#locked to members only let me know if you need an AO3 invite! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

randomshyperson · 3 years

Text

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 11 - Part XI - The Sixth Year (Part One)

gif was made by @abimess

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. Chapter Warnings: Mentions of PTSD, minor kissing.

A/N> In the previous chapter I said that maybe I would put the fic in Hiatus, and on Saturday I managed to write four chapters. So I believe I'll be able to finish everything by next weekend. Good reading everyone.

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Part XI - The Sixth Year (Part One)

Everything is different now.

You can feel it in your bones. You can feel it in the air, in the room, in the way your butler won't leave the radio playing on the kitchen counter because the music has been replaced by news of disappearances all over the magical and non-magical community.

Even now, sitting at the kitchen table while everyone is eating their breakfast beside you, you find it hard to relax. Jarvis doesn't have to turn the radio back on for you to know how things are going on outside the protected gardens of the Stark mansion.

"I've already prepared the fireplace, Mister Tony." Announced Jarvis next, his hands on his back. Your brother murmured, still in the middle of sipping his coffee.

"Thank you, Jarvis." He then spoke, placing the cup on the table. "I'm expecting mail, if Iron comes back with anything, save it for me okay?"

"Of course, Mr. Tony."

"Jarvis?" You called out before your butler returned to the kitchen. He looked gently at you. "Aren't you going to have breakfast with us?"

The man hesitated, straightening his suit vest slightly.

"I've already eaten, miss. But I appreciate the invitation." He says making mention of turning around, you add quickly.

"Where are you going?"

There it is again. The tension you have noticed since you returned from the hospital. Caught in the way Jarvis looks quickly at Tony and your sisters before a smile that doesn't reach his eyes forms. He clears his throat lightly.

"I have my chores, miss." He answers politely. "Nothing you need to worry about."

"Is the order, isn't it?"

As soon as the words escape, silence falls on the table. Gamora stops stirring her tea in mid-motion, but you keep your gaze on Jarvis.

"Miss Stark, please, I mustn't be late." He insists and you sigh, nodding. Jarvis walks away, but the table remains silent. You have your fists clenched in your lap, waiting.

And realizing that just as before, when you began to notice the rushed exits, the whispers, the locked doors, and the hiding spells, you realized that none of your siblings would say anything.

So you rolled your eyes and stood up, throwing your napkin on the table and walking out of the kitchen with hard steps.

Tony called out to you, but you ignored him. Gamora reached you when you were already in your room.

"If you've come to tell me there's nothing going on, you can leave." You let her know sitting up in your bed, your mind working on theories. Gamora sighed lightly.

"I'm not." She says as she moves closer to sit beside you. "But I can't tell you everything either."

"All summer, Gamora." You begin. "All summer you guys have been keeping secrets from me. And damn it, I've done it for a long time, and I understand. But I thought...I thought after last year, things were going to change. Everybody knows about the prophecy, and I'm still dealing with it alone."

"You are not alone." She retorts as she straightens up in bed, turning her body toward you, but you continue to stare at your lap. "You're not. We're just trying to protect you."

You give a short laugh.

"I'm not, really, you're right." You sneer bitterly. "I only have Wanda and she is more than enough."

Gamora sighs, but does not contradict you. You stand up looking for a change of clothes.

"Are you going to her house again?" Gamora asks as she sees you rummaging through the closets. You don't face her to speak.

"I don't get lied to in the Maximoff residence."

Gamora rolls her eyes.

"You've barely stayed home this summer." She complains. "We've missed you."

"Ironic you say that since when I am here you guys are having secret meetings without me." You retorted angrily, putting your pajama set into a backpack.

“Y/N…” she starts but doesn't continue. You feel frustrated and impatient, and you roll your eyes at her lack of honesty.

"See you tomorrow." You say before leaving with the backpack.

You went straight to the living room, and ignoring the questioning look from Tony and Nebula at the kitchen table, you made your way to the fireplace.

Before you used the floo powder, Tony was calling you.

"You know you still leave here, right?" He quipped, and you resisted the urge to start a fight.

You stumbled into the fireplace, the magic dust in your hands. Within seconds, you were in the living room of Maximoff Residence.

"Wanda, your girlfriend is here!" Pietro yelled as he turned his attention to the pages."Again." He muttered softly making you giggle as you walked out of their fireplace.

You stepped closer only to shove the magazine he was holding to his face in a childish act and ignore his irritated grunt as you kicked off your shoes, knowing Erik hated getting his carpet dirty.

You had gotten quite comfortable at Maximoff Residence this summer. After St.Mungus, you and Wanda have been spending a lot of time together.

Part of you knows it's because you've been kept out of order, and it's created a nervous tension between you and your siblings, Wanda's house being the only place where no one seems to keep things from you.

Your thoughts were interrupted by your girlfriend's sudden presence in the room, and you had two seconds to smile at her before Wanda steps forward from the hallway towards you, her arms around your neck in a tight hug. You felt your face heat up, but soon she was pulling away to place several kisses on your cheeks, making you giggle shyly as Pietro mimicked vomiting noises.

"My god, it's ten in the morning." He complained while getting up, but you ignored it, your hands rubbing Wanda's back as you looked at her adoringly.

"Good morning my love." You greeted her.

"Good morning sweetheart" She replied, looking at you the same way. "To what do I owe this wonderful visit?"

"I missed you."

"I missed y..."

"This is too gay for ten in the morning." Pietro complained loudly again, now walking past you into the hallway and turning into the kitchen as you and Wanda giggled.

“"Have you had breakfast yet?" She asked, bringing her hands to your cheeks, caressing your skin.

You mumbled yes, omitting the part that your meal was interrupted by a little argument to steal a peck from Wanda, who bit her lip when you moved away.

She turned her head to look down the hall for a second and then moved forward, kissing you firmly this time. You smiled against her lips, melting as her hand gently scratched the back of your neck.

She pulled back a moment later, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

"Come say good morning to my dad before he comes to get you himself." She asked as she pulled away, her hand intertwining with yours to pull you towards the kitchen.

As soon as Erik saw you, he put the paper down on the table and smiled, waving for you to sit down, and you did it shyly, Wanda following you.

"It's good to see you, Miss Stark." He says. "Hope everything is alright at home?"

"Probably not since she's always here now." Pietro scoffs before you respond and lets out an exclamation of pain when Wanda hits him in the head with a small wave of energy. Erik shoots her a disapproving look but says nothing.

You get caught up in small talk while you eat together, and you're more aware of Wanda's presence than anything else, but Erik calls to you.

"Will you join us in the diagonal alley?" he asks curiously and you bite the inside of your cheek, uncertain.

"Actually, Tony asked me not to go out in public." You say. "Because of everything that's going on."

"Oh yes I understand." Erik says thoughtfully. "I was in the alley last week, and most of the stores are closed. People are scared, and crime increased considerably with the return of the walkers."

The mood at the table changes, but you feel your body relax with Wanda's hand on your knee.

"What has the order done about it, sir?" You ask and Erik frowns slightly in surprise.

"Forgive me Miss Stark, I assumed your brother was telling you about the delicate situation the order is in, so I didn't mention anything." He says and straightens his posture in the chair. "We believe there is a traitor among us."

You look at him in surprise, as do his children. Erik takes a deep breath.

"Of course any of you shouldn't worry about that." He says. "That's a matter for the members."

"Fury recruited my brother, sir?" You question and Erik hesitates, then nods. You feel your stomach sink. Tony didn't tell you about it. "And my sisters?"

"No. Not them." He quickly denies it. "We voted to add new members, and it needs to be a unanimous decision. I don't approve of adding children to order."

"But you approve Tony?" You accuse with a frown.

"Your brother is of legal age, Miss Stark." He argues. "He is a powerful, resourceful, and talented wizard. He has the right to fight if he wishes."

"He's only two years older than me." You retort. "I don't want him to be in danger."

"He insisted." Erik tells you. "He insisted because he wants to protect you. I had my doubts about that, due to his age, but he asked for my vote. He wants to help."

You swallow the urge to cry, absorbing the teacher's words.

"Jarvis too, right?" You ask and Erik takes a sip of coffee before answering.

"I must not share the order's membership list." He comments lightly jokingly, but you grimace. Erik sighs. "We are trying to keep it as a secret as much information as possible. The situation is too tense with the ministry, and with so many attacks, we are not knowing who to trust."

"You haven't said anything about this all summer, papa." Pietro comments thoughtfully. "Why now?"

Erik swallows hard, putting the mug down on the table.

"Because Wanda is going to Hogwarts next week, and I won't be there to keep her safe."

You can feel Wanda's surprise and anxiety mix with yours, and your hand rests in hers on your knee.

"What are you talking about?" Wanda questions and Erik takes a deep breath.

"I will not be returning to the castle this year." He says. "The ministry ordered my removal."

"What?" The three of you exclaimed together and Erik gestured lightly for you to calm down.

"There are many rumors about the Ministry of Magic's involvement in the rise of Mephisto. The facilities that were granted to the walkers, in addition to the encouragement of the propaganda of purity of blood." He counts. "What happened at the ministry, with you two, created quite a problem for the minister. He can't blame Harkness because she disappeared, but it was only a matter of time before he found out that I was the one who recommended the special classes with her."

"But you were helping us!" You exclaimed indignantly. "And you're on the side of order!"

"Exactly, Miss Stark." He says. "I'm afraid the minister's interest is just that. To remove all members of the order from the castle."

"Papa, what will happen to you?" Pietro asks worriedly, but Erik smiles, giving him a reassuring look.

"Do not worry." He says. "They'll do an investigation, and the minister will prolong my removal as long as he can. In the meantime I'll help the order. Our priority is to finish off Mephisto's brute strength before he regains all his followers."

"What will happen at the castle this year?" Pietro questions worriedly, and you and Wanda share his expression. Erik taps his fingers on the table lightly.

"I have my suspicions, but all the possibilities are bad." He declares. "But Wanda will have professor Stephen and Maria there. Don't hesitate to reach out for them."

"That's not very comforting." Pietro mutters and Erik flashes his son a sad smile.

"But I guarantee that whatever happens at Hogwarts, it will be better than the outside." He says. "None of you have experienced a wizarding war before.Believe me when I say that the backyards of the school are safer, no matter how awful they seem to be."

Pietro sighs.

"I am worried, Papa." He says. "Wanda will be there alone."

You frown. "Hey!"

Pietro gives a short smile. "You know what I meant." He clarifies. "I won't be there, and neither will you. I don't understand why she can't stay home."

"Because it's more dangerous here." He comments. "The only reason you're not coming back to the castle is because of your small act last year, Pietro."

Pietro looks away, grimacing at Erik's disapproving tone. All the times you've been here, the topic of Pietro dropping out of school always made Erik grumpy and created a nervous tension between him and his son.

Erik clears his throat.

"Since you have decided that you will not become a competent wizard, I expect you to help me during this period." Erik declares causing you and Wanda to exchange a look, uncertain about getting into the conversation. Pietro rolls his eyes. "I'm sure your Aunt Raven has some task to keep you busy."

"Of course, papa." Pietro mumbles wryly, laying his face in his arms on the table.

Erik sighs before turning his gaze back to Wanda and you.

"We may be at war now, but your education is still important, my dear." He says. "I wanted to make sure you got your N.E.W.T. We're going to need good witches for when this is all over."

