he stared at her from across the room, and they sparred in silence almost until the time of her service.

He didn’t seem different around her, although she could notice him staring at her sometimes with a glimpse of emotion in his eyes. And she felt she was becoming better at hiding her feelings when near him; oddly, something had calmed inside her. That urge and nervousness weren’t the first things to come to mind anymore, and she was content to enjoy their friendship. At least that’s what she kept telling to herself. There were some nights in which her dreams were filled with cedar scent, a pair of hazel eyes looking at her intensely, his beautiful hands on her hair…

She shook her head slightly and forced herself to meet his stare, the firelight making his face look golden; an elegant, handsome angel staring straight at her.

“What is it?”

“I wanted to know if…” His throat bobbed once, and she couldn’t help noticing he seemed nervous. Him, the Shadowsinger, nervous. He rephrased it, staring intently at the fire.

“The Velaris Philharmonic Orchestra will be performing tomorrow. They were in a long undetermined hiatus during the last fifty years, and now they’re back.” His brows furrowed, eyes filled with anger at what had caused it. “I used to go there every other night. And I was wondering… Since you said you’re meaning to leave the House more often, if we, well…”

She tried to suppress her chuckle at the way he fought to find the words. Instead, there was a timid smile on her face when she hesitantly interrupted him:

“Are you asking me… To come with you?”

He finally tore his stare away from the fire to meet her; those hazel eyes filled with something resembling hope.

“Would you like to?”

And damn her if his smile didn’t make her heart and her chest heat up when she responded:

“I would. Very much.”

Suddenly the room felt smaller. She swore the lights dimmed a bit, and all she could think and see was the silhouette of his face and his eyes. Those eyes that’d seen so much, endured so much, and now looked at her, as if trying to vocalize something without saying anything at all. They stayed like that, lost in each other for what seemed like eons, before he cleared his throat.

“So… I’ll let you to your book, then.”

Those words sounded forced, as if he didn’t in fact want to leave. She gave him a smile, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. Stay.

His shadows were all around her now, gently circling her shoulders.

Just as he meant to leave the room, she found herself stating:

“I’m glad you listened to it. What I said about restraining them.” She gestured with her head towards the shadows, and reached for one with her finger. The tendril seemed happy to be touched and wrapped itself in her hand, to what she giggled. “I really like them, you know.”

When she looked up to Azriel, he had a cryptic look on his face, watching in wonder the interaction in front of him.

“They like you too.” His voice was filled with a hidden emotion, and his eyes twinkled.

She smiled at him. “You can stay here for a little while, if you want. I’m not going to bed for a couple hours yet, and I must admit I’m not completely captivated by this novel.”

Even though he had that cool, unreadable mask on almost all the time, she could still see him restraining his surprise. And the way his lips tugged upward told her she was right to assume he didn’t want to leave just yet.

“What’s it about?” He asked while sitting again.

“Well” She skimmed distractedly through the pages, calming her racing heart. “She is a healer from a land up in the North, and he is a tradesman from the South. There’s a curse that connected them since birth, but they don’t know it yet. And that’s what leads them towards one another, the urge to break this curse.” She traced the title, reading the name of the author. “It’s good, just not as good as Diane.”

She casted him an amused look as he laughed quietly at her criticism, shaking his head:

“Because no one will ever compare to her.”

“Never.” She agreed dramatically, and his laugh turned into a grin. “Emerie and Nesta think I’m exaggerating, but I mean it. I must have read her books like ten times by now.”

His eyebrows shot up, clearly interested. “She must be great then.”

“Wait a second. Five hundred years and you’ve never read her?” Gwyn couldn’t hide her astonishment as she gasped.

“Why is that such a surprise?” He leaned back in his chair, that small smile never fading from his face.

“Well, is just… You had plenty of time.” She teased.

“My life is busier than you might think, Berdara.”

“Well, be that as it may, this can no longer go on. You must read it.”

Before he could answer, she called the House to deliver her the stack of Gadot’s novels that were in her bedroom. Her private collection.

“Start by this one” She handed him a copy of And So the Story Goes, that had magically appeared in the table between them “This is my favorite.”

He reached for the book, and she watched as he flipped through the pages. She would admit that sight made her heart flutter once again. The book she had ever since she was little, that she read alongside Catrin, one of the only things she asked Mor to grab her after everything. Its edges were worn, some pages marked and underlined. To have Azriel hold it in his hands…

“You can read it at your own pace. And don’t worry, I have a spare” She showed him the copy Diane had signed her, a newer edition, that beautiful inscription that she knew it by heart in its front page.

I hope you find out what you knew all along.

“I can see you read it a lot.” He stated, musing through the pages and stopping at some passages.

She leaned forward to slap his arm. “What are you doing? Start at the beginning!”

He laughed out loud at her exclamation, his eyes meeting hers.

“Ok, bossy. I definitely will.”

After a few hours of talking and laughing together, she felt the tiredness taking the best of her.

“Goodnight, Az.” She said when she stopped by the door. Even during their conversation, he still held the book, keeping it close to his chest.

“See you tomorrow, Gwyn” She had just turned away when she heard him. “And thank you.”

She looked at him over her shoulder and saw him lifting the book. “Anytime.”

And when she finally shut the door of her bedroom, she couldn’t stop the light feeling on her chest.

***

On the next day, she knocked on Nesta’s door. It was the afternoon, and both Cassian and Azriel were out paying one of their routine visits to the Illyrian camps.

That morning, at service, Gwyn felt like she was flying. She sang like those ancient hymns were all that was left in the world. Even some other Priestesses had commented on that after it was over. And at practice, she couldn’t help her grin when she spotted Azriel across the training ring. And couldn’t help the blush that crept onto her cheeks when he almost immediately turned his head to her, the corner of his lips tugging upward.

She woke up thinking about their meeting at the library, their casual conversation and bantering. She didn’t feel an ounce of discomfort when they were together; everything was so easy. He knew her, her story; he had saved her, for Mother’s sake, and he didn’t make her feel like porcelain, like one blow could shatter her.

Instead, she felt braver and confident when he was around. They could still talk and laugh together as if they hadn’t shared that terrible experience in the past. Mindful of each other’s traumas, indeed, but... It still was light. Trustful. She hoped he’d read the book; she could secretly picture his eyes flipping through her markings and notes. She wanted him to know that part of her.

“Come in” Nesta said from within, interrupting Gwyn’s reverie.

She opened the door, only to find her sister sitting comfortably in an armchair by the window, book in hand and a cup of tea in another. Her training leathers were displayed on the bed, as she thought of training afterwards.

“Hey” Gwyn greeted. She didn’t know where to start.

Aside from Rhys, no one was aware of her recent discovery about the mating bond. Of course, that didn’t stop her sisters from smirking mischievously whenever Azriel was around, at training or during meals. Gwyn knew both Nesta and Emerie had picked upon whatever she was feeling towards him, but they were kind enough not to inquire in public.

“What’s going on?” Her brows furrowed as she got up of her chair.

“Nothing.” Gwyn took in a deep breath. Out with it, Berdara. “I was wondering if you could borrow me a dress.”

Nesta squinted her eyes, and raised an eyebrow as a slow smile started to appear on her face. Cunning, as ever. “May I ask what for?”

Gwyn herself didn’t know. When she found herself alone with Azriel for a moment during training, she had asked him what outfit would be suit for the occasion. He just shrugged with a half-smile, and reassured her she didn’t have to worry about it. But even so, she wanted to look decent for a night out.

“I’m going to Velaris tonight.”

Nesta gasped quietly, and Gwyn could see her eyes were shining with pride. “Alone?”

“No.” Gwyn went to sit at the trunk by the bed. Seeing that Nesta was still staring at her with that knowing smile, she added “Azriel’s taking me to see the Velaris Philarmonic Orchestra.”

She watched as her sister gave her a broad smile, and couldn’t help the blush on her cheeks. “What?”

“Nothing” Nesta hummed back, as she opened the doors to her wardrobe. “Just the two of you?”

Gwyn nodded, standing up and joining her sister in front of her rack full of clothes. So, so many outfits, a myriad compared to Gwyn’s scattered ones. “I don’t know what one’s supposed to wear to the theater. Even less so to watch a live orchestra.”

Nesta huffed a laugh, but her eyes were fixed on the garments in front of them as she scrolled through her various dresses. “Well, I do.”

They spent the next few seconds in silence, as her sister skillfully searched through fabrics. Strangely enough, Gwyn didn’t feel as nervous to have told her as she thought she would. But she was certain Nesta was only waiting for the right moment to fill her with questions.

“Oh, wait. I know.” She passed Gwyn and went to the trunk by that king-sized bed she shared with Cassian. The thought of her sister and her mate didn’t make Gwyn blush the way she once used to, but now the predominant feeling was that she could have that, perhaps. One day. That thought alone made her stomach flutter.

“Here” Nesta drew a burgundy midi dress out of the trunk. “Try this on.”

The V-necked laced bodice wasn’t too tight around the waist, and it had a light and also lacey skirt that draped around her knees, showcasing her legs. It was modest, and yet delicate and elegant.

When Gwyn looked at herself in the mirror, Nesta standing behind her as she zipped her up, she was breathless. It’s been a long, long time since she wore a dress, and this one fitted her perfectly. Alongside with the necklace, her freckled skin and hair, it made her feel… Beautiful. Stunning, even.

“You look splendid” Nesta stared at her through the mirror.

“Thank you.” She turned to her friend, who grabbed her arms and hugged her. She could see she was having fun.

“Do you have shoes to match this?”

Gwyn tilted her head.

“I could use my flats.”

Her sister shook her head, and reached for a matching pair of ankle-strapped scarpin heels under her bed. “Now there you go.”

Suddenly Gwyn felt an urge to cry. She was so happy to count with her sisters at moments like these. It made her excited for the ones to come.

“Hey” Nesta seemed to notice her tearful eyes, and urged her to sit next to her by the bed “Are you ok?”

She nodded and sighed. “I’m just… Happy. I’m nervous, but it feels good to know you girls have my back.”

“You know, Gwyn” Nesta grabbed her hand, her tone gentle. “I was going to say that you didn’t have to do this if you didn’t feel like it, that Azriel would understand…”

The thought of her declining his invitation made her heart ache. She didn’t once consider it; she was just glad to be spending time with him. That hewanted to spend time with her. Just as she opened her mouth to state that, her sister went on:

“But I can see that you want to do this. And I just wanted to let you know that I’m happy for you. And I can’t wait to know all about it when you get back.”

Gwyn squeezed her hand and gave her a cheeky grin:

“I’m excited, Nes.” Her words were barely a whisper as she confided.

“As you should. Now go” She nudged towards the door, smiling. “Go have some fun.”

#gwynriel #gwynriel supremacy #azriel x gwyn #did someone ask for gwynriel moments #i live for gwynriel #gwynriel headcanon #gwynriel fics #gwyneth berdara #azriel and gwyn #azriel #post acosf #acotar #I LOVED WRITING THIS AND NEXT CHAPTER IS EVEN BETTER #oops i already have like 2 more chapters written in advance #thanks as always for your support #and reblog this if you really like it to reach more gwynriel stans!

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izzabeean · 3 years

Text

Chapter 10 : Restraint

SUMMARY

You’re very upset after Oikawa sustained injuries from his fight with Oikawa, it almost feels like it’s your fault at this point. You wonder if he blames you for it and hopes there’s a way you can make it up to him.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 3,099

content : profanity, depiction of injuries

tags : alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : hello! sorry for the late chapter, I am moving my publish days to Sunday evenings PST time.

this chapter is a little slow but I am wanting to convey Oikawa's feelings/perspective a little more and hope it isn't too confusing in my writing. please enjoy and Chapter 11 should be up by next Sunday. thanks!!

masterlist

<< prev | ch . 10 | next >>

Last night's misfortune only carried forward onto the next day. This immense guilt protruded through you making sitting in class much more unbearable. And having Oikawa sitting beside you didn’t make it any better as you eye his bruised knuckles in your peripheral; an unforgivable reminder that your ex-boyfriend caused his pain.

Yet, Oikawa still got plenty of attention from his admirers, in fact, you could say he got more. Girls were bombarding him more than usual to find out what transpired, but Oikawa didn’t spare anyone the dirty details and just redirected the conversation to distract them with a coy compliment or flirtatious gesture completely derailing the previous subject matter.

Of all the people in the universe, you never expected Oikawa to be the one to throw a punch at Ushijima. Frankly, you thought his hatred was all talk, another form of teasing to push you and get under your skin. You always brushed off his banter, figuring he didn’t really mean much by it, but after last night, you knew there was more as to why Oikawa didn’t like Ushijima.

You feel like an idiot for never asking, but also for ignoring his warnings. Perhaps this was some kind of punishment for not taking his opinion into account. If you didn’t date Ushijima, Oikawa wouldn’t have ever gotten hurt, you wouldn’t have to deal with a break-up, and you might’ve been in a happier healthier place.

In reality, you were scared asking would open more unresolved doors. And you didn’t know if you wanted to accept any more surprises about Ushijima. It’s terrifying to think that the man you once knew is not the man you knew at all.

The lights of the classroom dimmed as a clip projects at the front of the classroom in regards to today’s lesson, but god knows what it is about. You couldn't pay attention. This feeling of regret lodges in your throat from all the what if’s . But you know all you can do now is find a way to make it up to him…

Oikawa nudges you with his elbow and leans in closer to whisper, “You okay? You seem a bit out of it.”

The feeling of his breath tickles, raising the hairs on your arms. You release your clenched jaw and take a deep breath in, in an attempt to erase the brooding expression on your face then turn to Oikawa. It’s hard to look at him without a sense of anguish filling your chest. Perhaps, your thoughts are filling a narrative only you can imagine and Oikawa doesn’t think any of it is your fault.

“I’m fine,” you regress hoping that he drops it.

But ‘fine’ doesn’t actually mean the dictionary definition of fine. Oikawa knows that. He’s had his fair share of “fines” from girls when they say there are and obviously they’re not. And it wasn’t like he didn’t know what was bothering you. Your eyes would linger every time you looked at him focusing on his bandaged up cheek and for the majority of the class, he could see you staring at his hand. You weren’t very good at hiding your guilt.

With that, he does the only thing he can think of to cheer you up. He takes your pen.

Anticipating a big reaction from you, he waves it away sending you a smirk, but when you continue to sit there eyes illuminated by the faint light from the screen at the center of the room, he pauses. The same tension from last night takes him by surprise. He longs to make things right, to make you happier than you were before. But the image of your smile beaming at Iwaizumi reminds him that he can’t do that. No matter how hard he tries to make you happy, he can’t be Iwaizumi.

Class ends and you begin packing up your things. You still haven’t uttered a word as you keep your eyes locked onto your bag unable to look up at Oikawa.

“Oikawa,” a voice mumbles. A tall brunette girl stands in front of him clasping her hands on the hem of her shirt. “Can I talk to you about something?”

You recognize her. She’s normally seated near the front of the classroom and always has the front pieces of her hair tied back. You never spoke to her but knew she was more of the soft-spoken type that always eyed you and Oikawa entering the room.

“Sure,” he replies, as they walk away to the edge of the room out of earshot.

It becomes apparent at that moment when you watch the interaction between them that she's probably going to confess to him. You can see the nerves in her body language as she caves her chest in and darts her eyes away from Oikawa. Truthfully, you always waited for this day to come and wondered if Oikawa would give her a chance. She’s cute and seems like his type.

Now that you think about it, what is even Oikawa’s type? You’ve always envisioned him with someone well dressed and always put together with sharp features that accentuate her beauty. Someone kind-hearted and gentle, the exact opposite of him. Someone like… Her.

Oikawa stands with his hand on the sling of his bag with his back to you. You can’t see his expressions but can tell he’s instinctively listening as he nods his head. The girl's face grows flush after her rambling comes to a halt and you can tell she’s holding her breath waiting for the answer. You catch yourself doing the same thing as Oikawa speaks. But the girl's demeanor changes from hopeful excitement to stone-faced disappointment. Still, she forces a small smile while Oikawa gives her a small bow before turning to walk to you. She rushes out of the classroom as soon as Oikawa’s back faces her and your stomach drops.

You don’t know the girl, but can’t help but empathize. Not long ago were you on the receiving end of rejection.

“Let’s go,” he says, gesturing to you to hurry up.

You’re still paused in place from watching and close your bag to swing in onto your back following Oikawa out of the classroom. You look around to see if the girl is still in the vicinity but can be seen nowhere in plain sight.

“Why didn’t you say yes?” you ask, finally speaking up.

Oikawa hesitates, uncertain how to answer. He’s never really been interested in any of these girls that ask him out, they're always people he’s never talked to, only seen around.

“Didn’t really know her,” he answers.

“But I see her all the time in class. She literally gawks at you whenever you enter the room. Have you never noticed?”

He did notice but didn’t care enough to talk to her. Honestly, he was over the endless amounts of shallow conversations he had with girls from his high school days.

“Ah, is someone a little jealous,” he teases.

“Jealous? What is there to be jealous about, I’m with you all the time now. I’m kind of getting sick of you,” you grin.

“Ouch, hurtful!” he frowns.

“You didn’t even think she’s cute?” you pester.

He did, but he didn’t want to admit it.

Sure, it’s a great ego booster to have all these girls fawn over him and it never hurt anyone… But only in one encounter would he have probably said yes to someone he just met.

------

The temperature is cold and clammy, as the rain pours when Oikawa walks out of the university building. Hoisting up an umbrella, he prepares to step out into the storm but gets distracted when he sees you sitting off to the side.

You’re hunched over the steps with your backpack sitting next to you, looking out at the dreary weather. There’s no hood on your coat, no umbrella by your side and he can’t help but notice the pouty look on your lovely face. You looked annoyed. But in a cute way, he’s never seen before. As if you were just waiting for someone to save you.

“Someone a little stuck?” he asks.

You turn to look at him. It was almost unbearable how gorgeous you are. Suddenly a wave of nerves crashes through him before you speak.

“It should let up soon,” you reply, returning to watch the droplets plunking onto the concrete.

There’s no way in hell the rain was going to stop anytime soon with this miserable downpour. Plus it’s getting late and soon will be dark, he couldn’t let you stay alone.

He clears his throat, walks up closer to you, and puts the umbrella over you. “Is that some way to tell me you have a boyfriend?”

“Maybe it was just a way to get rid of you,” you smirk, voice laced in irritation. “Did it work?”

Oikawa raises his eyebrow and grins at you, slightly turned on by your hostile response, something he wasn’t used to hearing from girls.

“No,” he flirts, drinking you up with his eyes.

The pitter-patter of the rain fills up the silence and a warm comfort makes him feel that you will soon no longer be strangers.

------

He bites his lip reminding himself of the opportunity he lost, though he was very afraid to ruin your friendship and figured, in time, you would come around. Yet, it wasn’t to him, but to Ushijima. And once again, you’ve found someone of another caliber that wasn’t him. Maybe he needed to move on, but having you around living with him made things so much harder.

“Y/N, the kind of attention I get from the girls is because I’m single,” he continues. “If I get a girlfriend, it could ruin my image.”

You know he’s joking but roll your eyes anyway without sparing him a glance. He’s always been this way since you’ve known him. And even when you first met you could tell he was trouble. When you first met him, you could feel his presence by the shift in the air even before he announced himself. There was always something special about Oikawa. You just couldn’t put your finger on what it was exactly.

“You want to go to that coffee shop we always use to go to? We haven’t been there in ages,” you say, trying to change the subject. “It’s my treat.”

“Wow, are you asking me out?” Oikawa jokes cheekily while fixing his hair. “If I knew this was a date, I probably would’ve dressed more appropriately.”

“This isn’t a date Shittykawa! Just a thank you for…” you look down at his hand. “Plus you’re not my type.”

“What! I’m everyone’s type, Y/N. Just look at me.”

