#all ive been drawing lately is her. and well today i drew her AND i drew charlie. variety is the spice of life etc. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

missmonsters2 · 5 years

Text

About You || Part VI

Gif by: giuliacommissions (please check her out if you’d like to commission her for gifs and other work 💞)

PAIRING: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: Wanda had never known loss like she has until she lost Pietro. It’s debilitating. She can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t even leave her house. Life is fading fast, and she’s not sure if she even wants to hang on. Enter you, a stranger that reconnects her to the daily things that makes life beautiful.

Warnings: Deals with loss & grief and the spectrum of emotions and depression that comes with it. Please note there is no glorification in any of this. Loss, grief, and depression are nothing beautiful. Also, please don’t hesitate or reach out for help if you are in a dark place. Love you, lovelies 💘

Genre: Angst & Romance

NOTE: We are making HEADWAY

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V

PART VI of X

Count: 1500

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"So, it's been almost two months."

Wanda's eyes traveled to Steve for a slight second before she looked away.

"Yeah," she answers shortly.

"You're eating again. I mean, you won't eat dinner without her like a child, but you're eating," Steve points out as he washes the vegetables and starts cutting them.

Wanda pushes around the various spices laid out on the table, knocking some of them over before picking them back up again.

"I just happen to be hungry when she's eating too."

But Wanda knew she would rather starve than eat dinner without you.

Steve looked at his friend, smiling as he looked back down to finish cutting the vegetables.

"At least now, I know you'll keep her around."

"Why do you say that?" Wanda asks absentmindedly.

"Because you've been staring at the clock for her this entire time."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You come in with Natasha, Clint, and Bucky in a flurry, grocery bags falling onto the ground as you heave a sigh.

"Sorry we're late. Someone," You squint at Clint, "Wouldn't let us leave until he compared all prices for the desserts."

"I saved us 5 dollars!" Clint indignantly replied.

Wanda's home becomes lively with everyone running around in the house with Tony being the final person to arrive with wine. There was laughter as Natasha almost burned the house down, and squealing as Clint tried to throw random things in the dishes before the two were kicked out the kitchen, and only Steve and Bucky left to cook.

It would've been much faster to have you help, but no one wanted to disturb you from your significant position in this household.

You saw how the second you enter through the door, Wanda's eyes fluttering with relief as she relaxed. You walked over to her and pulled her into a hug as you rubbed soothing circles on her back.

"I'm here," you reassured her because Wanda was someone who needed it constantly because she was scared constantly.

You stroke her head, fingers running through her hair as Wanda relaxes in her hold and whispers in your ear.

"I couldn't stop watching the clock."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The rest of the gang walks home together, slowly reaching the point where they'll split ways.

"They're totally going to date," Clint says, holding the leftover containers in his hands.

"You think so?" Natasha asks. The night was pleasant. It's been a while since so many people were over at Wanda's place. Her home is starting to feel a little warmer, and that makes Natasha happy.

"Oh, yeah," Clint grins. He had been teasing Wanda about how she would wait for you to put her plate together and wait for you to start eating before she did. Of course, he stopped when he saw Wanda flush red in her cheeks and ears.

"Did you see the way Wanda looked at her the moment she came in?" Clint laughs.

Steve smiled, strolling leisurely along with the group as he looked at the ground.

"You should've seen the way she waited."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wanda liked that you went with the flow. Because even though Wanda would catch you staring at her with questioning eyes, you never said anything.

Perhaps it was selfish of Wanda to let you exist in limbo, even if you seemed to exist well in there.

She could tell your eyes were asking what it was Wanda wanted from you.

What did she want you to be for her?

But Wanda didn't know how to answer.

Because they weren't friends. Friends probably don't sleep together every night, wrapped up in each other's limbs in the morning. But they weren't...dating.

Wanda didn't know what she wanted if she were quite honest.

And so, Wanda didn't respond to your questioning eyes.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was warm.

A little too warm.

Wanda opened her eyes to find you pressed against her side in bed. Lying there, she thought about how much nicer it was to sleep together on the bed than on the couch.

Although, Wanda conceded that the couch did allow her to squish closer to you.

Wanda turned slowly, her legs still tangled as she lay on her folded arm on the pillow to look at you. She stared at the lashes of your closed eyes, down to the bridge of your nose, and even your slightly parted lips as you breathed in and out puffs of air.

And for a moment, Wanda swallowed, trying to distance herself from your touch, but you pulled her closed until your lips were pressed against her collarbone. Goosebumps erupted all over herself, a quiet thudding in her heart getting faster.

There were so many things Wanda could've done. She could get out of bed, she could've woken you up, she could've done anything, but Wanda didn't.

Like a small flame being lit within her chest, there was a small whisper of a confession inside herself.

Wanda wanted to be closer to you.

She was ready to risk the possibility of losing again.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"I've got to head to work today, there are some problems. I'll see you later!"

You ran out the door, not even bothering to wait to hear Wanda reply as you were well aware of the fact she never bid goodbyes.

Wanda stared at the clock from the couch. Work was about 8 hours, and she sighed impatiently and forlornly. You would make it back for dinner, Wanda told herself to settle the discomfort in her.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Seriously, Wanda, just give it a try!"

Wanda rolled her eyes without looking at her brother.

"Why?" Wanda asked as she stroked her paintbrush across her canvas.

"Because I'm actually concerned you're going to die alone. I saw you looking at the cats when we passed by the shelter the other day. You can't get a cat...alone," Pietro leaned against the wall, admiring his sister's work.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Wanda squints at her brother momentarily before returning to her work.

"Trying your hand at watercolor, finally?" Pietro asks as he comes up behind his sister.

"Yeah, I'm not sure why you like it, though," Wanda sighs, "I can see all the lines I drew underneath. It doesn't look perfect at all."

Pietro looks at his sister's hand to see a mess of colors all over her hands and fingers.

"Exactly," he says, looking at the pencil lines on the canvas, "it's truly a work of art."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was dark.

Much past dinner time.

In fact, it's been 10 hours and 32 minutes.

Wanda could not sit still. She couldn't eat or sleep.

She was experiencing an array of emotions that went from confusion, worry, anger, back to worry, and again to anger.

Why were you so late?

Why didn't you call?

You said you would see her later.

But then Wanda would agonize because later was so vague. There's no time stamp on that.

Was work just longer than you expected, or were you hurt?

Wanda groaned in frustration, slamming herself back on the couch as she leaned her head back, facing the ceiling with her hands over her face.

The helplessness she felt grew with each tick of the clock.

She looked again and groaned.

10 hours and 43 minutes.

And Wanda was all too aware that you made her feel too human.

The doorknob jiggled, and Wanda shot up.

"Hey, did you eat--"

"Where were you?"

You stood there, having just shut the door and keys still in your hand as you faced Wanda down the hall. Wanda has had plenty of time to stew in her anger, and with her lack of control lately, she was going to make sure you felt all of it.

"Why didn't you call?"

"I had an emergency patient--"

Your explanation is cut short, Wanda not even bothering to hear it as she lurched forward to pull you into her arms.

"I'm sorry you keep looking at me and holding back your questions. I'm sorry I left you in limbo, but I don't know what I want from you," Wanda says in the crook of your neck. The words are rushed, and Wanda is holding onto you tightly with silent pleas.

Your arms are half-lifted in shock, but you slowly wrap your arms around Wanda in return. She was warm, such a wonderful quality that you adored.

You pull back, looking at Wanda briefly. You knew that Wanda was petrified. The fabric of your jacket rubbed between her fingers anxiously, and her eyes would flicker with bursts of emotions.

It was fear that Wanda constantly felt, and you know she would never make the first move. So, you moved closer, pressing your lips to hers, her bottom lip quivering as your tongue ran against it before drawing it in again between your lips.

You pull back, just slightly as you whisper against her lips, "You can want anything you want from me. It's okay if you want my time, my attention, and all my affections."

PART VII

#mm: my fics #series: about you #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x OFC #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch imagine #avengers reader insert #avengers au #avengers imagine #marvel reader insert #Modern Avengers AU

414 notes · View notes

shhh-no-ones-home · 4 years

Text

december 22 - chris motionless

title: holiday hangouts

++++

sorry again this is late, this is the first day this week ive been able to sit down, write, edit, and even post so i hope you all will forgive my uncertain circumstances lol. i hope you all have had a good holiday season so far though and i wish you all a merry christmas eve!

prompt: "If i wanted a date to the christmas party i wouldve asked." "so it that a yes?" "...yes"

request from: n/a

tag list: @musicsexandpizza69 @svintsandghosts @alilpunkrock @theoneandonlykymberlee @cynic-spirit @lifeisabitchandsoareyou @xyours-eternallyx @thisplace-ishaunted @joeynihil

++++

i walked quickly around my room in my towel, trying to figure out what to wear. i had done my makeup and hair already, fairly natural so it could match anything, but i still didnt know what i wanted. the company Christmas party was tonight and i wasnt exactly sure if i should go more casual or not. i pulled a few dresses out and tossed them on my bed before flipping through my shirts. when i heard a knock at the door i drew my brows, jogging into the Living Room and looking through the peep hole. to my dismay chris was standing there and i immediately smacked myself mentally. i opened the door slowly.

"hey chris."

i said bashfully and his eyes went wide.

"well thats an interesting surprise."

he said through a laugh and i stepped to the side to let him in.

"if im being honest i forgot you were coming over today."

i said nervously, trying to keep my towel tucked under my arm.

"oh, well uh, do you want me to go? we can hang out another time."

he said pointing to the door and i shook my head.

"no, no, its fine. i could actually really use your help."

i said, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the hall to my room.

"okay?"

he said a little skeptical. when we got into my room he stopped and drew his brows.

"the company Christmas party is tonight and i am at a loss. you always like my looks but i have no idea what to wear."

i said in defeat. i looked to him and watched him stroke his chin, staring down at the bed. he picked up the one knee-length royal purple dress and held it against his chest.

"ya know, if you wore this one, we would match."

he said and i raised a brow.

"Chris, If i wanted a date to the Christmas party i would've asked."

i said and he gave me a suggestive look.

"hey, you asked for my help, we were supposed to hang out today. im just saying, i could go with."

he said, holding out the dress for me with a knowing smile on his face. i sent him a look before sighing and snatching the dress from him.

"so it that a yes?"

he asked as i walked into the bathroom. i stood there and thought for a second.

"...yes"

i said in defeat, watching him fist pump the air as i closed the door.

"i cant believe you even wore a black button down for us to sit on the couch and watch movies."

i said through the door as i pulled the dress on. i heard him laugh a little.

"well i guess i just know you. you always pull something out and i thought i should be prepared. you still have that tie laying around?"

he asked and i opened the door.

"yeah, its hanging in the back of my closet but could you zip this first?"

i asked, turning my back to him.

"who wouldve thought your ex leaving one thing behind would actually help us."

he said and i laughed, watching him disappear into the closet.

"does this count as a friend date?"

i asked, pushing earrings into my ears as he came back out into the room, fixing the tie into place.

"yes, yes it does."

---

"y/n! glad to see you could make it, a few of us have been waiting for your expertise on something."

my boss said, rushing to the door of the large house as one of my coworkers greeted me.

"oh, uh, okay."

i said lightly, surrendering my coat to the hostess and following carol into the living area. there, a few members of the accounting team were sat around the coffee table, a board game in front of them.

"and whos this?"

Des asked, nodding to chris as he came into view behind me.

"chris."

he said, stepping forward and offering his hand to shake.

"So, is this a boyfriend?"

my boss asked as she sat back on the couch, picking her glass of wine up off the side table. i laughed lightly, looking to him in confusion as he slipped his hand into mine.

"only just."

he said with a smile and i sent him a look.

"oh, well you two watch out for the mistletoe then, wouldnt wanna get too caught up."

jerry said, raising his glass to us. i laughed nervously.

"right."

i agreed, taking my hand back from chris.

"hey, you wanna go find us something to drink?"

i said suggestively at him and he nodded.

"ill be right back i guess."

he said to all of them before taking off down the short hall to the kitchen. i turned and looked back at all of them.

"so, what was it that you needed me for?"

---

as i walked with chris back out to the car he held my hand tightly. i could feel him shivering as snow started to fall around us. if anything the temperature dropped significantly since wed arrived and you could definitely tell.

"m'lady."

he said, letting go of my hand and opening the door for me.

"thanks."

i said as he shut it, me watching him jog around the car to the driver side.

"it is way too cold out there."

he mentioned, starting the car and rubbing his hands together. i turned the heat up and did the same, trying to warm up.

"agreed."

i said as he pulled slowly out of the driveway.

"hey,"

he said after a while and i turned to look at him.

"thanks again for letting me tag along."

he said and i smiled.

"no, im glad you did. im sure things wouldve been much more awkward. i am sorry for all the questions though."

i mentioned and he shrugged.

"its no big deal, i shouldve figured it would happen when i told them we were dating."

he said with a smile and i laughed.

"yeah, now im gonna get questioned around the office about my non-existent boyfriend."

i said and he shook his head.

"eh, it seemed like the most logical reason for me to be there."

he said and i nodded slowly.

"yeah i guess youre right."

i said with a side nod.

"besides,"

he said, drawing my attention.

"ive been wanting to ask you to be my girlfriend for a while but it just never seemed like the right time."

my eyes went wide as i stared at him, him looking to me quickly before turning his gaze back to the road.

"you want me to be your girlfriend?"

i asked and he let out a nervous laugh.

"i mean, if you want to."

i nodded quickly, taking his free hand into mine and interlocking our fingers.

"id love that chris."

he sent me a quick smile.

"great cause this wouldve been one awkward drive home if not."

i laughed, nudging his arm with my elbow.

"good thing you dont have to worry about it anymore then."

i said and he nodded.

"you are absolutely right. and now you dont have to worry about lying to your coworkers."

he said and i shook my head.

"no i dont."

i said leaning over the console and kissing his cheek quickly.

"what was that for?"

he asked and i shrugged.

"just a thanks."

he looked to me with a brow raised.

"thanks?"

he asked and i nodded.

"for making this Christmas a special one."

i said as he pulled up to the stop light slowly, finally looking at me fully.

"its the least i could do."

he said and i laughed.

"merry christmas chris."

i said, leaning in and giving him a quick but proper kiss. he smiled at me before turning back to the road and taking off as the light turned green.

"a merry christmas indeed."

#25 days of christmas requests #x reader #chris motionless #imagines #one shots #miw

45 notes · View notes

abrakophile · 3 years

Text

pt 2 of those letters, he didnt do all of these in all caps so thank god.

OP’s name 03 SEPT 03

Hullo you, how are you doing? I hope your doing good. Mom told me that you’ve started your first grade! Im very proud of you. When I was your age I liked my first grade. Do you like yours?

I’ll be home very soon. Probably before this letter even gets to you. Mail is very slow here. I also want to say thanks for the picture that you colored for me. your art is improving, and that makes me proud too. And your spelling! I like spelling, I think that I used to be good at it. Im not too sure anymore. I hope that I get to go back to school soon. I want to learn everything. What do you want to learn about?

its been pretty hot here, but lately its been getting cold tat night. You can see the stars very good here. Maybe we can find someplace in Texas where we can see the stars good. Theres millions of them. I’ll be out of the army soon. What do you think of that? Should I stay in the army?

I havne’t been doing alot lately, just trying to get things together so I can leave to go home. I miss you very much. Im sorry that Ive missed so much. Things will be better. What do you think?

Know what? Im glad we dont live here. its much hotter than Texas and very very dusty. The citys are better, but, that are very crowded. The men here wear really long shirts that look like a womans dress. And they sometimes wear genie hats.

HaHaHa.

I love you OP

be good, help mommy around the house.

I’ll be home soon enough

Daddy

xoxoxoxoxo<3x<3x

---

OP “Little Star” (he wrote “little star” here because my Ojibwe name translates to it, I’m guessing? Though I thought it was “north star”. Also our last name is Day so my first name was supposed to be like a pun I guess? its whatever.)

How’s daddies little creepy girl? your mothers silly, I wanted to name you Autumn, or Winter, (Ops name) is very beautiful, thats what your mother wanted. She says she pushes me around alot, but guess what, I let her because it makes her happy. Tomorrow will be your first birthday. I’m sad because I will not be there with you. But I’ll sing happy birthday anyway! Next year will be different because I’m bringing you to love with me and your other grandma and grandpa. Me and your mother will work something out I’m sure. Its not a big letter because you can’t read yet! But happy birthday!!!

From, Dad.

---

OP mom’s name, with a flower drawn on the “i”

“hi” its me, ni(he drew a spiral here)?

trying to think of how to start your letter

how have you been? i miss you very much. if you were (scratched out letter “a”) body parts, you would be legs. because i would miss my legs, i would have to drag mu body all over the ground. but maybe that would be o.k., because I could take (OPs initials) on a mutant slug piggyback ride. How is (OP’s middle name)?

I miss (scratched out letter “m”) our (underlined twice) little girl too. If she was body parts, she’d be my arms. And I’d miss my arms if they were torn from my body, because if i caught on fire, I wouldn’t be able to put out the flames, so i would just run around on fire, screaming!

You (scratched out “to”) two are precise or precious, well..you know, spellings not that great these days. I love you both.

---

OP JUNE 20 2003

I LOVE YOU

I DREW YOU A PICTURE TODAY, I HOPE THAT YOU LIKE IT. I MISS YOU ALOT AND HOPE TO BE HOME SOON.

HOW ARE YOU DOING? MOM TOLD ME THAT YOU PASSED KINDERGARDEN AND WILL BE MOVING TO THE FIRST GRADE! IM VERY PROUD OF YOU, YOUR SMARTER THAN I WAS AT YOUR AGE, YOUR PROBABLY SMARTER THAN ME NOW!

HAVE YOU BEING BEHAVING FOR YOUR MOTHER? IM SURE YOU HAVE. WHAT ABOUT HELPING HER OUT? DO YOU HAVE ANY CHORES?

HOWS (OP’s hometown) DOING? HAVE YOU GONE ANYPLACE SPECIAL LATELY?

PLEASE SEND ME SOME OF YOUR DRAWINGS.

IM GOING TO GO NOW. ILL WRITE TO YOU SOME MORE LATER

I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH AND BEHAVE YOURSELF

LOVE *hearts and x’s*

Daddy.