Wanda smiled shyly, and you fell silent again. Your head was a mess, millions of possibilities about the next year flashing by and noticing your nervousness, Wanda excused herself to the table, and led you by the hand out of the kitchen.

She smiled at you in the hallway, but only stopped walking when you two reached her room.

"You're nervous." She commented as she gently pushed you onto her bed.

You sat down, and Wanda settled into your lap, your hands automatically going to her waist as she hugged you. You sank your face into her neck, breathing in her perfume deeply and feeling your whole body relax at once, becoming slightly dizzy with how comfortable you felt.

"I love you." You whispered against her skin, and Wanda pressed you tighter against her, making you fall back against the mattress with a giggle. With her lack of response, you began to caress her back, feeling her breath against your neck.

When she pulled away, she got off you, throwing herself on the bed next while biting back a smile.

"What?" you asked, curious by her expression. She shook her head slightly, her cheeks flushed.

"I just think I have never felt as happy as I do when I am with you."

You smile at the confession, feeling your heart race as you turn your body toward her, resting your face in your hand and your elbow on the bed.

Your fingers come up to her face, brushing her hair out of her eyes to place behind her ear, as she looks at you adoringly.

"What am I going to do without you next year, huh?" you ask, causing her to giggle a little, as she reached up to rest her hand on your waist.

"Do you think we'll be able to talk through thoughts by then?" She jokes putting on a mock expression, making you laugh.

"I wish I had that now, so you could help me with my exams." You retort in the same tone, making Wanda laugh.

"I can help you with some actual studying for your exams." She suggests and you raise an eyebrow.

"Oh, yes, because study sessions work out very well for us, don't they, Miss wandering hands?" You tease and Wanda smiles mischievously bringing your faces closer together.

"It's not my fault you're irresistible." She whispers before kissing your lips softly. You both sigh, but just as you go to deepen the kiss, Pietro is entering the room and Wanda lets out a grumble as she pulls away and sits on the bed.

“Can I help you Pietro?” Wanda asks impatiently.

"Can you let go of your girlfriend for a second to talk to your brother?" He teases causing Wanda to roll her eyes, but you giggle, settling comfortably on the bed. "I need to tell you both something."

"Then stop the suspense and just tell us." You grumble, wishing you would go back to kissing Wanda.

Pietro checks the hallway, then closes the bedroom door. You and Wanda frown.

"I think there's something important going on in the order." He declares. "But I have no idea what it is."

"That's not very reassuring." Wanda mocks making you laugh and Pietro grimaces. " What gave you this idea anyway?"

"Dad's been getting owls." He counters. "You haven't noticed anything strange because you're making out all the time."

"Jealous." Wanda teases, making you laugh, but Pietro rolls his eyes sighing impatiently.

"Yeah, yeah, you guys are cute and all, but you don't seem to be noticing the rest of the world." He complains, crossing his arms. "We have a war going on and all you girls are doing is kissing each other."

Wanda sighs, getting up.

"And we'd like to get back to that, so you can leave." She complained pushing her brother by the shoulders, while you laughed at the indignant expression he made while complaining that that was an important matter.

Wanda ushered him out, and locked the door, turning to you with a mischievous grin.

"Where were we?" She asked as she approached, and all you did was open your arms for her to jump into your lap again.

You knew that this was indeed an important matter, but you couldn't focus on much else as you had Wanda on your lap kissing your mouth eagerly, her tongue sliding into yours as her hands squeezed your shoulders gently.

You kissed so many times that summer, but it seemed to get better, and more and more addictive. You had no idea if it was because you were connected to her, or if it was because you were in love, but either way, you didn't want to stop.

But then the door was opening again, and Wanda let out a grumble as she jumped away from your lap, trying to disguise her smudged lipstick and swollen lips.

"Girls, you know the rules." Erik warned with a serious tone. "The door must always stay open."

"Yes, sir." You and Wanda muttered breathlessly, and Erik rolled his eyes before leaving. When his footsteps became distant, you and Wanda began to giggle, and you fell beside her on the bed, both of you trying to normalize your breathing and disguise how affected you were by the little make-out session.

In the silence, Wanda intertwined your hands together, but you both continued to stare at the ceiling.

"Do...do you think Pietro might be right?" Wanda asked next, her voice low. You shifted your gaze to her, waiting for her to clarify. Wanda swallowed dryly before doing so. "About this. About us not paying attention to the war or anything else. I just...I'm afraid he's right."

You straightened to turn your body toward her properly, resting your head on the hand of the arm that you popped your elbow on the mattress. Wanda copied your movement, and you smiled at her as you moved your fingers up to caress her face.

"I think it's unfair for Pietro to say that." You say. "Every time I've tried to bring up order, war, or anything related to that, I've been called a child. So I think it's unfair that just because I'm focusing on the most important part of my life I get called out for it."

Wanda's eyes widened slightly, her cheeks flushed.

"You think I'm the most important part of your life?" She asked shyly, making you smile.

"Of course you are, Wanda." You reply as if it were obvious, squeezing her reddened cheek and making her laugh. "My little grumpy witch."

Wanda rolls her eyes, grabbing a fistful of your shirt to pull you close, and give you a lingering kiss. You smile against her lips, and when she pulls away she keeps her forehead pressed against yours.

"I love you." She whispers with her eyes closed. "I love you so much I think I'm going to suffocate."

You sigh, feeling her emotions. She feels love, vibrant, pulsing. You think you might cry if you don't keep your eyes closed.

"I know." You whisper back. "It's like you can't put all the love out, no matter how hard you try."

"Does that scare you?" Wanda asks, her hand coming down on your waist. "Us? How intense it feels?"

You let out a short laugh.

"Scare me?" You retort. "It's the only thing that secures me."

Wanda sighs, pulling away to look at you. You smile, your hand on her cheek, caressing her skin with your thumb.

"You, Wanda Maximoff, are the only certain I hold on to." You confess. "You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. My love for you is the only thing I am sure I never want to lose."

Wanda's eyes are watery, but you know they are tears of happiness. You can feel it too. And you don't need her to say it back to you to know either.

"I can't lose you." She whispers as she lets the tears flow. "I won't survive."

"I'm not going anywhere, Wanda." You assure by looking into her eyes, but she swallows dryly, unable to hold back her tears. You feel her despair, you want to get these feelings out of her, but you don't know how. You hold her tightly, and Wanda lies against you.

When she opens her mind to you, you understand. She still thinks of you in the dungeons of the castle. She shares her insecurities, and her traumas. You take it all in, and the grip tightens. You also begin to cry when she stops sharing.

"I'm sorry." You tell her, and repeat it a few times until she stops crying. When she does, you're both exhausted, and she just pulls away to straighten up, her face buried in your neck, inhaling your perfume.

"Stay with me." She asks against your skin, and you smile with your eyes closed.

"I will." You whisper against her ear. "I will stay forever."

//-//-//-//-//

Hogwarts feels different.

Although the trip to the castle was the same as other years, there is a different tension in the air.

The train was also considerably emptier.

Not that you noticed it so much, Wanda's presence being your complete focus. Your sisters' teasing about it making you ignore your surroundings even more just to look at Wanda.

And when you all arrived at the castle, everything seemed even worse than last year.

"Are those dementors?" Gamora asks in surprise as you all are walking down toward the carriages. You notice the buzzing around the train, the other students also noticing the creatures flying over the castle in the distance.

Wanda's hand intertwined in yours is the only thing keeping you calm.

Before you can show any reaction, Drax, the fighter guard is shouting for everyone to hurry, that it was not safe to stay outside, and you were pushed along with the crowd inside the vehicles.

"What the hell is going on with this place?" Nebula asks as the carriage starts to move.

"I don't know, but having Dementors back in the castle is definitely not a good sign." Wanda comments looking out the window.

The silence of the drive to the castle is filled with speculation about the changes at the beginning of the year, and none of you are excited for Professor Kaecilius' continuing direction. Nobody seems happy with the absence of Professor Erik on the faculty either.

You don't miss the opportunity to tease Gamora about her boyfriend not coming back to Hogwarts this year, but it backfires when she scoffs that not everyone needs to be together all the time like you and Wanda to date.

When you finally arrived, there were aurors in almost every corridor of the castle now, but they were shabby-looking wizards you had never seen before, and no sign of Carol Danvers.

As soon as you made mention of joining the Slytherin table, one of them put his hand in your way.

"Each student must join their house at the opening ceremony." Said the wizard seriously, and you frowned.

"That's ridiculous." You retorted impatiently, taking a step forward. The wizard drew his wand and you widened your eyes in surprise, automatically covering Wanda with your body.

"I won't say it again." Warned the man, and you were ready to duel, but Professor Strange seemed to have emerged from the floor, and touched your shoulder quickly.

"Miss Stark, please, let's all calm down." He ordered, and you grimaced in indignation. The small scene was already attracting the attention of the students who were entering the hall.

"Tell the student to go to her assigned table or she will be punished, professor." Warned the auror and you clenched your jaw, taking a step forward, but Wanda squeezed your hand pulling you back.

"Please, everyone in your seats right now." Strange said. "Let's not start the year with a fuss, okay?"

You ignored Stephen to look at Wanda, who let go of your hand to gently smooth your cloak, moving closer to kiss your cheek, and whisper in your ear "I love you." before turning away, smiling shyly as she turned to the Slytherin table and left.

You sighed, exchanging an angry look with the auror before walking over to the Hufflepuff table, Mantis behind you.

The year's announcements were even more absurd.

"[...] As many of you may have known this summer, as per the announcements of the Daily Prophet, I will be taking over as headmaster of Hogwarts." Announced Professor Kaecilius with a polite smile that made you roll your eyes. Your attention immediately returned to the Slytherin table, and you already found Wanda looking at you.

When your gazes meet, she blushes, quickly turning away, and making you smile.

"Hey, that sounds important." Mantis commented beside you, noticing that you were distracted, exchanging glances with Wanda across the hall.

You mumbled, pretending to pay attention to the director.

"It is clear that this will be a difficult year for us, and typically adverse until the Ministry of Magic faces the dangers beyond this castle." Kaecilius commented and you frowned, finally paying attention to the speech. "It is to prioritize the safety of the students, I have been in contact with the minister of magic himself, and new conceptions have been allowed this year to properly prepare the students for the dangers of the wizarding world."

The hall shared some buzz, but the professor just cleared his throat, continuing to speak.

"This year we will be accompanied not only by the guards of Azkaban, but also by a team of special aurors, sent by the minister himself to ensure the integrity of the castle and the safety of our students. " Kaecilius said, motioning in the center of the hall. "In addition, a change was necessary in the curriculum of this school, due to the disfavor the old direction caused in the education of all of you."

"That doesn't sound good." Mantis whispered beside you.

"I'm sure it isn't." You whispered back, looking at the principal.

"The importance of teaching without ideological barriers has been reassessed, and the minister has decided that freedom is a crucial point in the education of our society." Kaecilius announced, holding out his arms. "Classifications like right, or wrong, are... backwardness. We, as a free society, need to evolve. And we are going to start that here. With our young people."

You're not sure if it was an auror or one of the teachers who applauded first, but soon the hall followed, more out of cordiality than anything else. You did not, nor did Mantis, or any of your friends, and neither did some of the other students.

When dinner was served, you felt too concerned to feed yourself, but Mantis poked you in the ribs.

"What do you think all that speech meant?" She asks and you stir your steak with your fork, sighing before answering.