“Mmm, no,” you reply, taking one good look at him.

“So mean, Y/N-chan!

No, he couldn’t possibly destroy your friendship to confess his unrequited love. Everything seemed so much simpler this way.

------

It’s been a while since you last sat down at the coffee shop. Although it was within walking distance from campus, you stopped going as often as you used to when you started dating Ushijima. It had a more industrial feeling to it and less cozy than you remember.

Nonetheless, you order the drinks while Oikawa takes a seat at a table beside the large window looking out to the street. You send him a thumbs up while waiting by the bar and he sends you one back feeling extremely silly upon replicating it. But he doesn’t care because you giggle before turning back to collect the order.

With two drinks in hand, you set them down at the table.

“Hold on, I ordered another,” you interrupt before Oikawa can even utter thanks.

When you return, you sit down placing the third drink to the side of the table.

“Y/N, I’m flattered but you don’t need to buy--”

“Oh, it’s for Iwaizumi,” you cut in. “I told him to meet up with us.”

Oikawa pauses, crossing his arms. “You have his number?”

“Yeah, we exchanged it after that creep bothered me.”

Oikawa is quiet and furrows his eyebrows at you from across the table, trying to give you his best scowl despite the fact that you clearly know what he’s sour about.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you grumble.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies.

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” you argue.

Your words feel harsh and Oikawa attempts to swallow his words but instead, they slip out through the tip of his tongue.

“He’s leaving soon…”

"What?" you rasp, a lump starts to form in your throat. Damn Oikawa. Of course, he’s a lot of things, but you didn’t think he’d take his teasing this far. "You’re joking, right?"

“I forgot to tell you… He’s only been here for a week, then he goes back to California soon.”

“Why California?”

If you hadn’t already practiced pushing down your feelings since the break-up, you were sure that you would’ve broken down at that moment. Enough surprises have surfaced to the point the devastating news didn’t circle you into this impending doom. No, all your hope in fate plummeted.

“He goes to school out there. So I wouldn’t get too close,” Oikawa mutters while taking a sip of his drink.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s obvious, you have a crush on him, I’m not stupid.”

You shudder at his words, recognizing that your crush on Iwaizumi is obvious to the point that Oikawa notices it. I mean, you did kiss the guy in front of him, but you thought at this point you were just dreaming since no one has brought it up.

“I don’t--”

“I mean, why else would you kiss him,” he interrupts. “To piss Ushijima off?"

Well duh, you think. That was basically what you were wanting to do. Make him realize you're better off without him and maybe deceive him a bit in regards to why life is just so much better.

However, you couldn't persuade yourself to actually say it. You already gave away too much and know if you say anything more it will just give Oikawa more ammunition to tease you.

"If you really wanted to piss him off, you would’ve kissed me,” he continues.

Suddenly your heart thumps and pupils constrict at the comment. The tension twists in the room and you swallow hard as the pressure to say something wells up in your chest.

Why did he just say that? Is this a joke?

And perhaps it was confusion mixed with fatigue from a long stressful day but you couldn't suppress the frustration that wells up inside. It wasn't funny to you. None of this was funny. You were serious.

“Not likely," you hiss. "Why don't you try being in the same room as your lying ex with their new partner and tell me, Oikawa, what would you do?"

He stiffens at the tone of your voice. He's not used to you calling him by his last name, it's only when you're really mad. Oikawa opens his mouth to say something but remains quiet. He doesn’t quite know what to say as you’re visibly upset. He fucked up.

He looks at you, you won’t make any eye contact with him as you look off to the side. Your fingers are wrapped around the hot cup of coffee, probably to warm your hands up because they’re always so cold. You’re wearing his favorite sweater, it’s his favorite because you always look so good in it-- not that you don’t always look good-- but when you wear this particular sweater it makes him happy.

“How’s your wrist?” he asks, casually to break the tension.

“It’s fine,” you reassure, still put off by him.

“Can I see it?”

Oikawa reaches out his hand to which you recoil pulling it away from your cup and onto your lap out of his sight.

“Please,” he pleads.

You blink at words as he gazes at you with his puppy-eyes. Surely he didn’t mean what he said and you were just being sensitive, and it was very, very hard for you to stay mad at him. But you still hesitate as you rest your hand on the table and roll up your sleeve enough to see the bruising. Oikawa analyzes it then gently grazes his fingertips over your wrist. Your heart pounds against your chest at his tender touch.

“Does that hurt?”

“No.”

You gulp quietly, surprised by the change in dynamic. Your anger suddenly dissipates and an unexplained warmth cascades through your body like a breath of fresh air. Your eyes frantically search for an answer to why you’re feeling this way, but before you can you’re interrupted.

“Yo--”

You both look up to see Iwaizumi loom over you both. You feel your cheeks burn up like you’re caught in the act of something scandalous and your guilt sinks in on you.

“Oh, hi Iwa,” you manage to mutter. Suddenly you don’t feel Oikawa’s touch anymore. You look back to see him pull back with a smile on his face gazing at Iwaizumi.

"Iwa-chan, Y/N got you a drink," Oikawa smirks, sliding the drink towards him.

Iwaizumi's eyes shift to you and suddenly goosebumps form on your arms. His stare is always so intense but not in a bad way, more like you want to melt into a puddle. And you almost do, when he thanks you for the drink.

In the midst of your one-sided moment, your phone rings. Excusing yourself, you walk outside to take the call to which it's your landlord announcing your apartment is almost fixed. Excitement fills your chest as you think about moving back in and having your own space again. But there's also this painful feeling from when Oikawa revealed that Iwaizumi is only temporarily here. It makes you sick to know what you thought was fate actually wasn't at all.

It makes your kiss ever more embarrassing as you know feelings can't be reciprocated at all. You wish you'd known sooner and don't understand why you didn't see this happening.

Walking back inside the cafe, you notice Iwaizumi sitting beside Oikawa. You sat down across from both of them and it almost felt you were on trial as they stared at you.

"Who called?" Oikawa asks.

"Oh, my landlord said my place is almost ready and that I can swing by to see it."

"When?" Oikawa

"I was thinking maybe some time tonight," you say.

"Want us to go with you?" Iwaizumi offers.

"Th-- that would be great.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime

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musicallisto · 3 years

Note

Hi Clara!! Congratulations on 800 followers again!! (also I was looking through your blog and we have the same birthday!! 🥳) I was wondering if I could please have a male Bridgerton ship? I’m an ENFJ, libra, and Hufflepuff if that helps at all. I can be a bit introverted a times but I’m usually a pretty outgoing, kind, and optimistic person! (although I can be a bit sensitive at times lol) Currently I’m studying to be a teacher. My friends/family are very important to me, and I will always try my best to help them it whatever ways I can. As for some things I enjoy, I love to read and write, as well as spend all day watching movies. I’m also interested in signing, acting, etc. and making things with my hands (ie. knitting, embroidery). Thank you so much in advance!! 💛

hiii birthday twin!! <3 you seem like the most fantastic person ever, I love your personality - and your writing, but it goes without saying. I hope you like your vanilla milkshake, but don’t get caught sipping on it unchaperoned with benedict bridgerton, that would be quite the scandal...

Now, was I influenced by your profile picture? Probably. But even without it, you’d be perfect for each other, and let me tell you the story of you both.

For your first society outings, and following your debutante ball, you became the talk of all London. Sure, you were praised far and wide for your beauty, but there was something else, ineffable and far more tender, that caused your name to linger on most gentlemen’s lips.

It was your first season, and yet you had already shown a mesmerizing elegance and poise, as well as an acute optimism and enthusiasm, making your conversation all the more enjoyable to all those you encountered.

Benedict had noticed you on your first ball, when whispers of your name and your every move had spread among the crowd like wildfire, and he had to admit that you were radiant, and your warm and welcoming smile gave you beauty like no other, but bright eyes and rosy cheeks were legion this side of London, and he knew the superficiality of these pretty little faces all too well. He wasn’t intrigued enough to start up a conversation or ask you to dance, and imagined you would be married in a matter of weeks.

But as time went on, and you apparently gracefully declined each proposal you received, Benedict couldn’t help growing a little bit more captivated each time he heard your name. What could you possibly waiting for? You’d had dashing young men bring you presents, you’d had the wealthiest nobles serenade you with flowers and compare you to a summer’s day; you’d had sonnets and promenades and bouquets and jewelry... and yet you had rejected them all, but not out of malice, still with this grace that everyone knew you to have.

Perhaps, and it was a little pretentious of him to dare entertain the thought, but it pleased a small part of his soul nonetheless, perhaps what you were waiting for was a portrait.

Eventually, after having theorized for days about what could possibly prompt such unambiguous refusals from a lady who seemed to have plethora of choice, Lady Whistledown must have deemed your situation to be less worthy of attention, because not scandalous enough, and you, like most other trends and fashions in that everchanging society, became an old tale before you’d even reached your prime.

But paradoxically, exactly when you were no longer the subject of Whistledown’s tittle-tattle, were you the most intriguing to Benedict.

It was then that he finally asked you to dance, under the watchful (and, though she did not show it, agreeably surprised) gaze of Lady Violet Bridgerton.

“You look positively radiant, lady Y/L/N. Your gown is exquisite.”

And he immediately regretted every single word that he had just said; he sounded just like those boring Lords you had rejected one after the other; but he meant it, he truly meant it, for he was just then seeing the hues in your eyes and in your smile, all those colors like those of a vibrant landscape...

If there ever was a time to show the depths of his soul, it was then; but he had always been good at avoiding conversation, not prompting it.

Still, you didn’t drop your beaming smile, and answered with a slight blush.

“Thank you, my lord. It is... oh, you will think it’s silly.”

“Not at all, I promise.”

“You see, you are the first to say that. Other lords have reproached its simplicity, but I am rather fond of it, because I sewed it myself.”

“Really? That’s impressive!”

He found he had little trouble continuing with the conversation after that, because you were so easy to talk to, so understanding of everything he said and so enthralling to get to know. You were creative and great with your hands, an artist, just like him, and it was the first of many things he would love about you.

“Tell me, lord Bridgerton... I have heard that you are quite the artist yourself.”

“Oh, that’s a gross exaggeration, they are but half-good sketches, nothing of interest, truly...”

Yet as he danced the night away with you, he felt as though a new blood surged through his veins, ready to craft the most beautiful pieces the world had ever seen, if only they could resemble the colors of your face.

“Well, I would love to see these half-good sketches someday, if you allow. I am sure they are brilliant.”

You had never seen a lord blush before, especially not a Bridgerton. It made your heart soar like it had rarely before.

“If you so wish. I couldn’t possibly refuse a lady.”

All along the ride back home, Benedict has the hugest, silliest grin on his face as he looks wistfully at the night sky.

“If it is what it takes to see my beloved brother swoon like a simpleton, then I will come to society balls more often.”

“Eloise, do not talk of your brother like that!”

But she’s right - it only took one night for him to be completely enraptured by you. He understands what they all meant when they couldn’t keep your name out of their mouths, when they said you were delightful and spirited... but they all hurried with their proposals, without getting to know you first, without listening to you, without discovering the depths of your character, and it’s all he wants all he can think about.

The next morning, he’s at your doorstep with a bouquet, and, of course, tightly wrapped inside it so as to not draw suspicion, a few of his sketches, ones that he drew the evening prior because his mind was too restless to sleep.

And thus begins a long period of courtship that has all of London in a frenzy. Surely no one expected the second eldest Bridgerton and the former diamond to have an affinity for each other. Truly no one.

“My Benedict has his heart set on an accomplished lady, a beautiful and clever one at that - this truly is the season of surprises! All a fulfilled mother would need now is for your brother to be the next to mend his ways...”

“And all his brother would need now, mother, is an escape from this interminable paperwork, but alas.”

You can often be seen promenading together in Hyde Park - you enjoy the company of the squirrels and the geese as much as he loves taking in the sceneries to later paint them.

“Y/N, pardon me if it is too bold of me to ask, but why are you not engaged yet? Surely you must have had a plethora of charming young men propose to you...”

“Handsome they were, but hardly charming. Oh, they all had plenty of qualities... an estate by the sea, a racing stable with twenty horses, a spot in the throne succession... but, oh, I care little if this is unbecoming of me to say, they were all so boring! None of them had half the charm that you have. The hours fly by when I am with you, Benedict, and I am entirely truthful when I say I have never felt as content as I feel with you.”

Everyone is London is awaiting the moment they’ll see you with a ring on that finger, but it seems to never come; yet everything is idyllic and your courtship and, beyond that, in your friendship, and he sincerely knows that he is irrevocably and utterly in love with you. But he just doesn’t dare ask.

To the point that Benedict’s entourage give him signals that it is now or never. Even Anthony, though with varying success.

“If you don’t propose to Lady Y/L/N, brother, I will.”

(And no one believed that.)

“Fine, I will, then!”

“Eloise!”

But what he has with you is so special that he’s terrified of rushing things. What if you are not ready, what if he is not as interesting, just as boring as the other men you turned down? What if he read everything wrong? What if...

Until he shoots his shot. It’s not nearly as romantic as he expected, because he fumbles over his words a few times and almost drops the ring in the Hyde Park lake...

... but given the enthusiasm with which you nod and embrace him - not caring about the passerby’s judging gazes -, he’s not sure why he agonized over it so much.

It’s self-evident that your love story is one for the ages.

800 follower sleepover

#writeroutoftime #800sleepover #ship request #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #oh my god this got so long???? but i have many feelings about the bridgerton siblings #and i wanted to add even MORE stuff but i still have homework to do asdfghjkl #anyway i hope you enjoy it!

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villainousshakespeare · 3 years

Text

Learning a Lesson Chapter 9

iLearning a Lesson Chapter 8

Part 1 Here, Part 2 Here, Part 3 Here, Part 4 Here, Part 5 Here, Part 6 Here, Part 7 Here, Part 8 Here

Young Actor Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Rated E -Smut, Angst, Complicated Relationship - Teacher/Actor Posing as Student, Feels, Flirting, Fluff, Oral Sex, Sex, Shower Sex, Threats, Breakups, Angst…

ANGST IN THIS CHAPTER! (but don’t worry… I’m a hopeless romantic)

Summary: It’s your first day as a teacher and things are going well. That is, until a tall, gorgeous boy with blond curls and dramatic ways saunters into your last class. When he ignores all the swooning girls to flirt outrageously with you, it is secretly thrilling. Even more so is when he tries to steal a kiss after class ends. How long will you be able to keep your defenses up?

Up and Coming actor Tom is under cover in high school for research for a movie, but the pretty drama teacher is making the long assignment so much more enjoyable

@arch-venus25, @caffiend-queen @ciaodarknessmyheart @frostbitten-written @just-the-hiddles @kellatron55 @myoxisbroken @nonsensicalobsessions @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @shae-annelore @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @hiddlesholic @yespolkadotkitty @vodka-and-some-sass @wolfsmom1 @tom-hlover @toozmanykids @delightfulheartdream @whyispistashanuttaken @hopelessromanticspoonie; @loki-yoursaviourishere @is-it-madness

The Monday morning walk to school was the longest of Emily's life. With every step she took she was tempted to turn around and run the other way, hiding under her blankets and weeping rather than going on. Only a deep seated stubborn streak kept her from giving in to her fears and doing just that.

She needn't have worried. Tom was true to his word. There was no sign of him to be found in school. No infectious laugh ringing through the hallway, no tousled halo of blond hair floating above the shorter students amidst a throng of admirers, and no ice blue eyes seeking hers for a secret wink or speaking glance.

Emily told herself it was for the best. She hoped she would eventually believe it.

The other god-send was that Jim Howard seemed to have called in sick. A substitute was in his classroom when she got there, and never had she been so glad to see the old woman than she was that day. She assumed that it was his pride that kept him from walking into the building with a black eye and a swollen jaw, and took evil delight in the fact that Tom had so thoroughly trounced him.

Tom. There he was again. She could not go five minutes without calling him to mind. It was going to be a long day. Hell, it was going to be a long forever as far as she knew. How long would it take to get over the golden boy who had so completely won her heart?

Half a day was how long it took for the news of his exit to hit the school grapevine. Emily began hearing his name whispered during her fourth period class. By the time that class ended and she made her way to the staff lounge it was all anyone was talking about. Ada, Janis, and Mike were gossiping about it when she came in, a pathetic lunch of coffee and a banana in her hand.

"Well, anyone with eyes could have seen that that boy should be a movie star," Janis was opining. "It doesn't surprise me one bit."

"Oh, come on Janis," Mike laughed, skepticism showing, "he was handsome, sure, but there's no way you saw this coming!"

"I'm not saying that," Janis sniffed. "Obviously I didn't know he was an actor. But if anyone in this school was destined for greatness it was Martinsson."

"Hiddleston," Mike corrected her. "Apparently that's his real name. You're awfully quiet, Emily. You were close with the boy, weren't you? Tutoring him after hours and all?"

"Not that close," she said with a half shrug. "He claimed to want help with an audition monologue, but that was obviously for show. We never actually worked on it. Just class."

The words were true enough as far they went, even if the meaning behind them was an all out lie.

"Still, he clearly preferred you," Ada said, giving her a probing look. "I heard all sorts of chatter about how he always flirted with you, volunteering to read romantic scenes with you. I was a little jealous, to tell the truth. I mean, and I can say it now that I know he's a genuine adult - what I wouldn't have given for a chance to sculpt a nude of that boy!"

"No wonder Howard hated him so much," Mike laughed good naturedly. "It seems it's not just the high school girls who had a thing for him."

Emily did her best to tune them out after that, and took to eating in her classroom. The days blended into each other, with no end of the day secret to make them stand out as special.

The kids in her drama class were all excited of course. The thought that they had read scenes with an honest to goodness actor, one who was going to be starring in a movie, made them practically giddy. Kate began recirculating the lie that the two of them had been involved, and no one dared to correct her. Emily was angry on his behalf, offended that anyone would believe he would fool around with a student, until she realized the implications of that thought.

It was that guilt that was the worst. Well, along with the loneliness. Even if he had been an adult, she hadn't known that. She had thought him no different than Kate or Zack or Jamie, and she had slept with him anyway. She deserved all the pain she was feeling. Deserved more than that; to loose her job and never be hired again, even. More and more she slipped into a depression.

It was nine days after she had thrown him out of her apartment and her life that the first letter arrived. She grabbed her mail from the small slot inside the door and rifled through it on the way up the stairs as she always did, expecting nothing more than bills and solicitations. When she turned over an envelope addressed in an instantly recognizable hand, she felt as though she had been punched in the gut. Hands shaking, she opened the seal, afraid that if she didn't do it at once she would never find the courage, and unfolded a letter.

"My Darling Emily," it began in Tom's loopy mess of long hand, "I know I have no right to write to you, having broken your trust in the most caddish way possible. I only hope that you will allow me the opportunity to once more take advantage of your goodness of heart and kindness of disposition, that I may try to explain why I orchestrated such a hurtful charade.

"As you are patently aware now, I am an actor of both stage and screen. I take my profession very seriously, perhaps more so than it deserves, though I like to believe that you among all women will understand why. If I can peel away the layers of a character enough to expose the beating heart within, allowing my audience to sees even a piece of the truth of humanity in my portrayal, then I truly believe that I am contributing something to this shared experience we all are living. Pretentious as that sounds, it is my goal every time I assume a role, be it Iago or a soldier, or even Mr. Toad.

"When I was cast as a student from the States, I knew I had my work cut out for me. I was educated, I blush to say my love, in the best schools in England: Eton, Cambridge, and RADA. My good fortune has been quite excessive, I know, though no teacher I encountered in all of my tutelage could hold a candle to you, my darling. In any case, I was woefully unprepared to know the struggle such a young man was going through. My director came up with the idea to have me pose in a small town school, and I admit I leapt at the chance.

"Never in a million years would I have guessed that I would meet the woman of my dreams in such a situation.