(and this one came with a drawing...)

#letters from the guy that was my dad #pt 2

3 notes · View notes

mothraballs · 6 years

Photo

Sketchbooks From Over The Last Seven Years

I have a box of sketchbooks and random sketches that I’ve been adding to since I was about 12. Today I went through it all and I decided I’d make a post about it because. idk. why not I guess? So obviously its not every page of every book but like if anyone wants to go through about 7 years of bad sketchbooks and loose sketches and doodles its under the cut. Some nudity

.Going through this sucked a little because like who in the world ever wants to go through their middle school art??? Its hard not to get rid of that stuff because like not only does it suck but it makes me remember middle school and things like anime club and like. ew. But it’s nice to see how much less I suck at this, even if i’m not nearly as talented as I’d like to be. It also makes me sad to think of art i’ve lost, even if it was bad. I don’t have pretty much anything that I did digitally from like age 13-16 because I either deleted it or lost it when a computer broke because i didnt back that up since I didnt think id care but l kinda wish I still had some of that stuff, just like to compare improvement over such a big time period.

I wanted to find some of my actual finished art to post with this, but I couldn’t find it today, so it’s only sketchbook stuff (but I dont finish a lot of things anyway lol). Maybe I’ll make another post comparing old things I actually finished with new stuff once I can find it because I know it’s around here somewhere anyway heres sketchbooks!!

This is from 7th grade, so I guess I was 12. It’s god fucking awful, complete with drawings of memes (which I will spare u from), slenderman fan art, and a weird message about my middle school bike, which I still have in my garage, being stolen, which it never was. And the brakes do work.

why

This one is also from when I was 12, but it’s only about 1/4 of the way full.

i think i had a mental brakedown here lmao

@douche-mccoosh ‘s sexy page

This one was either from 7th-8th grade or just in 8th grade. Idk. Either way I was probably 13 years old. Just a warning: Mlp fan art starts here

1 (ONE) wolf

idk what this is supposed to be honestly

long forgotten OC

This one was also from when I was 13

I had this from age 13-14, I started drawing digitally a LOT more around age 14, so I guess I wasnt rly using my sketchbook as much

this was like straight copied from a piece I saw at an art magnet school I applied to (obviously I didnt get in lmfao) and I really did not understand how dark I needed to make the paper in some spots. And then I never finished it

A pony OC... she was a robot ok

I think I had this one age 14-15. The paper ended up being translucent so I stopped using it early on. Im kinda glad I didn’t fill it up because that actually might be kinda useful to me now

Sweet notes from @lmkno

This one wasn’t in the picture on the top bc I found it later. I think I might also be missing like 1 other one too tbh but oh well lol I think I had it when I was 15? really stopped drawing like a lot around this time, I wasn’t doing digital stuff either cuz my computer was broken at the time

This is also about when I stopped throwing away every single thing i drew on a loose piece of paper, so here’s some random sketches from the general timeframe

First sketches of my OCs Vonn, the fish man and Elliot, the girl with pigtails

Some of my art I’ve sorted correlating to the OC’s and the universe they belong in or whatever so here’s some OC’s that sort of came about around that time, some of the pictures are from when I was older though

Ginger

the TV head robot guy was named Seven

the guy with the fuckin,, circle head and weird face is Wolfgang, I still draw him a lot today but ive changed how he looks a l o t

I had this age 15-16, so like 2014-15. Maybe early 2016? There’s a lot of blank pages and scribbled out things. I

Wolfgang again

fukkin,,,, gaye ass furry roleplay oc

Sketches on loose paper from the time I think??? I honestly cant tell when all of these are from but they’re gonna go here.

first design of an OC named Eryl

A random D20 character

Eryl

Early drawings of an OC named Lucy Lucy Lucy Lucy Lucy Lucy Lucy Lucy Lucy aka Lucy Ninetimes

Lucy & Wolfgang

And heres more stuff I had sorted by OCs/universe or whatever

main OCs here are Pidgenfinger, with the blue or possibly stylistic black hair, and Chrissy, shes like. A mouse or something

main OCs here are Roland and Ansel, they were like siamese twins and then one of them died at birth and now this guy just has a ghost twin idk it was stupid

Finally we’re at the point that my phone started recognizing faces in my sketchbook. I had this one age 17, i might have started it like right before I turned 17?

Lucy & Wolfgang

Vonn and Elliot on the right side of the page

Pidgenfingersa

Roland & Ansel

Dont Starve fanart on the right

Elliot on the right

Lucy on the bottom left

Vonn & Elliot on this page too

Lucy & Wolfgang, this is dumb but w/e

Von, Elliot, and another OC, Eryl. The lady with horns never got a name

Random Sketches

Lucy

Wolfgang

I got this sketchbook a few months after id turned 18 if i remember correctly

Lucy, but decapitated

Lucy

Lucy again

Lucy yet again

Lucy!!!!!!!!!!

Wolfgang

(and Lucy)

I got this sketchbok as a gift from my wonderful boyfriend @the-lost-professor early january of this year, so technically when I was 18, I’m now 19

Eryl on bottom right

Stuff I did for mermay

some random sketches

My current sketchbok ft. Tsu This one was also a gift from my boyfriend ♥ I got it late June of this year

Wolfgang

Lucy

Wolfgang

Lucy

Wolfgang and Leah, and OC that i made a long ass time go and I dont have the original picture but I redrew her

Wolfgangs and Lucys

Eryl on the left

The last thing I did for mermay, which I technically finished after may ended

Lucy

and the most recent page! With Lucy and Wolfgang on the right

uhhhhhhhhh

im really fucking hungry now and im gonna go eat bye

20 notes · View notes

yangssunglasses · 6 years

Note

logh happy au where no one dies and yang and frederica have a kid together.

AN: This was a lot of fun to write! Thanks for the prompt! I also included Julian/Katerose scene. Let me know if you have more prompts for this AU or other :)

AO3 link

The Victory of Peace

“History teaches us many valuable lessons. Thanksto it we can study the past mistakes and choose better solutions. Thepast determines our future as the species, as the nation, even asindividuals.

“The history of humanity, unfortunately, is ahistory of war. Bloody, countless wars across the ages, but alwaysfollowing the same patterns. The reasons for starting a war arealways the same. People find it easier and more profitable to fightrather than negotiate or trade. They believe there’s something moreimportant than human life, something worth dying for. The wars areended for the opposite reason, when the people decide that there’snothing more precious than the human life.

“You might find this cynical and that is fine. Thehistorian needs to know all the facts first, then draw conclusionsand make interpretations of events. We’re not only interested in whathappened, but why and how and, most importantly: to what end? We needto take the history, good or bad as a lesson for ourselves, becauseeveryday we are the ones making the newest history. I am notreally your teacher, I am just your guide. In here, only history isthe teacher of us all.

“Today, I’d like to talk with all of you about oneof my favourite lessons – the modern miracle that changed the lifeof humanity in this galaxy. The Treaty of Iserlohn that ended over acentury of a bloody, pointless war between the Free Planets Allianceand the Galactic Empire.

“You probably wonder why I called this myfavourite lesson when I spent hours upon hours extolling thegreatness of ancient pre-space civilizations to you. For me, theTreaty of Iserlohn symbolizes hope for humanity. It teaches us that afew good people in the right place at the right time can make achange for the better.

“'Good people’ is of course a relative term here.I doubt anyone here would agree to call the kaiser Friedrich IV agood man, but at the right time his heart was swayed to choosesomething that was in the interest of the galaxy, not just himself orthe Empire. This can’t be denied. Biographers still argue about histrue reason for agreeing to negotiate with rebels, as the Empirecalled us once, but whether it was his mistress’ plea, the losses inhis military or a whim, he still did it. He showed willingness tolisten and for that we should be grateful.

“On the side of the Alliance, the situation wasthe same. Our leaders had just as little obligation as Friedrich tostop the war. Capturing Iserlohn was more than advantageous to them.It finally secured the Alliance territory and even allowed them thepossibility of preparing an invasion. However, while what Friedrichdid is solely on his shoulders as his subjects had no influence overhis decision, in the Alliance we have this thing called democracy.And for once, our people chose their leaders wisely. Let that be alesson every time you’re going to the voting urn…”

The door to the lecture hall burst open and bangedon the wall, allowing a young blond man in. “Professor! It’s time!Miss Frederica’s water broke!”

The renowned professor of the Faculty of History ofthe Heinessen University, Yang Wen-li looked from the young man, hisstudent, neighbour and friend Julian Mintz, to the clock. “It’s tooearly,” he said, stupefied. He could have meant the hour, it wasonly ten past eight a.m. And he only got started with his lecture,but he actually was thinking about the doctor’s prediction. The babywas supposed to be born next week, which is why he’d come to workthis morning instead of staying with his very pregnant wife.

“Hurry, we need to go! She’s on the way to thehospital!” Julian informed him, grabbed the lecture notes spreadbefore Yang before shoving them into his bag and taking it himself.

Yang scratched his head and looked at the huge groupof curious students gathered in the hall. His lectures were quitepopular, even those at the most despised early hours. He was the kindof a professor that got very passionate when talking about hissubject, which drew him a larger audience than he would haveexpected. “Well, this is the end for today. We’ll continue thisnext week. Everyone, have a good day, and goodbye!” he told themand rushed after Julian, almost tripping on the step of the podium.

They called an automatic taxi which took them offthe campus and towards the Heinessen General Hospital.

“Julian, why didn’t you call me?” Yang asked,embarrassed that they had made a scene in front of his students.

“I did, but you didn’t answer! So after I calledfor General Greenhill to take her to the hospital, I ran to get you,”Julian explained.

Julian lived next door to Yang. They had madefriends after an incident with water sprinklers. The young manimpressed Yang with his diligence and they quickly developed afriendship. Julian not only was taking care of his disabled father,he also worked part-time in the local cafe and excelled in hisstudies. And above all, he made the most delicious tea Yang had evertasted.

General Greenhill was Yang’s father-in-law.Actually, Yang’s wife Frederica was also military, however she had adesk job at the Heinessen Joint HQ at the Strategic Data AnalysisCenter. In times of peace, Yang had no reason to worry she’d be sentout to fight somewhere far away from home and for that he waseternally grateful. He himself had almost been recruited intomilitary academy to achieve his dream of studying history, butfortunately he was able to qualify for scholarship. Again, the peacetime had benefited Yang’s life because if the war still raged on,he’d have had no other choice but to become a soldier against his ownwill. He always thought he’d dodged the bullet with this one.

Yang met Frederica through a mutual friend andmeddler extraordinaire, Alex Caselnes. Yang often joked that Caselnesshould have become a professional matchmaker, not the manager of amajor shipping company. Even he probably wouldn’t have such alucrative job if not for the Treaty of Iserlohn which had broken thegalactic trading monopoly of Phezzan. With the Iserlohn Corridoropening for trade between the FPA and the Empire, many new shippingcompanies emerged within both sides of the galaxy and Phezzan lostthe prominence it had gained as the only middleman during thewartime.

The trip to the hospital didn’t take long, but toYang it felt like hours, his leg vibrating with impatience. When thetaxi parked on the other side of the street across the hospital, herushed out and almost got ran over by a car. Julian hurriedly paidwith his digital credit card and went after Yang.

Once they entered the reception safely, they gotdirections to the maternity ward, though Yang was too anxious toremember them, so Julian had to grab his sleeve and lead him to theelevator. Inside, Julian pressed the button for the third floor. Yangwas tapping his foot on the floor again.

“Calm down, Professor,” Julian said. “Everythingwill be fine with Miss Frederica.”

“I know, I know,” Yang sighed and ran a handover his brow. “Women are giving birth to the next generations fromthe very beginning of humankind, it’s a completely natural processthat the evolution prepared us for,” he said, as if reciting from abiology book to reassure himself. “Well, actually, it wasn’t alwaysthe case. Did you hear about the cloning practice in the days beforethe Republic formed? When there were shortages of workers, more werecloned, but due to some legal difficulties the practice was bannedand later the technology was lost…” Yang went off on a tangent.The elevator pinged and opened. Julian didn’t interrupt, letting himramble as they walked through the corridors. Talking about historydistracted Yang from worrying.

“It’s here,” Julian said as they reached thedoor numbered 320. Julian knocked two times.

The door opened to reveal Yang’s father-in-law.“Wen-li! You’re finally here! Come in, it just started,” heinvited them in with a smile. He was the only person on the planetthat called Yang by his first name. Even Frederica preferred terms ofendearment.

Frederica was sitting on a special birthing chair,her face scrunched in intense concentration as the doctor wascoaching her. Yang hesitated for a second, but when Frederica smiledat him, he went straight to her side. “Sorry, I’m late,” he saidwith a contrite look.

She grabbed his hand tightly. “Doesn’t matter, thebaby is coming,” she gritted out and grimaced when the nextcontraction twisted up her insides painfully.

“Are you the husband?” the doctor asked. Yangnodded. “You can stay then. There’s too many people in here,” sheaddressed Greenhill and Julian. “Please wait outside.”

The two shuffled out of the room, one morereluctantly than the other. While Greenhill stayed just outside thedoor, awaiting the birth of his grandchild with a calm eagerness,Julian headed to the lounge. He bought himself an ice tea from avending machine and sat in a plastic chair. As he slowly drank, hewatched the news channel on TV set up in the area. The leader of adangerous radical organization Patriotic Knights Corps was arrested.A new legislation was passed to decrease the fleet’s size along withother reforms of the military. Heinessen Patriots had won theirflyball match yesterday.

Julian’s attention was taken off the news when aslim redhead in tiny jeans shorts walked up to the vending machine.He was furtively admiring her long legs when she suddenly kicked theautomat.

“Dammit!” she cursed and kicked it again.

Julian stood up and came closer. “What’s thematter?”

She gave him a distrustful glare and he couldn’thelp but notice that she had pretty blue eyes. “Nothing.” Thenshe kicked the machine again. “This piece of shit just doesn’t wantto give me my skittles!”

“You could call the support,” Julian suggested,pointing to the phone number glued to the side of the vendingmachine.

“And wait how long? Are you nuts?” she said.

Julian evaluated the situation. The girl’s kickswere too weak to rock the automat enough so that the bag of skittleswould fall down on their own. He took place next to her.

“Wait, if we kick together, it should work.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “Alright,” shesaid, a little doubtful, but willing to try this.

“On three! Two! One! Now!” Julian counted downand they kicked out together. The vending machine swayed backwards.“Again!” After the second double kick, the skittles were releasedand clattered into the pocket on the bottom of the automat.

“Yes!” the girl exclaimed and scooped hercandies out. She turned to Julian. “Thanks for your help. I’mKaterose.”

“Julian,” he gave his name too. “And it was noproblem.”

Katerose opened the bag and held it out to him.“Want some?”

“Me?” he asked in surprise. “No, thanks.”

She shrugged and popped a few skittles in her mouth.“So, who are you visiting here?” she asked.

Julian blinked, as he didn’t expect she’d stickaround to continue the conversation instead of being on her way. “Afriend’s wife is giving birth and I’m here for moral support. Andyou?”

“My stupid dad busted his arm playing flyball. I’mtaking him home after they finish patching him up,” she saidwithout much concern.

Julian was taken aback by her flippant attitude. Hewanted to ask why she’d talk like that about her own father, but itfelt too early in their acquaintance for such personal questions.Instead, he latched onto the sports part. “He plays flyball?Professional or just for fun?”

“Hmm, that’s actually hard to define…”Katerose replied, only rousing his curiosity. She ate some moreskittles. “I guess it’s both. He’s a professional, but he’s not aplayer. He’s just a coach for the team.”

“A coach? Wait, then how did he break his arm?”

“He was showing his team some move or the otherand screwed up. He’s a total show-off, so he got what he deserved,”she concluded and closed the candy bag.

“Aren’t you a little too harsh?” Julian pointedout. He loved and respected his own father a lot, so someone beingthis rude about their dad grated on his nerves.

Katerose snorted. “No-pe. If you met him, youwould agree with me. Anyway, I gotta go. It was nice talking to you,Julian.” She walked off, giving him a lazy wave over her shoulder.

“Bye,” Julian uttered, waving backautomatically. Despite her attitude, he found her interesting to talkto. Then he realized that he didn’t even get her number or a fullname and with no way to track her, they probably wouldn’t see eachother ever again.

Julian groaned and cradled his head in a palm, thenreturned to wait outside room 320 with General Greenhill.

Meanwhile, Yang also had girl problems of anentirely different kind. Frederica was giving birth and he had tokeep his wits around him, even though on the inside he was freakingout. He occupied himself by wiping her brow and enduring her deathlygrip that had made his hand go numb some time ago.

The doctor was kneeling in front of Frederica.“Push!” she instructed.

His wife screamed and pushed, becoming red in theface from the effort.

“Again!” the doctor ordered.

“I can’t! It hurts too much!” Frederica criedout, sobbing.

“It’ll stop hurting after you push that kid out!”the doctor replied sternly.

“Frederica,” Yang said softly and touched herhot, damp cheek. “Don’t give up, you can do this. I believe in you.You’re so strong. Just a little more,” he encouraged her.

Frederica gave him a trembling little smile and anod, then started pushing with a renewed determination.

When Yang heard the baby’s first cry and the doctorgave him the wrapped newborn, it was one of the happiest moments ofhis life.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl,” the doctor toldhim, correcting Yang’s hold.

The baby was so small and fragile in his arms thathe was afraid he’d do something wrong, but also it awakened in himthe urge to protect her. This was his daughter and he already wantedto give her the stars. “Hello, little one,” he murmured tenderly.

“Hey, let me see her,” Frederica asked, slumpedon the birthing chair. Her expression lit up with love when he gaveher the child. “She’s so beautiful…” Frederica whispered inawe, happy tears glistening in her eyes. Yang discreetly wiped hisown, caused only by the overwhelming happiness of this moment.

“Did you come up with a name?” the doctor askedthem. Yang and Frederica exchanged an unsure look.

“You should name her. You went through so much soshe could be born,” Yang suggested to his wife.

“Actually, I had this idea for a while… What doyou think about Victoria?” she asked.

“It’s a great name.” Yang gently brushed thesoft head of his baby daughter with one finger. “Victoria Yang,”he said, trying out the name. “It sounds good.”

“Our little Victoria,” Frederica said and kissedthe baby on top of her head.