"Don't you think it's obvious?" You ask rhetorically. "They're going to teach dark magic."

Mantis's eyes widen in surprise, but you feel tired. You want to go back to where Wanda is.

But then Peter Parker is speaking.

"Did you hear what some of the Gryffindors are saying about Minister Schmidt's aurors?" he asked and you and Mantis both deny with your heads. He leaned in, lowering his voice. "They are called the Red Skulls. They were a task force in the first war. And they weren't on the right side."

You become apprehensive at the information. It's as if Hogwarts is being controlled by the wrong people now. You really have no appetite after that. So all you do during dinner is listen to the parallel conversations between your housemates and your friend.

You wished Harley had come back to Hogwarts this year, but she wrote to you over the summer saying that just like Ivy, she would study magic from home now. You missed her lightness when you had to listen to Peter's nervous comments.

As dinner ended, you hoped to join Wanda, but the aurors controlled the lines back to the dormitories, wands in hand.

You clenched your jaw, feeling frustrated and angry as soon as you made mention of leaving the line and the same auror from earlier appeared.

"Let's not do that again, Stark girl." He warned and you held your wand in your robes, staring at him angrily.

"A word, Stark?" Professor Strange interrupted again, appearing beside the auror. He touched the wizard on the shoulder. "Please, Mr. Klaue, I will escort Miss Stark back to the Hufflepuff dormitory when we're done."

The minor wizard stared back at you before turning his attention back to the line and Stephen gestured with his head for you to accompany him out of the hall.

You walked to the corner of the entrance, and Stephen leaned slightly toward you.

"How are things, Stark? Did you have a good summer?" He asked, making you frown.

"The best." You replied dryly. " Everything was awesome until I came back and some jerk kept me from seeing my girlfriend."

Stephen sighed lightly, looking at the rest of the rows that were moving away, the hall quickly becoming empty.

"I'm sorry about that. I wish things were different, but they won't be for long." He says, practically whispering. You cross your arms, annoyed at the way the aurors in the distance are clearly watching you and Stephen talk.

"What the hell is going on in this place anyway, professor?" You ask irritated.

"The same thing that's going on outside." He replies. "Miss Stark, I won't have as many opportunities to talk to you this year. So I'll say it now. Be careful. Not like the years before, going out at night and sneaking out of the castle. No. Hogwarts will not be the same this year. You, as well as your friends, must be careful."

You frowned, but softened your expression as you noticed the pure concern on Strange's face. But before you could say anything, he was looking away and there was an auror beside you.

"Students should return to their dormitories after dinner." The man announced, already grabbing your arm and making you let out a mixed exclamation of surprise and anger.

"There's no need for that." The professor immediately interfered, releasing the man's grip, who took a step forward.

"I would be careful with secrets, Mr. Strange." Warned the wizard. "You don't want to be tried for treason, like that mudblood, do you?"

Strange clenched his jaw, and you think you've never seen him so angry.

"Do not threaten me, Mr Stane." Stephen retorted, and you swallowed dryly as you saw the wizard grab his wand on his belt, but he didn't draw it. The wizard just laughed wryly and made a noise with his mouth, like a whistle, to get you to walk.

You exchanged a look with the professor before doing so, hurrying to keep up with the end of the Hufflepuff line.

//-//-//-//-//

You were too worried to sleep.

And nothing had happened, but just the fact that you knew things were different made you uncomfortable and worried about Wanda's safety.

You had your cloak, and ignoring Strange's instructions, you waited for everyone to be asleep before leaving the dorm, completely invisible in the dark.

Aurors were making rounds through the halls, much more than before. And there were many more wizards, and you didn't know where they seemed to come from.

You thought it best to put a spell on your shoes so they wouldn't make noise, and so you passed through the corridors quietly.

At the portrait door your troubles began.

"Hey buddy, let me in." You warned the painting, which grumbled as it was woken up, squinting and then assuming a stern posture.

"Get out of here, blood traitor!" Retorted the painting causing you to frown.

"Say that again and I will rip you apart!" You angrily warned, but the painting gave a mean little laugh and then began to shout.

"Student out of bed, student out of bed!" His high-pitched voice echoed in the halls, and you hurried to cover your head with your cloak again, feeling your heart race when you heard footsteps approaching through the halls.

You started to run, and only stopped when you were far enough away.

And then you realized where you were again.

You remember the path from your nightmares.

Swallowing hard, you take a step back, but you bump into the wall.

It is the entrance to the dungeon where Agatha took you.

Nothing looks different, you wonder if the ministry even went in there.

You feel your stomach turn, and your heart is racing even more. The memories of what happened come back all at once, but you close your eyes, taking a deep breath and pushing them away.

You are safe.

And you walk away from that corridor quickly, feeling suffocated.

And then you bump into someone, trip over the cloak, and fall to the floor.

"Interesting choice of destination, Miss Stark." Professor Kaecilius comments as you swallow dryly, looking at him while you are still on the floor. He keeps his hands in his pockets."I was hoping for a more mature attitude in your sixth year, but clearly that was a mistaken expectation."

"Sorry, professor, but I'm still sleepwalking." You retort getting up, and are surprised that he gives you a wry smile. You feel nervous then, because he is now so comfortable at Hogwarts that he feels free to laugh at your jokes.

"I should have predicted that you would come back to this place." He then says, looking toward the room for a moment before returning his gaze to you. "If you had asked permission, perhaps I would have conceived."

You clench your jaw, not knowing exactly how to escape this confusion. Professor Kaecilius assumes a stern expression next.

"I don't care for the unruly way that Agatha conducted this school, but I assure you that it will not be the same manner in which I will conduct it." He says and with a flick of his right hand, the fallen invisibility cloak closes and jumps on his arm. You swallow dryly, but say nothing. "Adjusting to the new curriculum will take up most of your routine during this week, but you must learn to value the rules. Your detentions will take place on Saturdays for the next three months."

"Three months?" You exclaim in shock, and Kaecilius sighs.

"Perhaps four would be more appropriate, you have a bad track record."

You bite your tongue, holding back from cursing your teacher.

" Follow me to your dormitory, Miss Stark." Says the professor next, already starting to walk. "We don't want any more incidents, do we?"

The path is silent, but there is a nervous tension.

At the door, Professor Kaecilius turns to you.

"I would sleep now, if I were you, Miss Stark." He warns. "It takes discipline to become a competent witch, and sleep will not be an acceptable excuse for failing your classes."

You frown, but the professor waves, and you walk into the dormitory, the doorframe closing behind you.

Just as you reach your room, Mantis is opening the curtains on her bed.

"Where the hell have you been?" She asks worriedly as you take off your shoes to lie down.

"Wanda." You grumble before throwing yourself onto the mattress, sinking your face into the pillow. Seeing your dissatisfaction, Mantis sits up in your bed, poking you lightly in the ribs.

"What happened?" she asks and you sigh in frustration. When you tell her what happened, she has a mixed expression of concern and annoyance.

"I'm sorry about the cloak." She says. "And well, about the detention too."

"It's okay." You mumble. "I just wanted to see my girlfriend."

"I'm sure she's fine." Mantis says, and seeing your grimace she giggles. "Can't you feel these things? If you're not sensing anything, she's asleep, right?"

You sigh, nodding. Mantis is right. You just miss her, but other than that, you don't have any chills or anything. Wanda is safe.

"Thank you, Mantis." You say shyly, playing with the threads of the pillow. "Sometimes, I don't remember that, and I worry for nothing."

"It's okay." She says. "That's how it is when you love someone."

You smile and Mantis gives you a wink before getting up, and returning to her own bed.

"Now, let's go to sleep please, I'm thinking we're in for a busy week." She comments and you murmur in agreement.

You are afraid that " busy" is not the best adjective to define it.

//-//-//-//-//

Tag list> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight || @iliketozoneout

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff x yn #avengers imagines #elizabeth olsen x reader #The Scarlet Witch Prophecy #harry potter au #wanda maximoff x you

254 notes · View notes

agentwhalesong · 2 years

Text

Not Ready Yet

Fandom: The X-Files | Rating: Mature | Posted on ao3

Summary: After an entire day of celebration in honor of Scully's good health, she and Mulder get locked out of one of her family members' house and have to share a bed. Based on the prompt provided by @agentstarbucklover for the @xfilesfanficexchange: One Bed (2022).

Enjoy =)

It is more comfortable than she thought it would be, what they are doing. He is telling her about something fun that happened to him when he was a child, and she can’t help smiling, wondering why they never do this, never just talk about their lives and behave like the friends they are. The only time she can recall is when Mulder wasn’t actually Mulder, and the images of what could have happened and what should have happened – were Van Blundth actually Mulder – have been muddled up in her mind ever since.

He reaches the end of his tale, takes the last sip of his beer and then puts the bottle down. His eyes remain on the bottle, though, as if the words he is about to say – and she just knows he is about to say something – need to be pondered for a while before he lets them out.

“Thanks for inviting me to be here today,” he murmurs then, looking at her with eyes that reflect his heart, in that way that has become more frequent lately, that moves all her insides and makes her lungs falter for a while.

It has happened before, this feeling, but she saves a space for it next to all the supernatural things that she has experienced over the years, in that department of her brain called Not ready yet.

She shakes her head a little, averting her gaze sheepishly.

“It would make no sense not to have you here,” she murmurs back, clearing her throat right after to find words that won’t compromise her in any way. “I mean, you’ve been there for me during my illness, it’s only natural that you’d be here to celebrate my health.”

She looks at him again only to find a cute smile, one of those she is sure he saves only for her. She’s gotta stop thinking of him this way; nothing has changed, after all – except for the fact that she is not dead when she should have been.

An owl hoots somewhere, taking her out of her own head. She looks around, just to make sure she understands what the bird has pronounced – it is indeed very late and everyone else in her family has disappeared inside the house. From the lack of sound, she safely assumes everybody is already sleeping too.

That means that, on purpose or not – and she will have to talk to her mom about it later –, she and Mulder have been left alone and didn’t even realize there was no one else around. Has this ever happened before?

“Maybe we should head to bed,” she says, patting Mulder’s knee and using it as support to stand up.

He just nods and follows her, but he has barely reached the door she is trying to open and she is on the move again.

“Scully? What 's wrong?”

“Aunt Mary always locks the house before they go to bed every night,” she says over her shoulder, already walking towards the third – and last – door.

She runs her hands through her hair and face, sighing, when she realizes there is nothing else she can do.

“Let me guess…,” Mulder catches up at last, “we are locked out,” he says, but he doesn’t sound frustrated. If anything, he sounds almost happy.

“I didn’t know you liked sleeping outdoors so much, Mulder,” she jokes.

He shrugs.

“I don’t. It’s just that… We were having such a good time that… you know.”

She wants to say that no, she doesn’t know, that he should speak his mind to confirm that she isn’t the only one feeling things she shouldn’t. Instead, she just nods and lets silence do its job.

“Do you think your family will be mad if we just start banging away at the doors until they let us in?,” he proposes jokingly.

She shakes her head and laughs quietly.

“Well, we are three hours away from our respective homes, so that is not an option either…” she scrunches up her face a little before saying the last part of her sentence, “but there is a third alternative.”

She points at the hammock between the trees she used to love climbing as a child, and he turns around to look at it. There is a smile in his voice when he speaks.

“You take the hammock, I’ll take the grass.”