"I confess that in the beginning I flirted with you to amuse myself. You are quite breathtakingly beautiful, my sweet, and I was bored beyond belief. As the days went on, however, I began to uncover the woman underneath the starched blouses and pencil skirts. A woman with a mind that soared and a soul that sung. One who shared my passion for stage poetry, and did not back down from a challenge.

"In short, my darling Emily, I fell in love with you.

"I should have told you the moment our relation crossed over the line. Alas my love, I fear that it is a coward who worships you. I was afraid that if you learned the truth you would be angry, and I wanted to collect as many precious moments with you as I could before your warm eyes turned cold. My sin is great, I know. I do not deserve to be forgiven. Nonetheless, I place my heart at your feet in hope that you will take it up, take pity on me, and not stomp it beneath your shoe.

"The film I am working on seized the opportunity afforded by my early matriculation to begin shooting. I am relocated to New York City to start principal photography. I know it is a mere two hours from you, and yet it feels the length of the world. Knowing I will not see you each day, hold you at night, is a weight on my soul that I know I have only myself to blame for.

"I ask nothing of you, my dearest Emily, but that you allow me to write to you. I do not expect you to write back, although I live in hope that one day you will. The distance keeps us apart, but perhaps that need not be all bad. Perhaps it can give you time to heal and to trust me once more. Let me write to you, to tell you about myself - my real self - and try to win your friendship back if nothing else. It has been the most important of my life.

"I do not flatter myself that I will ever hold you again, kiss your soft lips, feel you beneath me as you gasp in passion. I have too great a mark against me to hope for such grace. I would die to have it, but will not impose it on you. Just let me try to heal the hurt I have done, and I will be content.

"If you cannot find it within you to accept my offer of friendship in the form of epistles, simply write me with one word. 'Stop' and I will cease. You are in control, my heart. I will bow to your wishes.

"Please take good care of yourself, my Emily. I wish I could be their to tend to you myself. Be warry of the dread maths teacher. I know it is no longer my place, but I would ask you to not be alone around him.

"Enough of that. I will end for now. Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.

"My heart is yours.

All my love,

Tom."

Emily read the letter through, barley able to make out the words through the tears welling in her eyes. When she had finished, she collapsed onto the bed and read it through again, openly weeping this time. All of the pain and guilt she had been holding in came flooding out. In the end, she had to put the letter aside so that the deluge of her tears didn't permanently mar the ink composing the lines. By then she knew it by heart, but she still loved to see his strong hand scrawled out over the page.

She did not for a moment consider writing him to stop. Perhaps she should have. There was no future she could see for the two of them. Her trust had been shattered, along with her mental image of herself, by the situation. On top of that, he was away, filming a movie in the big city that she rarely went to. When this movie was ended, who knew where he would be? Jetting off to exotic countries? Treading the boards in London? His life was exciting and adventurous, and she was a little mouse of a school teacher from a small town. How could they hope to make a relationship work, even without their drama?

The letters came far more frequently than she had expected. While it was not every day, Tom was clearly grasping every spare moment he had to pour out his heart to her. He told her all about the filming process. She felt as though she knew his costars, so vividly did he depict them. Against her will, Emily would find herself laughing at ridiculous anecdotes, or groaning in commiseration at delays in the shooting.

In the midst of all of these tales of misadventures and productivity, Tom made clear to he still hoped to win Emily back. He never missed an opportunity to praise her, calling her darling, his sweet, his dear, his love. He mentioned how he had suggested that one of the teachers should be young, smart, and sexy as an homage to her, though no one could possibly do her justice. He let slip that he had been making his costars groan with his continual referencing her, to the point where they teased him any time her name arose.

At the end of each letter he dropped all pretense, stating plainly that he loved her and would do anything to win her back. He insisted that he would wait, that the decision was entirely hers, but that he lived in hope that one day she would write him back, telling him she forgave him. Until that day, he would soldier on and try to deserve her.

Several times Emily found herself sitting down, trying to pen a reply to him. She wanted, desperately wanted, to do so. But each time, the fear would come crashing down and she would end up tearing the letter to shreds.

About two months after the letters started, there was a longer than usual gap between arrivals. Emily began to think that he had given up on her, and a panic she had never felt gripped her. She had not realized the extent to which she had been living for his words.

When an envelope finally arrived, it was in an international envelope, and the return address was London, England. That was it, then. He was out of the country. All of the stories of his homecoming, complete with welcoming family, were a dagger to her. He still professed his love, but now an actual ocean separated them along with the sea of emotion.

Their were two more letters, spread over a month and a half, and then nothing for three weeks. Depression returned. She had all but given up when a card shaped envelope, gilded on the edges, arrived in her box.

***

"Alright, out with it!"

Emily looked up from the pile of papers she was grading to see Ada standing in her classroom door, arms crossed over her paint splattered apron and a determined look on her face.

"Out with what?" Emily asked, confusion genuine.

"It's been four months, Emily," the older woman said, shutting the door behind her as she walked in and sat at one of the student desks. The same desk, Emily couldn't help but note, that had once been Tom's.

"Sorry?"

"Four months that you have been moping around! Barely showing your face in the teacher's lounge, looking like someone stole your dog and kicked your kitten. This, from the girl who was such a spark of joy when she was hired that she even ignited passion for teaching in an old war horse like me!"

"I'm sorry," Emily mumbled.

"Don't be sorry, girl! Tell me what's wrong!"

"It's nothing."

"Emily, do you think I'm blind?" Ada asked with a sigh.

"No..."

"Or that I'm stupid?"

"Of course not!"

"Good," Ada snorted. "As I am neither. Four months ago, a certain long-legged boy with more looks than are good for anyone swaggered out of this school, and you have been a ghost ever since. It's not hard to put the pieces together."

Emily gaped at her, all color draining from her face. If Ada knew, or strongly suspected, was it then general knowledge? Was her shame a joke amongst the faculty, or a cause of scorn?

"Don't worry, hun," Ada said, as though reading her mind. "Most of the people around here are blind and stupid. No one else has any idea. Well, maybe Jim, but that's a whole other can of worms that I am not too keen on digging around in. So, you fell for the boy, huh?"

"You must despise me," Emily said, voice hardly above a whisper.

"So you're failing is that you're deaf," Ada shook her head. "How many times did you hear me rhapsodize about him? Hell, I was undressing him with my eyes every damn day!"

"But you never took it farther than that."

"No, I didn't. But then I am decades older than either one of you and was not given the opportunity. Who knows what I might have done if he had batted those long golden lashes at me and flashed a dimple."

"You wouldn't have slept with a student," Emily said doggedly.

"Is that what this is? That you feel guilty? Tell me something, Emily: would you ever even consider anything inappropriate with say... Jack Simmons, or Zach Lewis, or Dan Fielding? Would it even occur to you?"

"No," Emily said at once, repulsed by the very idea.

"Of course not. Because they are children. The Simmons boy is a hulking child, true, but even though he is big, he is still an adolescent. You can easily tell in a moment he is not an adult. Now, compare that to Tom. He has a baby face, and is all gangly, but there was something about him that flatly identified him as a man. You knew that, instinctively. That is why you let things play out the way you did."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I know you," Ada said simply. "You are a good person, with a moral compass. Was it a stupid thing to do? Of course! It could have ended horribly for you, and thank god it didn't! But don't beat yourself up for listening to your intuition when it turned out to be right! Even if the boy did end up being a snake."

"What if he wasn't?" Emily asked carefully.

"I just assumed... he left, and you didn't seem happy about it... Emily, what did happen?"

Emily looked at her friend, chewing on her lip as she decided what to say. Ada already knew the worst; what harm could it do to let her in on the rest? In a rush it all came out. The clandestine affair, the trouble with Mr. Howard, seeing Tom on Nicholas Nickleby, their disastrous fallout, all of it. Ada sat there rapt as Emily spilled the whole sordid story.

"He really punched Jim?" Ada asked when she had finished, a huge grin spread over her face.

"Twice," Emily confirmed, answering smile on her own mouth. "Hard. Knocked him flat onto the ground."

"Oh, would I have loved to have seen that."

"I could have lived without it, honestly."

"Oh, hun, I don't know what to tell you," Ada shook her head. "I don't even know whether to feel jealous of you sorry for you. Both, I suppose. Ah, to be young again."

"He's been writing me letters," Emily confessed, face reddening. "Ever since he left."

"What does he say?" Ada's eyes were huge.

"Different things. How his day is going. About the filming. That he loves me and wants to be with me."

"Well what the hell are you doing here then?" Ada stood from the desk to stare at her.

"Ada..."

"Girl, if that young man wanted me, you can bet that nothing would keep me away!"

"He's in London," she muttered.

"Did something happen to all the airplanes?"

"No... In fact..."

"In fact what, Emily? Spill it? Give a woman something to live vicariously through!"

With a sigh, Emily dug through her bag and pulled out the card she had received the day before. It was an invitation to a movie premiere in New York City. Folded along with that was a train ticket, prepaid first class, and a small note:

"I would not wish Any companion in the world but you, Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of.

Tom (with all thanks to Miranda in The Tempest)"

"Well," Ada smiled at her, "when shall we go shopping? You, my dear, are going to need a dress!"

#Tom Hiddleston #tom hiddleston rpf #Tom Hiddleston/OFC #fic #fanfic #love #angst #pining #letters #love letters #smut (in other chapters)#teacher/student relationship #BUT NOT REALLY #he is undercover for a role #I am a sucker for a happy ending I promise!

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detectivesvu · 4 years

Text

Another Round

—

Rafael Barba x Fem. Reader

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2,454

“Moral of the story, take a chance in life. You never know what might happen.”

—

The bar was rather uninhabited compared to usual. Even for a Wednesday night the crowd was scarce and things were quiet. The smell of liquor and bodily fragrances wasn’t as thick in the air as it normally was. There were a few patrons seated at the various booths around the establishment. Most of them were office coworkers attempting to blow off some steam to ensure that they could push through to Friday where they could look forward to a couple of days off before having to prepare to do it all again the next week.

There were only two customers actually sitting at the bar. One was an older woman that you had the pleasure of seeing every Wednesday evening for about an hour or two. She was a lovely lady who worked in accounting at a private establishment. She had actually found the bar you bartended at by accident. She had been caught in a torrential downpour and ducked into the nearest building to let the rain pass. That building just so happened to be your little bar that you offered as a temporary home to those who needed it. You convinced her to at least stick around for a drink, to which she ordered a dry martini. Ever since that day, she now came every week. She was convinced that you made the best dry martini (with extra olives) in the whole city. In a general sense, she was great company and an even better tipper.

“Wonderful as usual, [Y/N],” She called to you from the opposite side of the bar; “I’ll see you next time!”

She tapped the money she had left on the bar to make sure that you noted to take your tip. You flashed her your warmest and most genuine smile, waving at her once she made it to the door;

“Thanks, see you later!” You called back.

Once she left, you were sure to clean off the bar where she sat, taking your tip, and setting her empty martini glass aside to be washed after hours. That left the only other person sitting at the bar. You had seen him about three times over the last few weeks and not once had he seemed interested in conversing with you. You had impeccable customer service as well as having a talent for reading people. You knew nothing about him, not even his name. However, you knew that whatever he did for a living was a killer on his mental health and overall being. Every time he had come in during your shift, he looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He would sit in the same seat and very quietly order his usual drink of choice: a glass of scotch served straight.

He usually would nurse his first drink for a little while before eventually loosening his tie and pulling some sort of work out of his bag. You were never nosy enough to try and figure out what it was, but it seemed to be important based off of the way he usually never took his eyes off of it. Most people would just look at him as being busy, but you looked deeper and identified that he was lonely.

You knew that some people weren’t as talkative as others. There was a portion of bar-goers that would rather order their drink and not say a single word the entire time. As a bartender, you craved to talk to those people to give your best job performance. As a good hearted human being, you craved to talk to those people because you knew that they desperately needed to. You wanted to be a listening ear to anyone who needed it. No questions asked or judgements given.

You had a rag in one hand and a highball glass in the other as you gently stood in front of the man. He was extremely focused in on whatever he was working on, so you softly spoke to get his attention and not break his stride;

“Can I get you another scotch, sir?” You asked.

A little startled, his head snapped up and his eyes trained on you. He processed your question before sighing and rubbing his forehead stressfully. He leaned back into his chair and set his shiny pen down next to his papers. Poor guy. He was beat.

“Yes, please.” He replied simply.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You apologized sincerely, but with a slight smile.

You turned to the array of bottles behind you, selecting the same bottle of scotch you had served him before. He chuckled at your statement and exhaled deeply;

“No, no. Don’t be sorry. I got a little lost there for a minute.” He said briefly motioning towards his work.

You refilled his glass, returned the bottle to its proper place, and leaned forward against the bar just a little ways off to the side as he began to sip his second drink of the night.

“I can see that. You always seem to bring work to the place where work is supposed to be left behind.” You astutely noted.

He shrugged and cocked his head to the side shortly;

“You’re observant. I like that.” He responded rather coyly.

Now it was your turn to shrug;

“It’s in the job description,” You joked; “This might make me a bad bartender, but I’ve seen you in here more than once and never caught your name.”

He smiled tenderly. It was now that you realized just how charming he was when he wasn’t tied down to his paperwork.

“Rafael Barba. You’re [Y/N], right?” He introduced himself.

You nodded, but your head was hard at work. That name sounded so familiar. Where had you heard that name? Surely you hadn’t ever met him outside of work. Then it hit you.

“Barba...oh, you’re the prosecutor on the Lindsey Darien case!” You announced.

His smile changed into a surprised expression;

“I am. Not many people remember my name,” He admitted; “Usually I’m just the lawyer that people happened to catch on the morning news.”

You laughed gingerly at that. You couldn’t even imagine being a criminal prosecutor. It all made sense now. The late night arrival at the bar, the tense posture, the constant attention being on his work. He might as well have the weight of the world on him. It was no wonder he always looks so uptight. You couldn’t comprehend the things he probably saw everyday. The stories he had to hear on the regular would keep you up at night for weeks. You were just fine slinging bottles and cleaning up crushed pretzels off of the floor.

“That case is...an intense one, yeah?” You questioned, being careful not to pry.

He shot you a look that read ‘finally someone gets it’ and ‘you don’t even know the half of it’. You knew he couldn’t tell you any specifics and honestly you didn’t want to know. Again, you were behind a bar for a reason. You weren’t cut out for that kind of work.

“To say the least. One of the hardest of my career.” He confessed, finishing off his drink.

You wondered if there was anyone outside of work that he was able to talk to about his job. You hoped he wasn’t confined to only speaking to people involved with the cases he dealt with. That was a lot of bottled up feelings to carry around all the time.

“Well, in that case,” You proclaimed; “The next one’s on me.”

You refilled his glass once more, knowing this would be his last one for the night. He never drank more than three. He thanked you and proposed a new topic, wanting to continue speaking with you. He was beginning to find himself intrigued by you. He had met lots of bartenders in his life, but none of them seemed to have the same kind of energy that you did. He found it refreshing.

“What about you? I bet you’ve got some stories.” He remarked.

Oh, you definitely had stories. You learned very quickly that bartending was going to allow you to see the absolute best and worst of people. In a weird way, that’s what made your job so beautiful to you. It was a relief to know that it was okay to not be your best all the time.

“Sure I do. All bartenders do,” You agreed; “Are you asking for the craziest, funniest, or scariest thing I’ve ever encountered, counselor?”

He groaned with a modest guttural sound;

“Please. Call me Rafael. I don’t need my favorite bartender calling me by my job title too,” He said with a smirk; “But how about your favorite story?”

You felt your cheeks get hot at his nonchalant compliment. Many of your regulars were adamant about you being their preferred bar technician, but for some reason it felt different coming from Rafael. Something strange was brewing inside you and you could feel it in your chest...almost like a weird flutter. He was feeling it too, but he brushed it off as the alcohol settling in.

“My favorite story...” You repeated; “Well, I do have one in particular.” You declared.

He was very tuned in now. He was not the same man you had just been in contact with when he first walked in.

“I’ve been at this bar for a long time. Like, almost 15 years. I’ve had a lot of regulars come and go,” You began; “I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve forgotten a good many of them. But there’s this one guy that I’ll never forget.”

Rafael was watching you from over the rim of his glass, sipping slowly to savor his drink. He wasn’t sure where this was going yet.

“He came in every week when I was working and each time he looked more defeated than the last. After he had been coming for awhile, I finally asked him what was going on in his life,” You recalled; “It turned out that there was this woman that he had been friends with since elementary school. He was head over heels for her and always had been.”

You smiled brightly as you continued telling the story. It still gave you chills to this day;

“He was worried because he didn’t want her to reject him. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship. They were both getting close to their forties and he had convinced himself it was too late to get married and start a family. On top of that, he was scared that if they did get together then he’d always regret the times they could’ve had together but didn’t because he waited too long,” You told; “I told him that there was a reason she was still in his life. There was a reason that she never committed to anybody else. They had been tip-toeing around one another for decades. I knew they were meant to be together.”

Rafael was an extremely good listener. He wasn’t one to overly enjoy cheesy romantic stories, but this one was awfully captivating. For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t thinking about work.

“We talked for a long time, up until closing time. I convinced him to go for it. I told him that it wasn’t worth never taking his chance and then always wondering what could’ve been. The next time I saw him, he had a woman with him. Sure enough, it was her,” You recounted; “Turns out, they had been waiting on the other to make a move. They’ve been married for...13 years now.” You said doing the math in your head.

Rafael’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened. Turns out you were quite the persuasive speaker.

“They’ve got two kids. One biological and one adopted. Even after they got together, he didn’t stop coming here every week. She would just always come with him.” You continued.

He leaned his face into his hand. He was positively amazed.

“Wow. Do they still come around?” He asked curiously.

You shook your head;

“Sadly, no. They moved out west a couple of years ago. Although, he still has family here so anytime he visits the city he’ll come by. So we somewhat keep in touch,” You answered; “Every time I see him, he thanks me for giving him a push. He never would’ve taken a chance if I hadn’t.”

You took Rafael’s finished glass from the bar counter, setting it aside as well. He was speechless.

“Moral of the story, take a chance in life. You never know what might happen.” You advised.

“I’ll say. That’s incredible.” He exclaimed.

You smiled, happy that he thought so.

“Does that satisfy your story telling request?” You asked.

“Very much so. I appreciate it.” He expressed his gratitude.

Just as you were about to offer him a different story, his cell phone rang. Oh, well. There was always next Wednesday. He fished his phone from his pants’ pocket, read the caller ID, and groaned. He began packing his things up and you took that as he had to leave;

“Duty calls?” You asked.

“Yep. I’m sorry to cut this short.” He apologized,

“No worries. You know where to find me. It was nice to finally talk with you.” You said sweetly.

He smiled a bright, happy smile. It warmed your heart.

“You too. I’ll see you next week for sure.” He returned the sentiment.

He was in a rush to get back to his office, but you ducked under the bar to grab one of your business cards that had your number on it. With all this talk about taking chances, you found it appropriate to take one yourself. In the split seconds it took you to grab a card, he had already dashed out of the bar and down the street. You laughed in amusement, shoving the card in your pocket. You saw that he had also left a healthy tip, but with a small piece of paper on it as well.

Looks like you weren’t the only one wanting to take chances tonight.

He had left his office phone number as well as his cell phone number. With a small note that read;

Consider this as me taking a chance of my own. Call me sometime.

You grinned, making sure you didn’t lose the piece of paper. You wondered how he was able to scribble out a note and make it out of the bar in the few short moments that you weren’t paying attention. But it didn’t really matter. You had a new favorite customer.

One that was going to have a bigger impact on your life than you would ever dream of.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #law and order barba #law and order svu #law and order fanfiction #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x female reader

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years

Text

Step 12: Asking Her To Marry You

From 12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Hermione Granger

(Which is now complete!!)