It was a fitting name. After all, her parentsthought she was the greatest achievement of their lives. And in thisworld where the peace and good triumphed, where they never had tofight in bloody battles for freedom, that was more than enough.

AN: Thanks for reading! Let me know how you liked it :)

#legend of the galactic heroes #logh #yang wenli #yang x frederica #frederica greenhill #julian mintz #julian x katerose #katerose von kreutzer #otp: naughty affairs #my fanfiction

15 notes · View notes

verosmoonshine-blog · 6 years

Text

Entries from the Ley-Walker

(Journal entries. Takes place in late February/early March, months before promotion. I meant to post this MONTHS ago, so here it is. Posting it now since it’s a part of Veros’ character development)

Prelude | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV (coming soon!)

Day 1

Only a fool would ignore the knowledge and power that lies within Quel’thalas. The home of the Sin’dorei is rich with magic and history, and given the many uncanny parallels between the Sin’dorei and Shal’dorei, I’ve decided that studying them, their land and their culture, is the best starting point for learning about and understanding the world, and maybe even ourselves a little more.

I know the leylines in Suramar like I know the back of my hand. I studied them immensely in my youth, harnessed power from them, sculpted spells and tricks around them -- they are a way of life, and must be utilized. With the barrier down, I know deep in my soul that I’d be committing a crime to turn a blind eye to the rest of the leylines out there. Which brings me to Quel’thalas.

Today marks the first day I sniff out these leylines. The High Priest was kind enough to gift me a hawkstrider when I moved to Silvermoon, and the bird has been quite useful in getting me around. Bumpy ride though. The moment I left the gates, I felt the hum of arcane energy deep in the woods. And though I'm not fond of trees and such, I was quick to rush into the woods.

Connecting to a line here will take time. I'm unused to the grooves of this land, and I can feel the darker energies from the Dead Scar looming over. They interfere with my concentration. But, the very plants that grow here pulse with arcane in their leafy veins. They are the first step to finding a stronger connection.

Unfortunately, these plants are not so full in energy as I hoped. Left alone, they feed into the leylines nearby, fueling its life essence and blossoming regardless of the magically controlled climate, but, once cut, the arcane within it all but dissipates entirely, leaving a normal dead plant behind. I wonder if there is a way to preserve the magic in them. Perhaps if I take the root with it, but I'm hardly one to fiddle with plants.

Had to return early. A demon hunter ran into me while I was in the woods… tasting one of the leaves there. For science, of course. I wanted to see what effects the hidden arcane would have on me. But even though that elf had no eyes, he gave me this look, just. A look. And at that moment I knew I had to leave and down a bottle of something before I rightly perished of embarrassment.

Will update again, if not hungover.

Day 2

Back into the woods. I spoke to a Ley-Keeper in Silvermoon with a few inquiries. A lovely fellow, most beautiful hair. He told me that Quel’thalas is full of a cluster of leylines, all of which connect to the Sunwell. What an intriguing thought! I should ask the High Priest how I can go about visiting the Sunwell one day. Just how different is it from the Nightwell, I wonder?

The Ley-Keeper also suggested I visit some of the arcane sanctums in Eversong, which leads me to today. The Northern Sanctum is where I started first.

[Attached is a drawing of a map of Eversong Woods, blue ink swirling across the parchment with Shalassian notes scrawled over it]

What struck me first were the markings in the grass. Swirls and curls were imprinted in the ground, and standing atop them, I could feel the energy beneath my feet. However, as I mentioned before, dark energy lurks nearby, and it seems to disrupt the flow of arcane. When I visited the West Sanctum, the issue was the same, but more exaggerated. Too much energy clogged in some areas, so much so that the arcane manifests on a physical level, becoming wraiths and walkers, irritated and hostile over the disruption. They are very dangerous to quell, but leave behind various arcane residues. I've collected such into jars, and plan on experimenting with them later.

I also mentioned before that the plants here carry energy, but only if not separated from the lines. I have, however, found a peculiar plant growing directly on the leylines that is an exception, a red flower that appears to only exclusively grow on leylines. I’ve not seen another plant like it anywhere else. Even when cut, it retains its power, its roots having taken nutrients straight from the lines. Fascinating!

Out of curiosity, of course, I tasted this plant. Strangely, it reminded me of the bitter taste of arcwine, but different. More potent. Some of its strange petals dissolved in my mouth. The effects it had on me were even more fascinating -- I found myself jittering with energy, and the runes across my body glew more after I had consumed this plant. It was… certainly a ravishing experience, but I will never consume it this way again. After the pleasant buzz faded away, I found myself itching, desperate to eat more of the plant I had filled my bags with. Stars, the temptation was strong and nearly crippling -- I was forced to return to my apartment in Silvermoon, where I downed a bottle of arcwine to settle the craving and retired for the night. This plant can be dangerous if consumed. I’ve yet to ask one of the Sin’dorei what it is exactly and if it has a name.

Day 4

With this strange ley-plant, I managed to lure and “tame” a small mana wyrm while traveling the woods. She follows me around now, and I’ve since named her “Leyla”, which is, of course, a play on “ley lines”. I find myself very clever. With her simple-minded nature, she does one thing -- seek out mana. I’ve used her to track where other lines and sources of power may be, and it has furthered my research immensely. Already I have filled up several parchments with maps of the lines in Eversong, and I look forward to expanding on these when I explore elsewhere for more lines.

Finally, I revisited an old spell I created when I was a young Arcanist. If I stand atop or near a ley line and focus my will, I can connect myself directly to these lines, and channel its energy into myself, becoming a conduit for pure power. I am grateful to have these runes engraved into my skin to prevent me from straight out exploding with arcane overload, as this ritual is very dangerous for the untrained and unprepared. I visited each of the arcane sanctums in Eversong to see if I can get the same results tapping into these lines as I do in Suramar, and sure enough, I do. With the exception, however, of the East Sanctum, destroyed by the Dead Scar that runs across the land. I will touch on this in a moment.

Tapping into these lines, I feed power into myself (note to self: tie hair up when doing this, static electricity is an enemy to long hair). With my body filled to the brim with energy, I simply guide it outwards from my hands or through a staff, causing an array of beautiful explosions and lightning to spew out. Their chaotic nature in something so pure and orderly is beautiful to me, in a way. It is explosive, yet mathematical, every twitch of lightning precise and controlled through the order of arcane. I’m always stunned by the sight. At the East Sanctum, however, the energy is tainted. Horribly, horribly tainted. It reeks of the dead there, and while I can still tap into the lines there, the consequences are dire.

The leylines within the Scar are permanently destroyed. Arcane clogs up within the earth, leaving some areas of the line empty of power, and some dangerously overloaded. I can feel the damage connecting myself to the line, I can feel how seared and corrupt the magic has become. Still, like the fool I am, I attempted anyways to draw power from it as I had done the other lines.

Doing so only invited the unholy.

My body, despite having known its share of power and energy, is far too weak of a vessel to hold the tainted energy within these lines. Had I stayed connected with it for too long, my own body would have begun to decay, and I speculate that a worst case scenario is I transform into an undead on the spot with prolonged exposure. Visions of the dead entered my mind as I continued my spells, and I worry I may not be able to sleep tonight after such a sight.

It is still worth studying. I must find an alternative way of tapping into these specific lines.

Day 6

Leyla still follows me around. Several other Sin’dorei asked to pet her as I wandered Silvermoon with the wyrm. I had no idea just how cute the other elves found these wyrms to be, but I cannot blame them.

I met back up with the Ley-Keeper I spoke to a couple suns ago. Learned his name to be Keretos. Also learned he was not single, which was a shame. I inquired about the ley-plant I discovered, and his reaction to the sight of it was the same as most the other elves I spoke to had: a recoil in disgust as if I had just offered them the plague. You would think that they’d worship a plant rooted in arcane, but life is full of surprises!

Turns out, the plant is something called “bloodthistle”, and is quite taboo in their society. Used as a drug by lower class folks. Which… would explain its effect on me. And near dangerous craving for it back, the likes of which I still haven’t fully shaken off. Keretos was rather amused by my story of it.

Since I had an abundance of bloodthistle, and it's illegal to sell it as well as a waste to throw out, Keretos suggested I use the plant for different purposes. Crushing it and turning it into a cream for skin care, boiling it and mixing it with leyline ink to draw stronger runes, or perhaps catch more mana wyrms with them. All of which are brilliant ideas that I must take up.

So of course, I returned to the East Sanctum.

This time, I followed Leyla’s judgement exactly, following the little wyrm as she sniffed around in search of energy. I had prepared a bottle of boiled bloodthistle and magical ink for myself to use in my spells, and once I noticed Leyla hovering over a certain spot, I dived in. I drew a rune onto the soil the old fashioned way, hoping to channel part of the line’s energy into the rune so as to not overwhelm myself. The results were… fairly successful.

Corruption was filtered with the pattern I drew into the ground, and the arcane came to me in slower but steady increments. While I cannot judge whether or not the lines can be healed here, I can say that they are not entirely destroyed, and can still have use. Unfortunately, it is still wildly unstable, and very quickly my pattern was overwhelmed, pure, crystalized arcane jutting out from the ground and condensing in the runes. Wraiths manifested before my eyes and sought out to destroy me for disrupting the lines of power. That or they wanted to devour said power. Either way, I was forced to flee, but of course, not without scraping up some of the crystals I created. They will be studied intensely.

Day 9

Trial and error, trial and error. What a maddening cycle.

I have harvested crystallized power from the three Sanctums in Eversong. They replenish my mana, and allow me a boost in power when absorbed. I'm currently testing if they can be integrated with armor and jewelry to provide a passive buff. These crystals may be of some interest to the Agents of Suramar.

The crystals from the East Sanctum, however, are too dangerous.

I've dubbed these specific crystals as Blight Shards. These Shards hold a power beyond arcane. Unholy magic and time echoes, the likes of which that have been driving me mad. They whisper the echoes of the past, and at night I can hear the encased sounds of battle and shouting and violence and death, all from the day that can be none other than Arthas’s siege upon this land. I catch glimpses of the horrible past within the Shards’ facets, I see and feel the agony and despair of the elves that desperately tried to save their land. I hear their ghostly howls, their cries for help, their final breaths, and within some of the shards, their descent into undeath.

I was unable to imagine the horrors before. Now I cannot seem to look away from it.

I do not know when I did it or what finally compelled me to move, but eventually I could not bear to hear the suffering any longer. What a tormenter I am to encase the Sin’dorei’s suffering into an endless loop within these Shards, how could I possibly continue to go on knowing I allowed those screams to persist? I found myself in the outskirts of the woods, not so far off from the Duskwither Spire. I brought my crystals here, and with a fiery spell, I destroyed the Shards, finally ridding myself of the torment and hearing blissful silence at last.

I am weak as I am now. I've no strength to return to the city, hardly any to write any of this here down. I will rest here in the grass, and hope I can find peace of mind.

Day 12

A mistake to destroy the Blight Shards. They held immense power, I should not have let myself go mad to them! Regardless, I took time to perfect a few spells that could be used to filter the power that pours through the scarred lines. Alas, it would take a team of casters to create such a powerful filter to safely crystallize the power. It has been a great several thousand years since I gathered a group for massive research like this -- it must be perfect, it must be worth it. There is great power in these shards. I will explore them. I will explore the mana here. So much to be learned…

Perhaps what I need is more motivation. Perhaps I should not cower from research on such grand scales anymore. It’s time I step back up, time I dig for the deeper truth.

I shall bring my studies to the Agents. And with it… I shall bring Azerite to the table as well.

Knowledge is to be had.

#( dusty pages ) ; muse info #( we have our chapters ) ; writing #queue #:thumbsup:#i'll transcribe how he actually gets the mana shards and blight shards as well #i recorded that event and it was the first one i ever hosted/dm'd so #i Gotta

4 notes · View notes

manonblckbeak · 7 years

Text

Temptation: Part VI

wow. whoa, what? Gin’s actually finally posting another part of temptation?

okay, kidding aside, i just wanted to say how sorry i am about the time it took to post this. i explained before that i was going through some weird things in my life and i wasn’t feeling any of my writing and to be honest i didn’t want to post anything for you guys if i didn’t actually love it. i’m better now, and i managed to write something i’m really proud of and i hope you guys like it! Thanks to @nightcourthighlordrhysand for everything really.

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

As winter grew colder and Christmas drew closer, Feyre dove into her art projects like they were her only means of survival. She knew she should use this time, this magical time of year to get closer yet to her friends, but after that day at Hiems… she just didn’t trust herself around Rhys. Didn’t trust herself to make the right calls, to be strong, to keep her heart safe.

So she did homework, practiced her drawing and her painting and her sketching, but never, not even as she realized the very thing that was supposed to keep her mind off of him had betrayed her once more—not even as she realized she had drawn his face, his body, his lips—thought of him.

It was for the best. This, all this, was for the best. She knew where the road that lead her to him would take her, and it was not a peaceful or pretty place.

And it was not selfish, she had come to realize. Because she was no longer thinking about herself, no longer thinking about how much she would hurt and bleed and suffer. No, not at all. She thought of him, of how she would ruin a… piece of art. Rhys—Rhys was so pure, so perfect—like a painting: splashes of colors and feelings and pain. And she couldn’t add up to that. Couldn’t change it, no matter how much she wanted to…

No. She wouldn’t go down that road.

Feyre sighed, dropping the charcoal she had been drawing with. She could start to make out an elegant face on the paper beneath it, the lines on it beautiful and strong. Again. She had done it again. With a growl of irritation, Feyre ripped out the page off her drawing pad—which, if she was to be honest, had seen better days. She had been doing this too much lately.

Dropping the balled up paper in the trashcan beside the desk, Feyre stood up, arching her back in an effort to stretch cramped up muscles. She wondered for a moment when Mor would be back, if she would find her asleep again, if she would complain the next morning about how they never got to spend time together anymore.

Things between her roommate and her had been… complicated since the visit to Hiems. She’d tried at first. After all Mor had told her, after what she had shared as well, it had seemed like they would be stronger than ever, but—Mor could relentless in trying to make things right. And right for her wasn’t the same as it was for Feyre.

So she had started to avoid her, avoid her plots and plans, her matchmaking, her efforts that, despite seeming well-intentioned and harmless, could hurt her so deeply. And with avoiding Mor, came avoiding Azriel, Amren, Cassian and, of course, Rhysand.

And she had never felt so lonely. This, this was what she had expected her life at Prythian Academy to be like. It was like the world was collapsing in on itself and she couldn’t help but stand in the middle of the crossfire.

She sighed again, checking her phone for the time. 7:30. Too early to go to bed yet, but definitely too late to go to the cafeteria for any remnants of dinner. Gods, what was she doing with her life? Mor was probably somewhere with the gang drinking the expensive wine she’d bought at Hiems—a never ending amount, it seemed, for she was always taking more and more and more from the bottom drawer of her closet. And yet, here she was: alone, unhappy, and fully aware that this—all of this—was her own choice.

She was about to put her phone away when the ringing tone sounded.

***

Feyre had come to fear the ringing of her phone. In the bitter, lonely weeks that followed Hiems, not once had Tamlin called, and yet, every time the damned thing buzzed, it was a near heart-stopping phenomena.

It was not that she disliked having the thing with her. The phone was a commodity, a privilege. It kept her company when humans did not. But even when said nightmare did not happen, the phone itself, old and battered, held so many memories. Photographs and messages and even a makeshift love letter typed into the notes of the phone, signed with “much love, Tamlin”.

It was a constant reminder of a life she did not want, did not need, did not deserve. But a reminder she kept close, for it let her know, with each touch of her skin against the cold screen, that love could be a poison. That love could be dangerous. That love could be wild and hurtful and tricky.

So when her phone rang, the buzzing sending shivers up and down her spine, she jumped. Because she wasn’t ready to keep the reminder that close to her heart. She wasn’t ready to talk to Tamlin again, especially not alone, not after everything she’d done to bring herself up from the blind panic he’d set her upon at Hiems.

But her fast breathing slowed down to a stop when she saw the number on the screen. For it was not Tamlin calling… But Nesta.

“H-hello?” Feyre said, hands trembling with the fear of yet another heart-breaking moment, another piece of news that could change her life as she knew it, another slap in the face. You know, figuratively.

“Hey, Feyre.” Her sister’s voice was as rough as she remembered. But oh, it was so nice to hear it. If not for the feeling of being home, for the simple reason that she had not talked, properly talked to another human being in so long. Weeks. It’d been weeks since she’d last had a conversation that hadn’t involved how absent she was or how her projects were going or what the fresh hell she was doing with her life. So, yes, the roughness and familiarity and just the fact that this was a simple, non-Rhysand related conversation was… nice. Very nice. “I trust you’re doing well?”

Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall out into the planes of her face. Oh, how simple it would be to tell the truth. How simple it would be to confess that everything had turned, most definitely, to shit, and she was not well, not in any way. But things were not simple. Life was not simple.

And so, she simply said, “Yes.” Feyre reached over to turn the light of her drawing table off, leaving only the room light on. She stood and walked over to her bed, throwing herself at the linen sheets before adding, “Yes, everything’s fine.”

“I’m glad. But Feyre,” Nesta said, voice sharp. “You haven’t called in months. Dad’s been worried sick. You don’t call, don’t answer our texts, even Dean Falsum seemed helpless trying to get ahold of you.”

Guilt buried itself deep inside of Feyre. She’d been trying so hard to make it all bearable for herself that she had forgotten about everyone else, it seemed. But she guessed she couldn’t pin it all on Tamlin or even Rhys. This was months of carelessness. This was just her avoiding her family for the very reason she was avoiding Mor: they, too, thought they knew what was best for her and she knew what was best for herself. “I’m sorry, Nesta.” She said quietly. “It’s just been… hard.”

“Yes, well,” Nesta seemed angry at her. Not that she could really blame her. Her sister could be a bitch sometimes, but she was nothing if not protective of her family. “It’s been hard for us, too, you know? Dad’s rarely ever around, and since you aren’t here anymore…” she sighed, as if reminding herself that that hadn’t exactly been Feyre choice for starters. “Since you aren’t here anymore, I have to take care of Elain.”

“How’s—”

“And your beau,” Nesta ground out. “He keeps coming around. Begging—begging for us to bring you home.”

Feyre trembled. Oh, Gods.