I was hoping we could share it, she thinks, but what leaves her mouth is “Come on, let’s test it.”

They sit side by side in the middle and, although it’s slightly uncomfortable due to their combined weight in one single spot, it seems just perfect. Maybe it is due to the beers she had or the late hour, but this simple scene strangely makes her think about her and Mulder’s connection, how the unevenness of their weights, heights, beliefs, opinions and many other aspects of their personalities all have a common ground, right in the middle. It’s the friendship and loyalty that glue them together. It’s also love.

She wants to say this aloud, but will he understand what she means or will he think she’s coming onto him? On the other hand, it seems silly to keep it all in when she herself has recently understood the real meaning of running out of time to do and say and feel.

She sighs and lies back on the hammock, closing her eyes to clear the clouds in her head.

“Hey,” Mulder whispers, in an obvious misinterpretation of her actions, “we don’t need to keep talking if you don’t feel like it. It’s been a long day and you’re tired. I’ll just make my bed, ok?”

She chuckles at his last comment, and when he’s about to get up, she reaches for his hand and touches it faintly.

“I have a better idea, actually, if you don’t mind.”

There is a smirk on his face when he nods, and she wonders what kind of joke he has just thought of and hasn’t said aloud.

“Let’s share the hammock,” she finally completes.

It takes him a couple of seconds to respond, but he doesn’t seem surprised by her proposal.

“Just promise you won’t take advantage of me,” he replies, making her laugh.

He huffs out a quick laugh himself and proceeds to lie in the hammock, putting one of his hands on the floor to prevent it from rocking too much so that she can get in safely. It’s no use, though, for one of her feet gets stuck in on one of the fringes and she falls almost on top of him, laughing so hard at the whole situation she doesn’t even think of moving away for a while.

When she finally raises her head from his chest and lies on her side, he is gazing at her so adoringly that butterflies start fluttering not only in her stomach, but in other parts of her body that should know better.

They just stare at each other, eyes scrutinizing everything they see, smiles matching as if they were face to face with a mirror.

“Thank you,” she mouths without any sound.

“Always here to catch you when you fall,” he is quick to reply, unaware that he is making her resident butterflies flap their wings even faster.

To hell with it, she thinks.

There is no hesitation when she wraps one of her arms around him and rests her head under his chin.

“What I meant is that I’m thankful that you never gave up on me. Your relentlessness is what helped me stay on my feet during my treatment, even though the earth was crumbling under me.”

“I could never – ever – give up on you,” he utters.

It takes a while for him to continue, so she isn’t expecting his voice when it comes in almost a whisper.

“Truth is, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Scully. I just can’t imagine my life without you anymore.”

There are tears puddling inside her eyes, her heart is racing, but she doesn’t try to trick herself into believing it is only the friend in her speaking. This inner voice is too loud for her to ignore that it is, in fact, that part she has archived in her brain as Not ready yet. She wonders what part of him said those words to her. Does he even have that department in his mind? It really is hard to tell.

“Just for the record,” she replies, “you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, too.”

His arms tighten around her and he kisses the top of her head, lingering there so much that she feels her eyes heavy with sleep before he can pull away.

They don’t talk any further, for they know all the words that needed to be out have been said. What they are still holding inside – and there is an infinity of feelings kept in silence both in him and her – will have to stay for later, for the time when the Not ready yet department in their minds is so full that it has no choice but to evolve into Cannot deny anymore.

—-----------------

IN THE MORNING

Margaret Scully walks slowly towards the hammock, for fear that her feet on the fallen leaves will wake them up. It’s heartwarming, watching them like this – Dana’s head resting on Fox’s shoulder, one of her arms sprawled across his chest, their legs tangled just enough to show respect while also communicating they are more intimate than two friends could ever be.

She covers them with a blanket and is relieved to see her actions didn’t do a thing to bother their sleep. She stays there for a while, wondering why neither of them takes a step forward. It’s so obvious – she has lost count of how many people have asked her about Dana and Fox since he arrived the previous day – that she can’t fathom what’s stopping them. They must have their reasons, she thinks, and it’s not up to her to decide or to interfere in any way. She just knows in her heart that in the future – no matter how near or distant – she will be able to call Fox her son as well. Until then, she will be pleased to just keep putting blankets over them when it’s too chilly outside – hopefully more often than not.

#The X-files #mulder and scully #mulder and scully fanfic #the x files fanfic #x files fanfic #mulder x scully #fox mulder #dana scully #xfilesfanficexchange #one bed trope

7 notes · View notes

fragilevixenfic · 3 years

Text

My AO3 Fanfiction Links (Current)

“I’ve never really thought about making a “Master List” of my own work but I figured, now is the time to do so. If any of the links are incorrect just let me know. I fix.

Adding in a “keep reading” tab because the list is starting to get long and intense.

Each fic is categorized and easily referenced. I’ll update as I go.

X Files

Series

Into The Shadows

XII (COMPLETE): A serial killer targets victims and leaves behind symbols of his affection -- but who is his intended target and what will it take to discover the truth? (This has a lot of trigger warnings)

Dance In The Dark (ONGOING Chapters 12/? Posted **UPDATED): With the continuing murder trial of Miles, Mulder, Scully, and Max are confronted by the VCU with a case that seems to be mimicking the pattern by their, now infamous, psychopath on trial.

Echoes and Whispers

Parallel (COMPLETE): The aftermath of the three little words that Mulder says to Scully in his hospital bed after being rescued from the Queen Anne as it re-appeared in the Bermuda Triangle...and the strange connection that Scully starts to feel to a memory that Scully couldn't possibly have.

Only The Night (ONGOING): Mulder and Scully begin their undercover assignment as an engaged couple with the assistance of Skinner at the University of Maryland to catch a serial rapist, putting their newly formed physical bond to the test in this sequel to “Parallel”.

Casefics

Falling Away (COMPLETE): Kersh’s assignment partially splits the team as Scully goes undercover under the watchful eye of Mulder as they both assist on an operation with SWAT and FBI personnel. (A gift for Greta)

Veritas se revēlet (COMPLETE): (The title is roughly translated to let the truth be revealed in Latin) An impromptu wild goose chase leads Mulder and Scully to the drifts of a winter-locked Tonopah, Nevada—where a little more than the embodiment of Mulder’s imagination takes shape between the walls of the Mizpah Hotel in the dead of winter. (A gift for @monikafilefan)

She Walks at Night (COMPLETE): Mulder’s knack for getting himself and Scully into sticky situations leads them to the heart of NOLA at the tail end of Hurricane season after barely surviving a Floridian storm—to investigate a rumor of a notable Voodoo Queen and missing girls trying to bring her back. (A gift for @starbuck09256)

Intrigues in the Dark (COMPLETE): A string of suicides leads Mulder and Scully to a sleepy, coastal town in Oregon for the second time—on their return to The X File—as tensions run high and nothing is as it seems. (A gift for @admiralty-xfd)

By Light, Unseen (COMPLETE): A series of re-opened cold case murders with one link…they’d been drained of every drop of blood and wore the same, haunting stare toward the sky with their lips aghast as if they were still screaming. (A gift for @serahsanguine)

Post-Series

A House is Not a Home (COMPLETE): The mere thought of raising a newborn in a world full of horrors has every part of Scully’s emotional irrationality over firing on a chilly, winter evening. Mulder wants nothing more than to show her that not everything is gray and grim. (for @danceswithcybermen)

Remember the Reason (COMPLETE): Post Series (Part 1 of the “Little Redhead Series”). Mulder and Scully already knew that life with a newborn would be difficult but the first Christmas with their two-month-old daughter throws every curveball…some worse than others, some more humorous. (For @underworldobsessed)

Confectioners Sugar & Snow Drifts (COMPLETE): Post Series (Part 2 of the “Little Redhead Series”). Mulder spends the morning bonding with Eliana by having a Christmas baking session while Scully is out shopping for gifts. Messes, mayhem, and a healthy dose of laughter ensue. No moment is ever dull as the snow falls outside.

The Easter Bunny was a Fox (COMPLETE): Post Series (Part 3 of the “Little Redhead” Series). Scully has to pick up Bill, Tara, and a couple of surprise family from the airport, leaving Mulder alone with their 6-year-old daughter, Eliana, on Easter Morning. All she has for him are curiosities as Easter’s non-Christian ideology unfolds before her eyes…creating the most unique bonding opportunity for a father and his daughter. (For Flicked_Switch)

Angst/UST/RST

Caught in the Rain (COMPLETE): A dark, rainy night leads Mulder and Scully to a hole in the wall bar where glasses of Scotch and unresolved tension is re-visited.

Or We Can Burn (COMPLETE): Post Never Again - expansion and continuation of the aftermath surrounding what Scully has been hiding from Mulder.

It Lingers (COMPLETE): The aftermath of trauma and the lingering effects of Mulder’s risky attempt to recover the truth about Samantha’s abduction leads to a revelation from Scully about her own coping mechanisms and flashes into a past she doesn’t fully remember...and the path to which they lead thereafter. (For @red2007)

Fluff/Humor

Nervous Laughter (COMPLETE): It’s been two full days since their tender, albeit brief, moment at the stroke of midnight and Mulder decides to be brave and methodical by inviting Scully over for a little movie and popcorn night for a film that has stayed locked in his mind as her favorite—The Exorcist. (This is a gift for @rationalcashew)

Lamplight & Shooting Stars (COMPLETE): It’s Spring-time in DC and spontaneous, mutually taken vacation time has become a personal mission of Mulder’s to surprise Scully with so much more than an escape from their norm—and the unseasonable, uncomfortable city heat. (For @underworldobsessed)

Into the Nightlife (ONGOING): A little paid vacation time never hurt anyone, right? (Not giving anything away this time)

Smut

Insomniac (COMPLETE): Another lonely, sleepless night, another dingy motel, and another town that isn’t home for Mulder…but, something changed, with the last gasp of the air conditioner as his partner, and best friend, chooses to walk through the adjoining door. (Expanded writing exercise)

Vultus in Speculo (COMPLETE): The last of the paperwork on the Strickland case has been finalized and filed and Scully goes off for a drink at a known FBI watering hole. Mulder is invited but doesn’t show up until after Scully is halfway through a drink—giving him an opening to inquire about a whole lot more than her flirtations with the Sheriff in the booth of a rooftop bar. (written for @msrheadcanon

Phosphorescence (COMPLETE): Still reeling from their experience in North Carolina, Mulder and Scully take a much-needed excursion to the coast of Oregon, where a flicker of light becomes more than a curiosity in the middle of the night. (Written for @anniexami)

The Darker Side of Love (COMPLETE): Mulder does not want to talk but he does not want Scully to leave, either. (This is for the MSR fanzine vol 3)

Ficlets/Drabbles/Short Prompt Collection

Affirmations and Protestations: “Fluff and Angst” Prompts (ONGOING):

Chapter 1 - "You Weren't Supposed to Hear That" - prompt #5, 61, 77

Chapter 2 - "Shout!" - prompt #19, 61 (From Valerie)

Chapter 3 - "Litost" - prompt #1, 85, 97 (From Monika)

Chapter 4 - "Ad Infinitum" - prompt #42 (From Minuete)

Chapter 5 - "Brick" - prompt - After Scully calls Mulder in the ep Emily, she asks him to bring her some things from home. Her journal falls to the floor and Mulder sees some things written about him that she has never allowed him to know. (from Monika)

Chapter 6 - "I'd rather be oblivious" - prompt #46 (from Annie)

Criminal Minds

Angst/UST/RST

Dulce Periculum (COMPLETE): Maxine and Spencer have continued seeing each other, in spite of the interference brought to the surface by Cat Adams. Spencer continues to work closely with the BAU after it nearly dismantled, with signature members scattering to the winds, leaving behind only a few, including himself, to keep working on their caseload. After a long, intense case, Spencer returns home to a little more than a can of worms. (A gift for an anonymous prompter)

Law & Order: Special Victims Unit

Angst/UST/RST

Chasing your Silhouette (COMPLETE): They’d learned each other’s quirks and intricacies on the job—but when did it become over the line? When did physicality become a detriment to them once they’ve taken off their shields? When did they realize the line in the sand no longer existed? (This is meant to take place a couple weeks after “Zebras” – had to assume a timeline, I don’t remember actual dates)

Paternity Redux - Time Just Stopped (COMPLETE): Her strength has always been immeasurable—but sometimes, something has to give and a string breaks. Nothing will ever be the same.“I’m trying my best, that is enough.” - UnknownThis is part of a challenge, to right a series of wrongs in an episode that has perpetrated many a discussion of “What Could Have Been”. WriterKC, Liv.Einziger, JustAnotherBookWorm78, MrsWellRested, EORocks, AlexisDawn, ChriskaPeach, and I have stepped up to the plate to do just that.