Check it out on Ao3 or FFN!

————————————

Asking Her To Marry You

At this point in your relationship, you’ll hopefully know her well enough to plan the perfect proposal. But don’t worry too much about perfection— if you’ve followed our advice, she’ll be charmed enough to say yes to an imperfect one too. So alas, this is where our guidance ends, your future together begins. Best of luck!

————————————

Ron chuckled at the book’s irritating, yet unsurprising lack of advice. Annoyingly, the book was right— he no longer needed its guidance. What he needed was sleep, in fact, his body was now begging for it.

He set the book on the table beside him and curled up behind Hermione. With his face in her hair and his arm around her waist, he closed his eyes and was asleep in no time. Any anxiety about the next day was appeased by his dreams, in which his elaborate— maybe slightly exaggerated— plan to propose went off without a hitch.

xxxxx

In his dream, Hermione was the first to rise— as usual, and Ron woke to the sound of the shower. Ron watched himself stumble out of bed and into the steam to join her, where she enthusiastically embraced him, jumped into his arms, and wrapped her legs around his waist. He pinned her to the wall and kissed her lips, her cheeks and her neck before working his way down her body. Dream-Ron moved his mouth between her legs while Hermione gripped his hair and slipped her thigh over his shoulder. Pleased with his own technique, Ron smugly watched on as Hermione unravelled, and he hoped that it wouldn’t be the last time that day Dream-Ron would invoke such an enthusiastic exclamation while down on one knee.

Almost too suddenly, the shower scene morphed and shifted like a memory transition in a pensive. Dream-Ron was in the kitchen, and Hermione was curled up in the living room with a book. Pots and pans sizzled on the stove, and the scent of a hearty breakfast filled the air. The tea-kettle whistled and he poured two cups before piling their plates high with food. They sat cozily on the sofa, eating breakfast and confirming plans for the day.

The walls of their apartment then faded away, rematerializing into what appeared to be a blend of a nearby bookstore and the Hogwarts library. Ron and Hermione were quickly engulfed by the maze of bookshelves. Hermione’s mind was always turning, looking for problems to solve and puzzles to complete, so she didn’t protest when Ron handed her the first book— Wuthering Heights, and told her he’d set up a puzzle for her to solve. In that book he’d dog-eared a page, and circled letters that named the title of the next one. Ron saw a smile spread across her face as she began her hunt, excitedly flipping through each novel until her stack included Wuthering Heights, as well as Iliad, Little Women, Life of Pi, Year of Wonders, Oliver Twist, and Utopia.

Hermione became so engrossed in the scavenger hunt that she didn’t notice Dream-Ron leave the bookshop. She had no problem finding the rest of the books, and was soon holding a stack of blurry titles which Ron knew to be Moby Dick, Alice in Wonderland, Robinson Crusoe, Rabbit Hill, Youngblood Hawke, and Mansfield Park. There was just one more to find— Jane Austen’s ‘Emma’, which happened to be a portkey enchanted to bring her to Grimmauld Place.

It might have seemed like a random assortment of books, but it wasn’t. Ron had spent significant effort locating these exact titles, and he could list them in order by memory, and as a result, they’d been swimming in his dreams for quite some time now. He knew Hermione was clever enough to figure out the pattern, possibly too clever— so much so that she might miss the connection entirely. After all, she frequently overlooked what was right under her nose.

As soon as she laid her hand on Emma, the walls of the Corner Books—Hogwarts Library hybrid started spinning, morphing into the drawing room of Grimmauld Place as if it had taken a long swig of polyjuice potion. Soon enough, Hermione was standing face-to-face with Harry and Ginny.

“Hermione!” Ginny said excitedly. “You made it!”

“Where’s Ron?” she asked excitedly.

Harry answered by handing her another scrawl of paper.

Meet me in the place we first kissed. You’re clever enough to find out how.

Hermione looked up at Harry and Ginny, letting slip a little huff of annoyance. “That would be the room of requirement.”

Ginny shrugged, as tight-lipped as Ron had told her to be.

“The only way to get there is with a house elf—“

“Keep reading,” said Harry.

Hermione glanced back down to the note.

Ps: Remember what I said to earn that kiss!

Hermione scowled at the note.

Harry nodded. “I can summon Kreacher if you want—“

“No!” she said, and Dream-Ron smiled. Just like at the battle of Hogwarts, he would never force house elves to be part of his proposal plan, and he understood her well enough to assume she knew that. “There’s another way.”

Harry smiled and gestured to the rest of the house. “Have fun.”

The world spun around her once again, shifting into another room upstairs. Hermione was suddenly standing in front of one of the Vanishing Cabinets that the Aurors had confiscated from an ex-Death Eater months prior. In his dream, the cabinet was a bit more obvious than in reality. It was tall, colorful, and bursting with energy as though it were alive, unlike the dull, dark, and sinister version that actually existed. Even though the cabinet looked fun and enticing in the dream, Dream-Hermione was still a skeptic, so she stood in front of it with her arms crossed, her face scrunched up as though it had called her a dirty word.

Ron had pulled some serious strings to set the second one up in the Room of Requirement, but luckily, McGonagall was as much of a hopeless romantic as he was. Hermione continued to study the cabinet from a distance, as if checking for dark magic, and he understood her hesitation of course— she had no way of knowing where its sibling was. She gingerly opened the door to find another note scribbled inside.

You found it! See you on the other side.

Hermione beamed, and then to his confusion, dropped her bag to the floor, hastily removing books. When her bag appeared empty, she piled two books back in— Year of Wonders and Emma.

Interesting. Ron wasn’t going to pretend to understand that choice, even in a dream-state.

He shrugged it off, which was easy to do once distracted by the look of pure giddiness on her face as she disappeared inside.

Grimmauld Place faded away, and its place appeared the Room of Requirement. Not that it was recognizable as such— Ron had asked the Room of Requirement to look a very specific way, and of course, it had obliged, exceeding all expectations. Hermione stepped out of the cabinet into what appeared to be a train compartment on the Hogwarts Express, just like the one where he had first met her.

She looked around, and tears filled her eyes as the memories of their first encounter flooded in. On the cabinet door was another note, which she unstuck from the wall with a trembling hand.

This is where we met! It’s also where I first realized how much I valued the opinion of that precocious know-it-all, Hermione Granger. I still check for dirt on my nose everyday.

Hermione shakily laughed, and wiped a tear from her eyes with her free hand. Then the train compartment doors slid open to reveal another room. This time it was a bathroom, much like the one where she nearly lost her life to a rogue troll when they were eleven.

She shuddered at the memory, but grinned when she noticed the writing on the wall.

This is where I learned exactly how desperate I was for your forgiveness, and how far I was willing to go to earn your friendship. Thank you for teaching me how to pronounce Wingardium Leviosa.

Her eyes watered again, blurring her vision so that she nearly missed the door sliding open again to reveal the next room. Patting her sleeve to her eyes, she stepped out of the bathroom and into the Great Hall, which was all dolled up for the Yule Ball. The Weird Sisters playing loudly in the background was a stark contrast to the soft decorations and draping lights which looked exactly as romantic as they did in their fourth year.

This time, however, the lights spelled out a message.

This where I realized I fancied you.

Hermione laughed, clearly not as saddened by the memory as she could have been. Instead, she appeared grateful for the event that made Ron’s daft teenage self realize she was not just any girl.

A pair of doors appeared across the room, and Hermione continued her way through, admiring the decorations with a soft smile on her face. When she exited, she found herself in the Gryffindor Common Room— more specifically— the armchairs and fireplace where they had spent so many nights huddled up close to one another, studying, talking, or simply sitting in comfortable silence.

Her eyes paused on a message plastered on the wall, just above the fire.

This is where I fell irrevocably in love with you.

She looked longingly at those chairs, like she wanted to take a seat by the fire and curl up with a blanket and a book. He could clearly imagine her eyes scanning the pages, her fingers drifting over the words as if touching them would make them real, and her lips forming into a content smile as the day’s stress left her body. It was a beautiful image of her in her default state, a picture that was one hundred percent Hermione. He’d never seen her happier anywhere else.

Dream-Ron had appeared behind her. He cleared his throat, and Hermione turned on her heels to face him, her eyes instantly re-watering at the sight of him.

“Hermione,” he began, his voice shaking with nerves. “I know that you don’t like surprises, so I hope this doesn’t come as one.”

Her lips quivered and she brought a trembling hand to her face to absorb the tears that were now falling freely down her face.

“I even spelled it out for you in the bookstore, so I hope you’ve had time to think of your answer.” She softly laughed and her eyes sparkled when he reached into his pocket and took a step toward her, lowering himself to one knee. With a shaky inhale to prepare, he asked the question. “Hermione Granger, will you marry me?”

Dream-Ron’s voice cracked like he was a teenager asking her to a dance, and he half expected her to look at him in confusion, and ask “what?”

But that’s not what happened. She was lost for words, and answered with her head which bobbed up and down as she ran toward him. He opened his arms to embrace her, but she halted.

“Wait!”

She dug into her bag, and pulled out the two books she had purposefully brought with her, Year of Wonders, and Emma. She handed them to Dream-Ron, who looked them over with an amused grin on his face, while she dove back into her bag. She pulled out a third— one that was not from the bookstore. Pride and Prejudice— her favorite book, the one she always has with her. It all made sense now.

Year of Wonders

Emma

Pride and Prejudice

Holding all three books, Dream-Ron smiled up at her. “Is… this a yes?”

“Well, seeing as I don’t have an S, it’s a ‘Yep’,” she said, before finally diving into his embrace as the books tumbled from his arms like basilisk fangs.

He had forgone all effort to keep from crying, and so had she. He momentarily pulled away from the hug to slide the ring onto her finger. It took a couple tries with their trembling hands, but then she fell heavier into his arms and he tightened his embrace. He lifted her up and carried her to an armchair, and they sat intertwined by the crackling fire, hugging, kissing, and crying into each other’s hair.

Ron half expected the room to shape-shift again, bringing them to the celebration at the Burrow where their families were waiting, but his dream never got that far. Their embrace in the armchairs began to feel even more real, and soon enough, the Gryffindor Common Room was fading to black.

xxxxx

Ron awoke in his own bed, his arms still wrapped solidly around Hermione. The sun was shining through the window, sending a beam of light to the floor where Crookshanks slept, belly up, as if he was trying to photosynthesize. Hermione began to shift restlessly in her sleep, groaning, as the light knocked on her eyelids like an unwelcome solicitor..

Reality set in, and it would have been easy to feel sad upon realizing his perfectly-executed proposal was all a dream. But instead, Ron just felt giddy with excitement. This could very well be the start of the best day of his life.

As long as everything went according to plan.

———————————————

“To Ron and Hermione!” exclaimed Arthur, reaching his champagne glass straight up into the air.

“To Ron and Hermione!” echoed a chorus of Weasleys, Grangers, and a Potter.

Glasses clinked, champagne splashed, and a beaming Ron slipped an arm around Hermione to pull her close to him. She tilted her head up to his, and he leaned in to capture her lips in a kiss. He felt her arms wrap around his middle and vaguely heard a few whistles in the background.

Ron and Hermione. It always had a ring to it.

No time had been wasted before preparing The Burrow for the celebration. CONGRATULATIONS was magically written on the wall in capitalized, tinsel-like lettering that flashed red and gold. Jean and Molly had prepared an impressive spread, which rivaled Hogwarts welcoming feasts. Hugo was already mentoring Arthur in the art of mixology, while Charlie and George eagerly volunteered to taste test each new cocktail. There was a cake shaped like an engagement ring, and it appeared that Ginny had gotten to it, because the words “about fucking time” were scribbled across in icing.

“So, Darling,” said Jean, as she refilled her champagne glass. “Aren’t you going to tell us how he proposed?”

“Yes, dear! Please tell everyone!” echoed Molly.

Hermione, who had just taken an unusually large bite of watermelon, replied with a look of surprise, as if for some reason she hadn’t expected that question. She slowly chewed, buying herself some time, and sent a panicked glance in Ron’s direction. A silent conversation followed.

How much do I tell them?

That’s up to you.

They squinted at each other for a few more moments, finalizing the details of their abridged story. Then Hermione turned back to her mom. “I’d love to tell that story.”

xxxxx

Earlier that day...

“Good morning,” were the first words Ron mumbled at the start of the best day of his life.

“Morning,” she muttered back.

He snaked his arm around her and pulled her close. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said, sending him a look of slight confusion at his eager confession of love. “I’ll be right back,” she added before hastily untangling himself from her arms, and bolting to the bathroom.

Ron groggily rolled out of bed to get dressed for the day. He opened the drawer of his nightstand to find the small velvet ring-box, and slipped it into his pocket before hobbling into the kitchen to make tea and start breakfast. He filled two mugs and set them aside to cool off while breakfast sizzled on the stove. His stomach twisted in a combination of hunger and nerves as he shuffled eggs around in the pan, planning out how he would introduce today’s activities. Luring her to the bookstore should be easy enough, but he hoped she was feeling up to the rest of the adventure.

He heard the shower starting upstairs, and turned the stove down to low. Remembering the colorful beginning of last night’s dream, he stumbled back into the bedroom, hoping Hermione wouldn’t mind a visitor. He presumptuously pulled off his shirt before cracking open the door to unleash a flume of steam into the bedroom.

Ron froze at the sight of Hermione. The shower was running in the background, but she was crouched on the tile floor, hovering her face over the toilet while she wretched. One hand wrangled her hair behind her head, while the other supported her weight on the floor.

Fuck.

“Hermione,” stammered Ron. “Are… are you ok?” He rushed to her side and knelt down, taking her hair from her hands. He cleared some loose strands away from her face while she gently shook her head.

“No,” she groaned. “Not okay—” her body interrupted her as she heaved again.

“Well, shit, Hermione,” he said softly, hoping his disappointment didn’t sour his words. Hermione rarely threw up. In fact, the last time he recalled had been during a panic attack in Australia before they found her parents. It suddenly occurred to him that this was the first time he’d held her hair on a bathroom floor while she vomited into the toilet. He felt a strange sense of pride, as if they had reached a new relationship milestone.

As his hopes for a smooth-sailing proposal started to fade, there was a part of him that considered asking her right there on the bathroom floor. It would have been the least romantic way to do it, and she’d probably hate him for it, but he doubted she’d say no. Something about seeing her in such a vulnerable state made his heart swell, and he wanted her to know it was that it was her humanity that he fell in love with.

Fuck, he’d marry her on a bathroom floor with vomit on her face, no question about it.

She grimaced and groaned, then leaned over the toilet yet again, and Ron gently held her close and rubbed her back as she suffered through the next wave of nausea.

He could maybe wait a little longer.

Eventually she stood up and wiped her face, revealing an expression of utter embarrassment. “Thank you,” she whispered, pointedly looking away from him. “I’m going to shower now.”

Ron scoured his mind for something to say that might make her feel less awkward. His randy brain landed on, “do you mind if I join you?”

Hermione paused, then laughed. “You want to shower with me?” she asked incredulously. “After that?” she added, motioning toward the bathroom floor.

“Well… always,” shrugged Ron.

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t exactly feel sexy right now.”

He wanted to tell her how wrong she was, and that his attraction to her was unconditional, but worried it would have come off insincere. “Ok. Breakfast is ready in the kitchen—”

“About that,” she interrupted. “It smells wonderful but…” she trailed off, motioning to the toilet where she’d left last night’s meal.

“Right,” said Ron. “Would porridge be better?”

“Yes.”

“Ok then. Porridge it is.”

“Thank you.”

Once in the kitchen, Ron scraped the remaining eggs and veggies into a leftovers box, and stored them in the refrigerator, before getting started on a gentler, blander breakfast.

To contrast the flavorless porridge he was making, Ron’s mind shifted into overdrive, trying to rework his proposal plan to consider Hermione’s nausea. Portkeys could upset even the strongest stomachs, and the Vanishing Cabinet was no walk in the park either. He had planned to floo to the Burrow from Grimmauld Place after returning together in the Vanishing Cabinet, and at the very least, they could always floo to the Burrow early…

Fuck.

Ron tried to keep an open mind about the day ahead. Maybe Hermione would be feeling better after her shower, and a trip to the bookstore would cheer her up. If that didn’t work, maybe his mum would be able to push the celebration back a day, and he could try tomorrow.

Everything was going to be fine.

He doubted that even more when Hermione never returned to the kitchen. Thinking he’d better go check on her, he left breakfast on the counter for the second time, and made his way back to the bedroom.

She had returned to the same place as before, crouched on the bathroom floor, head bowed over the toilet. She looked pale and sullen, and hadn’t bothered to change into day clothes or dry her hair after her shower. Her sopping wet hair stuck firmly to her towel which seemed to absorb enough water to save their neglected houseplants and she sat on the tile with the heaviness of a bag of flour.

“Hermione?” Ron asked tenderly.

She shook her head, and covered her face with her hands.

“You’re not feeling any better,” he said.

Hermione shrugged.

Ron willed himself to emotionally detach from the remaining images of Hermione in a bookstore, the Room of Requirement, and the Burrow and sat down next to her. With a closer look at her face he realized she was crying.

Fuck.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, as he slipped an arm around her. “I’m worried about you. You’re never sick.”

She turned into him and buried her face in his chest, mumbling something incoherent.

“Sorry?” he said, pulling her close to him so he could hear her better.

Lifting her face from his chest for a brief moment, she said, “We haven’t been spending mornings together.”

She was right, their schedules had never lined up enough to enjoy waking up at the same time, and as of late that was even more true. “Hermione,” he whispered. “Has this been happening a lot?”

Hermione nodded and pressed her face back into his chest. She spoke so softly against his shirt that he might not have heard her, but the words demanded his attention. “Ron, I’m pregnant.”

The images that had been dancing in Ron’s mind were still there— Hermione gathering books, searching for the Vanishing Cabinet at Grimmauld Place, wandering through Ron’s memories, and embracing him by the fire in the common room. It almost felt that his mind was expanding so that those images took up less and less space, because they weren’t actually real, and this was.

In all that extra space, his mind cycled through visions of his future, playing memories yet to be made. For the first time since he had decided to ask her to marry him, proposing felt like a simple task because he saw far beyond that now. He wanted to ask her, but then he wanted to hold her hair if she got sick again. He wanted to run out at weird hours of the night to buy the food she craved. He wanted to go to that bookstore, not so she could partake in his scavenger hunt, but so he could buy all the books about pregnancy and parenting.

“Are you serious?” were the words that tumbled out of his mouth, dripping with pure excitement. She nodded affirmatively, and an involuntary smile spread across his face. He reached a hand to her cheek to wipe away a tear, before landing his lips on her forehead.

He felt her grinning under his hand, seemingly pleased at his positive reaction. Her excitement gave her next question a melody. “Well...what do you want to do?” She asked it confidently, like she already knew what he would say.

But she didn't know.

“I want to marry you,” he stated, like it was the most obvious question in the world.

She pulled away and squinted skeptically at him as if he might be joking, but there was nothing but sincerity in his eyes.

He then reached into his pocket, pulled out the ring box, and popped it open to reveal a beautiful solitaire ring— simple, understated, yet timeless, just like Hermione. Then a smile enveloped her face and she didn’t need to say anything at all. She leaned into his embrace, and he felt tears leaking from his eyes, elation on his face, and nothing but happiness.

They sat there intertwined and crying for some time until he realized she’d never actually answered. “So… will you?”

She responded wordlessly, with an enthusiastic nod against his chest, and he slipped the ring onto her finger.

It really felt like the rest of the world had disappeared and they were alone, the only people that mattered. When reality started to filter back, Ron had to chuckle at the sudden realization of what room they were in. It was almost funny how much effort he had put into planning out the perfect day, only to propose to Hermione on a bathroom floor.

“I had a better plan, you know,” he said finally. “To ask you.”

She shook her head and mumbled into his chest. “This was perfect.”