“I can’t take it, Feyre.” She said, and Feyre could swear she heard some desperation in her sister’s voice. “I can’t take it anymore. Elain’s scared to bits. The last time I had to call the cops on him.” There was a sigh here, and it sounded so tired, so distraught, that Feyre wondered for a second if it had been herself that had breathed it out. “I don’t deserve this, Elain doesn’t deserve this. We can’t keep suffering the consequences of your mistakes.”

“What—what are you saying?”

“It’s time for you to come home.”

***

Breakfast came all too soon.

But Feyre didn’t talk as she picked up her food. Didn’t speak as she tried, and failed, to eat, and stared out the window beside their usual table, and blatantly ignored everybody. Her mind was still reeling with Nesta’s words, with the promise in them, with what the future now held for her.

She went about her day as if everything was still the same, walking the halls of the Academy like a zombie out for brains. It had taken its time, but by now, the confusing halls made some sense to her. It wasn’t like she could trust Mor to be her guide anymore.

Art class was usually the one joy in her life these days, Alis being the one support she needed most. The teacher was so giving, so kind… But her mind was elsewhere today. Miles away, actually. Back where she could still hear Nesta’s voice calling, as if a hair’s breadth away, I don’t deserve this.

And she didn’t. Not really.

Nesta had never been the best sister, had never cared for her as she had obviously cared for Elain, but Feyre loved her all the same. She was her sister, Gods damn it. And she was right, she didn’t have to keep paying and paying for what was surely Feyre’s momentary lapse of judgement. No matter that it was much more than that. No matter that it was haunting her, turning her life into shit.

Because that, well that Feyre could deal with. She could deal with Tamlin ruining her life if it came to that. But her sisters… She had done too much to keep them healthy of mind and body and soul to lose them to him now. She had simply done too much. Tamlin could take her pride and her innocence and her youth, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t take her sisters.

She knew what she had to do. Because she knew how his mind worked, knew how guys like him ticked. It was simply a matter of how to do what was necessary, because she had pushed everyone away and now… now everything had just turned to shit. And she couldn’t do this alone. She knew this now. Together we stand, alone we fall and all that shit, right?

Right.

***

I need a favor.

Feyre didn’t look as Rhysand unfolded the note she threw at his desk, her rushed calligraphy shaky with the thought of what she was about to ask him. Out of her peripheral vision, she could see one groomed brow tilting upwards at the words before he wrote something down in his own notebook, ripped it out and threw it back at her.

So, you’re talking to me, now, are you?

Great. This was going to be phenomenal if this is how it was going to start out.

Rhys… Just, meet me in my dorm room after class. Please.

This time she did look. She stared deep into those violet orbs as they read the words scribbled into the note and the smirk on that exquisite face faded—just a tiny bit. Yes, they seemed to say to her. I will.

As the bell rang, Feyre didn’t bother getting a written confirmation that Rhys would show, trusting him out of pure will. She would have to trust him, or this wouldn’t work. Or this would just crumble into dust.

Gods, maybe she should’ve asked someone—anyone—else.

But, alas, now it was too late for that.

And she wouldn’t regret it. This was the obvious choice. She had something with Rhys, be it something she wanted or not. And she could work with that. That spark, that flame that sprung to life every time they touched… it would save her. It would save her sisters. Because if she knew something about people like Tamlin, if she knew something about territorial, abusive bastards was that they didn’t touch what was someone else’s.

***

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Nine words. The first nine words that she said to him in weeks and they were… a mess. Gods, what was she playing at? What was she thinking? But no, she knew what she was doing, she reassured herself.

Still her gut felt like it was hanging out by a thread, and her head spun and she couldn’t think besides the feeling of second guessing every decision she had made since coming to Prythian Academy. She couldn’t help but think about how badly this could end, how incredibly wrong. Still she needed it. Needed it to work. Because if it didn’t… well, that wasn’t a choice.

“What?” Rhys was caught between laughing and staring incredulously at her, hand messing up his blue-black hair.

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.” She repeated, walking her way around him to sit on the bed. She patted the space next to her for him to sit down and, when he didn’t move, sighed impatiently.

“No, I—” Rhys said. “I heard you the first time. I just can’t understand you around all the crazy of what you’re saying.”

Feyre laughed bitterly. Rhys thought about how much it didn’t suit her, that laugh, and for a second they were just two people having a normal conversation, before he remembered what they were actually talking about. “Well, the situation is a bit… crazy. So, what is it they say?” Feyre smiled sadly. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Oh? So dating me is desperate, now, is it?”

Feyre punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes.

“Feyre, I—”

“No,” She said, begging him with her eyes, all blue and sad and woeful. “Please, Rhys. I need this.”

“But why?” Rhys finally sat down next to her, taking her hand in his, holding it tightly, like it would spill all her secrets. “What could you possibly gain from this? Everyone here at the Academy already kind of thinks of us as an Item. What could come of this?”

Feyre sighed. “That’s just it. I need you to come home with me.”

Rhys stared at her with his violet eyes, understanding and not. “You’re—you’re leaving?”

Feyre sighed, looking down. This—this was where it got complicated. If this didn’t work—and she had to be practical about this, because these were her sisters and she couldn’t leave any room for the unexpected, she had to work, had to think and feel and plan strategically—well, if this didn’t work, it’d come down to Feyre going back. For good.

She didn’t want it to come to that. She didn’t want to leave. As lonely as Prythian Academy had become, as much as she’d never wanted to come here in the first place, the thought of going home—going anywhere else besides right here, right next to this man besides her had become unbearable.

“Yes.”

Feyre was distracted. It was all Rhysand’s fault, really. All his damn fault. His damn eyes, and his damn lips, and his damn hands. She followed the lines of his face and how the light illuminated each inch of his sun kissed skin, down to his neck, to his collarbone, to the planes of his chest and the tattoos that lay beneath his shirt just a hair’s breadth away. Her breath trembled.

“Feyre?” He said, waving a hand in front of her face, startling her out of her reverie.

“Sorry,” Feyre sounded sheepish, almost shy as she blushed deep red, betrayed by her own thoughts. Her feelings were everywhere, it seemed. Splattered out into the world and crashed into nothingness, leaving her feeling empty and full all at once. She felt so afraid. For her, for her heart—for Rhys.

“When do we leave?” Rhysand asked. It was the first confirmation he’d given her that he’d actually go, and she could’ve sworn she had actually felt her heart skip a beat. So selfless, this man. So—giving. He had asked her nothing in return as she told her the story of her life with Tamlin. How they had met—in a school camp out in eighth grade—and fallen deeply in love, and how that had been lovely and warm and good for a while. And how bitter it had all become, how sad.

She smiled, “Next weekend,” grabbing both his hands in hers, she squeezed them tightly before saying, “You have no idea how much this means to me, Rhys. I won’t forget this.” Tears pooled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, refused to let him see just how much he could affect her. “Thank you.”

“I would go to the stars and back for you, Feyre Archeron.” He simply answered. “This is nothing.”

***

The week went by without much incident. Feyre wished she could somehow apologize to Mor, but she didn’t know how—didn’t know what to say, how to say it. She was just lost, broken. And perhaps it was just too late. Mor had opened up to her and she had closed down. She had shut her out completely, and for what? The fear, constant and unwavering, of being hurt, of hurting, of everything in between. Feyre had been a terrible friend, and she knew it.

It was Saturday morning when Feyre decided that she had to put an end to this. She could not stand the silence anymore. This room, their room, had been a safe haven for so long and now—now it was a cage. It contained her, it provided her with a place to hide and sleep and draw but she could no longer be happy in it, no longer laugh or share any sort fond memories here.

So as she prepared for the day, hauling a simple red sweater and ripped jeans over her head, and put on some mascara and red lipstick, Feyre made a decision. Today, she was ending this miserable phase of her life, be it for good or for bad.

She shook Mor awake. It was early, earlier than her roommate would probably like to be woken up on a Saturday, but she didn’t have much time before she had to leave for her trip with Rhysand and she had to do this before she left—had to, or she wouldn’t have the strength, wouldn’t have the courage to do what was necessary. You see, your courage didn’t lie in your actions, not really. You gathered it up in every one of your bonds, be it with family or friends or lovers. That’s what gave you courage.

“Mor,” Feyre said, a hand on her friend’s shoulder. One brown eye opened to look at her sleepily, brow furrowing. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Feyre?” Mor wiped a hand over her face, blinking the sleep away. She sat up in bed, stretching her arms and back, looking at Feyre confusedly. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“Oh—yeah. I’m fine.” Feyre didn’t know what to say now. Mor was still looking at her with a confused look in her eyes, like Feyre had grown an extra head. It was weird, for Feyre to wake her like this, after weeks and weeks of silence and avoidance, she knew. But she also knew that her roommate deserved this, even if she didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. Mor deserved so much better than her, so much more. “It’s, um—can we talk?”

“Um, sure,” Mor patted the place on the bed next to her. “What is it?”

“I wanted to talk to you before I left…” Feyre sat down, wondering what on Earth she could say to make this better, what she could say that wouldn’t sound completely selfish and cruel and self-centered. She came up with nothing. Eventually, she said, “I’m so sorry I’ve been distant. I—I was trying to protect myself, and you, and everyone, but I just made a mess of things.”

Mor put a hand over hers. “Feyre,” she looked into her blue eyes, trying to capture some semblance of meaning in those words, trying to understand. “We would never hurt you, not on purpose anyway. And don’t you know by now?”

“What?”

“Sometimes, the ride is worth the risk of getting hurt.”

***

The drive home went smoothly.

Feyre had met Rhys outside the gates of Prythian Academy since, for once, she did not feel like meeting everyone for breakfast. Patching things up with Mor had gone okay, great even, but it was all she could take for one day, she guessed. She had texted him and gone outside, barefoot once more, to feel the wind on her skin, the earth on her feet, the sun on her face.

She was happy right now. Right now—because time, for her, was a very fragile thing. At any moment things could change. And they probably would, too. She just hoped it was for the better.

Feyre hadn’t explained to Mor what exactly her and Rhys were going to be doing. She could only guess her roommate would be questioning him at breakfast, and hoped he wouldn’t say anything too incriminating. She couldn’t take it if she knew how dangerous her situation was—Mor knew about Tamlin, about how he had treated her, or rather, mistreated her, and how he still thought she was something of his to just take as he pleased. And her friends, well… if she knew her friends, she knew that they would stop at nothing to keep her from going home when she didn’t want to. Because they were good people, and that’s just what good people did, even when the people they did it for didn’t really deserve it.

She didn’t say much to Rhys as he arrived, hurrying inside the car for the long journey back home. But she wondered if he had told their friends about what they would be doing, what lay ahead for them. It would be easy to ask him, to just say the words, but the silence was so welcoming, so simple that she did not dare break it.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Rhysand’s eyes were on the road ahead, his voice low and smooth, like a stream of warm water.

Feyre blinked, shaken out of her reverie. She’d been watching the plains of trees outside the window, how they blurred into splashes of greens and browns and blacks, doing anything she could to ignore the warmth that radiated from the man beside her. The smell of citrus and the sea. And the thoughts that seemed to plague her mind, those dangerous, betraying thoughts of how those arms had felt wrapped around her, how those lips had touched and burned and kissed, how those hands had marked her. “Oh,” she tried to think of what to say, what to do besides tell him the truth, and came up with nothing. Eventually, she said, “I was just thinking—I haven’t told you much about my sisters. I think I should prep you for this meeting.”

“I need… prepping?” he smirked, aware of her blush, and put a hand on top of hers. “I’m kidding. Prep me up, darling.”

“Prick.” Feyre laughed. She slapped his shoulder playfully, rolling her eyes. But her mind was reeling, wondering how to do this, how to begin explaining things. Her relationship with her sisters was so—complicated. So strained. And she didn’t want his pity, and didn’t want him to think she didn’t love them or that they didn’t love her either. They did, they all did. It was just—complex. And weird. And hard.

Relationships, Feyre had come to realize, took work. Especially when the people in question didn’t fully trust you with their heart. And Nesta—well, Nesta didn’t trust anyone with her heart, not even her own sister. There was only one person that truly had hold of her soul, and that was Elain.

But even with Elain’s help and the years of building up trust, after Tamlin, there was too much anger, too much disappointment, too many secrets between them. You see, for Nesta, there was no such thing as water under the bridge. And she wished she could fix this, she wished Elain could stop walking on eggshells and Nesta could stop her quiet bravado, but there was nothing she could do. Nesta wouldn’t listen, not to words or promises. But actions—well, actions were another thing.

And that was her plan. Not only to stop Tamlin—though, that was the most important part. But these months of being alone at the Academy had taught her one thing, and that was that alone, she was nothing. She was just a shell of a girl. Without friends, without family, without the loving of those around her, she didn’t have a reason to live at all.

So, yes, she did want to scare Tamlin away. But her plan, well, it consisted of more than that. She wanted to show Nesta that she was not weak, she was no longer the girl Tamlin had strung along and hurt and fucked up, over and over and over. She was her own woman, she was strong and smart and worth something. She had friends that would fight for her, friends that would be with her as she fought for herself—friends that would even pretend for her, it seemed.

And it didn’t matter that Tamlin still haunted her, it didn’t matter that everything he did and everything that happened the following months was still embedded deep within her, because she was all the more valiant for it. All the anxiety it had caused was just a misfortune of fate. And she would show them, she would show them all.

***

It was about midday when Rhysand pulled up at the Archeron driveway. He stretched his neck to look at the house, his violet eyes focusing on the creamy walls and clear windows of the property.

On the drive here, Feyre’d told him everything there was to know about her sisters. He categorized what she’d told him, or, at least, what he’d gotten from it. Elain Archeron—sweet and gentle, worked at a dog pound and could always be found gardening. Nesta Archeron—hard as steel, cold as ice, book andstreet smart.

He was not sure he was ready to meet them. The people that had so completely undone Feyre, the people that had told her she was not enough, that she was entirely to blame for whatever mistakes she had made in the past. But he had to do it. For Feyre, for himself, for a future where her family was united and strong. So he said, “You ready?” He looked at Feyre, violet eyes flashing with emotion.

Feyre took a deep breath, looking at the house where she had grown up, where so many memories and so many emotions had occurred. She blinked, “Y—yeah.”

He seemed to read the nervousness in her eyes, the tremble in her voice, because he put a hand on top of hers as he said, “It’s going to be fine, Feyre.”

“No, I—I know.” Feyre shook her head, seeming to shake away some kind of thought as well, and he didn’t think he should ask what had been on her mind. Her eyes looked sad, forlorn. Like she had been remembering a life not so long ago.

Rhys sighed, stroking her hand before he let it go, moving out of the car and around it to open her door for her. “Milady,”

“Thank you,” she said, trying to ignore the feeling that swept over her when he called her ‘milady’, as if she were his, as if she were more than just a girl that had nothing at all to offer him other than hurt and poor excuses and unhappiness.

As they walked to the door, Feyre’s hands trembling with nervousness. He grabbed a hold of her hand, squeezing it tight in his own. “Hey,” he said, “It’s okay.”

She nodded, taking another deep breath before moving forward and into the doorway. “Are you sure you want to involve your sisters in this lie?” he finally said, before Feyre could ring the doorbell. “It’d be easier to just tell them we were involved as well.”

She seemed to think it over, even though they’d talked about it before, but eventually said, “No, I—I want them to know the truth.” She looked at their hands as if she were about to let go of his, but, for his surprise and wonderment, didn’t. “There’s too much between us—between Nesta and Elain and me, for me to lie to them. They’re my sisters, Rhys. As easy as it would be to just lie, I need them to support me.”

It was his turn to nod.

Feyre rang the doorbell, squeezing his hand for reassurance. “Just a minute!” comes a voice from inside that she recognized as her sister’s. A moment later, the door opened to reveal a breathless Elain, holding her cat, White Socks, in her hands. She smiled widely and said, “Feyre!”

“Hello, Elain.”

***

Feyre could tell how uncomfortable Rhysand was.

Nesta held him under an unwavering stare, eyes steely and cold. “So,” she said, moving her gaze to his hand, currently intertwined with her sister’s for some kind of comfort in this strange, somewhat hostile situation. “You’re not together?”

“That’s right.” Rhys answered, all business. Feyre squeezed his hand, as if to say Relax, you’re safe, and nodded her agreement to her sister. Nesta didn’t seem much convinced, not with their weird displays of affection, but then again, nobody ever was. They had a—special connection. A bond that most people would think went beyond friendship and maybe—maybe it did. But it didn’t exactly mean the opposite either. They weren’t lovers, weren’t anything but two people who would fight for each other no matter what, even if it meant that they wouldn’t be together at the end of the day.

“You seem pretty chummy to me.” Nesta drawled out, eyes still on their hands.

Feyre sighed, letting go of her friend’s hand to bury her face in it for a moment. She recomposed herself as she said, “Look, Nesta,” she looked at Rhys for support, and he smiled encouragingly at her. “The situation is this—Tamlin won’t ever stop. He won’t ever give up chasing after me, not while he thinks I’m still his.” She gave her friend a little grateful smile, because she was so thankful, so incredibly thankful that he had agreed to do this. “And that’s why Rhys is here. My relationship with him has nothing to do with it.”

Nesta snorted deprecatingly before saying, “So you admit,” she drawled, “There is a relationship?” her gaze was studious, as if she wanted to pick apart any and all information she could from the sight before her. But there was nothing to see, nothing to discover—was there?

No, Feyre was clear on one thing and that was that her relationship with Rhys was just friendship and nothing more, no matter her feelings. No matter how much she—no. She wouldn’t go there.

Feyre sighed once more, exasperated. “No,” she ground out. “Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying at all?”

“Fine.” Nesta moved her gaze to Rhys again, exploring the planes of his face with that careful mistrust, “And you?” she asked. “What’s in this for you?”

“I’m sorry?” he spluttered, looking at Feyre for help, unsure of what to say, how to explain that while for her there was nothing in this, no feelings, no relationship, no love—well, for him it was different. Rhysand was deeply embedded in his friend’s life, for better or for worse and he wished, oh, how he wished, there was more for them, and he would do anything for her. He loved her, he was in love with her, he had fallen and she had not caught him, but that was okay, too, because he was more than equipped to deal with pain.

“Well,” Nesta said, studying him once more, that fatal curiosity filling her steely eyes. “You come here to help us having nothing offered to you other than friendship. What is your angle here?”