Oblivion (ONGOING 9/? Chapters posted ***UPDATED***): The undercover operation in Oregon takes an unexpected, unpleasant turn for Olivia Benson as an injury turns her life, and career, upside-down leaving her with pieces of her memory scattered in the wind.

Humor

Unlock the Door (TENTATIVELY COMPLETE 2/2): Olivia returns home from a celebratory series of shots with Kim Greylek and lets Elliot Stabler hear a little more than she ever intended to in the aftermath.

Series

Polaroids and Promises (COMPLETE): The Special Victims Unit has undergone an enormous amount of changes in the past six months, to the point that they are drastically undermanned—until a transfer from the 13th precinct brings new life, and a little chaos, to the team. Will her addition prove to be a permanent shift or a flash in the pan?

Discarded Dignity (COMPLETE): Elora continues to gain much-needed confidence as a member of the Special Victims Unit but an arrival booked for trespassing, assaulting an officer, and disorderly throws her progress into chaos as her past jumps to the surface. Will she be able to look beyond the misstep to solve one of the most convoluted cases she’s faced?

Contract Corruption (ONGOING 10/?): Dickie Stabler and Justin Andrisani are in over their heads--and the members of SVU and the Organized Crime task force must come together in order to set things right.

Law & Order: Special Victims Unit/Organized Crime Crossover

Series

Words of love, words of lies, words of loss

Age of Regret (COMPLETE): Elliot Stabler has never been good with words but ten years and a double on the rocks in a lonely room will make a man pour his heart out…in any way that he can.

Infidelis (COMPLETE): Elliot had been haunted by too many ghosts; expectations, fantasies, and a promise that he knew should never be kept. It was time to lay them all to rest. “I do not regret you…I regret what you did to me.” - Unknown

#My fics #X Files #Criminal Minds #this is ongoing #someday soon #this will have SVU on it #all the fics #Law and Order: Special Victims Unit #yes I have more #no they are not all done #I'm a little crazy #Organized Crime #crossover

196 notes · View notes

goodlucktai · 3 years

Text

out past the shallow breakers

the untamed pairing: jiang cheng & wei ying, jiang cheng & lan sizhui word count: 3148 read on ao3

“He died!”

The words ring loud, sharp—in the pavilion where they’re taking their evening meal, surrounded on all sides by untroubled water, the words seem to carry for miles.

It’s unlike Lan Sizhui to raise his voice at all, much less to raise it toward a senior. His hands, resting politely on his knees under the table, have curled into fists.

“Everyone goes on and on as though baba has so much to atone for,” Lan Sizhui says, each word lurching from his throat like a line of fierce corpses shambling through brush. “What more is there for him to give? What more do you want? He died.”

Jin Ling is staring at his friend as though he’s never seen him fully before. On Lan Sizhui’s other side, Wei Wuxian’s expression is shifting rapidly from alarm to comprehension. His gray eyes are full of a painful understanding.

“Sizhui ah,” Wei Wuxian says, touching the boy’s shoulder. “Come take a walk with me.”

Jerking his head in a nod, Lan Sizhui pushes to his feet and then pauses there. His Gusu Lan whites, those extra lines and layers that denote him a member of the main family, ghost elegantly around him when he lowers himself in a bow that is every inch deep that it needs to be and not one inch deeper.

“Sect Leader Jiang, this disciple apologizes,” he says. The cheerful ‘shushu’ of earlier that morning might as well be a memory of another life. “My behavior was unworthy.”

He doesn’t grit it out, the way Jin Ling would probably have had to. It doesn’t even seem to cost him any pride.

For one, single, impossible moment, it’s as though Jiang Yanli is standing there, making her apologies to their mother for her brothers’ sake, to spare them any pain she could. It didn’t matter that the blame wasn’t hers. It didn’t cost her any pride, either.

But Jiang Yanli didn’t have a chance to be a part of her nephew’s life, as much as she would have wanted to be. This likeness isn’t hers, not truly. Wei Wuxian was always more like his sister than he or Jiang Cheng were ready to admit.

“Forget it,” Jiang Cheng says. His voice is hoarse, but in the stillness of the water and the silence of the pavilion, it carries, too. “Go on.”

Wei Wuxian shepherds his son from the table. He glances back at Jiang Cheng once, a grimace of apology on his face, but then Lan Sizhui’s hand finds the trailing black hem of Wei Wuxian’s sleeve and clutches to it, and that steals all of Wei Wuxian’s attention as easily as a slap or a shout might have.

The moment they’re gone, Jin Ling lets out a breath he must have been holding, and rounds on his other uncle with wide eyes.

“What did you say?” Jin Ling blurts. “I wasn’t really paying attention, but it didn’t sound like—I mean, it sounded normal.”

Jiang Cheng is still staring at the place Lan Sizhui had stood.

The last living remnant of a persecuted clan, so much an amalgamation of his two fathers that it didn’t make sense that one of them had been dead for most of his young life—holding a grudge and bowing his head at the same time. Lan Wangji, in Jiang Cheng’s experience, has never once let something go that he could nurse icy resentment for instead. Wei Wuxian has always choked down hurt like it was second nature, no matter that it must feel like swallowing nails every time.

It was a normal conversation, but perhaps that’s exactly why Lan Sizhui couldn’t bear another second of it.

“He died,” Lan Sizhui had said, as raw as a fresh wound, or one that kept getting torn open again before it could heal. “What more do you want?”

“Ah, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says the next morning, meeting him in the courtyard. “Did you sleep well?”

He’s smiling with a certain nervous energy that Jiang Cheng can only pick out because he spent the formative years of his life raising and being raised by his siblings. To an outsider, there probably wouldn’t be a single visible chink in that cheerful armor.

Jiang Cheng, for all his failings, isn’t an outsider. Not quite. The door between them is closed—has been closed for years, almost decades—but Wei Wuxian isn’t the one who closed it. There almost certainly isn’t a lock or talisman keeping Jiang Cheng from forcing it open again.

It won’t come open again easily. There is so much stacked in the way. Hurt and betrayal and grief throw their weight into keeping it shut, weighing it down on either side.

But—

“What more do you want?” Lan Sizhui had asked.

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng forces out. Wei Wuxian blinks, as if he didn’t expect a forthright answer, or any answer at all. Something about his open surprise at the barest scrap of civility makes Jiang Cheng add, “If you’re awake this early, you didn’t sleep at all.”

His brother takes the opening for what it is, and bends into character. “Oh! You know me so well!”

Mo Xuanyu’s body is smaller, slighter, than the body that Wei Wuxian was born into, and his face is not quite the same, but Wei Wuxian’s mannerisms shine through so clearly that it’s easy to look past everything else. Even the way he stands still is entirely his own, his whole body vibrating with the necessary focus it takes to keep from bursting into movement again.

He is so familiar. The most familiar thing in Jiang Cheng’s entire, almost-empty life.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Wei Wuxian says. The words spill from his mouth like river pebbles, scattering around their feet. There’s that echo of their jiejie again, smiling around I’m sorry. “Don’t hold it against him, please. He’s so young, and he’s struggling to make sense of some things. He was happy that you invited him to Lotus Pier.”

The past-tense makes Jiang Cheng want to flinch, but he doesn’t. He just stands there in the peach pink morning and absorbs the beginning of a goodbye.

“So you’re leaving, then?” he mutters.

“I think we’ve definitely worn out our welcome this time,” Wei Wuxian says, easily shouldering the blame for everyone else’s bad behavior. They might as well be twelve years old again, kneeling here in the courtyard under Madam Yu’s furious eyes. “But it’s alright! Wen Ning sent word that he’s waiting for us outside of Yunmeng and Sizhui is eager to see him. We’ll go find some trouble to get into before we head back home.”

He won’t say a word about this change of plans to his husband, but Lan Wangji will still find out—whether Lan Sizhui tells him, or Wen Ning, or he just picks up something from Wei Wuxian through osmosis—and the next cultivator conference will be excruciating. And if the Jiang clan gets anything out of it, it won’t be anything good. And Jiang Cheng will feel slighted and angry for months, until the next time Wei Wuxian swings by for a visit. And having his brother nearby will soothe an ache in the pit of Jiang Cheng’s chest that he’s able to ignore all the rest of the time. And then, inevitably, Wei Wuxian will look wistfully at the water, or linger for too long by the flowers their sister liked best, or bring some other manner of ghost to the dinner table, and Jiang Cheng will lash out because it’s the only way he knows how to handle hurt. And then Wei Wuxian will extract himself and go home to Cloud Recesses early, and Lan Wangji will rightly guess why. And it just never fucking ends, does it?

The grief he carries around with him—he’s not wrong to carry it. It’s his. He was hurt, time and again, by a person he used to count on not to hurt him. He’s two times an orphan; once when his parents died, and again when his siblings did. He had to rebuild his home from the ground up, by himself, with his own two hands. Everything he has is what he was able to dig out of the dirt and ashes.

It isn’t Wei Wuxian’s fault that Lotus Pier fell. It isn’t his fault that the Wens were persecuted, that they had nowhere else to turn for protection. And it isn’t—

This one hurts; this one comes away bleeding. Jiang Cheng forces himself through it anyway.

It isn’t Wei Wuxian’s fault that Yanli died.

She died for him, but he didn’t ask her to.

Jiang Cheng feels his brother’s golden core thrumming inside his chest, hyper-aware of it now in a way he rarely was before—how it feels the way the sun looks in the morning, warm and brilliant and spilling color across the dull gray of dawn.

He didn’t ask Wei Wuxian to cut himself open for Jiang Cheng’s sake. He can’t be blamed for his brother’s choices. And if that’s true (and it has to be true or Jiang Cheng will go insane) then Wei Wuxian can’t be blamed for their sister’s choice, either. Yanli died for Wei Wuxian because she loved him, and Wei Wuxian gave Jiang Cheng his golden core because he loved him, and Jiang Cheng never moved on and never let go because he loved them, too.