Maybe it was. Their friendship began in a bathroom, as did their relationship nearly eight years later, so it was quite fitting that he proposed in one too. He’d have to save his scavenger hunt for another occasion, but that was ok. He had a lifetime of opportunities ahead.

To outsiders, it might not be the most romantic story. Luckily, Ron didn’t give a fuck what outsiders thought, because he had Hermione.

xxxxx

“We had just woken up and were getting ready for the day. We got to talking, and I asked him what he wanted to do,” she said, wiping a stray tear from her face. “He said ‘I want to marry you.’ I... didn’t see it coming at all.”

Ron was thankful for the fact that his lopsided grin was pretty much stuck to his face, otherwise he might have winced. As he had predicted, Hermione had left out the most important piece of information. Without it, it all sounded rather unremarkable.

“Out of the blue?” asked Molly, her eyebrows raised.

In his peripheral vision, Ron saw Harry and Ginny exchange a knowing glance.

“Out of the blue.” said Hermione, before taking another big bite of her watermelon slice.

“I think that’s so romantic!” Jean had one hand resting on her heart, and her eyes sparkled with tears. “Ron, did you plan it like that?”

Ron inhaled sharply at the sound of his name. “Um, well no, actually,” he said, sending a reassuring look toward Hermione. “I had something more elaborate planned.”

“Then what happened?”

Ron grinned as he watched Hermione show off her ring to Ginny and Angelina who had appeared at her shoulder. “I just couldn’t wait any longer.”

Molly and Jean’s soft smiles and sparkling eyes suggested they were satisfied by that answer.

The celebrations continued into the evening hours, and sometime after dinner, Ron appeared at Hugo and Arthur’s makeshift bar to find that Hugo already had a drink waiting for him.

“Congratulations again, son!” said Arthur, before engulfing him in another hug.

“Thanks Dad,” he said.

“I’m going to check on my future daughter-in-law!” he said excitedly. “I’ll see if she wants a drink.”

Arthur scurried away, leaving Ron alone with Hugo.

“I already made you an Alexander,” Hugo said, sliding the drink across the table to Ron. “Made one for Hermione too.”

Ron felt his ears turning crimson, as if he’d been caught in a lie. Now was not the time to inform Hugo why his daughter wasn’t drinking. He would just have to drink for two today.

However, Hugo was quite observant. In a whisper he added, “there’s no alcohol in hers.”

Ron met Hugo’s unflinching gaze, and the two men stared at each other for an uncomfortable pause. The tension finally broke when Hugo smiled, and Ron felt a wave of relief. “How did you know?”

Hugo chuckled. “I’ve never seen her eat watermelon.” He took a dramatic swig of his own drink before continuing. “But Jean couldn’t get enough of it when she was pregnant with Hermione.”

Ron glanced over at Hermione, who was working her way through yet another slice of watermelon. He tried to remember the last time he’d seen her eating it, but was drawing a blank.

Hugo brought him out of his memories. “I guess our conversation about contraception was for shit.”

If Ron had just met Hugo, he might have put more effort into formulating a diplomatic answer. He might have interpreted his pursed lips as stern disapproval rather than a weak attempt to prevent himself from laughing at his own joke. He definitely would not have burst out laughing and answered the way he did.

“Total shit.”

Encouraged by a few cocktails, Hugo grinned widely and unleashed a hearty laugh. Then he did something surprising. He put down his glass, circled the table, and opened his arms to embrace Ron.

“I’m happy for you, son,” he said softly. “I hope you’re happy too.”

Ron saw no reason to hold back his tears, so he didn’t. He had always assumed his future father-in-law would consider Ron's happiness simply an extension of his daughter’s, but Hugo proved him wrong. This was a man who cared about him deeply, as if he was his own son and Ron could feel it. “I’ve never been happier.”

Hugo pulled him to arms length. Ron noticed a tear on his cheek and felt another wave of connection with the man. With a pat on his shoulder, he turned back to the bar and grabbed both glasses. “Now go have a drink. Have some fun,” he said before adding with a wink, “while you can.”

Ron found Hermione discussing wedding plans in the living room with Ginny and Angelina, and slid into a seat on the armrest of her chair. He pressed the glass into her hand and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “non-alcoholic.”

She looked up at him and mouthed, thank you, before leaning against him while he slipped his arm around her.

Ginny was smiling at them as more Weasleys piled into the living room. Seeing Ron and Hermione together ignited another toast from the group. “To Ron and Hermione.”

“To Ron and Hermione!” echoed the crowd.

Plus one.

He’d never been more excited about anything in his life, and it was clearly evident by his expression. When she clicked her glass against his and looked him right in the eyes, he saw his own elation reflecting back at him, and knew she felt the same way. They had come so far, but their story was only just beginning.

#hp fanfic #ROMIONE #hpromione #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #romione fluff #ronweasley #ron x hermione #ron and hermione #Hermione Granger #hermionegranger

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lilyharvord · 4 years

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The Chain (Part 7)

Main concept: Two love struck idiots get sent back to a pretty UGH time period in their lives (that required me to reread all the books again) and have to hide the fact that they know everything.

Find Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

tag list: @delilahlbard, @king-maven-calore, @thatoddgirl777, @elliekratzzz, @evangelineartemiasamos, @evangeline-of-montfort, @scxrletguardsdawn, @freaky-freiday, @petergrantkavinsky, @kuwei, @whatsup-gorls, @katiemoore (here ya go ((: thank you for your interest), @redqueenetwork(let me know if you want a tag and I’ll add you to the list ((: )

I wake to watery blue sunlight. The sun has just finished peaking over the horizon, making me grumble immediately. There was no reason I should be up this early. I didn’t schedule training, and I didn’t promise Gisa breakfast. Besides, I’m exhausted and my head is foggy, which is a very unwelcome combination.

Sighing loud enough that Cal should hear me, I bring my arm up to cover my eyes. “Cal, close the curtains.” I murmur, before smacking what would normally be his back. I only hit empty sheets though. My eyes fly open as I sit bolt upright.

This isn’t Montfort.

The buzzing in my head is from the cameras trained on me, and the fogginess is from the alcohol last night. The alcohol I drank to keep from grabbing the knife next to my hand and stabbing it through the top of Maven’s when he reached across to offer me a glass of water. Even with that moment, I had made it through the night. I had given him a smile, one that I almost thought was real. I’d forgotten that he had been funny, that he had a good sense of humor. He was kind to me last night. I know he had been the first time around too. Deep down in a place that Elara had never touched, he had protected that kernel of love that made him fall in love with a Red boy in Corvium. I wonder if Thomas knew that he was one of the few things that kept Maven from completely losing his mind. So odd how two Reds made two princes question everything.

I rub at my forehead to try and alleviate the ache there before giving up and throwing the comforter back to swing my legs to the side. The marble floor is freezing, especially after the warmth of my bedding. I wish Cal was here, just so I could throw myself back under the blankets and I stick my feet against his legs to warm them. He always hissed at the feeling when I did it, but let me anyway, only to leach the warmth from one of his hands and press it against my thigh to make me squeal.

I have half a mind to crawl back into bed, bury myself in pillows and blankets, and pretend I’m in Paradise Valley during a snow storm. A light knock on my door startles me though, and wipes away the remaining fog in my mind. No rest for the wicked apparently.

Standing quickly and ignoring the gooseflesh that erupts on my skin, I hurry over to the chair where I unceremoniously tossed my robe from last night. I blindly shove one arm into a sleeve and call for another second from the maids waiting outside, hoping they at least give me that time to look semi-decent.

The three of them hurry in though, the one at the front carrying my dreaded schedule. I’d almost forgotten about it, and honestly wish that I had. Lessons that will bore me to tears, and then tense lunches and dinners with the ladies of the court are going to haunt my days while Elara stalks my nightmares. More acting, more games within games, I think I’d rather run head first into a wall than do all of that.

The girl, who can’t be much older than me, dips her head as she offers the thin piece of paper, drawing a sigh from me as I take it and sink reluctantly into the vanity chair. I know exactly what it will say, but that doesn’t stop me from scanning it to check for discrepancies. Nothing seems out of place. Then again, Elara was too smart to give herself away on something like this.

Protocol lessons will be miserable. I can remember most of what I learned, but I can’t exactly show up and claim that. Maybe I can tell Cal to put me in training earlier. There was no harm in that right?

I know that the best part of my day will be Julian. I hadn’t seen him at the feast last night, not that he would show up to something like that. He probably spent the night surrounded by his books, sipping whatever bitter alcohol he was willing to stomach for the night. If he’s on my schedule, Elara can’t possibly know anything. She wouldn’t dare put us together. He’d been a major collaborator with me, and we posed a serious threat because of that.

I read the schedule over and over again as the maids arrange my hair and pick out my outfit. When I glance over my shoulder at the tight leggings on the bed that have been laid out, I grimace. “Anything more… practical?”

The maid brushing out the skirts of the gown to go with them glances at my closet hesitantly, only to disappear inside again. Another maid turns my head forward to the mirror as she begins painting my neck, chest and face with the silver paint. Her hands are delicate. With the work she does, and how well she does it, she must be an artist of some sort.

Pants and a jacket appear in my peripheral vision, a silent question from the maid holding. I nod in agreement, and she hurries away to press and prepare them. My skin crawls in the growing silence. I can’t even hear the birds that are probably singing as they wake up outside.

I don’t remember it being this awkward. Then again, I had been so focused on avoiding mistakes that I didn’t have time to think about the people around me. It had been that selfish part of me that fed the character of Mareena. She had died years ago though, and I plan to keep her dead and buried after what I did as her.

I glance at myself in the mirror again, looking over the paint as the maid finishes and begins lining my eyes. It has been a long time since I let someone put this heavy of makeup on me. I look wicked and lovely. Beautiful, like a knife Evangeline would twirl between her fingers.

Today will be the first chance to truly observe Elara since our encounter in the cells. Nothing appeared amiss last night, but I wasn’t going to put anything to chance in this den of wolves. Too much rides on my success to fail at this point.

Stepping carefully into the pants, I let one of the maids help me into the jacket. Her fingers dance along my skin quicker than my lightning, careful to avoid touching the paint and smearing it. I feel like a china doll that might shatter if they handle me too roughly.

Still, I’m ready earlier than I anticipate. Lucas and I might be able to simply stroll through the palace instead of the sprinting walk I remember from my first day. Even if I had arrived late before, arriving early this time around won’t change anything. In fact, it might even make Elara over look me more. I could use that to my advantage when I start poking my nose in places it doesn’t belong.

The maids bow away from me when they finish, their hands tucked into the sides of their skirts. I raise my chin at the girl looking back at me in the mirrors. She looks cold, colder than I remember. I won’t let her take over again though. I won’t let her get the foothold she got during my initial time here. She had been armor then, but she’d still almost drowned me before I threw her to the side to save myself.

Swallowing I turn away from the mirror and whisper my thanks to the maids before crossing the room for the doors. One rushes to open it for me, her eyes downcast. I glance her over, taking in her delicate features. She reminds me of Gisa so much, my stomach turns thinking about it. What is Gisa doing now besides bemoaning a lost future along with her broken hand? She heals, I remind myself, even if a part of her will never forget that phantom pain.

I want to reach out and set my hand on this girl’s shoulder though. I want to comfort her, if only to reassure myself that everything will be fine. I squeeze my hand in a fist though and thank her before stepping into the hallway. I shouldn’t be thanking them so much, but the words leave my lips so easily.

Lucas waits across the hall, his expression carefully schooled into neutrality. But the minute I step out and smirk at him, his lips quirk up in that grin that sometimes haunts my nightmares. He would have continued giving that smile to world if it wasn’t for me.

“Babysitting duty again?” I tease lightly, hiding the hitch in my breath by adjusting my jacket and pulling it closed too tightly. Nodding in the direction of the breakfast room and starting at a comfortable pace for my short legs, he says, “Do you want an honest answer?”

With a shrug, I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He gives me another smile and I give him a weak one in reply. “Here’s to us having a good friendship, Officer Samos.” I can’t bring myself to wish for it to be long. The pang I’d felt when I saw him for the first time again was not as bad as I thought it would be. It still ached, but at least I didn’t feel like I was swallowing nails when I looked at him. Maven was another matter entirely. The only positive was that I didn’t have to see him much around here. Not yet that is.

“Likewise, my lady.”

I chuckle at the title, both disgusted and amused by it.

The breakfast room is empty when Lucas ushers me in ahead of him though. And when he enters on my heels, he glances around for a moment before whispering that the queen should be on her way. With a quick, practiced bow, he departs from the room.

I��m earlier than I expected. I had hoped Elara was here already, that way she wouldn’t have the chance to surprise me. Lucas’s quick departure means Elara cannot be far away though, and I wonder if she scares him as much as she does everyone else. It’s odd to think everyone sneered at Cal’s mother just because there was a possibility that she had sung his father into marrying her, yet no one dared to whisper about the possibility that Elara might have done the same thing. I think if anyone tried they would end up dead though. I want to believe I would have said something.

I walk by the wall of windows that overlook one of the numerous gardens, watching the way the rising sun’s rays catch on the dewy grass below. Reaching my hand out, I let the light play on the rings decorating my fingers. I miss my engagement ring, as silly as that is. I never thought I would miss a piece of jewelry. Still, I missed tracing the braided bands with my thumb and spinning it on my finger. It had become a habit during meetings while I was thinking. I miss that blood red stone the most though.

The door from the other side of the room opens, and I tilt my head to see who it might be in the glass. Too bright to be Elara. My lips curl up in a smile as I spot Evangeline’s curtain of platinum hair cut across my peripheral vision.

“Good morning, Lady Samos,” I tell her, not bothering to look at her as I do. Just the fact that I am not remotely surprised by her appearance will make her blood boil. I’m sure she spent countless hours perfecting her hair and outfit to make me feel inferior. The fact that I haven’t even deigned to give her the response she wants will send her reeling. I know it will. She’s too calculating to let it show when she replies though.

“Such a change of costume for you Lady Titanos. Where are the pretty dresses?”

“I figured today called for practicality. Don’t you agree?” I finally turn to look at her, my smile rapier sharp. She returns the smile, her fingers dancing at her side.

Turning toward the table to sit down, I catch Elara sliding into the room like a wraith. Our eyes meet and I drop mine quickly, building up the mirrors I did when she first tried to invade my mind. It’s a maze in there, one that even I wouldn’t be able to find my way through. I trust it to hold, but only for a short time. My brain might be jelly by the end of this breakfast and I’ll have to go through the rest of my day with a headache if I’m not careful.

Even during the long, grueling interrogation I had been terrified that she would find a crack in my armor, that she would slip through and find everything. I didn’t want to think about how pathetic I had felt, locked up in that silent stone cell, panic lacing my blood like a drug. There had been no way out, no way out if anything went horribly wrong. I guess I should be thankful that nothing did go wrong.

She walks to the head of the table, where a neat placement is waiting for her. “You should eat quickly, Lady Blonos does not tolerate tardiness.” She drops into her chair with cat like grace, and without another word. One of the servants that came in with her hurries forward with a bowl of fruit.

I edge toward the table, but not before Evangeline cuts by me, one of the rings on her finger elongating to a point that she tries to swipe at my hand with. I yank my hand away to grab the chair and pull it back, hiding the dodge expertly. My eyes dart to her, and although she tries to hide her surprise at my agility, some of it still slips out.

“You’re still taking Protocol?” She asks as she slides into her chair, trying to hide her discomfort as I do the same.

Raising a brow at her, I smoother my confusion. “You mean you aren’t?”

A servant places a bowl in front of me, but I don’t tear my eyes from Evangeline. What possessed her to try and snap at me like she did? I know she wants the truth, and I know she’ll eventually try to get it in the training arena, but I didn’t think she’d be bold enough to try here. Maybe she thinks Elara isn’t in on it, and she’d get away with exposing me? I doubt it. Evangeline is not stupid. She knows a puppeteer when she sees one.

I pick up my fork and spear a melon before taking my knife and spinning it just enough that it catches the light. With a graceful flick of my wrist I slice of the extra green rim that must have been missed. Evangeline eyes the fluidity of the movement though, her cheek twitching imperceptibly at the silent threat.

(///////)

I hate Protocol.

That is all I think as I stalk with Lucas toward the Glass Terrace for luncheon. I hate Lady Blonos and I can’t wait until I never have to see her again. Cranky, nasty old woman, with fingers like spiders grabbing my shoulders. A heartbeat after the thought crosses my mind though, I grimace. She dies a quick death at least. My hand twitches towards my own throat, imaging the blade that severed her head from her shoulders. There will be one at my throat too soon enough, when Evangeline faces me in the Bowl of Bones.

In my distraction, I almost miss when we step out into the warm sunlight. My first inhale of fresh air settles my nerves though. What I wouldn’t give to be outside all day. But as I step under the glass canopy, I end up just hoping I don’t sweat my paint off. It’s hotter out here than I remember, and the humidity is miserable. At least in Montfort when it got warm there was a breeze. A bead of sweat rolls down my neck, and I tense as it rolls between my shoulders blades. Shimmying to get rid of it, I feel a few more beads pop up on my hairline. Cursing, I try to stand as still as possible.

Elane appears in front of me so suddenly I feel like she purposefully cloaked herself to surprise me. Sonya is not far behind her either. Two parts of Evangeline’s little trio. I wonder if she kept Sonya around to hide her affair with Elane. I doubt it. Sonya would have figured out the truth before anyone else.

“Lady Mareena,” they coo in unison, before bowing stiffly. I incline my head in response, playing the game they have started.

“I’m Sonya of House Iral.” Soyna tosses her hair gracefully. I can see the way she shifts to make sure that movement is perfect. I would smirk at the posturing if I wasn’t focusing on locating Elara in the crowd of ladies. “And I’m Elane of House Haven.”

Oh, I know. I’ve had far too many awkward walk-ins on you and Evangeline in her office for my liking. Then again, she had snuck up on me and Cal plenty of times too. A perfect little spy. Her lips curl up in a delicate smile as I look her up and down. Flirt, I want to tease, and have to almost swallow my tongue to keep from saying just that.

“We wanted to welcome you.” Elane says as she looks me over as well. A few weeks ago in Montfort, she had looked me up and down under the outdoor lights of a restaurant too. Smiling after I had thrown my head back to laugh at something Carmadon had said, she remarked that I was glowing. I had turned a pointed glare on her, and she had turned away to sip her wine with a smirk. I’d waved her away saying it was just a trick of the light. Now, I can feel the same stare as she observes me, looking for the most minute details to hold against me.

“Thank you.” I clear my throat after that, letting her know she’s stared just a little too long. Her lips purse just a hint, and her cheeks flush white under her makeup.

“You also participated in Queenstrial?” I ask quickly, giving her a chance to recover. She may be a pain in the ass now, but she is my friend in the future and I don’t need Sonya getting any ideas about anything.

Still, Sonya almost sneers at my words. “We did. Obviously we were not so lucky as you or Evangeline.”

Luck really had nothing to do with it. I would never consider myself lucky. I dip my head in understanding. “My intentions—”

“Your intentions remain to be seen,” Sonya purrs, before turning about quickly and snapping her fingers. “Grandmother, come meet Lady Mareena.”

I scan the crowd of older women that Ara departs from, looking for a familiar orange gown. Anabel is nowhere to be seen though. I don’t know why I thought she would be here. How had she managed to slip back into the court during Maven’s reign though?

Ara eyes me even as she walks over, making me stand a little taller to try and appear like I’m uncomfortable with her presence. It doesn’t take much to do that though. All I have to think about it how Ptolemus severed her head from her body.

Sonya yaps away, trying to make me uncomfortable, and for a moment she probably thinks she’s succeeding. It’s Shade’s face flashing through my mind at the same time that I remember the light leaving his eyes that really drives me to shake slowly though. I can almost taste the smoke of Corros on my tongue when I inhale. I can hear the airship engines screaming behind me, calling me like a siren song. All I had to do was turn and keep running for them. But Shade, Shade had to come back for me because I had to get my revenge.