“I think you undervalue your sister.” He said, sounding angrier than he’d intended. He figured it just got to him, seeing the very people who were supposed to protect and provide a home for Feyre treat her with such disregard, but he knew it wasn’t his place to judge. He’d come to help, to make amends between them, not to harm their relationship further. “I do what I must to keep my friend where she wants to be.”

“Can I—” Elain finally quipped up from where she sat at the end of the living room, propped up on a chair with White Socks on her lap. “Feyre, why don’t you just come home? You didn’t even want to go there in the first place—you say you want to keep her where she wants to be, but isn’t that with us?”

It seemed to pain Feyre to answer the question, seemed to burn her with every breath she took, but she gathered herself up and said, “I wish—I wish that I wanted to come home. But home, for me, home is elsewhere now.” She begged her sister to understand with her blue, deep eyes, and continued, “I didn’t want it to be like this. When I first went to the Academy, I thought it was going to be hell. But I found the best friends I could ever wish for and—Elain, I can’t begin to explain or apologize or—”

“Then don’t.” Nesta interrupted, softer this time. “Just—fix this.”

***

“Are you sure about this?”

Feyre couldn’t think. Not with him standing so close to her, not with the smell of him, the citrus and the sea, the overwhelming sureness that this was wrong, so wrong, yet—it just felt right. Rhysand let out a breath, leaning over to put a hand on the tree trunk behind her as she stepped back, not allowing her an inch of detachment from him. She could almost laugh at the irony, almost feel the mockery of how alike this was from the first time they had kissed. It mimicked the very surroundings, the feel of the bark against her skin, the wet grass under her feet, the warmth of his body against hers.

“Yes,” she couldn’t look away, couldn’t keep her eyes from his violet orbs, staring at her with a hunger she almost wished she didn’t know. This is just for show, this is just for show, she reminded herself over and over, gulping. “I’m sure.”

Rhysand nodded, finally looking away to the building in front of the small park they stood in. “When does he get off again?”

Feyre exhaled shakily, feeling weak in the presence of him, feeling like she could not stand on her own, without the tree, without his arm around her middle, without the grass supporting her up. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of him—as if that were possible. She’d been trying for months now. Sighing, she took her phone off her back pocket and checked the time. “In about five minutes.”

He nodded again, still looking at the building.

It was a law firm, one of those that never did pro-bono jobs unless they had to because that never led to any “progress” for the firm. Or, as Rhys liked to call them, douchebags in suits. Feyre had explained to him that Tamlin’s father had worked there all his life and finally bought out a part of the company a few years back. He’d wanted his only son to continue his work once he retired and so, he’d managed to get him an internship. At the time, Feyre’d found it wonderful.

But that’s when it’d started.

Tamlin’d screw up or drink too much with his office buddies and his father, being the proper, old style kind of guy he was, thought he could beat it out of him. He’d changed so much in a matter of months. Become hollow, and angry, and sad. And then there had been the drinking.

Tamlin had never been one to drink too much. He’d liked beer, sure, but never gone for vodka or anything like that. But afterwards, Feyre would find him outside her house with a bottle of scotch, mumbling about how much he loved her and how she could never leave him and how he would tear apart anyone that dared come between them.

After a while it started to scare her. And she tried to break things off, she did. But he just kept coming around and calling and making these damn threats and promises that she wasn’t sure he would keep and was honestly scared he would because he had become scary and she was now so unsure of how exactly she had fallen for him. But she knew, she knew that this—this was a different person than she had once knew. Occasion and fate and terrible choices had made him into a monster and she did not deserve him. Not anymore. Or maybe—maybe she did, because she didn’t help, either. She’d just run, scared. She didn’t call the cops when she’d seen the scars or the bruises on him, she didn’t do a thing.

“Feyre?” Rhys’ voice shook her out of her reverie. She noticed how wet her eyes had become, and shame swept over her. She wouldn’t let him see her cry. Not right now—not ever. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“I know,” She shook her head, “I just—I wish I could just forget all this.” Feyre sighed, wiping at her eyes, before saying, “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine,” he said, hand coming up to cup her face. He stroked her cheek gently, like he was going to lean in and kiss her at any moment, but just whispered. “You don’t deserve to suffer. You don’t deserve to have your past follow you around wherever you go.” Rhys pressed a kiss to her cheek, sending shivers down her spine. Because this, this wasn’t for show. This was the two of them—the two of them against the world. “You are a bird that’s forgotten how to fly, Feyre Archeron. And we will set you free.”

“Here he comes.” She whispered, a hair’s breadth from his lips.

Rhys studied her face, looking for any trace of doubt, of fear, of second guessing. She tried to convey certainty, but she could only guess her eyes were as sad as she felt as he hesitated.

She wasn’t sad for herself. She wasn’t unsure or confused or afraid. In fact, she wanted this, and her reasons for wanting it were quite selfish. But she knew how much it would hurt him, how much it would mean to him to have her and then not.

And yes, Feyre knew how self-centered that sounded, but that was simply true. She was aware of his loyalty and his affections for her. And that’s what made this that much harder. To dangle herself in front of someone who could never have her. At least, not while she was so broken. So sad, so unbelievably unfixable.

She glanced at the man approaching, tall and blonde and muscular. Before Tamlin could notice her looking, she turned back to Rhys, cupping his face, putting a strand of hair behind his ear. “It’s okay, Rhys.” She said, resting her forehead against his and closing her eyes, breathing deep. She took in the intoxicating smell of him, the warmth of his body, the solid feel of him against her as she added, “Set me free.”

And then, it was just the feel of lips against lips, their tongues clashing and claiming, and the taste of each other, the touch of his hands to her hips and neck as he pushed her against the tree trunk, the pulsating heat of their bodies as they moved ever so slightly. She forgot where she was, who she was, why she was here. She forgot just why—why on earth this couldn’t be.

Rhys let one hand wander under her sweater, feeling the warm, creamy skin beneath, and Feyre let out a low moan. As another mimicked action from the night in the woods, she came up for air and he didn’t stop kissing her, trailing a line down her throat, to her neck, to her collarbone. He licked upward and nibbled on her ear and Feyre giggled—a strange new sound. “Ticklish,” she whispered, smile visible in her voice.

He just engulfed her in another kiss, biting down her bottom lip, running his tongue through her teeth, the roof of her mouth. She had to remind herself that they were in public, that they were here for a purpose besides this—whatever this was. Because she was not sure it was a ruse anymore at all. And maybe it hadn’t been for a while now. Maybe she felt for him, maybe—

“What the hell is going on here?”

Feyre pulled back as if burned, Tamlin’s very voice scaring her beyond measure. But she wasn’t paying attention to him at all, didn’t care for once that he was here because the man before her, because Rhys, still had his arms around her and his eyes on her lips and—

She almost gasped as the realization ran through her, as it hit her.

Feyre was in love with him.

If you like my writing and you’d like to support me on Patreon I’d be happy to have you!! :)

#ACOTAR #Feysand #Feysand fic #Feyre Archeron #Rhysand #ACOTAR fanfic #Mor #my writing #Temptation #long post for ts #text post

41 notes · View notes

argentarium · 7 years

Text

kara sevda (3) ↠ stilinski

author ; fessa

rating ; 18+ nsfw

pairing ; fuckboy!stiles X oc!reader

word count ; 3003

warnings ; angst

a/n ; u guys r making me cry with all your support, thank u for all the feedback, i really appreciate it and i love u guys :,) p.s. playlist coming soon

i. ii. - iv.

*not my gif*

kara sevda

/noun/

1. blinding love;

literally translates as “black love”

The past couple weeks went by with blur. When you first saw your Gran again, that’s when all the tears began to pour out. You held it in for a while but when you saw her in the hospital bed you just lost it.

You were barely in school because you needed to keep driving down south to take care of your Gran as much as possible with your dad. It was a horrible schedule to balance but it kept you on your feet. Your mind was mostly occupied and you didn’t really think about how you were feeling but how everything was going around you. You simply didn’t have time to think about yourself and you liked it, because if you could really just sit down and think about what has been going on, it would rip your mind in half.

That’s when your father made the decision. He hated how you kept travelling back and forth from Beacon Hills down to Emeryville, California. He was able to be transferred down south with his job and you were going to be moving down to be closer with your grandma. It did compromise your college plans of going out of state but you had to be with her as much as you could before she died.

It was your last day at Beacon Hills High School. It was the first day you came that week and it was Wednesday already. Scott checked up on you a lot but you rarely had time to talk but you appreciated how he did. Through all of the hell you were going through at the moment you found yourself lucky to have him there, Allison was one lucky girl.

The icy stares never stopped but you continued with your life nonetheless. You had bigger problems to worry about other than stupid high school teens. As you were pushing your way through the crowded halls, you heard your name being called out.

“Y/N!” You turned to see Scott weaseling his way through to catch up to you. “Hey, uh- haven’t seen you around in a while..” He trailed off awkwardly.

You let out an awkward chuckle, “Yeah well I’ve been a little busy lately..” You said, hugging your books to your chest as your eyes trailed down to the ground.

Scott couldn’t help the immense pity that washed over him when he finally spoke to you. Ever since that night, he was torn between you and Stiles. Stiles wanted him erase your friendship with each other but Scott didn’t want to lose his best friend. “Oh.. Right..” Scott mumbled and you nodded your head, about to walk away before he spoke up again. “Uh, how’s Grams doing?” He asked so sweetly, causing a memory to spark in your head.

Scott met Grams a many years back when her illness wasn’t bad yet. She was still able to walk around outside and play with you and your friends. She loved the both of them like they were her own but she always had this feeling about Stiles. As much as she loved Scott, she would often ask about Stiles and want to know what he was up to, you assumed it was favoritism but she was onto something else.

“Oh, um- she’s been.. she’s been sick lately and it’s not looking to good..” You said softly, shifting the books in your arms. You turned and saw him nod in understanding, you didn’t have to have werewolf senses to feel his sorrow. As he was about to say something you cut him off, “I’m moving down to be with her.” You stated abruptly. Someone had to know what was happening. “Wait- What? When?” Scott asked in shock, his eyes almost bulging out of his head.

“Today.”

“Today?!” Scott exclaimed and you glared at him for causing some attention to fall upon you two. “Today?” He repeated much quieter.

“It’s my last day I guess..” You shrugged as you stopped right next to the door of your classroom. “If you want to come see me before I leave, that would be great rather than saying our goodbyes right now.” You chuckled but his facial expression didn’t change.

“What about Stiles?”

The dreaded mention of the name pulled one of your heartstrings. Scott could feel the spike in your heartbeat and smell your uncomfortability. “What about Stiles?” You asked back in a rougher tone.

“Come on, he hasn’t been the same for weeks and you-” Scott cut himself off, staring at you with remorse. “You haven’t been the same either.”

“If you lost your best friends in one night, how would you feel?” You tried your hardest to not snap at him, he didn’t deserve your rage. The mere mention of Stiles triggered you.

“But you’re fine.” Scott stressed but you were certainly not. As you were about to protest he cut you off, “Compared to him!” He added quickly. “Stiles has been off the rails.. He’s been with another girl every night and when he isn’t, h-he’s drinking you know? And you know him, he isn’t like that and his grades are plummeting..”

You heard the worry and fear in Scott’s voice. At this point, you wanted to just yell at Stiles for being so stupid and then hug him after he realizes what’s been wrong. But you couldn’t, Stiles wanted nothing to do with you but listening to Scott stumble over his words like that.. You haven’t seen him so worried about something before.

“What am I supposed to do about that?” You shrugged, keeping your emotions inside although there was no point, Scott could hear your heartbeat spike from being nervous.

“Can you just talk to him?” Scott asked pleadingly, somehow making his eyes seem bigger, and puppy-like.

“Stiles won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me.” You stated, partially true. You had the run in a few weeks back but that was it, no contact with him whatsoever. “And I don’t want to either.” You stated defiantly, folding your arms across your chest.

Scott rolled his eyes, “I don’t have to be a wolf to be able to tell that you are lying.” He said, rubbing his crooked chin before looking at the ceiling in thought. “Just talk to him, you don’t want any loose ends before you leave, right?” He raised a brow, holding his hands out to urge you on. “It’s your last day, you won’t see him again for however long, can you just try?”

You looked at him with annoyance. You didn’t want to comply, you wanted to just leave and forget, but there was a part of you that wanted to talk to Stiles, make it all better. You didn’t want to lose your best friend already. It may have only been a year but usually friendships last much longer than that. And those damn puppy eyes Scott gave you were the bane of your existence.

“Fine.” You muttered through grit teeth, watching as Scott silently fistbumped the air in achievement. “But how are you going to get him to? He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Trust me, I can make it happen.”

“What do you mean there’s a werewolf in the janitor’s closet?!” Stiles whispered as loud as he could to his best friend as they were speed walking down the hallways.

“I mean there is a werewolf in the janitor’s closet at the end of the hall!” Scott said shaking his head, waving his hands around in the air like it was obvious. “Just shut up and walk.” He muttered, knowing his lie was terrible.

As the two approached the door, their steps became much quieter and Scott moved a finger up to his lips. Stiles nodded his head, creeping behind Scott, watching him carefully open the door.

Stiles tentatively payed attention, peering his head over Scott’s shoulder until the door was open. Scott motioned to let Stiles go first but Stiles’ face was already twisted in confusion as he began to walk inside, “Scott, there’s nothing in-” The spastic boy was immediately cut off as Scott forcefully pushed the skinny kid into the dimly lit closet.

Your head snapped up as you heard the door slam. You sighed, putting your phone in your back pocket, there was a reason why Scott never came up with the plan. “Hi.” You said shortly, looking at the boy you fell in love with right in front of you.

Stiles didn’t say a word but glared then turned toward the door, pounding it hard, “Scott, let me out of here!” He ordered, not even looking at your face but his eyes burning holes in the wooden door.

“No!” Scott replied. “Not until you guys make up.”

“I didn’t want to do this either..” You said, drawing your eyes on the ground so you wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. You agreed that you didn’t want to be in the same room as him, you felt it would’ve been easier if you just left.

“Then tell Scott to let us out of here.” Stiles grunted, folding his arms across his chest as he rested his back against the shelf.

“But this needs to be fixed.” You reminded yourself out loud, it was for closure. Like Scott said, you didn’t want any loose ends. Twiddling with your fingers shakily, you didn’t let him speak, “Look Stiles, I am sorry I said that, it was an accident..”

“You don’t get it, do you, Y/N?” Stiles spat, causing you to look up at his angered face. “Nothing will ever be the same between us and I will never love you that way.”

Stiles’s words were like knives, scraping on the strings of your heart and ripping you to pieces. He was right, and the mere thought of it was bringing tears to your eyes. But you had to keep trying, Stiles always came around.

“I’m really sorry, Stiles. I want to fix this, I want to fix us and all I want is to be your friend again, like we were before.” Your voice faltered, you were practically begging at this point. You kept your eyes focused on his chest, staring into those whiskey eyes would make you so weak.

Stiles drew his lips in a thin line and shook his head, beginning to pace in the small space. “This can’t be fixed. There is nothing that will ever fix what happened.”

You nodded your head, feeling your eyes well up again until a single tear rolled down your cheek. Your vision was blurry as you tried to keep your eyes open, not blinking so the tears wouldn’t fall. “I know-”

“You know this is your fault, right?” Stiles barked, cutting you off as your body twitched in shock. “You can’t even look at me right now! And you are trying to get us back to normal? Piecing us together again is impossible, Y/N. Whatever was between us before..” He said darkly, moving closer to you. “.. is gone.”

You swallowed a thick lump that was sitting in the back of your throat, which in turn let all the tears stream down. You finally looked up at him and couldn’t find any hope in those amber eyes, just a cold, heartless void showing the Stiles you knew and loved was no longer there all because you ruined it.

You cleared your throat, trying to tame your emotions to match his stiff demeanor. “Just to be clear,” You began as you brought your hands up to wipe away the tears. “We are no longer going to be friends or anything else from now on because I ruined it?” You asked, summarizing everything Stiles blamed you for and wanted.

Stiles’s look never changed, his arms still folded across his puffed chest defensively and no feelings of remorse passed his eyes. You were so desperately trying to find a sign that showed he cared but there was none. It was like your whole past with him was erased, the moments you shared on a video call, or when Lydia was in the hospital after being bitten and he was terrified for her, you were there for all of it.

“Correct.” Stiles confirmed, the word easily rolling off his tongue.

You swallowed once again before nodding your head, the simple word ringing in your mind again and again. “Alright.” You responded softly, clearing your throat. “I won’t bother you anymore and you won’t ever want to be friends again..” You sighed, reminding yourself of what he wanted.

You motioned him to move out of the way as you moved towards the door, patting softly. “Scott?” You asked out, pressing against the door. “You can let us out now.”

Not a moment later you heard the lock click and watched the doorknob twist from the outside. Scott pulled the door open slowly, letting the hinges creak loudly. He didn’t look at you, he was unhappy too, thinking Stiles would come around but he didn’t. The only time Stiles let him down.

And you.. You weren’t a mess like you thought you would be. That was the only time you were able to focus on something, you had been pushing your feelings aside for weeks already from being so busy all the time. After everything that had just happened, you didn’t feel pain anymore but you couldn’t tell if it was acceptance or not. All you felt was this numbness.. a feeling that you began to like.

Scott was kind enough to stop by your house and help you pack the rest of your things in your car. You were supposed to leave at three-thirty, but Scott insisted you stayed to wait. The two of you were sat on your steps of your porch, looking at the clouds moving through the sky. Scott claimed he knew Stiles better than you, which you didn’t necessarily doubt. The two were best friends way before you came around, he knew Stiles like no one else but at this point, Stiles was unpredictable.

“Scott, this is pointless already.” You sighed staring into the distance from your porch before looking down at your phone as it was already four o’clock. Scott had convinced to stay a little longer because he was so sure that Stiles would change his mind and come running back to you. “If Stiles wanted to fix things with me he would’ve shown up thirty minutes ago..” You said hopelessly.

You tried to not get your hopes up, burying all of your emotions deep down because you knew he would not come around. Stiles never let you down.. But that changed. And as much as you really wished he would just come back and sweep you up in his arms, it wasn’t going to happen. And you were just trying to accept it.