They weren’t raised to love softly or quietly. Love between the three of them was always fierce, like a wild animal baring its teeth. Clinging to each other in a world that wanted to rip them apart. Even Yanli, who smiled and spoke with such sweetness, went to war because her brothers were there.

“What more do you want?” Lan Sizhui had asked.

Jiang Cheng lifts his head. Wei Wuxian is already looking at him, poised, as ever, to leave the moment Jiang Cheng gives him any indication that he should, like a bird ready to fling itself into flight. His brother, dead for thirteen years and back again, and only sometimes-welcome in the place he used to call home. Only sometimes-wanted by the person who used to be his family.

In a world full of people missing people they’ll never see again, Wei Wuxian is a miracle that Jiang Cheng is entirely unworthy of.

He’s right to carry his grief, because it’s his. But he wouldn’t be wrong—it wouldn’t be a betrayal—if he chose to set it down.

“You find trouble as easy as breathing,” he says, speaking through his heart, where it’s lodged in his throat, “so that shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Maligned!” Wei Wuxian cries with an air of great sorrow. “Blatantly maligned, by my own flesh and blood!”

Jiang Cheng can’t say what he wants to say. He can’t find the words. There’s only so much of himself he can dig up and expose like raw nerves before the pain of it becomes overwhelming, and he reacts to the hurt the way he always does, and shoves Wei Wuxian away.

“Don’t forget to say goodbye to Jin Ling, or he’ll never forgive you,” Jiang Cheng settles for. “And I’ll be the one stuck hearing about it.”

“I would never forget my favorite nephew,” Wei Wuxian says easily.

“And if you fuck up, and get yourself into a stupid mess,” Jiang Cheng adds, before he loses his nerve, “don’t let me hear about it from someone else.”

For a moment, Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“What if it’s very stupid?” he finally asks, his voice at once both faint and painfully fond.

“What else is new?” Jiang Cheng snaps. “Just send for me, and I’ll come.”

Above them, the pink and orange of fresh dawn make way for vivid blue. As Jiang Cheng stands in his childhood home with his only brother, while the market comes to life outside the walls and the breeze sweeps the smell of lotus flowers and scallion pancakes through the courtyard, the years seem to fall away. For a brief, uninterrupted moment, they’re both back where they belong.

“Aiyah, shidi,” Wei Wuxian says. “Of course you will.”

The next time Jiang Cheng sees Lan Sizhui is at the cultivation conference in Gusu, two months later.

The boy smiles politely but greets him as ‘Sect Leader Jiang’ again, and next to him, Jiang Cheng can feel Jin Ling wince. Lan Sizhui’s counterpart, the wildly opinionated and deeply un-Lan-like Lan Jingyi is giving him a frank, up-and-down appraisal.

“I mean, I’ll give it to you,” he says baldly. “You’re brave. Like, if Hanguang-jun hated me as much as he hated you, I just wouldn’t show up. You couldn’t pay me to show up.”

“Jingyi,” Lan Sizhui says at length.

“No, I know. I’m just saying. Young Mistress,” he adds, sweeping into a deep, performative bow in front of Jin Ling, “if you’ll come with me, your presence is earnestly awaited by Young Master Ouyang in the library pavilion.”

“Shut up, Jingyi, I swear,” Jin Ling snaps, but he lets himself be herded away with only a single worried glance back at his uncle.

Lan Sizhui is gazing up at Jiang Cheng with a complicated expression. Even though the explosive anger of that disastrous dinner doesn’t seem likely to make a reappearance, there is still something troubled in his eyes.

“I wanted to apologize, shushu,” the boy says slowly. “Properly, that is. For the way I spoke to you last time.”

Ah. So the stiffness isn’t born of lingering irritation, but worry. These Lans, Jiang Cheng thinks, with significantly less venom than he’s used to thinking of the Lan sect with.

He has a well of patience for his nephews that has never run dry. Jin Ling has stretched it nearly to the limit, more than once, but it will take Lan Sizhui more than one emotional outburst to come even close. Given that they’ve only been family (for given value of the word) for a short while, it makes sense that Lan Sizhui wouldn’t know that.

“It wasn’t you that I was angry with, not really,” Lan Sizhui says, explaining when Jiang Cheng has already largely guessed. “I know that you care about baba in your own way, even if a-die doesn’t think so. But—there are—”

His young face folds in frustration, less remarkably than Jin Ling’s does when he’s having a snit, but just a creased forehead speaks volumes in this repressed sect.

“There are other people. Who say similar things. And they don’t mean it the way you mean it.”

Jiang Cheng knows that. He attended those meetings, too.

“And let me guess,” he says, “my idiot brother doesn’t want you speaking up for him.”

Lan Sizhui’s mouth twists. “He says that he did horrible things, and those people are well within their rights to feel about him however they want to feel about him. But—he did good, too. He protected my clan, even though he had to do it alone. I don’t remember very much,” he goes on, slightly quieter, “but I know that he made the Burial Mounds a warm and safe place for me. I know that I never felt scared or cold or hungry when I was there with him. And I don’t think most people could have done that.”

Jiang Cheng boxes up the involuntary pain that swells into place at the poking of this half-healed wound, and gives himself a moment to organize a reply. Talking to the mind-healer his chief physician recommended to him has helped a lot, not that he’ll give that smug witch the satisfaction of admitting it.

“Wei Wuxian hurt a lot of people, but so did everyone else,” he says when he’s certain he can say it without losing his composure. “We were at war. None of us are blameless. He was just the most convenient scapegoat. He still is.”

Lan Sizhui’s eyes are bright with vindication. He was born a Wen and raised a Lan, but there’s a streak of Jiang in there, too, Jiang Cheng thinks with pride. It’s that love that Jiang Cheng recognizes, the same kind of love that he and jiejie and Wei Wuxian had cultivated between them since they were children—the vicious, untamed kind of love that marches to war and claws its way up from hell and clings too hard to things it rightly should let go of.

“It isn’t fair,” Lan Sizhui says.

“No,” Jiang Cheng allows. “It isn’t.”

Wei Wuxian waves animatedly at Jiang Cheng from across the room, even though it makes Lan Qiren scowl at him. It’s reminiscent of every single stuffy banquet they had to sit through as kids, making faces at one another when Madam Yu’s eyes were turned away.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes in return, and Wei Wuxian lights up like he’s been handed a pile of gold. Lan Wangji gazes at him with a tenderness that would be absolutely absurd if Wei Wuxian didn’t actually deserve every scant inch of it that got sent his way, and even though the entire cultivation world is waiting, he spares a moment to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Wei Wuxian’s ear.

Sect Leader Yao scoffs, a bit too loudly. “Shameless upstart.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes turn so sharp so fast that it promises violence.

Before he can say anything that starts another war, Jiang Cheng turns fully around in his seat.

“Problem?” he asks shortly.

Baffled, Sect Leader Yao’s gaze skates around the room for a moment before landing back on Jiang Cheng.

“If you have something to say about my brother,” Jiang Cheng says, his voice a snarl, zidian sparking on his arm, “say it so that I can hear you.”

“Ah, this meeting is off to such a lively start,” Wei Wuxian says into the ominous stillness of the room. “Shidi, you’re so energetic, why don’t you kick things off?”

It would be the first time in his career that he’s the first to speak at a conference. Openly disbelieving, Jiang Cheng looks from his brother to Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji’s eyes are narrowed, but not as though he’s sizing Jiang Cheng up for a coffin, which is how he usually sizes him up. All he does is tip his head incrementally, conceding the floor to him.

Gods. It’s that simple.

“You are really not a difficult person, are you?” Jiang Cheng says aloud.

“No,” Lan Wangji agrees, this force of nature who turned the world upside down and challenged every single person in it, who would do so again and again and again, just to be able to sit there and hold Wei Wuxian’s hand.

And then, in the closest the two of them have ever come to an understanding, Lan Wangji adds, “Neither are you.”

#mo dao zu shi #the untamed #yunmeng shuangjie #jiang cheng #wei ying #lan sizhui #mdzs #wangxian #my writing #mdzs fic

351 notes · View notes

figonas · 4 years

Text

As Warm As The Sun-Part 1

“When he wakes there is crisp sunlight streaming through his chambers, yellow as a daffodil and nearly as warm as Jude felt in his arms. In limbo between awake and asleep Cardan thinks he might have dreamt that part of the evening as well”

Summary: Takes place during The Wicked King pretty much right before the Queen of Mirth scene and Chapter 15. This is just a soft, fluffy response to the prompt “hug me I command it”.

Words: 1623

Rating: GA

Links: Part 2-Jude POV | AO3

A/N: Tumblr user @jurdanhell brought this prompt up to me and our initial discussion that it didn’t really fit Cardan morphed into “wait yes this is exactly Cardan behavior”. This is my first work on AO3 so kudos would be greatly appreciated, if it gets enough love I might re-write the scene from Jude’s perspective!

********

Revels all tended to blend together, an endless stream of music and alcohol that somehow left Cardan feeling as desperately alone as always even when in a room bursting with folk of all shapes and sizes. This particular revel was different, if only because Jude was still hovering around him long after she would have normally retreated to her chambers or the Court of Shadows. He could feel her eyes on him, as heavy as the weight of his crown as she stared daggers at him from her position to the side of his throne.

Ordering Jude to do anything would be ordering a knife thrust into his own back, High King or no. So Cardan merely asked Jude to attend the revel in its entirety, but he did so in front of the Living Council, several members of the Low Courts, and Locke who rose to challenge and prod Jude without needing to be asked. There was no way for her to refuse that wouldn’t be seen as backing down from his challenge, so through gritted teeth, Jude graciously accepted his invitation. He didn’t know why he had asked her, perhaps he simply wanted to annoy her in a way that would require little effort from him, or perhaps he wanted to know how she would retaliate. A small part of him whispered that he just wanted her company but he made sure to drown that part of him with plenty of wine earlier in the night. Too much wine though Cardan is loath to admit it, and now as the night winds down he’s not entirely sure he can make it back to his rooms on his own. It wouldn’t be the first time one of his guards has dragged their High King to bed and dropped him on his royal ass but Cardan dislikes the idea all the same. Moving to stand he lurches too far forward and nearly falls off the raised dais before Jude’s hand closes on the back of his cloak pulling him backward where he crashes into her solid presence. “As much as it would amuse me to watch you fall after you made me stand here all night for no reason, I’m too tired to pick you up off the floor,” Jude hisses in his ear, she throws one of his arms across her shoulders as her other arm snakes around his waist. “Dearest Jude, are you trying to take me to bed?” Cardan tries his best to wiggle his eyebrows at her but he’s too focused on his feet as they descend the dais steps and begin the long trek to his rooms. “Don’t push your luck or I’ll leave you to sleep on the floor in the middle of the burgh”. He laughs despite her threat and out of the corner of his eye he sees a small smile on Jude’s lips.