My stomach drops and I know my face pales. Not right now, I can’t fall apart right now. I squeeze my hands into fists, focusing on my nails dig into my palms.

Sonya finally stops speaking and I almost jump before dipping my head. “Apologies for my absent… thoughts. It’s a pleasure to meet you my lady.”

“I knew your father, Mareena. And your mother.” Ara observes coolly, her eyes looking me over like a butcher would their next slaughter.

“I wish I could have known them like you do.” I reply, my mind still trying to keep up with the conversation while also trying to prevent a barrage of Samson’s carefully concocted memories from taking over. It’s a losing battle. My stomach turns as the Blackrun going down plays at an inhuman speed. Metal tears around me, and wind whips at my hair. I’m falling so fast that I can’t even draw enough air to scream. Am I falling into a cage or am I standing in a garden full of pretty women with fangs and claws? Am I wrapped in Cal’s arms or am I suffocating in the heat of this glass gazebo?

“Your father had blue eyes, as did your mother.” Ara tests, her expression cold.

I drag my eyes up and dare to meet hers. I tilt my head to the side, the sound of the gardens fading back into focus as by sheer willpower I force the memories back so that I can gather enough air to breathe. There is no way out of the corner I am in, and I can’t even begin to think of something to say to fill the silence. A whisper of skirts on stone distracts Ara as Elara cuts behind us to ask everyone to sit. I hide the twist of relief in my stomach by dipping my head again and excusing myself.

(/////////)

I’m so deep in my own thoughts, planning responses for any future Iral interrogations that I almost miss Maven appearing around the corner on my way to Julian’s.

“Still alive?” His words make my back snap to ram rod straightness as I come to an abrupt stop that makes even Lucas stumble. My toes curl in my shoes and I can almost feel my lightning begging to come to the fore as Maven closes the distance. Why does he have to look so kind and young? How could I not have seen the honey coated trap for what it was? I’d needed a friend though, and he had been the perfect map to mirror all my insecurities onto. Elara probably didn’t even need to read my mind to know that.

Play the game. I remind myself to smile sheepishly at him. I’m a good actress now, and I will make sure he believes every second of my performance.

“Unfortunately for the other Queenstrial girls, yes.” The joke is a weak one, but he still chuckles at it. Next to me, I can feel Lucas’s presence still. He’ll usher me along so that we’re not late for Julian. His presence actually eases my tension. I don’t know if I’m ready to be alone with Maven just yet. The temptation to end all my suffering before it can begin might be too great. I need Lucas to get us moving again. I’d rather be early for Julian. The more time I spend with him, the happier I think I’ll be. And I’d rather be as far from Maven as physically possible right now.

“They’re a slippery sort.” He admits, looking me over. I squeeze my hand into a fist, pushing my nail into my thumb to avoid lashing out at him. The silence gets so heavy his skin tinges silver and he looks down to avoid my unwavering glare.

“Where are you off to?” I finally mange to get out, forcing my fingers to unfurl. His eyes snap up and he blushes hard for a heartbeat. I caught him off guard. Good, slip up and give me a reason to hate you more in this moment.

“I was actually on my way to walk in the garden. Cal was—” his lips draw tight for a moment before continuing “—supposed to meet me. He got caught up in a meeting.”

I don’t want you around him either. I want to sneer and dig my nails into his neck when he shrugs in disinterest. I don’t want you hurting him more than you already have.

“How unfortunate,” I admit instead. He actually looks like he feels bad for Cal when he replies, “I don’t envy him his schedule.”

Lucas clears his throat, and my eyes snap to him as he nods in the direction we should be going. “Someone told me she didn’t want to be late to anything today. And we’re going to be late now.”

Maven’s eyes dart to him as if he just realized he was standing there. Tilting his head to the side like a little puppy, he says, “I was actually wondering if you were done for the day and wanted to join me in the garden.”

“I have Lessons.” I want to smirk at the way his smile falls. He recovers marvelously though, and reaches out to take my hand. His skin is warm, the perfect temperature. He’d been icy last night. I wonder if Elara told him to find the perfect temperature, one to match Cal’s.

“I won’t keep you then.” He murmurs before he passes us and continues down the hall. I feel like I’m going to be sick. That was how she did it. That was how she molded him into the perfect little shadow for me to love. She’d picked my brain for everything I liked about his brother from our first meeting and whispered it in his ear. Warm smiles and warm hands, she had probably told him, ooze sympathy and kindness, you’re the sibling that is unloved, the one to match my longing for something greater. Then she had molded his words and his ideals to match mine, the perfect counter to Cal’s abrasive thoughts of wanting to keep the world the way it was. I hadn’t even realized it, but Maven had put his foot in the door with this moment, and I had held it open for him. Sneaky son of a bitch.

“You know, we’d get there much faster if you actually moved.” Lucas teases, making me almost jump. I glare at him before starting down the hallway so fast that he jogs his first few steps to catch up.

“Shut up Lucas.” I growl under my breath.

(////////)

The minute I’m in Julian’s rooms I shrug off every bit of protocol, every nasty thought and let myself sag in relief. It smells just like his Montfort apartment in here. My heart aches even more when I remember the teas Sara used to put in my hands with her gentle smile as she sank down into one of the massive fluffy chairs they kept in their sitting room. It was always warm there too. Sara liked it cozy, and Julian let her have whatever it was she wanted, even if he melted into a puddle of sweat in every sweater he owned.

Married for four years and Sara still acted as chaste as a young girl when he was around. I want them to have that happiness here too. I know I won’t see Julian smile the way he does when she walks behind him and trails her hand along his shoulders for a long time though. Every moment in Montfort was like she feared he’d disappear if she didn’t touch him continuously throughout the day.

I run my fingers along the faded covers of the books he keeps stacked around these rooms like columns holding up the weight of the world. I wish I could grab and carry stacks of them back to my room. I could bury myself in them and pretend I was curled up on my couch with my head in Cal’s lap while he ran his fingers through my hair and tried not to fall asleep. I could pretend I’m hundreds of miles and years away from this horrible place.

I stop before the map I remember so well. I’d seen it so many times in this room that it had become a staple. I tilt my head as I look at the mess of lines and colors. The old world, before people tore it to shreds. We put it back together, or at least we had been trying to. I drag my eyes west from Archeon to find Ascendent buried deep in the mountains. It’s not even marked on this map. It never seemed so far away than in this moment. Even when I had looked at this map for the first time those mountains had only seemed a few hand lengths away.

“It’s strange to look at the world as it once was,” Julian’s quiet voice makes me glance over my shoulder in his direction. In the silence of these rooms, he is a faint ember of life. He appears out of an aisle of his books, the afternoon sun cutting across his face like bars in a prison. His yellow robes whisper along the floor as he approaches me. I’d forgotten how this place had drained him. He looks like old, cracked paper. It’s fitting I suppose, but it’s not right.

I can’t help but grin at him, unable to hide how happy I am to see him. He takes it in stride though, even giving me a little smile as he gestures to the map. “Can you find where we are?”

Don’t go so fast, I want to beg him. Let me stay here as long as physically possible. Let me be here in this sanctuary as long as possible. “I’ll try.” I whisper as I pull my eyes away from him to look at the map. He waits while I pretend to read. I could pick us out as easily as I can call lightning these days, but I go slow on purpose. Reaching up with a finger, I point to the inlet that is the Stilts. “There.”

He nods, pleased. “Do you recognize anything else?”

I bring my eyes back to the map. For a moment, I contemplate pointing out Montfort. Julian would be an impossibly useful ally here. The wisdom he could give us, the advice, it would be priceless. That’s a conversation to have with Cal though. He’ll probably refuse to bring Julian into this mess any earlier than we have to though. He can be so damn protective over the few people he has left. Julian would be able to handle himself though. Better than me and Cal probably.

In the end, I point out Harbor Bay. His smile deeps and I relish in the warmth that floods through me by simply being in his presence. Even if he’s oblivious to our future relationship, I trust him more than anyone else here.

“This is Delphie now,” he points out the city, and I nod as he traces the river to point out Archeon. We’ll be there soon enough, and Julian will not make it further than the gates of this city before Elara catches him and Sara.

When he finishes, he looks at me expectantly and waits to hear anything else. Instead I turn to him and say, “The cameras are off in here.”

His brows shoot up toward his hairline comically, and I have to stifle a laugh. I haven’t seen that look in a long time. There wasn’t much I could do to surprise him after our years together. The news I was planning on sharing might have been the last time I saw that look.

“So there is a difference,” he mutters.

“How did you get them to turn them off?” I want to know so that I can turn them off in my own room without people noticing. Cal and I could meet then, discuss our next moves without people noticing. We could meet to determine if things were proceeding correctly too. It would make all of this so much easier.

“Mare, I’m here to teach you your histories, to teach you how to be Silver and how to be, ah, useful.”

His lips pull into a disgusted expression, and I raise a brow as he changes the subject quickly. The way he looks at me though, makes me swallow the next words I am about to tell him. Instead, I tilt my head to the side and ask the same question I had asked before.

“How do you plan to do that Lord Jacos?”

His eyes narrow for a moment, and I tense as I realize he never did tell me who he was. It’s not on my schedule, and there is no way Elara would tell me his name. She can barely spit out the name Jacos anyway. I have a feeling she thought Coriane’s spirit would be able to haunt her if she did utter it.

“Your colors, yellow, house Jacos. Lady Blonos taught me the colors this morning. Your sister was Queen wasn’t she? Cal’s mother. You two even look a little similar.” I stumble over the words, trying to cover my tracks. It’s a pathetic attempt, one I know he can see right through.

He at least has the grace and mercy to laugh outright at my last comment. The light returns to his eyes as he says, “your flattery will get you nowhere with me, Mare Barrow. But yes, I am the late Queen’s brother and Tiberias the Seventh, otherwise known as Cal, is my nephew.” He drops into a comically low bow. I chuckle at it. Even though I feel like I’m playing a game with him, it still feels like we are sharing a secret truth with each other. Forgotten gods, I just want to tell him the truth so that he can know and help me. I wonder if he would actually believe me if I did. Julian had seen plenty of crazy things in his life. What was one more?

“So you and I are supposed to stop a rebellion?” I ask as he rises. He tilts his head to the side, considering my words before saying, “yes, I suppose. My dear brother-in-law and his queen believe you can do so, if we use you properly.”

“It’s idiotic,” I admit before turning back to look at the map. He watches my side profile carefully while I look over the map, and try to keep my eyes from snagging on Montfort. “They’re wrong if they think the riots will stop, and the people will stand down. The Scarlet Guard is marching, and they are not afraid. Change will come someday, whether that’s tomorrow or in a year, it will come. The world won’t stay the same, I won’t let it.”

For a moment, the ragged inhale he takes makes me think I’ve said too much. But when he steps up next to me to look at the map he says, “I have waited a long time to hear someone say that. What my people are doing to you and yours is wrong to the deepest levels of humanity. You are right, change is coming, because the continuous cycle we put you through will end poorly.”

I look at him, seeing a different type of warrior. Julian had never been one for violence and destruction like me and Cal. He was built for manipulation and careful chess games. But he had spent just as much time if not more shaping the world alongside us. He would do it all over again too. I know he would. If he were in my shoes right now, he would suffer the hell, the torture, and any agony just to get us all to that shining future. “So what do we do?”

He grins at me, a tiny hopeful smile that makes me square my shoulders proudly.

“We start by figuring out exactly what you are.”

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h-hewings · 3 years

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**Tearful Memories (fanfic w/headcanon)**

(Perhaps not all revenants are evil, spiteful versions if their former selves after all. Maybe they resent what they’ve become and long to be restored…)

Being the most trusted friend and ally of Kitana, Empress of the Netherrealm, it was to nobody’s surprise as to why Jade was appointed as the leader of the Netherrealm army. She would walk onto the frontlines, flanked by thousands of demonic Onis, ranging from lumbering tanks to skilled flyers, and guiding them into battle. One of which was from a group of Outworlders, sent by Kotal Kahn, to retrieve Shinnok’s head and destroy it, preventing any possible attempts to resurrect him. The Osh-Tekk forces collided with the Netherrealm Demons, where blood and viscera painted every inch of the battlefield, with the Kastle looming in the background. And Jade was in the midst of it all, alongside Kitana and Kung Lao, using her staff to strike down any Osh-Tekk fool that dared oppose her. In addition, she also utilised her glaive, throwing it like a boomerang and managing to slice through multiple enemies at once.

The battle continued to rage on as the Netherrealm forces began to outnumber their enemies. It was then that Jade encountered a foe that made her stop dead in tracks, not because of the intimidation or their skills, but because she was curious about something. Her glaring red eyes were focused on what the male soldier wore and she made it out to be a mask of some sort, but a sort that seemed extremely peculiar. Nevertheless, she ended up dominating the foolish warrior in battle, slaying him with a decapitation, using her glaive. The head rolled off the shoulders, spurting out blood, and Jade reached down to retrieve the mask. Unfortunately, she did not have enough time to view it.

“Our enemies are getting some backup.” Kung Lao said to her. “We must be ready for them, Jade.”

“Understood.” Came the Assassin’s response, she pocketed the mask behind her chest plates and unsheathed her staff, ready to finish the job. More and more Osh-Tekk soldiers charged into battle, towards the mass of demons, and more blood was spilt, turning the scenery of the Netherrealm even redder than it was before. However, Jade’s curiosity about the mask from earlier is seemingly having an effect on her confidence in battle, as she was unintentionally letting her guard down more often. It got so bad to the point where she was knocked down and almost killed multiple times, before she had to be saved by her peers. Luckily, the Osh-Tekk forces were driven out, and were sent retreating from the realm, carrying their fallen allies with them, as the demons around them roared in triumph. Jade groggily stood up as Kabal dashed over to check on her.

“You look rough.” He pointed out, noticing a few bruises on Jade’s arms, as well as a noticeable tear on her tights.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, Kabal.” She said back.

“What happened out there, anyways? You weren’t looking your usual self.”

Jade hesitated before answering, as she wanted to keep the mask she found hidden from the others.

“Perhaps my mind wasn’t in the right place today.” She responded.

“Ah, I see.” The speedster nodded. “I think you oughta get some rest to clear your head. Here, I’ll help you back.” And with that, he carried her in his arms and used his Nomad Dash ability to zip away from the bloodied battlefield and over to Jade’s Chamber door.

“Thank you very much.” Jade smiled under her own mask as she stood herself up.

“It was the least I could do.” Kabal returned before he dashed off, leaving Jade alone to enter her quarters. Once she was inside, she immediately locked the door and removed her own mask, showing off her ash-grey face, a mere remnant of her past, yet still just as beautiful as the day she was slain. She had a brief look around her chambers, a dark, gothic room with not much to it, apart from relics hanging on walls and shelves, from her past battles in the Netherrealm. Jade unsheathed the mask she collected earlier and sat on the floor, giving herself a chance to inspect it better.

The colours of the mask itself were not very vibrant or eye-catching, but what made it stood out the most was the shape itself, of a human face, as well as the way the green was painted onto the silver body. Jade made it out to be an old funeral mask, originally made in Edenia. They were typically worn for important events, permanent looks of gloom and melancholy as a vessel moves on to the afterlife. The fact that the mask itself was made in Edenia brought back memories from within Jade’s mind, flowing around like an old film being played on repeat. She smiled as she reminisced about the time she spent in King Jerrod’s council, and her eternal friendship with Kitana, beginning from a very young age, to the point where she knew the Edenian princess for her entire life.

However, one memory soon led to another. Jade’s mind then flashed forward to a terrible event in time, where Shao Kahn invaded and conquered Edenia, murdering Jerrod, forcing Queen Sindel to marry him and taking Kitana and Jade as his captors, where they were forced to serve him, with Kitana as his adopted daughter. The look in Jade’s eyes soon turned from wonder to sadness, remembering the carnage she saw unfolding around her, as well as the murder of her parents, as the realm was purged and left in unrecognisable ruins. Soon, the train of thought in her mind soon turned dark, as another horrific memory flowed into her mind.

And that single memory was one that she had relieved almost every day for years now.

She remembered the hand of a corrupted Sindel thrusting through her chest and ripping her heart out.

She remembered the final gasps of air leaving her lungs as the life drained out of her.

And finally, she remembered air inexplicably filling her lungs as she awoke in an evil setting. And what happened next stuck to her mind like a deadly tumour.

She remembered looking around, her mind in a complete state of panic, having died not too long ago. How was she still alive!? Suddenly, a tremendous burning pain was felt through her entire body, as she raised her hands up, seeing her mocha-brown skin decay into a zombified grey colour. Her eyes widened in horror as the pupils became colourless before flashing a dangerous shade of red. All of a sudden, she dropped to her knees, letting out a spine-chilling scream of pure agony, feeling her mind being corrupted and drained, as a result of Quan Chi’s dark magic. It was like her positive and kind-hearted feelings were being disintegrated to ashes, whilst feelings of evil, spite, negativity and malice took their place. This was a pain that Jade could never have imagined was possible and was far worse than her quicker, and even more painless death. Eventually, the pain ceased and the Emerald Assassin, Jade was no more, for a Revenant doppelganger had taken her place.

As the nightmare played out in her mind once again, Jade stared into the distance, traumatised and full of despair. Her eyes widened in stress as she heard screams of “SOMEONE HELP ME!” and “PLEASE...END THIS PAIN!” Unlike most of her fallen allies who accepted this new form, she absolutely despised it, both before and now. She did not want to be seen as a heartless monster, whose only function is to kill, as it completely went against her own morals. She felt less like a deadly assassin and more like a vessel for carnage.

Tears began to form and well up in Jade’s eyes, upon being reminded of her horrific fate, before she began weeping uncontrollably, her head lowered and her arms clutching the mask, as if it was a treasured relic. After all of the stress that has been packed onto her for years, Jade had finally reached her breaking point. Looking past the negative views on Revenants, she was still Jade by heart. A fallen hero who longs to have her life put back together again, but to the current circumstances, it was impossible. When all is said and done, she is merely the tragic heroine who just wants to go home…

Her cries were louder than usual. Typically, when she had her occasional emotional meltdowns, she would keep it quiet, smothering her noises through gritted teeth or a nearby pillow. This was because she feared that her peers would berate her for being weak. Her fears were about to come true when she heard the door creak open, and she tried to pull herself together, but she failed and continued sobbing in grief. The person at the door was Kitana, who heard her friend’s cries, but rather than admonish her for it, the Empress wore a look of concern on her face as she stepped in, closing the door behind her.

“My dear friend!” She said, her tone sounding worried. “What on earth is troubling you?”

Jade sniffled a bit and leant her head to the side, giving her a look at her broken face. Her eyelids were all swollen and puffy from crying and there were clear wet lines going down the sides of her face, from the tears. Her lower lip wavered before she resumed weeping, causing Kitana to kneel down to her level and comfort her, raising her head up and wiping away a few tears.

“It is alright to cry, Jade.” She attempted to console her closest friend. Despite being viewed as a strict, spiteful and heartless ruler, Kitana clearly showed that she still has some space left in her heart for the one person who’s been by her side her entire life. “Now, I’d really appreciate it if you speak your mind to me. I promise I will hear you out.”

After having literally all the tears drained from her eyes, all Jade could do was let out a depressed sigh.

“Everything is wrong, Kitana.” She explained, sorrowfully. “Through all of these years, I have despised what I’ve become, and not just me, but all of my friends. None of us deserved to be sanctioned to a fate far worse than death.” She looked down at her hands. Physically, they were changed to an undead grey tone, in contrast to her living dark skin, but metaphorically, she knew that they were stained with the blood of innocent people she had slayed throughout the years as a vanguard in the Netherrealm. “I know deep down, that this is not who I’m supposed to be.”