“No, he’s coming, give it another five minutes..” Scott piped up. “He’s probably finishing homework or-”

You turned your head looking over to Scott. He looked so hopeful. You checked your phone once more and noticed two more minutes had already gone by. You kept your feelings inside and set the phone down on your steps quietly. “Scott, it’s okay..”

“No, Y/N, it’s not okay. Stiles is just being - difficult - right now, you’ve never doubted him before so don’t start doubting him now.” Scott declared with confidence, taking your hand and looking you in the eyes. “Stiles would not do this to you.”

“Scott, some friendships don’t work out.” You breathed truthfully, turning your head away and looking towards the horizon. “It’s been like a month already and he still looks at me like I am worthless. I can’t chase after someone who doesn’t want me even as an acquaintance because I have been the patient one here and I can’t let this happen to me anymore.”

You felt Scott’s stare at the side of your head, “Y/N.. He loves you.”

You wiped your eyes, feeling a tear beginning to roll down your cheek as you were shaking your head, “No, Scott. Stiles loves Lydia. The girl he has been pining after since the third grade because he is not good enough for her just like how I am not good enough for him.” Your voice faltered, admitting the truth, noticing how hard it was to actually accept it.

“Who is going to come up with our plans? W-Who is going to be there when we screw up and we could die on the spot?” Scott began to list just as your dad honked the car horn. “We need you, Y/N. Stiles needs you, I need you, we all need you.”

Your dad was motioning for you to come to the car. There was still no sign of Stiles and you weren’t that disappointed. You stood up and Scott did the same. “Scotty, you need each other more than you need me. You’re never going to be given something that you can’t handle. By the time this whole supernatural drama is over, you won’t even remember why you needed me.” You said letting a smile start up on your face. You were calmer and accepting it slowly became easier.

Scott pulled you into a bear hug, nuzzling his face in your shoulder, “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“But I am going to need you to do me a favor..” You mumbled.

“Hmm?”

You pulled apart from him, “Don’t let him contact me if he decides to have second thoughts.” You told him, knowing it was for the best.

“But Y/N…”

“Scott, please.” You said softly and he nodded his head after a moment. You couldn’t let Stiles just waltz back into your life if he pleased and you didn’t want anymore drama in your life. You gave Scott one last hug before you walked to your dad’s car, getting into the passenger’s side.

“Ready to go?” Your dad asked, offering a smile as he fastened his seatbelt.

“Ready as I’ll ever be…”

tags :) ; @squirels-angels-and-moose @were-cheetah-stiles @shameless-danni @danopeg @aestheticallytrashysunflower @lcnelykth @rememberstilinski @wydobrien @amethystmerm4id @charmedjeri @itskatiemahoney @leilaelizabth @pufflethehuff @parislight @unfoxs @infinitydunbar @ellie-bee242 @iknowisoundcrazy @mieczzyslaw

#teen wolf images #teen wolf imagines #stiles stilinski #stiles #stilinski #kara sevda

328 notes · View notes

neewtmas · 7 years

Text

{#31} i’m her boyfriend // newt au (part ii)

fandom: the maze runner

pairing: newt x reader

word count: 1,7k words

warning: idk if this counts as a warning, but spoiler for Harry Potter and the Order of the Phönix (but if you still don’t know what happens you either lived under a rock for the last twenty years or you’ re just not interested lol so i guess this warning is unnessecary)

request: by @coconcovers

summary: y/n and newt go back to join the others and their friends want to know all the details of their ‘relationship’, so newt tells a story of how he fell in love with y/n

part i / part iii / part iv

masterlist

You turned around and tried to open the door, but Newt laid his hand on your shoulder. “One last thing.”

You looked at him. “What?”

He quickly gave you another rather passionate kiss. “Now we can go.

He opened the door and let you step through, following close behind and grabbing your hand in the process, intertwining your fingers with his.

Your friends were engrossed in an animated discussion, but everyone stopped talking the moment you two entered the room and turned their heads simultaneously in your direction.

You shifted uncomfortably under their gaze, but Newt squeezed your hand in a soothing manner and led you to the couch.

“Y/N, a number between 1 and 5?”

You tilted your head and eyed Thomas confused: “What?”

Thomas shook his head impatiently, “Just give me a number between 1 and 5”

“Well, ok…..4?”

He smiled and stuck his tongue out to Minho. “I told you she would choose the right one!”

“Ok…what did I just choose?”

Thomas shrugged and pulled out one of the movies from the pile on the coffee table, “Just which movie we’re gonna watch now. And you chose the movie I wanted to watch”, he spoke and held up Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

“My choice would have been better, I tell you”, grumbled Minho, and nodded towards the kitchen. “You two didn’t sit down yet, so you’re gonna bring us some snacks.”

You pulled Newt with you quickly, not wanting to risk any comments from your friends. It would go to be awkward enough after watching the movie. You didn’t even want to think about all the questions.

“But don’t get lost or something!”, Minho yelled after you, “and don’t forget: snacks are in the kitchen, not in the bedroom!”, he added, snickering, causing you roll your eyes at his behavior.

“Minho is unbelievable”, you huffed, tearing the cupboard open you knew Teresa stored the snacks in. You reached out for two bags of chips and some chocolate cookies, turned around and stuffed it in Newt’s arms, who watched your little outburst with confusion.

“You ok?”, he asked, mild concern lacing his voice, “we can leave every time if you want.”

You shook your head. “It’s ok, Minho’s just annoying.”

“As usual.”

“As usual”, I agreed, stood on tip toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Bring the snacks in already, i’m gonna get some drinks.”

He gave you his signature sweet smile that let your heart flutter and left the kitchen.

You searched in the drawer for some coke, before you followed your … boyfriend? friend? What were you right now? Yes, he had said he wanted to kiss you for a long time, but this didn’t imply that he wanted you to be his girlfriend as well. What if this was just a cruel joke?

But you shook your head to get this thought out of your mind. Newt would never do this to you.

You walked through the dining room into the living room, where the movie had already started, and your friends sat lined up on the couch, stuffing their faces with the snacks Newt had just brought.

Careful not to drop anything and cause a total mess, you put down the drinks and then scanned the room for a place to sit.

The couch was packed, no possibility for you sitting down without being totally uncomfortable.

You quickly decided to just settle yourself down on the floor, but before you could even think further about it, you could feel Newts warm hands on your waist, pulling you gently yet firmly down onto his lap.

He planted a soft kiss on your cheek and mumbled in your ear:“ Don’t think i’m gonna let my girl on the Floor, love” You felt the heat rising to your cheeks and the butterflies in your belly going haywire at the words ‘my girl’ and you lowered your head in an attempt to hide your blush behind your hair.

You can almost feel Newts satisfied smirk as he pulls you even closer to his chest and starts playing with your hair, gently untangling the strands and causing you to hum contently.

Everyone followed the movie intently, not noticing Newt planting little kisses on the back of your neck, drawing little imaginary pattern on your arms and thighs and just generally being really affectionate, to the point where you couldn’t follow the movie properly anymore and just closed your eyes, concentrating on his touch and the the little sparks of electricity his gentle fingers left on your body.

Time flew by and you had almost reached the end of the movie and the scene you hated the most by the time you opened your eyes again.

The battle in the Department of Mysteries had started, green and red curses got send through the air, and you tensed up, anticipating the death of your most favorite characters of the whole series.

You had watched the movie and especially this scene countless times, but every time it got you like it was the first.

Newt noticed this, grabbing your hands and drew little circles on your palm with his thumbs, an attempt to calm you down.

When Sirius stood on the rock, fighting Lucius, only to get hit by Bellatrix’ Avada Kedavra only seconds later and you saw the look of utter horror on Harry’s face, you winced and squeezed your eyes closed, hiding your face in Newts chest.

He held you close, littering the top of your head with little kisses and not once stopping the soothing figures he drew with his hands until you regained your composure and could continue watching the movie.

After the end credits rolled off the screen, a content silence laid over the room as always after you watched a good movie, before everyone got up slowly, starting to clean up the mess they’ve made during the last two hours.

But since you hadn’t even one handful of chips, you not really felt compelled to get up and help. Also because sitting on Newts lap, his hands securely around your waist and your head on his chest, able to hear and feel his steady heartbeat was just too comfortable, you ever wanted to get up again.

Newt seemed to share your opinion, since he made no attempts on getting up, just lazily watching the rest of your friends cleaning up.

Soon the living room was clean again, and Thomas dropped down on the couch next to the two of you.

His gaze fell on your intertwined hands. “You two are sickeningly cute, you know that? Since when are you together?”

“And even more important: Why didn’t you tell us until today?”, Brenda added curiously from your other side.

“Eh..well..”

Shit. Just now you realized that you hadn’t a single idea of what you should tell them as a backstory to your “relationship”. Maybe you should have considered this beforehand, but now… too late.

You nervously turned to Newt and asked in a high-pitched voice, which you were sure displayed your nervousness way too openly: “Why don’t you tell them?”

Newt smiled and squeezed my hand reassuring. You just hoped he came up with something decent.

“Well, we are together since - I think it’s 5 weeks now, right love?”, he asked you and you just nodded, not wanting to ruin his made up the story through anything you might say.

“Why we didn’t tell you? I guess the right moment just never was there? But now you know it so it doesn’t matter anymore, right?”

Teresa ignored his last sentence and asked the next question: “And how did you come together?”

“Well, we were walking home from school together and then… I don’t know, there was this moment and… I just kissed her - I wanted to do this for a long time actually - and later we went on a few dates and now we’re a couple.”

Teresa nodded like some kind of interviewer and immediately shot Newt the next question: “And when you say 'for a long time’, what do you mean?”

Newt glanced quickly at me before he answered: “I always felt kinda… different towards her, but when I realized I loved her… that was in 8th grade I think.”

He love dme? Since… 8th grade? This can’t be true. He probably just made this up, this isn’t possible.

“Mhm.. ok.” Teresa eyed us suspiciously, she probably didn’t quite believe us.

“But speaking of time - didn’t you say you had to be home by 7, love?”, Newt asked, glancing at the clock on the opposite wall.

You nodded, even if your parents never mentioned something like this, but it was obvious to you that Newt wanted to leave as soon as possible, avoiding further questions about you non-existent relationship.

“Yeah, I guess i’m leaving now. See you tomorrow, guys”, you said, getting up from you comfortable place on Newts lap and stretching your arms above your head.

“I’m gonna walk you home, love”, Newt said and stood up too, following you out of the room after everyone said their goodbyes.

He held the door open for you and you started walking through the darkness, the cold air hitting your heated cheeks.

A comfortable silence laid over you, as you could feel Newt’s hand feeling for yours and slowly intertwining your fingers. Only now you realized how perfectly your hands fit together.

“Is it true?”, you finally broke the silence, your voice sounding through the clear air, after debating with yourself whether to ask him or not. It would break your heart if he would now tell you if was just something he made up for the satisfaction of your friends.

“What?”

“That you… loved me since 8th grade”, you answered, your stomach forming into a tight knot in anticipation of his answer.

“Yes, that’s true. Why should I lie?”

You shrugged. “But why did you never tell me? You know how bad I sometimes felt for not having a boyfriend? And how often I told myself that you would never love me back?”

He turned his head in your direction, surprised. “You feel the same?”

You shrugged again, kicking some little stones off the sidewalk, then smiled up at him. “Since 7th grade, yes. But I think I made this pretty clear, didn’t I? I mean I kissed you. And I usually don’t kiss people I don’t have feelings for.”

“Well, this is…good to know”, he rubbed his neck somewhat awkwardly,“ but you should never feel bad about not having a boyfriend, that doesn’t define you as a person. But I don’t want you to feel bad anymore, so - would you like me to be your boyfriend?”

You had stopped walking, now facing each other. “If you would like me to be your girlfriend?”

Instead of an answer, he just leaned down and pulled you into a passionate kiss, one hand behind your neck, the other on your waist, pulling you close to his warm body.

thanks for reading:) want to request something?

#newt #tmr newt #newt x reader #tmr newt x reader #tmr x reader #tmr imagine #tmr #tst #tdc #neewtmas

140 notes · View notes

sweet-sister-trio · 7 years

Note

((⚰️ + vanilla and mint; Cinnamon))

Torture time: Round 2

None of the sisters had suspected such a thing to happen, it seemed to come out of nowhere. Not even Mint could pick up on the intruders with her keen senses. By the time she did, however, it was too late.

What seemed like an ordinary cold had developed into the worst case of starving fever Cinnamon had seen in her sisters. Cinnamon was doing her best to care for her sisters, but fate had obviously decided to make this a trial for the young mage. Cinnamon and her sisters were taking up a shelter in a beach cave, a town full of Cappy people and an imposing castle nearby. They had no money to pay for a doctor’s visit, or to buy food and medicine. Cinnamon did not tell her sisters that she was stealing the food she was feeding them.

It was on one of these little late-night excursions to the market that Cinnamon felt her wrist grabbed. The clerk glared at her, daggers in his eyes.

“Pay for those things, or I’ll have to call the police.”

It was a simple threat, but it was enough to send Cinnamon into a slight panic.

“Wha- But..”

“if you can’t pay, then I am afraid I have no choice but to call-”

“No! Please! I really need this!” Cinnamon cried, getting down on the floor to plead. “I-it’s not for me, but my sisters! Please, they’re both really sick, and I can’t afford-”

Cinnamon hastily wiped tears from her eyes, but gave a glance upwards when she saw a quick shadow slap some money on the counter before vanishing. The clerk turned around, reading a note that the shadow had left behind.

“…Hm.. The exact amount, even.. Alright, little missy. Some Good Samaritan has just bailed you out. But just know that if I catch you stealing from here again-”

Cinnamon didn’t wait for him to finish as she gathered the food and dashed for the cave, her tears of worry turning into those of joy. Whoever did that was a saint! A pure angel sent from heaven!

She burst into the cave, panting and trembling from her run. Vanilla and Mint were asleep, right where Cinnamon left them. Normally, she would’ve hated to disturb them, but they needed to eat if they were to fend off the fever.

“Vanilla! Mint! I got the food, you guys need to wake up!” Cinnamon chimed, snatching up her wand to light a fire. Cinnamon carefully took a chicken from her haul and began to roast it over the flames.

However, something was off. At even the slightest scent of meat, Mint always stirred, usually by lifting her ears up and wagging her tail lightly. But this time, her sister was completely motionless. Vanilla, too, had yet to wake.

Growing worried slightly, Cinnamon came over to try and shake them awake. Starving fever often did this, the victim would become so tired and fall into a deep sleep for long periods of time. But as Cinnamon shook her sisters, a wave of shock overtook her.

She was too late.

Cinnamon had to do it all herself, and all under merciless persecution. She crafted makeshift coffins for her own sisters, and proceeded to bury them in a discreet location among the nearby woods, as she couldn’t imagine the Cappies would allow her to use their cemetery to bury two complete strangers. Cinnamon forced herself to do it all on her own, convincing herself that she didn’t need anyone’s help.

She couldn’t bring herself to enter the cave again, as she only felt waves of grief upon entering. Though Cinnamon’s few possessions were in there (except for her rod, which was always carried at her side), so were the things that once belonged to her sisters. Vanilla’s halberd and Mint’s bow, that dinky little woven basket Vanilla liked to gather flowers and other things in, the books they had been using to teach Mint how to read. No, she couldn’t manage a glance at them.

Showing these emotions would be perceived as weak, right?

Cinnamon looked on at the village in jealousy from her hideout. They didn’t know how good they had it, they all still had homes to live in, friends to greet, families to love and care for them. They didn’t realize how good they had it.

There was always one little kid who seemed to annoy her to no end, a pink little Puffling that they called Kirby. The runt was always tailed by someone, and he’d always try to get that someone to notice her when he saw her glaring darkly at him. She was always the one to slip away, in the end.

So Cinnamon skulked, letting her hatred for these people seep into her soul. If that shopkeep hadn’t held her up like that, she could’ve made it in time. If that rubbish doctor didn’t make that medicine cost so much, her sisters could’ve been spared. If only…

She didn’t care to notice the building heat within her, or the slight weakness in her feet.

It was raining today, and Cinnamon didn’t care to notice. Her shivers were interrupted when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

“Poyo’kay?”

Cinnamon glared at the pink Puff, a snarl drawing across her lips.

“I’m fine.. But you won’t be if you don’t get away from me!” Cinnamon growled, fire burning in her eyes. However, the Puff only seemed intimidated by this display of aggression.

Growling, Cinnamon whipped out her Fae Rod, the adventurine set in it crackling threateningly.

“I said leave, before I make you!” Cinnamon roared, waving the sparks in front of her.

This was enough, and the young thing scampered away and to the castle, completely frightened. Cinnamon had thought that this would help, somehow. But this only seemed to add another weight onto her soul. Now, shivering in this rain, Cinnamon just began to feel awful.

“You’ll catch your death out here.” Someone advised from behind her in a very calm, matter-of-fact voice.

Cinnamon didn’t bother to turn around and give this person the luxury of seeing her face-to-face. She drew herself closer, trying desperately to warm up even a little.

“…So what? Maybe that’s a good thing.” Cinnamon grumbled, giving a quick glance behind herself to see who she was talking to.

Surprisingly, it was another Puff, and an adult one at that. He was dark blue in color, and wore traditional armor for their kind.

She huffed, staring at the gray clouds and restless sea. “…So I see pinky there went and taddled.”

“Perhaps.” He admitted. “But that is not important. What is of the essence is that you are ill, and we need to get you to the doctor’s-”

“Good! I’m glad I’m sick!” Cinnamon snapped. “It should’ve happened a long time ago! Then…” She stopped, trying to catch her breath as she wiped tears from her eyes. “Then… Then maybe I wouldn’t be so alone!”

Cinnamon caught herself, sobbing lightly.

“…It’s all my fault.. All of it…. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Whatever anger she had was quickly being replaced by sadness, she lost all feeling as the starving fever caught up to her.

The mage blinked her eyes, staring ahead into a misty terrain. This place felt calming and quiet, almost as if she had been here before.

Yes, she had been here once. It was when her father came to her in a dream to show her how to summon Seraphina. This place was what many mages called “The In Between”, where souls of the dead come to visit those of the living.

“My, Cinnamon. You’re always quick to figure things out.”

“Cinnamon fast thinker! True girl power!”