Cardan’s inebriated mind is not as trained at quashing his feelings for Jude as his sober mind is. As they make their way through the palace halls he has the sudden, sickening thought that he likes this, being embraced by Jude Duarte even if it’s only to help him to his rooms. She seems to have forgotten she’s repulsed by him, letting him lean on her as much as he needs. Cardan decides that he would get mindlessly drunk every night if it meant Jude would hold him this way but, perhaps mercifully, they make it to his rooms before he can voice this out loud. The moment she releases him he misses her warmth, her feeling of life and strength, of mortality. Before he knows what he’s saying he opens his mouth to speak. “Embrace me again,” he says, drunk and foolish, he can see the shock on her face despite her desperate attempt to hide it, but even Jude master of power and control, cannot stop the flush rising across her cheeks. Is it desire? Anger? Embarrassment? Cardan doesn’t care, he likes this Jude best; off her guard, almost susceptible to his charms but not quite, she is Jude Duarte after all. She recovers quickly, her expression cooling into something like boredom. “Go to bed Cardan” she points at the monstrously empty bed and he imagines it will be just as cold and lonely as he feels now. “But I am your king, Jude I command it,” he says with what he hopes is a playful smile, but is more than likely a fool’s grin. “So I say again, embrace me and then I will concede and go to bed”. Jude opens her mouth to speak but quickly shuts it with an audible snap of teeth.

She’s at war with herself he realizes suddenly, he can nearly see the thoughts racing in her head. He expects her to push back and fight with him, or to leave him where he stands not caring if he makes it to bed or collapses on the floor right here. Impossibly she does neither, instead, she reaches for him and wraps her arms around his midsection, her cheek resting on his shoulder. Cardan is frozen for what feels like an eternity but is only a handful of seconds as her warmth seeps into his very bones. He wraps his arms around her, returning the embrace before she changes her mind. “I’m only doing this because I’m too tired to fight with you about going to bed,” Jude mumbles softly, Cardan barely hears her above his pounding heart, but he can feel her words from where she’s pressed against his chest. He wants to tighten his grip on her to ensure himself this is real. He wants to bury his face in the crook of her neck and inhale the scent that haunts his dreams; her scent, so uniquely human, so wholly Jude. Through sheer force of will, he stops himself from indulging in either of these fantasies that would most likely only shatter this tender moment or result in him getting stabbed, he is equally disappointed at the thought of either possibility.

Jude seems to forget, if only for a moment, that it’s Cardan’s arms around her, his shoulder her cheek rests on, his neck that she tickles with her soft exhales. She relaxes just a little in a way he didn’t know she could, her palms flattening against his back, the ever-present tension leached slightly from her shoulders. He indulges in the impulse of stroking her lower back with his thumbs, he’s emboldened to tighten his grip on her just a fraction when Jude doesn’t react to the small movement. They stand in silence for several moments, Cardan’s heart racing at a worrying speed. Suddenly, Jude inhales deeply which turns into a wide yawn and she steps back rubbing the heel of her hand across one eye. “Alright, Your Majesty I indulged your wishes,” she’s interrupted by another, smaller yawn which she covers with the back of her hand. Cardan’s hands are still resting lightly on Jude’s waist, she doesn’t move from his touch. “Now to bed with you so I can get in my own. One of us has to be alert enough to run the kingdom,” she points in the direction of his bed and Cardan drops his hands. He is again shocked by how cold his room feels without her pressed against him. He quashes the urge to touch her again, he knows she will not indulge him a second time. When he turns he sways slightly, Jude rolls her eyes and places her hand on the small of his back guiding him to bed. “Careful with your orders Jude or I will tell everyone that you were kind to me,” he laughs to himself though it is not at all funny. “Though I don’t think anyone would believe me”. “You won’t remember this tomorrow anyway,” they reach the bedside where she gives him a gentle shove and he drops unceremoniously onto his too-large bed. The motion sets his head swimming. He steals one last, longing look at Jude before closing his eyes; her cheeks flushed, eyes tired, impenetrable walls lowered the tiniest bit. Cardan tucks the image away to think of when she’s gone and he’s left alone in the sea of cold blankets. “Oh Jude, loveliest of afflictions, I will remember this night for years to come,” he hears her scoff as she steps away from the bed. “We’ll see about that tomorrow,” she sounds amused as she speaks and if Cardan’s head wasn’t spinning so badly he would peel his eyes open just to see one of Jude’s rare smiles. He hears her footsteps retreating toward the door where she stops, he’s nearly overtaken with sleep when he hears her voice call softly back to him. “Goodnight Cardan”. She’s gone before he can respond and Cardan succumbs to sleep only moments later.

She’s there in his dreams as she is most nights. Cardan tries to speak to dream Jude, but the only word he can say is her name; Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude. Over and over again, he calls her name like a curse, a prayer, the last desperate words of a dying man, a humble supplicant whispering the name of an honored deity. When he wakes there is crisp sunlight streaming through his chambers, yellow as a daffodil and nearly as warm as Jude felt in his arms. In limbo between awake and asleep Cardan thinks he might have dreamt that part of the evening as well, but as he shifts under the sheets her scent wafts from the fabric of his shirt into his nostrils. He clutches the fabric tightly, inhaling deeply he smiles to himself before drifting off again to a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

#my first work that isn’t for my OCs #wow it’s weird to have something finished for once #the folk of the air #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #Cardan’s POV #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #orginal work #fanfiction

229 notes · View notes

court-of-forever-undone · 3 years

Text

My Sister’s Love | Taryn POV

Chapter Three

Summary: Taryn pieces together her memories of Cardan and Jude’s early interactions as she reflects on how their relationship came to be and the events of the last year. As happy as she is for them, she can’t help but feel jealous of the moments they share.

Tags: Taryn’s POV of Jude x Cardan, Final Part

Read on AO3

After that dinner, we found Jude awake in her old rooms sitting with Tatterfell and Oak. For a moment, it was easy to pretend nothing had happened. She wore one of the black gowns she favored since becoming seneschal and was eating from a tray in front of her. But as she turned to face us, the wince she failed to hide and the paleness of her skin were reminders that she had nearly died just days ago. Her hair had been braided to mimic a crown, which was another reminder that my sister was not the same twin I had known.

Before we had a chance to talk, Cardan appeared. He likely came straight from his rooms, after finding them empty. Every fiber of my being wanted to grab Jude’s arm when Cardan asked her to join him, but I saw the dusting of pink spread across her cheeks as she saw him in the doorway, so I stood there silently. Jude would have probably ignored any word of caution coming from me anyways. We still had yet to fully come to terms with everything that happened between us.

When it had been hours and Jude had yet to return, I went to the royal chambers to see if she had gone straight there, but instead, I found Garrett.

While Jude had at least recovered some from her near-death experience, Garrett looked like the ghost of the beautiful sandy-haired boy I had met before. It might have been a funny observation given his code name, but all humor was lost in the moment. He had lost weight and his face had sunken in. When our eyes met, I saw the plea in them before he opened his mouth.

The next few hours were a blur. When Jude finally arrived at Hollow Hall, I was surprised to see she had allowed Cardan to come along. Cardan had proved he would follow my sister into the heart of an enemy war camp, despite better judgment, but this time Jude had chosen to invite him along with her.

After I commanded Garrett to stop, cursing myself for not thinking to do it earlier, we moved to a parlor room and I explained how we had come to know each other through Locke’s carelessness.

We discussed the events of what Garrett had done at Locke and Madoc’s command. It turned out that Garrett had been the one to shoot Queen Orglah. Even if he had been commanded to do it, Nicasia and the seafolk would see him as a traitor and demand that he be punished, which meant his life was entirely at the mercy of Jude and Cardan. I couldn’t help but see the resemblance to my own situation.

When Cardan made a comment about me lurking around the palace, I revealed that I had no intention of going anywhere until I knew that Jude would be safe. Our relationship may be strained, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make up for my actions.

Cardan wore an expression that showed he was tired of this conversation. “Jude and I had a misunderstanding. But we’re not enemies. And I am not your enemy, either, Taryn.”

As a faerie, I knew he couldn’t lie, but that didn’t matter. Maybe he didn’t think of us as enemies, he could still think of us as toys.

“But you think everything’s a game. You and Locke.” His name tasted like ash in my mouth.

“Unlike Locke, I never thought love was a game. You may accuse me of much, but not that.” Cardan shared softly.

The air in the room shifted as Cardan's gaze fell upon Jude, who refused to even look in his direction before quickly changing the subject.

For the first time, it was not just me who was drawing a comparison between our loves. While Cardan’s words came out more as a confession to Jude than a taunt at me, the words still stung. Locke had thought love to be a game. But Cardan, the cruel, spoiled prince did not think love was a game.

How had I believed Locke was my future?

In the carriage back to the palace, Cardan broke the silence by asking about some of the things he had seen on his way to Vivi’s apartment. Most of his questions were about the dishwasher which had been running in the apartment, how mortal mailboxes worked, how secure they were in protecting incoming mail, and what slushies tasted like.

By the end of the ride, I couldn’t help but laugh at his questions which seemed so trivial given the circumstances we all found ourselves in. When we were alone I turned to Jude, who was barely awake on her feet.

“Do you trust him?” I asked. It was the question that had been gnawing at me since our return.

Jude thought for a moment before sighing. “Sometimes,” she responded.

It was enough to make me warn her. Did I think Cardan loved her? Yes. But was Cardan trustworthy? It was hard to forget the years of our childhood together that suggested otherwise and if Jude who had gotten to know him closer than any of the rest of us questioned it, then it was probably best not to.

I had been blinded by my love for Locke that I trusted him to take care of me. I didn’t want the same to happen to Jude, even if seeing them care for each other made my heart ache with envy.

____________________________________________________________

In the days leading up to Madoc’s arrival, all of Elfhame seemed to be on alert; waiting for something to happen. Whispers that bordered on treason could be heard on the grounds and it seemed that everyone had begun placing bets on the outcome of the meeting. It seemed that many of the Folk had questions around the legitimacy of a human queen and the chance the High King’s army stood against a Redcap led army.

Madoc would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Vivi, Jude, and I all knew that. I did not have to attend strategy meetings to know they were facing a serious threat.

Amidst the preparations for possible battle, the whole castle seemed to note the change in the High King and Queen’s dynamic. For one, their marriage was now common knowledge, but more than that there was a closeness between them that had never been there before.

At first, it was not-so-secret handholding and shared looks at mealtimes. Once at dinner, Cardan made a joke about the dangers of in-laws and Jude rolled her eyes before letting a real smile show.

Then, rumors began to spread that a servant had walked into the royal chambers to replace the bedding and apparently caught the two in a compromising position even though they were supposed to be in a war meeting.

I was doubtful when I first heard, but I even overheard some council members complaining about how they missed when the two bickered all meetings instead of ditching meetings to sneak off together.

The new development had only lasted a matter of days, so I hadn’t figured out if it stemmed from a need for distraction given the impending situation or if the two had formed a more intimate relationship since Jude’s return to health.

The look of devastation on Jude’s face after Cardan transformed suggested that whatever their relationship entailed, Jude had begun to share feelings for him that went beyond hate or tolerance.

When Cardan snapped the blood crown, the air turned stale and the ground hardened. I couldn’t tear my eyes off of Cardan, as his body seemed to melt and twist into the monstrous snake.

The ground shook as the snake moved through the room headed straight for the sword maker. By the time Grimsen was swallowed, I was being pushed deeper into the castle by the flow of the crowd desperate to get to safety. I only got a glimpse of the horror on Jude’s face before she was completely out of sight.

By the time I finally saw her later, I saw the tear stains on her cheeks and the exhaustion behind her eyes. I wondered if she was mourning Cardan or perhaps she was coming to terms with her own future. If Cardan could not be saved, Jude would likely not last long on the throne. The lower courts might seize the chance or the undersea would. That is if our father didn’t dethrone her first.