Jade shifted a bit before revealing the mask that she had retrieved from the battlefield. And immediately, Kitana noticed that is was an Edenian relic, worn by some of the maids during funerals. It was a tradition that carried over to Outworld, following the demise of Shao Kahn.

“When I found this mask,” Jade continued, “I was curious about it and had a look, reminding myself about how happier we were, before Edenia was conquered. But then those same nightmarish memories of when we became revenants filled my mind once more, something that has troubled me for years now.” Her voice began to waver off a bit as she continued to speak her mind. “Oh, Kitana. You don’t know how much I despise it here, living as an undead beast for all eternity...I- I just want to go back home!” At this point, she was close to breaking down once more but this time, she barely managed to keep control of her emotions, but not without letting a few tears loose, as Kitana comforted her, placing an arm around her shoulder. She waited until Jade faced her because she, too, had something she wanted to get off her back.

“I know the pain that you feel, Jade.” The Empress began to explain, as Jade looked into her glowing, ruby-like eyes.

“You do?”

“Indeed. I fully agree with you that none of us deserved this fate and deep down, I had even regretted my actions against innocent people. In fact, I used to gently cry myself to sleep for a few nights, whenever one of those situations occur, because I knew that the real Kitana would never mercilessly kill.” As Kitana continued to speak, Jade perked her head up, beginning to understand a bit more about her ally.

“But alas, this is what we are now.” Kitana said, solemnly. “I’m afraid that there is no possible way to restore Edenia at the moment. But this is why we need to try and resist looking at the past and towards the future. Because with enough hope and motivation, I’m sure that we will have it brighter than any moment in our past.” She leaned her body down a bit further to look directly at Jade. “And trust me when I say this, Jade. When it does happen, there will be nothing to worry about. There won’t be any reason to be ashamed of what we are, no more bloodshed to cause around us, no more nightmares about the past. In the end, it will just be the two of us…together.”

Upon hearing Kitana’s heartwarming monologue, a smile formed on Jade’s face as she leaned towards her Empress to lovingly embrace her. Kitana returned the hug, gently wrapping her arms around Jade’s body, smiling and knowing that through hell and back, there will be no separating them. Eventually, they had to split and Kitana returned to her own Chambers as Jade prepared herself for bed and laid down on the soft mattress.

Before she drifted off to sleep, she wanted to take in every word that Kitana said. She had been taught that in order to progress in life, she needed to try and not let the past haunt or shame her. She knew that eventually, the nightmare will be over and she, Kitana, Liu Kang, Kung Lao and others will be free from this curse, able to live their lives. But until then, all she can do is be hopeful, and that is more than enough to ensure herself a better future.

(Thanks for reading! Basically, my hc for Revenant Jade is similar to Kung Lao’s ending in MKX, in that she despises her life as a revenant and longs to be restored, along with her allies. I wish NRS added something like this to give the Revs more personality rather than jobber minions. I imagine Jade & Kung Lao leaving the gang and finding a way to change them back, Liu Kang embracing the evil and planning on invading Earthrealm whilst Kitana is torn between choosing her boyfriend and her best friend)

#mortal kombat #jade #kitana #kitanaxjade #jadexkitana #revenants #i want to cry #headcanon #wholesome #comfort #sadness #ptsd #fanfic

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let-me-write-shit · 4 years

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Somebody To You: 16

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Word Count: 4,322

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN:

Zoey never considered herself to be a city girl, but the longer she lived here, the more accustomed she became. Of course, there were perks she missed living in the suburbs. Yards, gardening, a better sense of security. She missed those nights where she could sit on her back porch, listen to the crickets chirping, and watch the lightning bugs dance around the lawn. Hearing the trees rustle in the darkness was a calm she could never quite replicate.

But city life was exciting. There was always something to do or something to see. People were on every corner and energies were always high. It was never boring. Downtown LA was bustling with people, especially for a Sunday afternoon. Andy had taken her on a little shopping spree after brunch. He said he wanted to buy a whole new wardrobe to ‘reinvent himself’. She hadn’t planned on buying anything, but he wasn’t having that. They stopped in a bunch of little boutiques, trying on all sorts of dresses, bathing suits, and shoes. There were so many hidden gems in the way of local small businesses in the area. And the store owners were always kind.

“I can’t wait to bring my sister out here one day,” Zoey held up a cute graphic tee, “Katie would love these shops.”

“Do you two talk a lot?” Andy asked.

Zoey re-folded the shirt and placed it back, “I try to, but not nearly enough. I miss her.”

“Didn’t you say you weren’t really close growing up?”

“Yeah. We didn’t start getting close until right before I moved. It made leaving harder. She’s getting ready to start college soon. I think my parents are starting to freak out a bit that she’s moving on campus. Empty nest syndrome.”

“Little bird’s gotta learn to fly,” Andy spoke, earning a nod from Zoey.

The two decided to grab some crepes to go and ate them on a bench, watching strangers pass them by on the street, catching up on all their work stories, and talking about how awkward her date was the other day. Nancy’s friend was nice, alright, but clearly hadn’t been in a relationship before and had no clue how to communicate with women. He had potential if he found someone with patience, but she just wasn’t prepared to baby someone at the moment. She recalled Harry getting a kick out of it when she told him about it, but Zoey just felt bad. She made sure to let him down gently.

Eventually, they got on the topic of Zoey’s birthday coming up in three days. She had already told Andy that she wanted to go to the beach, but he made it a point to remind her that it was a birthday, therefore they needed to celebrate all day. They discussed having dinner at a nice restaurant with all of her friends, bar hopping afterward, and ending the night with a karaoke club. She started to get excited, especially since she just bought the perfect outfit to wear.

“What about Brett? Is he invited, or are he and Rory not speaking?”

“I didn’t tell you?!” Zoey exclaimed, turning towards him and swallowing her mouthful of crepe, “he asked Rory out last night! They’re official.”

“No fucking way!” Andy exclaimed, covering his mouth, “Bitch! Imagine the babies they’d make!”

“Cute little foreign babies!” Zoey cooed, laughing.

“Does Harry know about them yet?”

Zoey pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows, “I haven’t told him yet, so probably not.”

Andy went wide-eyed, an interested smirk stretching across his face, “Wonder how he’ll react when he finds out.”

Zoey shrugged her shoulders, looking down at her food. She didn’t know. She was getting these weird mixed signals from Harry. He’s been back in England for a week now and even with the dramatic time difference, they’ve talked more this week than they did when he was on tour. She’d attribute that to him finally having some time off from work, but she knew that he’d been in the studio and had a few meetings, so even that wasn’t necessarily true.

But the increase in communication wasn’t what she was confused about. It’s the conversations themselves. At first, she thought Harry was handling the ‘Rory situation’ pretty well. He had confided in her that he wasn’t sure he wanted to be with her to begin with, which she had suspected. He had told Zoey about how his friends keep making jokes about how they think he likes her. At first, Zoey laughed it off. Her and Harry? That would never happen. She just simply wasn’t his type. And he made that very clear.

But then there would be moments. Subtle. But enough to catch her attention. A tone in his voice, an expression on his face, an extra-long silence where there didn’t need to be. Maybe she was reading into it after what he told her. Maybe she was reading into it because she secretly hoped it was true, which killed her. He was her best friend. She finally met someone whom she could be herself around without feeling uncomfortable. Someone she could confide in about anything and everything, and that meant even more to her now that Jess was gone.

She didn’t want to jeopardize that by saying or acting on some stupid puppy love crush she had on Harry fucking Styles of all people. He doesn’t like her like that. And even if he did, how could they even attempt to make that work? Especially after he and Rory had a thing. What, so now they’re just swapping sexual partners? Even if Zoey was fine with her friend dating and sleeping with a fling of hers, it doesn’t mean that Aurora was. She couldn’t risk ruffling her roommate’s feathers. She didn’t want to lose her friendship or make things awkward at home, either. So, for now, she’d just keep her mouth shut while this little phase passes.

The two finished up eating when Andy checked his phone and suggested they start heading back to her place to get ready for work tonight. “Get ready? We’ve still got three hours before we have to leave!”

“Yes, but you need a shower and I want to show Nancy and Rory these clothes I got!” he shot back.

“Alright, alright! Fine!”

The ride back to the condo was like any other ride between the two friends: filled with painfully tone-deaf singing and dramatic dance. Nothing was out of the ordinary as the two rode the elevator to the twenty-second floor and discussed the predictions for the turnout at the bar tonight. Nothing seemed different as she punched her code into the front door and stepped inside. Except, instead of the typical scene she’d see, she walked in to see Nancy and Rory standing in the middle of the living room with huge smiles on their beautiful faces, surrounded by several large rolling luggage. One of which she noticed was her own.

“What are you doing?” Zoey asked them, turning to see Andy’s eager grin. Her eyes furrowed, confused, “What’s going on?”

“We’re taking you away for your birthday,” Nancy’s smile grew, stepping out from behind the luggage and walking towards her. Aurora followed closely behind.

“What? Where are we going?” Zoey asked, her heartbeat rising.

“That’s a surprise. ” Nancy grinned.

Zoey laughed skeptically, eyebrows raising, “This is a joke, right?” Everyone shook their head no and she asked, “What about work? What about Binx? Where are we going?”

Andy spoke up, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her into a hug, “I had our manager put in vacation time for us for almost a month now. We’ve had this planned for a while now.”

“And don’t worry about Binx. Brett’s going to watch him while we’re gone,” Aurora grinned, “We think we packed everything you’ll need, but if Nancy and I forgot anything, we’ll just get it while we’re there. Now come on! We need to go before we’re late!”

Overwhelmed, Zoey shoved the new clothes she just bought into her suitcase, double-checking her pockets to make sure she had her wallet and ID on her. Quickly, she grabbed a hoodie and they were off, making sure to grab Andy’s suitcase from his car before getting into Rory’s and heading to the airport.

The whole way she was trying to make guesses as to where they were going, but none of them faltered. They had managed to get to the airport, check their luggage, and go through security with her being none the wiser. She wasn’t allowed to look at her ticket. Nancy was always beside her, holding onto Zoey’s documents and explaining to TSA agents and any airport employee they encountered that she was going on a surprise birthday trip, asking them to please not ruin it for her until they got to the gate. Most of them got a kick out of it. Finally, when they reached the gate, there, above the seating area, with Nancy recording her reaction, is where she found out where they were going.

Zoey gasped, her hands shooting up to her mouth and her legs giving out, she crumbled to the ground, tears forming in her eyes, “Rome?!” Her friends stood around her, laughing, smiling, and tearing up at her reaction. “You’re taking me to Rome?!”

Andy put a hand out for her, “You better get your ass up off this dirty-ass floor,” he choked, pulling her to her feet.

“Are you serious?” She repeated, holding onto him for support.

“You said you’ve always wanted to come here,” Aurora reminded her, wrapping her arms around her friend, “You deserve it.”

Nancy came over and they all had a group hug, onlookers staring at them with smiles on their faces when they realized what was going on. “You guys, this is crazy!” Zoey laughed, wiping the tears that ran down her cheeks.

“Well, it’s a long flight. A little over seventeen hours,” Nancy warned her, “and because of the time difference, we technically won’t be arriving until tomorrow night around 5 PM. But we made sure to bring a bunch of snacks and games to play while we’re on board.”

“And bitch, we’re in first class!” Andy squealed, jumping up and down.

Zoey’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping again as she processed everything that was going on. “How the hell did you guys manage all of this? I have a passport? How did you get me a passport? Does Harry know about this? He had something to do with this, didn’t he?”

“We had help to get your passport,” Aurora admitted, “We had to snoop and call your parents to get all of your documents.”

“My parents know I’m going to Italy?!”

“And I’m a little offended you think Harry must have had some involvement in this! What, we couldn’t do this for you on our own?” Nancy feigned disappointment.

“No, I’m sorry, I just-”

“I’m kidding. He totally planned this,” Nancy laughed, “It was his idea to do this. We all just helped make it happen.”

“You guys!” Zoey smiled, pulling them into another long hug before they found a few empty seats in the corner of the seating area before they got ready to board. Zoey took the opportunity to Facetime Harry. It must have been a little before midnight, but she could bet that he’d still answer. And just like she suspected, the screen enlarged just in time to see the dark surrounding of Harry’s room illuminate when he switched on the lamp on his side table.

He rubbed his eyes and squinted. When he saw the expression on Zoey’s face, his mouth stretched in a smile, “Surprised?” he asked.

Zoey shook her head, there was no hiding her grin, “How could you keep this a secret?”

“Because of that look, right there,” Harry pointed at her face, through the screen.

Nancy leaned over Zoey’s shoulder, “I’ll send you her reaction. It was amazing!”

“You’re going to be there, right?” Zoey asked, her eyes hopeful.

Harry nodded, “Yeah, I head out in the morning. It’s a short flight for me. I’ll be there before you land.”

“Okay. I’ll let you get some sleep then. I’ll see you tomorrow!” she grinned.

“Safe travels,” Harry smiled.

Just before he could end the call she managed to say, “Oh, and Harry? Thank you.”

Harry nodded, winking before the call went blank. It was hard for him to sleep after that. He was too excited. She still had no clue what was to come.

Nancy wasn’t kidding. The flight was long. Excruciatingly long. Even in first class, it was hard to get comfortable. Her legs felt like jello and she had no feeling in her butt anymore. Her neck was so stiff that it was hard to move it. She had read an entire novel by the end of the first half of the flight, and she and Andy had gotten bored of playing cards. There was nothing else to do but sleep.

And sleep, she did. Until the discomfort of depressurization in the cabin made her ears painfully pop and woke her from her sleep. She looked out of the window to see a large city in the distance, slowly coming closer and closer. A chime throughout the airplane sounded, waking Andy beside her, and the pilot’s voice had announced their descent into Rome, followed up by a few other languages.

Quickly, Zoey’s exhaustion was replaced with exhilaration, excitedly staring out the window as the plane collided with cement and sped down the runway towards their gate. They couldn’t get off fast enough. She thanked the pilots and the flight attendants on the way out, skipping down the hallways with her friends, grabbing their bags, and heading out to the car rental lot to pick up an SUV for the weekend, which Aurora gladly drove, as she was used to European roads, having traveled to Italy a few times before.

The air in Italy was different. Cleaner. Less pollutant. It had a faint smell of lemon and roasted coffee that felt so dreamy. Rory plugged their destination into the GPS and Zoey pressed her nose against the window, staring out at the scene. The architecture was grand. Old. Historical. Beautiful. Her heart skipped a beat whenever she recognized something from the endless hours of research she had done on the history of Rome. She was simply mesmerized.

They rode for twenty minutes as the sun began to cast a golden glow across the sky, still brightly illuminating the streets below, the streets lined with tall cypress trees and stone walls that separated property lines from large estates to which you could barely see from the road when they finally pulled up to a grand, cast-iron gate. Zoey watched as Rory looked at her phone, punched a code into the call box, and the gate slowly started to open.

As soon as they pulled into the white gravel driveway, they noticed the vineyard that stretched the length of the grounds on either side of the driveway that separated them leading up to a huge water feature that sat in the center of the wraparound drive situated in front of a massive seven thousand square foot elegant Italian villa.

“Holy shit,” they all muttered, clamoring out of the car and gawking up at the building.

“This whole thing is ours for a week?” Andy exclaimed, dumbstruck.

“That’s what Harry said,” Aurora said, opening the trunk door.

One by one they began to pull their luggage out when a whistle caught their attention. They turned to see Harry standing barefoot on the stone landing wearing wool cream-colored pants, a white tank top with an unbuttoned white short sleeve shirt over top, and yellow sunglasses. His arms were outstretched and he smiled, shouting, “Finally! Took you long enough.”

The four of them ran up, dropping their bags to give him a huge hug, shouting out various greetings and shouts of thanks.

He turned to Zoey, grabbing the handle of her suitcase with one hand and wrapping an arm around her shoulder with the other. Her heart fluttered at his touch. He looked and smelled different in Italy. It suited him. Harry’s arm pressed down on the end of his ponytail as he pulled Zoey closer to him and he said aloud, “Now, we are going to make this the best week of your life. But to do that, we have one other surprise for you. So if you’d be so kind as to follow me inside…”

“...What is going on?” Zoey asked, suspiciously following the singer with her friends behind her, Nancy, again, filming her reaction.

Harry grinned as he took her hand, leading her into the home. Everyone took in the scene, gaze scanning the beautiful Tuscan terracotta flooring up the Venetian plastered walls lined with beautiful Italian paintings and artwork and the elegant staircase with wrought iron railing. He noticed she took a deep breath and turned to him.

“Is that food? Are you cooking us dinner?” Zoey asked.

Harry had them stop just before entering what she could see was the kitchen and said, “Well, it’s funny you should mention that. Yes, I’m cooking. But I had a little help. You can come out!” he shouted.

And he watched Zoey’s face change from confusion to absolute shock as she screamed, letting go of his hand and running to her little sister. “Oh my God, Katie!” she screamed, pulling her little sister into a tight embrace, both of them beginning to cry as they looked each other up and down and wiped each other’s tears, muttering incoherent words of sentiment to each other.

Harry knew how much Katie meant to her, but to see it firsthand almost felt like a privilege. And to think, he almost didn’t think to invite her. She only just turned eighteen. It took a lot of convincing for her parents to let her go. He had offered to pay for the entire trip, but her parents didn’t care about that. He had to Facetime and call them several times, promise to keep them updated at every point of the trip, make sure Katie called them every night before bed, send a general itinerary of the week's events, and give emergency numbers to all in attendance, which everyone was glad to give. He picked Katie up from the airport himself, arriving only two hours before the rest of them.

“You knew, too?” Zoey breathed, finally pulling away from her little sister, her words shaking along with her hands as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.

Harry felt a lump in his throat begin to rise as soon as he noticed Zoey’s chin quivering from the emotions and Katie nodded, explaining everything that Harry had done.

Zoey shook her head, overwhelmed, and took a deep breath, motioning towards her friends. “Have you met these guys yet, then?” When Katie shook her head again, she introduced the three, “This is Andy. He’s my amazing friend and coworker. And these two are my roommates. Nancy and Rory.”

The three of them pulled the shy Katie away from her older sister, giving her hugs and showering her with compliments while Zoey turned her attention to Harry. He noticed her red, puffy eyes and grinned, pulling her into a tight hug that she could sink into. It’s only been a little over a week, but it could have been longer for all he knew. Facetime was hardly enough.

When Zoey pulled away, she walked back over to her little sister, running a hand through her sister’s long brown hair and smiling. Seeing them side-by-side he could see the similarities in their features if he looked hard enough.

“Alright,” Harry announced, “We have about fifteen minutes until dinner is done, so how about a quick tour of the villa while we wait?” Everyone cheered words of approval, grabbing their bags and following Harry as he walked through the house, “There are seven bedrooms here and a few convertible offices, so everyone gets their own bedroom with more to spare. There are three bedrooms on this floor and four more upstairs. Katie already claimed her bedroom down here. Nice choice, might I add,” he winked at Katie who held onto Zoey’s arm as they peaked into Katie’s room which overlooked the vineyard. “I left the master bedroom upstairs for Zoey since it’s her birthday week. I also picked a room upstairs, so everything else is up for grabs.”

As they roamed throughout the house, everyone began picking rooms. Andy had picked a bedroom adjacent to Katie that had a walkout to the oversized Mediterranean terrace that housed an outdoor seating area with a firepit and a grapevine covered trellis with hanging outdoor chandeliers overtop of a long outdoor dining table, while Aurora and Nancy picked the last two bedrooms upstairs with Harry and Zoey, leaving their bags in their rooms before visiting the two large living rooms, the library, formal dining room, chef’s kitchen, and more. Finally, dinner was ready. Everyone helped take plates, utensils, and glassware out to the table on the back terrace while Harry carefully brought out the large serving plate filled with Chicken Tetrazzini and two bottles of wine tucked in his arms.