Her heart fluttered when she heard those voices. Coming into view, were her dearly departed sisters. Cinnamon rushed forward, barrelling into them with a hug.

“Ahaha! Oh, Cinnamon. Come now, come now!” Vanilla giggled. “And here I thought you always tried to keep your cool in these situations! Did you act this way when Dad came to talk to you?”

“Maybe…” Cinnamon joked before bursting into tears. Big, fat, ugly tears.

“I-I-I Mi-m-miss-sed you g-guys… I missed y-you so muucchhh!”

Vanilla hummed, returning a gentle hug with Mint.”We’ve missed you too, Cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon is like Mint’s left ear. Mint miss left ear.” The younger sister replied.

After Cinnamon had calmed down somewhat, it was Vanilla’s turn to talk.

“You know full well that this only happens when we have something important to tell you, Cinnamon. This is just like when Dad came to you to teach you to summon.”

“Yes…” She replied simply.

Vanilla was about to go on, but was interjected by Mint. “Cinnamon sick, and Cinnamon can’t die!” She barked. “Cinnamon has to do something important!”

“I.. What?” Cinnamon whimpered, looking confused.

“What she means, Cinnamon, is that it isn’t your time.” Vanilla informed. “I can tell from that look that you are in need of some convincing.” She smiled.

“Then.. What?”

“Cinnamon.” Vanilla began, her voice becoming grimmer. “In about nine years from now, a small Puff Clan will be destroyed by beasts. Among the rubble, there will be one little survivor. This young one has been born very recently, and she has abilities beyond belief. Cinnamon, when the time comes, you will be the one to take this little one in, for her true potential cannot be realized by anyone else.” Vanilla stepped forward, taking Cinnamon’s paw in hers. “You must live on, you have a bigger role in this world than you realize.”

“But… Vanilla.. I can’t do this. I can’t be alone anymore.. I can’t take this.”

Vanilla and Mint swiped away those tears that were forming around their sister’s eyes. “But Cinnamon not alone! Cinnamon never alone!” Mint chimed.

“She’s right. We are always with you, Cinnamon. Even if you can’t feel us, or see us, we will always be right at your side.”

“We always have been, and we always will.” Spoke a voice Cinnamon hadn’t heard in years. She looked up to see her mother’s periwinkle personage embrace her.

“Remember, Cinnamon. Your summon, Seraphina, she isn’t just for fighting.” Her father spoke, gently rubbing her. “They are akin to demi-gods, and hold wisdom beyond our years. They can be summoned to you for guidance as well.”

Hearing these words, Cinnamon smiled as tears flowed down her cheeks. She really wasn’t alone, and she never would be again!

“Take care, Cinnamon.”

The red puff awoke with a start in some kind of bed. A cool towel had been placed on top of her head, and IVs had been put in her arm to administer medicine. From the behind a closed door, she heard two voices talking, one f which was familiar.

“…And you’re certain you are not at risk of catching this as well.”

“No, doctor. This variant of the fever seems to only affect young Puffs. The type that preys on adults is far rarer, and harder to cure, for that matter.”

Cinnamon grumbled something under her breath. How impolite of them!

It took her a minute to find her voice, even if it was a bit raspy.

“Ahem.. You know, it is a bit rude to talk about me behind my back like that.”

The familiar voice chuckled. “Ah, she does have a point there.”

Cinnamon smirked, just like she usually did when she whipped up a snarky comeback like that. However, that smirk hid itself away for now as she prepared to engage in a serious talk with these two. There was no doubt that they’d question her, possibly starting with her thievery.

So be it. She thought. I’m sure I’ll be alright.

#drabbles #🔥Cinnamon🔥#🗡Vanilla🗡#🦊Mint🦊#⚡️Apollos⚡️#🌟Vega🌟#📩Asks📩#forgotten-galaxy-knight #long post

3 notes · View notes

ravenwytchbytch · 7 years

Photo

She had an innocent look about her one that drew him in, but it was the darkness that consumed him.

(The Beggar Princess)

CH: I - Royal Lies

Niklaus could not have been more annoyed at his current situation. Standing before the court, beside his father, he scanned the throne room full of noblemen who had gathered for the arrival of Duchess of Grent, the Lady Caroline Forbes, and their acceptance of their betrothal.

The acceptance of the proposal had been done under extreme circumstances. Despite his father’s victorious rebellion against the crown, much of the country remained in turmoil. The marriage would pacify the realm as Lady Forbes was not just any noblewoman.

Lady Forbes father was legendary Lord Frederick of House Grent, whose bloodline descended from the first settlers of the land. Her mother Elizabeth Forbes, was sister to the late King and daughter to King William IV, Lady Forbes had royal blood in her. Which made her a perfect match for quelling the insurgents done in the name of the late King.

The proposal and arrangements had come from King Alaric, lady Caroline Forbes very own godfather. The very proposal had caused many of protests from the family. It also weakened their prospective ties as many other lords, including King Alaric, had not offered their own eligible females.

“I don’t understand why we don’t keep her hostage? Why not lure here under the falsehood of marriage?” Kol had been the loudest to protest to the idea of needing to solidify their claim.

Elijah and Niklaus were not as hard headed, they knew outside a small group of noblemen not many held them in great esteem.

“Lady Elizabeth Forbes was wise in having the young Duchess spirited away to King Alaric’s realm.” Elijah sighed exhausted, “King Alaric has requested the return of her family titles and estate, she also bring a small title of courtesy that he has granted her. That with the combined dowry she will bring, and the added stability to the realm once she is married into our family, should bring us some reprieve of the never ending battles.“

Kol had argued that it showed weakness in the family. An outright admittance that the Mikaelson family were not fit to rule the land. Their father had settle the argument and yet Klaus could not stand to have this invisible dagger held against his neck. Either marry this disposed loyalist or continue the fighting that was tearing the realm?

Rebekah had a feather brained notion that his uneasiness was because he harbored no love for the girl and that was why he was so reluctant of the proposal, but it was not because of some foolish notion as love, but that his pride had been wounded as his hand was being forced into marrying her.

The murmuring in the great hall had ceased and soon spread into the the throne room. He cast a quick glance to his younger brother Kol and sister Rebekah the two stood a step below him their attention drawn to the throne entrance as well.

He did not have long to mull about his current circumstances as the sound of approaching music filled the great hall first bounding off the stone wall and into the throne room. The first glimpse of the envoy was the musician leading way serenading the onlookers with a soft yet joyous tune. Rainfall of flower petals were not far off. A mixture of blue and yellow, the house colors of the late King, petals fell behind them as they made a grand spectacle for the entering figures.

Her appearance drew hushed whispers as she entered in a blue and silver dress. The bodice stitched with the sigil of her father’s house and her mother’s. Lady Caroline seemed to glide instead of walk ensnaring the attention of all. Tall and poised she entered the throne room her head held high and her bright and expressive blue eyes staring forward. There was no hiding the fire that raged behind them. Klaus had to admit that her performance was convincing. She looked demur and lovely but there was an intensity that made her inviting stare discourage any real attempt of interaction.

Stopping just a few feet from the throne her gaze traveled from his father, to him, and to his two siblings. A lovely smile graced her pink lips brightening the look on her face once more.

“Your grace.” She knelt her head low the rest of her envoy followed suit.

The throne room once more fell into silence. Every courtier staring in awkward fascination at Klaus’s father and his betrothal.

“Welcome, lady Forbes. You’re most welcomed back into my kingdom.” The words were provocative but they did not sway her composure.

“I am glad to be back home.” She rose her face bright and cheerful. Klaus smirked Lady Caroline was playing her part quite well.

His father had fallen for her act as a haughty and victorious smug look took hold of his face. He rose drawing the attention off Lady Caroline.

“It is with great pleasure that I announced the betrothal of my son, and heir, Niklaus to the Duchess of Grent, Lady Caroline Forbes.” He motioned to Klaus. With a tight face he stepped before Caroline her bewitching blue eyes holding him longer than he cared to admit.

With a innocent smile she held her hand out a impish grin forming on her face. He stared at her hovering hand, dare he take this devil with a face of an angel’s hand? He could feel the eyes of his father and siblings spurring him into taking her hand.

“I am in your care.” She spoke softly as his hand took her own.

A thunderous crack of applause filled the room. Even their biggest critics were applauding at the sight of the two. His father clasped him beside his shoulder giving it a hardy whack of approval.

“If you will, my lady, permit me to escort you later to the gardens for a stroll?“ his voice was tighter than he liked.

”I would be delighted your highness.“ With a graceful curtsy she turned back to the curious gazes of court. With a sweet appearance she made her way out of the throne room with as much fanfare as she had entering but with the open admiration of the court as they bowed low as she passed them.

Klaus watched in silence as his father and brother muttered amongst themselves about how agreeable his fiancé was. Even his sister made some jealous remark, all of them fooled by her deceptive act. How was it that he alone was worried? After today’s brief interaction Klaus was certain of two things; Lady Caroline was a superb actor and that they had invited a bigger threat into their court then they first thought. (a/n:There it is guys my first Klaroline multi-fic. I do apologize for any errors as It’s late and I haven’t corrected any errors. I hope you enjoy!)

#klaroline au #Klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klaus and caroline #klaroline endgame #klaroline fandom #klaroline coven #klaroline fic #ravenwytchbytchedit #TheBeggarPrincess_KC

93 notes · View notes

missmonsters2 · 5 years

Text

The Color of You || Part VII

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: It was another mission Natasha was assigned to. Nothing she hasn’t done before. Same mission, different people. Sent undercover to investigate William Cain, suspect to funding terrorism and smuggling weaponry. Under the disguise of Natanya Rovinski, Natasha is ready for another routine mission. Until she met you, William’s fiancé.

Warnings: There are dark elements to this series. Also, smut later on. Please note this part includes abuse & torture (semi-graphic).

NOTE: This is a pretty dark chapter about reader. Lemme know if you want to be on my taglist for this series, any natasha stories I do, Wanda stories, or everything

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI

PART VII of X

Count: 3249

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

10 years ago...

Your name was being shouted from a distance. You turned your head, seeing your mother calling you back into the house. Closing your sketchbook, you got up, dusting your pants before making your way back in.

“Really, you shouldn’t be outside too long,” your mother half-heartedly scolded you.

“Why not? We’re in the countryside. There are no neighbors for miles and miles away,” You rebuttal, a little upset that you had to come in.

Your mother merely raises her brow at you. “You’re getting a bit more of an attitude every day, missy. I didn’t say anything when you got your tattoos, but no sass-mouthing me.”

She says it so jokingly that you can’t help but smile along.

“It’s going to rain today,” you say, and your mother seems confused.

“Really? The weatherman said it’ll be sunny all day,” she muses.

“It will rain,” you confirm.

“Best get the laundry in then,” your mother rushes off.

You grin, watching your mother runoff. Your family was wealthy with your father running his own company, but even so, you lived in a beautiful house out in the countryside, away with people and no hired help. Well, you used to have a maid at least, but she had quit saying the countryside was not settling well with her body. Your family paid her a lot of hush money.

Your family adored you, and when they discovered your strange gift, it really worried them what could happen to you if anyone knew.

The worry that people would take you, want to experiment on you, or take advantage of you pushed your parents to make the decisions they did.

So, you and your family took care of your daily things while your father would go run his company, often coming home late at night.

It was a simple life.

Everything was good.

Or so you thought.

“I just...I don’t know what we’re going to do. I may have to claim bankruptcy. We’re hardly making the payments we need to do. The company just keeps getting worse, and I don’t understand why. I had to lay off 80 people today. I’ve closed down many factories in the last month.”

You stood quietly at the door, slightly ajar for you to peer in to see your father in a stressed state as your mother tried to comfort him.

“Should we move back into the city?” Your mother suggests, but your father shook his head.

“No, it’s worse for our daughter out there. You know that. There are too many people and sounds. It triggers the visions.”

Your mother purses her lips but agrees. They sigh stressfully together, your mother’s head on your father’s shoulder.

“We’ll figure it out, darling, we always do.”

It made you feel awful.

That night you stared at the ceiling in bed, praying an answer would come.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You were in the field again, resting against the tree, sketching the view before you.

It was peaceful, but in the sense that it’s the calm before the storm. You were anxious.

Last night, you were getting horrible visions of a man in a fiery crash. He was stuck in the vehicle, screaming a name you couldn’t hear. The vehicle caught on fire, and there was so much blood.

The crash had disfigured his face, but his expression haunted you.

You weren’t sure what to do with it because you didn’t know who this man, where he was, or when it was happening.

Hell, you couldn’t make out his face without the blood and shards of glass.

A part of you wasn’t sure if maybe you were just having nightmares.

But the same vision kept coming over and over the next few nights. You were getting ragged, and your parents could tell.

They were happening more frequently, with more details each time, but it wasn’t like you had any more understanding.

You spent a day, just trying to mimic what the man was saying in the car before he died. Your mouth followed his movements, but you weren’t getting anywhere.

You felt like you were going to go crazy, watching the same man dying.

It kept going, and going, and going, and going, and going...

Until one day, it stopped.

A part of you was relieved, but there was a drop in your stomach wondering if it stopped because it happened, and it was no longer a future possibility.

The days were peaceful once more.

Well, as can be. You could tell your parents were getting more stressed as they were running out of money, getting closer, and closer to bankruptcy.

You were sure the peaceful days were coming to an end, and you felt so guilty you couldn’t do more.

“--rry, I’m just really lost. How do I get back to the main road?”

You turned your head, stretching to see a tall, handsome man with a couple dirt stains on his suit.

He looked shy.

Your mother merely laughed at his sheepish boyish grin.

“Well, let me draw you a map. Why don’t you come in and grab some tea? Must’ve been some adventure, huh?”

The man laughed and walked inside.

You quietly crawled through the tall flowers, peering inside the kitchen glass door to see the man sit down.

You tilted your head to the side, observing him.

He was obviously wealthy, catching his Rolex watch on his wrist.

You did find it a little weird for someone to get lost here. This was quite out of the way of anything.

He turned his head, and then your eyes met.

He looked shocked, mouth agape.

He actually flushed and looked away.

Since you were caught, you stood up, coming through the side door of the kitchen. Your mother looked shocked to see you. Even a little wary.

“This is my daughter,” Your mother told the man, introducing you.

The man stood abruptly up, coughing slightly as he stuck his hand out towards you.

“I’m William Cain.”

Your mother hummed. “Your dad doesn’t happen to own Cain Holdings, does he?”

William nodded, and your mother gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I heard about the accident. I’m really sorry to hear about him.”

William merely thanked her with a half-smile before looking back at you. You tilted your head down, looking a the map your mother drew and hummed.

Grabbing the pen, you re-drew the path he should take.

“Is it wrong?” Your mother asked.

“No, but...the roads are tricky over there. It is best he takes this route back to the main road.” You quietly say, passing the sheet of paper to him with a small smile. “It was nice to meet you.”

And then you left. Your mother is someone that doesn’t like you meeting strangers, so it’d be best to limit interactions.

She heard small noises from downstairs, but soon, William was on his way.

She thought that was the end of that.

Until he showed up again.

And then again, and again, and again.

The next couple of times, he came with small gifts like chocolate, cookies, or little trinkets, saying it was a thank you for helping him.

The next couple of times, he would come up with ridiculous lies to say he was visiting.

One day, he merely said he wanted to see you.

Then the reasons no longer mattered.

You couldn’t classify that you were in love with William, your heart just didn’t feel that way. But you weren’t unsatisfied to be with him. Especially knowing he could help your father.

Before you knew it, he wanted to whisk you away, back to his estate. He thinks you just have a frail body, which is why you’re in the countryside. He promises your parents of a quiet place for you, where you can still have fresh air, and lots of room to draw and paint.

He promises a partnership for your father’s company.

And with your reassurance, they hand you to him.

“Don’t tell William about your abilities, dear,” your mother tells you as she helps you pack your clothes. “I know he loves you, but you never know.”

You nod, feeling your throat burn as your about to leave your parents.

“We can visit at any time. Heck, we may even decide to move back to the city,” your mother tries to reassure you, but you’ll miss her anyways.

With hugs and kisses goodbye, a final piece of advice, you part ways with your family.

Never to see them again.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

William’s place is quiet.

Much more quiet than you had expected. There are no pictures on the wall, only paintings and trinkets. You meet his mother, who’s just thrilled to have ‘such a young, graceful lady around.’

She seems sweet but also distant. She looks out the window a lot like she’s expecting someone to come home at any time.

William is still finishing university, it was a wonder how he found so much time to visit you. On top of that, he was busying himself to take over his father’s business.

You’re still getting used to the city air. It’s not quite the same as the countryside, but you find that you don’t mind it at all.

William seems to be keeping you a secret because, as the years pass, you never meet anyone new. You’ve visited your parents rarely, and it seems to be getting more infrequent.

There’s an unsettling fear in your stomach, and you don’t understand why. It feels like you’re being tested. William asks your opinion on everything, trying to gauge your reaction.

You’ll purposely choose the wrong thing or say the wrong thing because your mother’s words can’t escape your head.

You’re now having reoccurring nightmares of the man dying in the car crash again. He’s screaming and screaming, but you can’t hear what he’s saying. Waking up in cold sweats and an empty bed, you’re scared out of your mind.

You want to leave.

So in the dead of night, while William is gone, you sneak into the hallways.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps and noises. Panic overtakes you as you scramble through a door you haven’t been through before. You shut the door, leaning against it as you listened to the footsteps and voices walk right past you.

Sighing in relief, you stood up straighter and turned around. It was dark, but the moonlight outside illuminated the room enough for you to see.

You realized that it wasn’t so much a room, but a hallway. Against the wall were portraits lined up side by side. Walking over, you looked at the photos one-by-one. Typically, this was a room you weren’t allowed to enter. William or a maid always led you away.

This must be generations of men in William’s family, you thought.

You come to the last photo. It must be William’s father. You haven’t really seen a big, clear picture of the man before. Even in news articles, they were always taken from afar.

You stood before the large portrait that seemed to loom down on you, staring at you with his clear features and eyes.

A sharp pain shot through your head as you hissed, hand coming to your eyes as the images rush through your head.

It’s the dying man again.

But you can hear everything this time, see more clearly.

“WILLIAM! WILLIAM!” He screams, desperately trying to unbuckle his seatbelt. The car is incredibly hot, a small fire coming from under the hood with smoke. Shards of glass are stuck in his face, and there’s just so much pain.

He can hear a car door shut just a few feet from him. He turns his head to see his son come up to the window.

“WILLIAM, GET ME OUT OF HERE!” He yells, pulling at his seatbelt again. A truck just came out of nowhere, and the fire was starting to grow.

William stood by the driver’s side, careful to not lean too close with the broken glass as he crouched down, his face stoic.

“You don’t understand our legacy, father. You’re going to ruin everything our family has created for generations.”

His father watched as William got up, walking away without even stumbling.

“WILLIAM! WILLIAM!”

He called and called, but his voice was soon drowned out by the sound of the vehicle exploding.

Your head felt heavy as you were gasping in pain. It was like your right eye was throbbing.

“You know, don’t you?”

You whipped around to see William, who just turned onto the hallway, casually leaning against the wall.

You stumble back a little bit, but then your back hit someone else’s. You turn your head to see Evelyn, the last maid you had.

“Evelyn...? What are you--”

“It’s fine, release her,” William cuts you off.

Evelyn lets go of your shoulders, and William walked to stand before you.

“You know what I did, don’t you?” William says to you again, his arms crossed over his chest.

“N-No, I don’t--” You stuttered.

“Don’t lie,” William tsked at you. “I heard from our little rich circle years ago about your parents who had a darling little girl...but something was off about her, she was always predicting things that happened.”

William uncrossed his arms, lifting his hand to caress a strand of your hair. “I paid Evelyn a lot of money to see if it was true. Then I swept you away...keeping you here to see myself.”

“So,” William drawled, “What else have you seen?”

“N-nothing,” you say, and it’s true, at least nothing related to William.

William merely smiles at you.

“I guess we’ll have to change that.”

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was dark.

And cold.

You don’t know how many days you’ve been in this...hole.

Evelyn has taken you deep into the basement. You’re sure you’re well beneath the floor in this cell.

They dropped you in here with no way of getting out.

It felt like you were in a well.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Your screams were echoing.

Arm out as your hands stretched to reach...reach something.

“I don’t like it when you run, don’t you understand that by now?” William’s voice sounded disappointed with you.

The blade he held carved into your skin, and you could feel a warm liquid dribble out and slide down your sides.

“P-Please stop...” you begged with tears in your eyes and throat raw from screaming.

“Don’t run from me anymore.”

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You were back in the dark.

Knees crouched to your chest, you had your head down.

Evelyn came by, and you were mad at her. Hated her with every fiber of your being.

You want your parents, your parents will know you're missing if they keep visiting and you’re never around.

Evelyn says your parents won’t visit anymore.

You won’t get to see them until you’re dead, she tells you.

You don’t know what to do anymore.

You’ve been in here for weeks. Your back has begun to scab over, but you refuse to give anything to William.

You stare straight ahead, even if you can’t see anything.

You start to wonder if you should give up and join your parents.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

“Still nothing?” William says to you as you’re forced to kneel before him.

He comes up to you and gets down on one knee. Your face is bruised, and he cups it gently like he cares about you.

“I don’t want to treat you like this, you know. I meant what I said to your parents when I said I’d take care of you. You need to let me take care of you.”

You clench your jaw at the mention of your parents, but you don’t say anything.

William moves in to try to brush his lips against yours, but you vehemently turn your head away.

For a second, you think he might hit you again, but he just sighs.

“Evelyn, take her back,” William says, but he turns to you again. “I want you to help me, but if you can’t, I don’t have any problems achieving what I need to without you too. Don’t become useless to me.”

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Your back rests against the slightly curved wall. Your hair feels matted, and you just feel grimy in general.

William's words keep replaying in your head, but you can’t help but feel hopeless.

You’ve stopped eating the meals Evelyn brings you.

It doesn’t matter anymore, you think.

You stare into the nothingness so long you think you’re eyes have adjusted.

People think that the dark is just black, but it’s not. There are no words to describe the lack of colors around you.

A sharp pain hits your head again as you hiss, bringing your hand to your eye.

The sudden colors are so vivid and bright, it almost hurts you.

You see flashes of red hair, luscious lips, a black suit, and a pair of piercing emerald eyes.

You just see quick flashes of different scenes, but you know one thing for sure.

She’s going to take down William.

“Natasha,” you whisper to yourself as if to test the name on your lips.

It makes you feel warm.

And you get a feeling that you haven’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

“Then I got myself together...forced myself to give into William and paved his way exactly the way it had to be to bring you here.”

You feel something wet hit your bare back.

Turning your head as far as you can to see tears falling from Natasha’s eyes and it trickles down her face, hitting your back a couple more times.

You wonder if it’s awful to think she looks beautiful when she’s crying too. You turn your body over, Natasha adjusting herself so you can do so.

With your bare chest exposed to her, you lift your hand and cradle her cheek, smiling a little when she presses herself more into your palm.

“Why are you crying?” You ask her softly, using your thumb to wipe a tear that was falling.

“I’ll kill him,” Natasha says, turning her lips into your palm as she kisses the area tenderly.

You chuckle softly because you’re not sure if she really will or not, but it warms your heart nonetheless.

“Do you want to know something interesting?” You ask, your other hand pulling on her shirt, so Natasha will lean down closer to your lips.

Natasha hums.

“When I saw you...I held onto you. Through every dark night, painful crying, and feeling so wretched...I remembered you.” You whispered as Natasha’s lips got closer. Your thumb stroked the softness of her cheek as Natasha gripped onto your sides tightly, screwing her eyes shut as you told her what she meant to you.

“You’re such a beautiful color, Natasha. You’re the soft blue that comforted me, the yellow that brought me happiness, a pure white that gave me light the darkness, and the green that brought me hope. Do you understand me?”

You’re so desperate for her to understand.

Because without her, you would’ve never made it out alive, and you need her to know that.

Your lips brush against Natasha’s as her body lines up with yours. You shiver, feeling her cover your chest.

“You saved me.”

Natasha won’t let you say anymore as her lips crashes onto yours, but you feel her emotions dripping into you as she kisses you deeply. Her grip loosens as she pushes her arms under your back to hold you closer.

“You’re mine,” is all Natasha can say.

PART VIII

#mm: my fics #series: the color of you #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x ofc #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov imagine #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #avengers x reader #Avengers #avengers imagine #Avengers AU #avengers reader insert #marvel x reader #Marvel Imagine #marvel mcu #Modern Avengers AU

571 notes · View notes

blxckbyrd-blog · 7 years

Note

“please don’t leave me alone.”

five word prompts | selectively accepting

Five times Raven wouldn’t leave Robin alone, and the one time she did.

i.It was rare to not hear a single sound from the tower during the daytime. At night, sure; that was Raven’s time to relax, but daytime was usually cluttered with noise, interrupting presences, and energy she couldn’t hide from. But today, there was nothing. She knew where her team was, but Raven couldn’t push away the feeling of wrongness that followed her around. Cyborg and Starfire had made a conspicuously large deal out of heading to the food fair happening downtown, and Beast Boy was sleeping off the effects of the nanobots that had infected the Titans’ bodies. By all accounts, something that Raven should be doing as well, but even as she meditated in her room, she could feel Robin’s pacing a floor away.

Swallowing thickly, she rose from her room and drifted to the kitchen, relieved at the noise the china cups made against the counter, and watched the steam rise towards the ceiling from the boiling kettle. She rolled a sore shoulder back to work out the kinks until the water was ready. Pouring hot water into each, she grabbed for a box of tea on the top shelf, drawing it down surrounded by black magic. It was a special brew she’d ordered when first coming to the tower, sweet with chamomile followed by a smooth mint. It was only tea, but magic was everywhere if you could pluck it out of thin air, and Raven hadn’t found anything more calming or reassuring of this plane or others.She lost her courage just outside of the filing room, though the door looked almost comically flimsy; just a sliding piece of metal that revealed an opportunity where none had been before. Know someone too well and it’s a weapon, not a kindness. She glided forward and allowed the door to open, revealing her figure in the doorframe with two cups of tea in hand.Robin’s hair was damp at the ends, and his gloves were lying on top of an unused display case. A nearby case held the silver gloves she’d seen on his hands less than 24 hours ago, and she wondered if the memory of how they felt would be hard to shake.“Is that for me?” Robin asked, and Raven nodded, holding out a cup. His gaze was fixed on the teacup instead of her gaze, and when he got close enough to take it, Raven smelled a trace of soap, wondering how long he’d had to shower until he found some peace.“Thanks.” Robin moved back to the desk, holding his cup though making no move to drink it. He busied himself by picking up a sharp piece of metal, jagged and S-shaped, made of sharp edges. It was the first time she’d seen him since they’d returned, and the empath was beginning to wonder if the seclusion had been deliberate.“You don’t need to punish yourself,” Raven said, shocking herself a little with how soft her voice had come out. Robin froze over the desk, gripping the emblem tightly as he turned to her, brows furrowed.“You were trying to save us. That’s what you should remember right now.”He didn’t reply, but she swore she saw his shoulders relax slightly, his brows raise a minute amount, and the smallest note of gratitude reached her.—ii.They had been complete as five. When Terra had burst into their lives, Raven had worried that there would be no room for her, or worse, that she would take the place of another Titan, one who had always been apart, distant, and ultimately easy to replace. But when six shrank to five again, Raven even found herself missing Terra. She left holes in a spotless bathroom, a mid-morning silence where she had found snores that she was convinced could rattle the walls, a smile in a boy who’d never been slow to smile before.When she caught Robin alone, he’d been staring at Terra’s door a few days after she’d followed Slade from the carnival, packing box in hand but hesitant to enter.”If you’re going to tell me ‘I told you so,’ I know.””I wasn’t.” She almost felt bad about missing Terra. Beast Boy was by far the one most affected by her betrayal, and the team needed her to be angry, needed her to be the place they filed their emotions when they were too difficult to bear. But Raven had no anger to offer.Terra’s nameplate was a stamp on Robin’s file, a note he believed made him unfit to be a leader, a misstep that had cost his team dearly. For Raven, Terra’s friendship had been a lapse in judgement, a reminder why letting people in too close was exposing her neck to a blade. But you can do everything right and still lose; the benefits of the doubt should have been more rewarding than being right.They stood outside Terra’s room for what felt like an hour. Finally, Robin stepped inside and packed away anything that had been hers.—iii.There was a knocking at her door long after there should have been silence. Raven’s bed had offered her no relief after the day’s events, even though exhaustion had settled in close by, so the distraction wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Not bothering to grab her cloak on the way by, Raven opened the door to find Robin, mid-knock outside her door.“You’re up late.”“I need a favour.”Summoning her cloak to her, Raven followed Robin down the hallway, winding the hallways in silence until they arrived at the infirmary once more. They’d spent too much of the day there, but judging by the lights, Robin hadn’t left after the rest of his team had.“Robin, we ran every test we could think of. Your system’s clean.”

“I know. I need you to run them again.”Rather than argue with him, Raven took the needle he’d offered her and tied off his upper arm with a band he’d prepared nearby. “This will sting, I’m sorry.”“Just do it.”She drew his blood as quickly as she could, working to ignore the grimace in his expression and the number of marks that already marked his veins. She set the blood to test while offering Robin a canister to breathe into. The results from the last test were still on the screen, negative of course, but that gave Robin no assurance.Robin broke his silence when her back was turned, having taken the canister from him and set it inside the analyzer, a process that was familiar to her by now.“I still see him. I don’t think he’s gone.”Folding her arms across her chest, Raven raised her eyebrows, concern rising up her back.“Does he say anything?”“No.”“Does he try to hurt you?”“No, I just see him in the corner of my eye.”Letting out a sigh, Raven pressed her lips together to mull over her choice of words.“After something like this, it’s not uncommon of for the brain to look for patterns it’s gotten used to. You might keep seeing him for a bit, but he’s gone. He can’t hurt you again.”She stepped toward him, ignoring the beeping of the machines behind her.“I promise.”—iv.She cleaned without any use of her powers. Any trace of him shouldn’t be spirited away but scrubbed out. She wanted to feel tired, feel the exhaustion of the physical labour it took to vacuum the carpet, lift every book one by one back into its original place on her bookshelf, ensure every magical ingredient was carefully tucked away where it belonged.When it came time to hang her white cloak in her closet, a tightness in her throat made the gesture all the more difficult. The book holding him had been locked away in a chest that sat far from the door, well secured behind not one but two different locks, but she didn’t feel any more at peace.The hole in the ceiling was too conspicuous to ignore, but she left it alone. Let the evidence show how wrong she’d been. How stupid she’d been. How naive, how willing, how wanted she’d been, she’d felt—She woke up one morning to the sound of construction on her roof. After a few moments of bleary, barely-awake blinking, she could see the billowing edges of a yellow cape from the lip of the hole apart from the construction.Grabbing her cloak, she joined Robin on the roof, letting the cool wind of the morning wake her up. “It was only a matter of time before it started to rain.” Robin explained, turning towards her. Raven offered him a shrug in response — it had been some time since she’d seen any of her teammates, as it had been a quiet past few days. She hadn’t asked for an excuse.Her silence was obvious as the pair looked over the city, the noise of the construction behind them not enough to make it any easier. But it was Robin’s glance towards his boots that betrayed his thoughts before he spoke.“We’ve missed you these past few days.”She had no response to offer him, just a surprised glance towards him. Robin’s mask wasn’t enough to cover his uncertainty; neither of them were particularly well-equipped to deal with the situation ahead of them. There was no step-by-step guide for ‘How to deal with your friend’s love crush turning into a dragon and betraying them.’“And… I’m sorry he did that to you. You deserve better.”She couldn’t meet his eyes after that, but felt the first stirring of a smile in days.—x.She remembered a noise in the hallway, a sniffling along the ground coming closer. Careless — no. Uncaring. Magic in her hand, she stepped out of her room, wishing in vain for more light. Then, she saw the figure — taller than she’d remembered, angry, and bearing its teeth in a delighted grin. When it lunged, she screamed, and the world went black too.They’d recovered her in the sewers, with the bottom of her cloak stained with god-knows-what. For a horrible moment, she looked dead; limp and unmoving in the beast’s jaws, even peaceful. He froze, ice in his veins as he searched for any blood, a rising chest, anything to reveal that Raven was still alive. She let out a groan as she hit the floor that birthed a relief Robin couldn’t ever try to vocalize, but now, back in the tower, with her levitating form prone on the bed, that relief seemed far away.He didn’t leave her side. Even if the monitors she was hooked up to would’ve revealed any change in her condition with an alarm he could hear throughout the tower, he wanted to be there, watch if her breath faltered, she fell limp again. As if his vigil would do any good. This was his team, his responsibility. And if she didn’t wake up…Best he could tell, she was healing herself from the inside out, even though the telltale sparkling blue magic was nowhere to be found. Had she always looked that pale? Certainly not that vulnerable. Try as he might to busy himself with charts and vitals, her silence was too conspicuous to escape his notice.He needed something to do. Something to change. If there was a mountain he could move, point it out and he’d throw everything he had at it. Sitting and waiting, helpless, wasn’t something Robin ever dealt with well.“Come on, Raven. Come back to us.”If he hadn’t been watching her for the past hour, he wouldn’t have caught it. But her body rose slightly higher than it had in previous times, closer to where he stood over her, and Robin could remember what relief felt like.—xi.Every moment he didn’t spend working on a case, he put into the panic room. He’d consulted with Cyborg on the security measures to break into the room if, god forbid, they were unable to stop Slade from advancing. Two Titan hands on the panel, biometric scan; a fail would set an instant alarm triggering numerous booby traps designed to take out the enemy. Beast Boy had stolen the book from Raven’s room on the rare occasions she left it, and Robin had pored over it with Starfire for the relevant protective sigils. And he didn’t mind the paint on his clothes.The observation deck felt too clinical, but they couldn’t run the risk. If Trigon tried to access her psychically, Robin wanted to be sure Raven could strike back without fear of harming her teammates, but if he’d had his choice, Robin would wait this out beside her. He settled for the frontline.She’d looked so scared in the days leading up to her birthday, Robin remembered. Any peace Raven should’ve been able to find within herself had long since abandoned her. He’d catch her sleeping in random places — in the gym, on the couch, even on the roof once, catching a few moments of sleep where she could. But he could tell when the dreams began every time, and shook her awake before she could finish her plea. ‘No, please—’ The noise may have faded, but it lasted in Robin’s ears.~In all their preparations, they had never imagined that Raven would let herself out of the safe room. A stupid, stupid, stupid oversight — Raven had succumbed to her emotions before and had let Trigon loose; he should’ve known that now, when her defences were low and Trigon growing stronger, he would try to control her.At least, that’s what Robin had believed when he saw that Raven had left the safety of the tower. Chest heaving, with every bone in his body aching with exhaustion, he could still feel the rush to his temples as her blue cloak came into sight. But the sadness in her eyes was all Raven’s.The energy she’d released was like nothing he’d ever felt before. It was the closest he’d ever come to being struck by lightning, feeling so alive and in pain at once that his body couldn’t hold onto it all. Fighting — and losing — for consciousness, the last thing he could hear was something Trigon would never wish upon them; to be safe.~This would not be how it ended. How the story of Jump City, the Teen Titans, of Raven ended. He wouldn’t let it.~When he grabbed her hand, it was shaking. Friendship hadn’t been enough.How many times had the team been shielded by Raven’s barrier before? To keep them safe, away from harm, but now it was Raven walking into the fire. His fists were useless and he had nothing left — no gadgets, no magic ace up his sleeve, nothing left to say or do, but just watch.Any connection, any bond they had was tearing at him with every step she took. The sigils began to burn violent ridges into her skin, and though he held Starfire, he felt numb, outside of his own body — he’d rather be anywhere than her helpless witness to her own destruction.‘Please don’t leave me alone.’Her face collapses into a grimace, and he can see the lights dancing around her reflected in tears budding at the corner of her eyes. But when they open again, they’re white — pure white, nothing-left-but-the-pain white, death white.He owed it to her to watch every second until there was nothing left.

#before you guys call me cruel for this conNIE ASKED ME TO HIT HER WITH MY BEST SHOT #i take my friendships very seriously #needles tw #determinedleader #re: sink of blood and crushed veneer #also i know it's so old and tired but i love the 'five times/one time' format so fight me #v: doesn't mean i can't fight back

3 notes · View notes