They each filled up their plates as Harry passed the wine around. “You’re legal to drink here,” Zoey grinned, filling up her sister’s glass.

“Oooh! You’re going to have so much fun while you’re here!” Andy cooed, smirking at Katie. “Don’t tell your mama on us!”

“Definitely not!” Katie assured her, taking her first sip of wine, and smiling.

Dinner was wonderful, and the view made it even better as the sun began to set. The villa sat up on a hill, overlooking miles and miles of beautiful land with an abundance of pine, fig, cherry, pear, and apple trees. The pool sat yards away with lounge chairs surrounding it. She couldn’t have dreamt up a more beautiful place if she tried.

After dinner, Harry made up a fire in the firepit and everyone sat around with their glass of wine, laughing and enjoying each other's company. One by one they began dropping like flies, heading inside to take a shower or get some rest until there were three left. Harry sat with his back against the view of the yard while Zoey sat opposite him, Katies’ head resting on her lap, sleeping, as her big sister braided and unbraided her hair.

Harry grinned adoringly, “You’re not what I expected.”

Zoey snorted, looking up from her sister, “What does that mean?”

He shifted in his seat, cocking his head to the side, her face illuminating in the reflection of the dancing flames, “Well, you’re a bartender. And for some reason, whenever I think of a bartender, I think of a badass, tattoo-covered, wild child, tough girl. And I don’t mean to stereotype, but you’re nothing like that. I mean, yeah you can handle yourself. But you’ve got no tattoos, you’re so sweet, and you’re almost like the mom of the group, always making sure everyone else is happy first.”

“I think most bartenders are like me, we just have to put on a tough act in front of customers so they take us seriously,” Zoey said before grinning, “And I do have tattoos.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, “You do? Where?”

She winked, taking a sip of her wine, “Don’t worry about it.”

His mouth dropped, inadvertently scanning her, wondering where her tattoos could be hidden and what on earth they could even be. He hadn’t pegged her for the type to even have a tattoo, let alone in a suggestive spot.

He watched as Zoey raised her wine glass to her lips once more, taking the smallest sip. The way that the light illuminated her features gave her a romantic and sultry glow, hitting the highs of her cheekbone and accentuating the shadows and curves of her collarbone. He decided he’d had enough wine and would end it there for the night.

“We should get to bed before jetlag gets us,” Harry suggested.

Zoey nodded in agreement, lightly shaking her sister awake. Harry put out the fire and reminded Katie to send her parents a quick text as they sent her off to bed and the two began to climb the steps, his arm over her shoulders, turning off lights along the way, passing Nancy and Aurora’s room before reaching Harry’s next. They stopped for a moment as he backed up to his door, slowly dragging his arm off of her shoulders. Apart of him wanted to invite her in. He didn’t want the night to end, he wanted to stay up for a few more hours and talk. He still had so much he wanted to tell her. But the more he looked at her, the more he heard his friends taunting him in the back of his mind. ‘You love her’ ‘You’re blind’ ‘By the end of this trip you’ll realize it.’ They weren’t right. He couldn’t let them be right.

“Night,” he grinned, opening his door.

Zoey’s expression looked uncertain for a moment, hesitating which caused Harry to freeze, almost in a panic, before she blinked and smiled, looking up at him, “Night. See you in the morning.”

He watched as she disappeared into her room, closing the door behind her, achingly wondering what she was thinking about.

Zoey leaned her back against the closed door, closing her eyes tightly and sighing before standing up straight and flipping her suitcase open, pulling out the contents and placing her clothes in the proper drawer or hanging them in the closet before putting her toiletries away in her en suite. Anything to distract herself from the absolute embarrassment she almost just made of herself. How much wine did she drink to think that it might be okay to kiss him?

KEEP READING

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

Taglist for Somebody To You:

@thurhomish , @stilljosiegrossie , @odetostep , @apples2019 , @stylesmioamore

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bookiemonsterph · 3 years

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Serpent & Dove

Synopsis:

Bound as one, to love, honor, or burn. Book one of a stunning fantasy duology, this tale of witchcraft and forbidden love is perfect for fans of Kendare Blake and Sara Holland.

Two years ago, Louise le Blanc fled her coven and took shelter in the city of Cesarine, forsaking all magic and living off whatever she could steal. There, witches like Lou are hunted. They are feared. And they are burned.

As a huntsman of the Church, Reid Diggory has lived his life by one principle: Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. But when Lou pulls a wicked stunt, the two are forced into an impossible situation—marriage.

Lou, unable to ignore her growing feelings, yet powerless to change what she is, must make a choice. And love makes fools of us all.

Set in a world of powerful women, dark magic, and off-the-charts romance, book one of this stunning fantasy duology will leave readers burning for more.

Title: Serpent & Dove Series: Serpent & Dove Author: Shelby Mahurin ISBN: 0062878034 (ISBN13: 9780062878038) Pages: 560 pages (Paperback) Published: August 4th 2020 by HarperTeen (first published September 3rd 2019) Characters: Reid Florin Diggory, Louise Margaux Larue Genre: Fantasy, Young Adult, Romance, Magic, Paranormal

I feel like I can’t even begin to describe just how pleasantly surprised I was by this novel. I am not a big fan of romance-heavy stories and one of my least favorite tropes of all time is hate-to-love relationships—so basically the two things the entire plot hinges on. Needless to say, I went into this very hesitantly. Very intrigued to learn how Lou and Reid end up in the position they do and to experience this story everyone has been raving about, but also keeping my expectations as low as I could. I did not for a second expect to come out of it knowing it will, without a doubt, be on my list of favorite books of the year. This is one of those books that I believe truly lives up to all the hype surrounding it.

Serpent & Dove is a dual perspective narrative following Lou le Blanc, a witch, and Reid Diggory, a Chasseur, or witch-hunter. Lou has escaped from her coven and has taken refuge in the city of Cesarine. She lives in hiding. giving up magic and surviving as a thief. In Cesarine, witches are seen as a danger to all of society—they are hunted and burned, and no woman is above suspicion.

Reid is sworn to the church and charged with the hunting and capture of witches, sworn into a role that demands he will not let a single witch live. In a surprising turn of events, Lou’s and Reid’s paths cross in a way neither of them could have ever expected. A way that leads to their marriage, that forms a seemingly impossible love, and that brings Lou under the roof of the people who could be her source of protection—or her death.

The writing in this book is absolutely superb and cements Shelby Mahurin on my list of favorite authors. Her writing is gorgeous and so easy to fall into. It is incredibly clear how meticulously she formed every aspect of this novel. Both the plot and the setting are incredibly intriguing and captivating. I loved the French influences in all aspects of the story—it makes for a very vivid and enticing atmosphere and Cesarine is the perfect backdrop for everything that takes place. She also does a wonderful job with the dual perspective narrative and creates two very individual voices for our two main characters.

Even though the romance is the main focus of the story, the fantasy aspect is very strong as well and is of almost equal importance. The fantastical elements, though more of a side plot for now, don’t really take a backseat in terms of detail or how significant they are to the overall story. Mahurin crafts an interesting and intricate magic system as strongly as she crafts the romance. It’s something I’m particularly looking forward to seeing in more detail in the next book.

The only minor issue I had plot-wise was the event that sends Lou and Reid down the path toward their marriage. Though my opinion shifted by the end of the novel, as I was able to see every event throughout in a different light, the scene still felt a little bit clumsy and heavy-handed and also completely random, maybe a little too much so. It wasn’t at all what I would have expected and was a bit of a letdown for me, so I sort of wish it had been done differently. But overall, this barely affected my enjoyment of the story as a whole.

This novel holds one of the most brilliant and beautiful casts of characters I’ve ever come across. Lou is everything. She is one of my new favorite characters of all time—I fell completely and utterly in love with her right from the very start of the novel. She is so strong despite the pain she has been through and the terror and uncertainty of her life now. Lou is sassy and sarcastic and absolutely hilarious. She’s tough and guarded much of the time, but underneath, she is so intensely loving, caring, and loyal—just an absolutely beautiful person. I connected with her so easily, and it was an absolute joy reading from her perspective and following her journey.

It took me a while to warm up to Reid, but I definitely had by the end of the novel. He’s quite set in his ways and his prejudices against women, always acting in a very traditional way toward Lou. They are living in a time when women are little more than the property of their husbands and this is something that is clearly ingrained in Reid. He is protective of her and chivalrous to a fault, but it takes a while from him to sound anywhere near loving, even after it’s clear he has feelings for her. At first, I struggled a bit reading his chapters because his attitude and initial inability to be open-minded frustrated me so much. However, there is one major reason I noticed that I think prevented me from connecting with him sooner.

Yes, he is very close-minded in many of his beliefs and his actions, but I felt that there were a few times where things sort of got lost in translation in a sense. There would be scenes from his point of view where his actions and words felt a bit confusing to me and I took them as negative. But later on, something would cause me to realize what exactly he meant by what he said or did and that it wasn’t in fact negative. I don’t think I explained that particularly well, but basically, I think there were times where his point of view could have been written more clearly. In the end, though, I did end up really liking him and it does become very obvious how much he truly cares and would do anything for Lou.

I ended up absolutely adoring the relationship between Lou and Reid. It unfolds and transforms in such a natural way. As I said before, hate-to-love is one of my least favorite tropes, but it is done so well here that I didn’t really mind it. It’s still not something I enjoy reading about and that obviously does impact my rating of the novel slightly. However, few people can get me to like a novel that features this type of relationship, and Mahurin definitely nailed it. My problem with the trope tends to stem from the tension being completely nonsensical and feeling like it’s just thrown in to create drama, and you will not find that in this book.

The tensions between Lou and Reid feel so realistic and necessary—they have every reason to be wary of each other. Understandably, that they sometimes overlook what they truly know about the other as a person in favor of ideas and prejudices that were hammered into them from a young age. They are both strong characters that are unapologetically themselves and, while it causes them to butt heads at first, it turns into a mutual respect for each other and, of course, love as well. The issues that create conflict, in the beginning, are what come to be the things that pull them together rather than drive them apart. And the sum of both of them individually—the strengths and the flaws—is what brings them each to love the other wholly.

There are also some stellar side characters in this story. Coco was, by far, my favorite—she is totally someone I’d love to be friends with. The friendship between her and Lou is so lovely and I’d gladly spend hours just reading about them. They have such a fun dynamic and they always have each other’s backs no matter what. They are the definition of found family and their story warmed my heart. Ansel, a bit like Reid, took me a while to start really liking, but he turns out to be an absolutely wonderful person and a great addition to that lovable found family.

Now for one of the most surprising things I’ve probably ever said and also one of the biggest contradictions when it comes to my typical taste in stories. As I’ve already said, I’m generally not a fan of books that heavily focus on romance. However, this book was so well written that one of my absolute favorite scenes in the entire story was the scene where Lou and Reid make love for the first time, as well as the truly heartwarming lead-up to it.

I am beyond picky about how sex scenes are written in novels. So many fall into the trap of using overly descriptive and flowery prose and a lot of just plain weird words for everything. While I think that being extremely blunt and cold about it is not a good direction to go in either, the flowery descriptions and oversharing of details tend to make these scenes feel very awkward and unrealistic.

The sex scene in this book does not fall into either of these traps and I absolutely adored it. It just feels so realistic and natural, and that is exactly what I frequently find is missing from these types of scenes. Mahurin continues to write as beautifully as ever but is, I felt, fairly minimal on the exact details of the scene. And this is exactly why it works so well.

While yes, there is still detail, she relies more often on the reader’s knowledge of what takes place during a sexual encounter, which cuts out the need for the overly flowery prose and questionable word choices. In a number of places, she writes it in a “fade to black” way without actually fading to black. Mahurin has created a perfect example of how a sex scene should be written and how it should feel to the reader. The focus is on the passion and love between Lou and Reid—on not just physical feeling, but emotional and mental as well. It is so beautiful and natural and is, by far, one of the best-executed scenes I’ve ever come across.

Suffice it to say, I really enjoyed this book. It is so beautifully written and captivating—it is very easy to fall into and get lost in. Shelby Mahurin has created a magical and emotional tale, both heartbreaking and heartwarming that, at its core, brilliantly demonstrates the power of love of all kinds. The story and especially the characters will definitely stick with me for a long time. I’ve honestly been thinking about it constantly since I finished it a few months ago. And, of course, I am absolutely dying to get my hands on the next book in this series. I love how this ended and I cannot wait to be back with these characters once again and see their story continue.

#serpent & dove #shelby mahurin

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lveclouds · 4 years

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summary: the moon was a constant presence in your life, and it came in the form of choi youngjae, a gorgeous guy with an equally gorgeous smile, and while your lives were intertwined for a time, he suddenly vanished, leaving you with questions. you felt incomplete without the moon in your life, so when would he come back?

"there's a person i want to sing a love song for, looking at the stars in the night sky." - star 1117 (ateez)

a/n: my got7 drabble that was actually supposed to be posted before the mark one, but i had a sudden burst of inspiration for it, and thus that drabble was written before this oops- anyways, i'm sorry that this was more of an angsty drabble jdkjfjd i didn't plan for it to be that way but it just happened? i guess it was also because i was listening to sad ass music while writing this lmao and yes i have a summary for this too hehe

genre: non idol! au, college/university au (kinda), heavy angst (oops) , some fluff? (its mostly at the beginning)

word count: 1.6k

paring: music major youngjae x reader

your first encounter with youngjae was quite ordinary, to say the least. he showed up late to your music theory class, brown hair messy and windblown, pale cheeks slightly red from the chilly air outside, a small smile on his face. your professor, a middle aged woman with dark hair and a stern expression, seemed to be in better spirits as soon as youngjae walked into the room, the corners of her lips curving into a rare smile. "i'm sorry i'm late, miss, traffic was terrible on the way to campus, and my mom needed help with something, and-" the professor cut him off with a a shake of her head. "no need to apologize, youngjae. just take a seat next to y/n." he nodded, looking a bit shocked that she hadn't scolded him, for your professor was a stickler for being on time, yet she let him off the hook, almost immediately. youngjae practically scrambled to sit in the empty chair next to you, quickly getting out his notebook and a pen, jotting down notes. you hid a smile at how adorable he was, and tried to focus on the lecture. you had seen youngjae around campus a few times, always smiling and cheerful, and you had always wondered if there was more to him, if there was more behind that gorgeous smile of his.

after that day, you had mustered up the courage to talk to him, despite being quite hesitant at first, since you were pretty anti-social and rarely talked to anyone on campus unless you had to. when you approached him after a particularly confusing lecture on the brain, he looked up at you from the book he was reading, gorgeous brown eyes widening in surprise. "h-hi." you said, fidgeting with the hem of your oversized hoodie. "i'm y/n. i've seen you around campus and i've wanted to talk to you, but uh, i guess i was way too shy to initiate a conversation?"

youngjae's face broke out into that gorgeous smile you were so used to seeing, perfect white teeth on display, and your heart nearly melted at the sight. "oh, well, in that case, hi, i'm youngjae. i've also seen you around campus, and i was also nervous to approach you. you're gorgeous and so i wasn't sure if you would want to be seen talking to someone like me."

a light shade of pink settled across his cheekbones, and you fought the urge to smile. "ah, you flatter me, honestly. i'm very much a wallflower, so me initiating a conversation with someone is quite rare." "should i be honored, then?" he teased, eyes twinkling with mirth. you finally allowed yourself a small smile. "i guess so, youngjae." from there, an unlikely friendship started, and over time, it soon blossomed into a relationship that you thought would last, at least, for a while. and, it did. the first few months were amazing and you felt as if you were in a fairy tale of sorts, for youngjae treated you like royalty, always going out of his way to sweep you off your feet with romantic and sweet gestures that always touched your heart. you were falling for him, hook, line, and sinker, and you felt as if you were in a dream-like state whenever you were with him.

little did you know that he would leave you, out of the blue, without even saying goodbye. you remembered the day vividly. it was a warm, sunny day in june, and the sky was void of clouds, an endless expanse of blue. it was ironic, to say the least, he had ripped your heart out on such a beautiful summer day. you were waiting for him at your usual meeting spot, which was under an oak tree at the local park, which had been a location for many of your dates, dressed in a white, flowy blouse and cut off denim shorts, along with your favorite pair of black converse, your hair loose and wavy. you had been in a good mood that day, as you had found out that your older sister was getting married, and you were eager to share the news with youngjae. you leaned back against the rough bark of the tree, humming softly to yourself. eventually, thirty minutes passed, and you were starting to get a bit worried. what if something had happened to him on the way? you thought, and immediately scolded yourself for thinking of such a scenario. then, just as you were about to go into panic mode, you saw a familiar figure running towards you. it was yugyeom, one of youngjae's closest friends, dressed in a light cream sweater, blond hair slightly messy and unruly, a tense expression on his face. "yugyeom? what are you doing here?" you asked, allowing him to catch his breath. "it's youngjae hyung." "what about him? has something happened?" yugyeom grimaced. "uh, well, i don't think he's going to be able to come to your date today." "oh, well, is everything ok?" "i-i don't know. i went to his house earlier to pick up coco, because he wanted me to watch her, and he wasn't there. his car wasn't in the driveway, so i figured he had already left to meet you. but, when i went to unlock the door, it wasn't locked at all, which is weird, because youngjae hyung always locks the door before he leaves, and when i went into his house, most of his belongings were gone, including coco. everything was gone. it was like he vanished, out of thin air or something. you felt a surge of anger and sadness wash over you. "what? so he just left? without saying goodbye?" yugyeom laughed nervously. "uhm yes?" you took a deep breath, holding back tears. "yugyeom, is it ok if i stay at your place for a while? i don't think i can go home, not after this." "of course, we can drop by and get your stuff if you want." you nodded, forcing yourself to give him a smile. "yes, thank you. and i'm sorry for practically inviting myself over, i just-" yugyeom shook his head. "it's ok y/n. i would do the same if i were you. i wouldn't want to be by myself." you smiled gratefully at him before following him to his car, heart heavy.

that night, you had cried your eyes out, and yugyeom and his best friend, bambam, had pulled you into a hug, rubbing comforting circles on your back as you sobbed. you couldn't believe that youngjae, the one guy you thought you could trust, had up and left, without saying goodbye, nor an explanation. he didn't even leave a note, for gods sake, you thought. months passed, and despite you trying to resent youngjae, you couldn't bring yourself too. he must've had his reasons, you thought. but, how could he leave me without saying anything? and on the day of our anniversary? you had seethed for a while, but eventually got tired of wasting your anger.

and to try and remember him, in a way, every night, you went out on the balcony of the guest room you were staying in, looking up at the obsidian sky, admiring the sparkling stars and the soft glow of the moon, your heart aching. to you, youngjae's presence in your life was like the moon, ever present, glowing, and peaceful. youngjae's smiles resembled that of the sun, and yet he was like the moon, mysterious and beautiful. while he was open with you, he tended to put up a wall around those he didn't know. you were often entranced by him, and when he had serenaded you on your first date, you had felt tears spring to your eyes, as you had felt the emotion and meaning of the sweet and somewhat melancholy lyrics of the song. you sighed as you stared up at the moon, glowing brightly against the dark night sky, illuminating the world in a soft, silver light. while part of you wanted to resent youngjae for leaving you, another part of you still loved him, with all your heart. and so, you would wait for him, no matter how long it took, even if meant waiting years.

a/n: i didn't mean to make it this angsty dfjdjkjfg anyways i hope you all still liked this despite the angst i'm very excited about my upcoming bts drabbles, as one of them is a atla au and another is based off the drama goblin! keep an eye on my wips page, as i will be updating it! thank you to everyone who has supported me and my writing, yall are the best and i do not deserve all of your sweet words and unconditional support 🥺

tagging: @taeramisu @yongcherie

#mine #not bts #got7

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