For the first time in months, I thought I might be able to understand her again. Like me, her husband gave her a level of security that was uncommon for a human in Faerie. While Jude may try to say her motivations for marrying Cardan were different from me marrying Locke, I don’t think they were. They were both motivated by power and protection.

I married Locke for protection in Elfhame. My position as his wife also gave me a degree of power I never had before. Jude married Cardan to become High Queen. She could have become the most powerful knight alive and still not have been afforded the same level of protection she has as Cardan’s queen. While we may have had different expectations for our marriages, both were strategic.

Madoc taught us that it is harder to hold onto power than it is to gain it. It is even harder to hold on when it is just you. Together, she and Cardan had a chance at maintaining the throne, but alone the chances were slim.

I may have lost almost every privilege I had as Locke’s wife, but Jude had a lot more to lose without Cardan; including her life.

In his absence, the happiness that Jude showed disappeared entirely. When she wasn’t in meetings, she could be found in the destroyed throne room and truly seemed to mourn him.

I recognized some of her pain, though her situation was different of course. I knew what it was like to feel the suffocating sense of loneliness. After all, I had gone months without hearing from my sisters or my parents, all while stuck in a relationship that was on tilted ground from the start.

I knew the pain of losing a partner. Locke died by my hand, but it did not stop the mixed emotions that came after. In the instant I decided to act, I lost any promise of a safe future in Elfhame.

We both knew what it was like to be humans in Faerieland; powerless to watch as the monsters closed in from all sides. In a land where the food, wine, a dance, and a simple conversation could be disastrous, only she and I could truly understand the deep fear that every day brought.

When the day came to bridle the snake, my sister looked magnificent, powerful even. She looked every bit the part of High Queen. But behind her cold, fierce look, I noted the inner turmoil that plagued her.

No one had any ideas on how to save the High King. Therefore, her future came down to if she would decide to wield the snake as a weapon or not. With the serpent, Jude would have had a chance to hold her position on the throne. Without Cardan, she would likely lose everything.

If power was the only thing she wanted, it would have been a simple choice. Jude would have found the snake and ruled as the murderous queen that some fae refer to her as, for as long as she could. She hesitated though. After she dressed in Mab’s armor, she paced back and forth while she chewed her bottom lip, as she does when she is nervous or thinking. She didn’t know what she was going to do.

It was that morning that it became obvious that my sister had loved Cardan back. It was more than lust or a political arrangement. They both could claim their marriage had been strategic, and it might have started that way, but there was love between them. A love that kept her from using Cardan as a weapon.

They played their games and hurt one another, but when the other was in danger they shared the same look of desperate determination to save them. The look on Jude’s face was the same as Cardan’s when he came to Vivi’s apartment; desperate, sad, and determined.

____________________________________________________________

When Jude returned with a naked, bloody, Cardan I could not believe it. The impossible had happened.

Within a matter of hours, the palace managed to throw a feast in honor of the High King returning. I dressed quickly and made my way to join in the celebration with my siblings and Heather. Tatterfell told us that Jude would join us shortly.

At the height of the party, I spotted a familiar face trying to keep out of sight near the edge of the room. I left my spot near the musicians table and made my way towards him.

“Hello Garrett,” I said as I stopped next to him, taking in the room from his angle. Vivi, Heather, and Oak were still eating at one of the long tables. The crowd parted suddenly, so it was easy to spot Jude and Cardan as they made their way to the dancefloor.

“Taryn,” he replied with a smile.

Neither of us spoke for a moment as the kitchen servants brought out more desserts with a level of fanfare that matched the king that was being celebrated.

“Are you on king and queen duty this evening?” I asked with a nod to the direction of the dance floor.

Garrett shook his head and laughed, “Technically, I am always responsible for their safety, but I sense that the king and queen don’t wish to be followed.”

I looked back only to notice Cardan leading Jude behind the dais and out of sight.

“Then, perhaps you would like to dance?” The words slipped out before I could reason why it was a silly idea. Before I could regret my words, he offered a soft smile before extending his hand.

I let him sweep me onto the dance floor, trusting him to stop me before my feet wear out. I don’t know if it was the way his face lit up when he laughed, or because he is a member of my sister’s court of spies, or because I could command him at any time (not that I ever intend on using his name), but as we twirled and laughed together, I felt safe.

The feeling was a bit ridiculous. My future was still entirely unknown. I had a baby growing inside me, still needed to stand trial, and had no way to support myself.

Technically, both Garrett and I had committed crimes punishable by death, but at least for the evening, I was happy to share the space with him.

We stayed on the dance floor together until the sun streaked in through the windows.

____________________________________________________________

On the day of the tribunal, I could not help but tremble slightly. Cardan’s promise floated in my head, but I would never fully believe it until I was officially declared innocent. I could not believe that Jude would punish me too harshly. After all, she hated Locke for what he did, so I couldn’t imagine she was upset by my actions. At the same time, she also hated me for what I did, so it was hard to guess her thoughts.

I took my time getting ready until it was finally time to make my way to the throne room. I quietly entered and found my spot in the crowd before glancing up at the dais.

Together they sat. Two enemies who had somehow fallen in love. They had risen together through everything that had happened.

Jude made Cardan into a respectable king and Cardan made Jude queen so no one could overlook her power again.

Cardan invited me forward and in a clear voice, he granted me everything he promised. I was innocent and my child and I would inherit Locke’s titles.

I walked back to my seat and felt the weight of the last few months fall off of my shoulders.

With the ruling, I let myself imagine my future; something I had not done since the night I drove the letter opener plunge into Locke’s neck.

I had made regrettable choices in the past, but I had been given a fresh start.

I had hated the way my sisters had loving relationships, but now it was what I hope to find for myself.

I want a love that is more than security or protection or fun. I want to be with someone who encourages me to be more.

I am not in a rush to find love again. I have my child to raise, my relationships to repair, but if my sister’s love taught me anything, it is that love can happen in the most unlikely of places with the most unlikely of people.

#taryn pov #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #jude x cardan #cardan x jude #the folk of the air #tfota fanfic #jurdan fanfic #taryn duarte #the queen of nothing #the wicked king #the cruel prince #taryn and jude duarte #the duarte sisters #the cruel prince fanfiction #taryn x ghost

92 notes · View notes

merakimelareloaded · 4 years

Text

Beauty is the Beast

The following fan fic is my @mlsecretsanta gift for @buggachat for the 2020 gift exchange.

I sincerely hope Buggachat enjoys this fic, as her content has brought me a lot of joy over this past year and this gift is a chance to pay some of that back. It’s a multi-chapter fic, and I’ll be working as hard as I can to update it frequently.

Summary: When a talented young bard with something to prove walks into the life of an isolated young lord with a dark secret, not only do they find themselves drawn to each other, but also closer to the thruth about themselves.

Rating: I recommend Teen & up, as there will be some description of semi-graphic violence down the road.

Read on Ao3 instead

Chapter One: Enter the Bard

It was a quiet, average day for most in the bustling village of Miracule. Most, excluding one young bard named Nino Lahiffe, who was currently doing his best not to panic as he made his way to his new job at the Agreste estate. As an excessively wealthy noble family, they could afford to hire not only cleaning staff and knights, but also entertainers such as musicians and jesters. What Nino wasn’t expecting at the time of his hire, was that he was expected to move into one of the spare rooms of the property, so that if anyone in the family felt the urge to listen to music, he’d be there within five minutes. At the time he was too stunned to turn it down, but as he approached the gates, he wished he had. The idea of living with snobby rich people only for the sake of catering to their whims sounded awful, and that’s before thinking about how much they’d judge his appearance and his lack of etiquette. So far, he’d only met the head of staff, and even she looked down on him! He didn’t even understand why he got the job in the first place.

“If those people are smart, they’re going to care more about how talented you are than how expensive your clothes are.” His mother had said that morning. He almost laughed at that, remembering that with Princess Chloe as the only noble person he had met before, there was every chance they’d care more about his clothes than how well he can play the lute. He figured even if they were all as dreadful as the princess, it would still be worth it for the salary he’d expect on the job. With the money he’d be able to send back home, his parents would be able to upgrade their house to make it safer at night, lest the beast that terrorises the village and surrounding areas feels the urge to attack. It hadn’t ventured that far into the village too often, but it cheered him greatly to know he was helping keep his loved ones safe.

Reaching the gates, his thoughts immediately sobered. Guarding the entrance were two intimidatingly large men, who both glowered down at him as he came to a stop before them. Quickly, it dawned on him that he had not been given instructions for entering the estate. Watching their expressions grow impatient, he cleared his throat.

“G-Good morning.” He stammered out. The men didn’t react at all, faces locked as if waiting for him to say anything of value.

“I’m meant to be starting work here today as an in-house musician. My Name is Nino Lahiffe.” He continued. Still no reaction. Suddenly, Nino became anxious of the chance that he had misunderstood what he’d been told. Was he meant to arrive a different day? Was he not meant to come at all, and he hadn’t actually been hired?

“H-Has Madame Sancouer told you I was coming, or do you need to check with her before letting me in?” Nino asked, hoping name dropping the head of staff and a question would spring the imposing men into action. While the one on the left didn’t move, the one on the right let out an unpleasant laugh.

“You expect me to believe that Lord Agreste went and hired a scrawny street urchin instead of some upper-class musician?” The one on the right questioned in a cruel, mocking tone. Nino furrowed his brow, forcing his anger to quell as much as he could.

“No, but I do expect you to believe he’d pick me. I am no street urchin, sir.” Nino replied as firmly as he could. He may not have anywhere near as much wealth as the Agrestes, but he was far from destitute. Even if he was, it gave the man no right to look down on him. The laughing expression dropped back to a scowl, now far more irritated than before.

“You’ve got some nerve talking to me like that! I ought to beat you bloody and leave you for the beast, you little –”

“That’s quite enough, Sir Talan.” A sharp, familiar voice interrupted. Through the gaps in the metal gate, Nino could make out Madame Sancouer standing stoically behind it.

“You were instructed to intimidate away unwanted guests, not insult those who have been invited here. As a member of Lord Agreste’s staff it is unacceptable for you address your equals in such fashion, even more so for him to be seen talked to in such a way. You won’t be warned again.” She scolded coldly, not looking up from the scroll in her hand. Without any warning, the guard on his left silently turned to pull the lever behind him, which seemed to activate something metallic sounding and before he knew it the gate was lifting.

“Follow me, Lahiffe. Lord Agreste does not have all day.” Madame Sancouer said blankly, before pivoting sharply and walking further into the property. Nino ducked past the intimidating men, pretending not to see the one on the right scowling angrily at him, and paced quickly to catch up with the woman. His stomach flipped with anxiety as he followed her down the path leading through a large courtyard scattered with knights who were training very intensely. Between the imposing gate guards and Madame Sancouer, he wasn’t sure who he was more intimidated by. Sure, those men could probably snap his neck with one hand, but Madame Sancouer had complete control over them, not to mention she could read. He didn’t even know if noble women were allowed to read, let alone someone who was part of the working class. If she’s expected to read, what expectations did this Lord Agreste have of him?

Sooner than he’d have liked, they had wound through several hallways until they reached a set of large doors that Nino could only describe as “excessively glamourous”, as the carvings in the rich oak were far more elaborate than he’d ever think was necessary. Looking over at Madame Sancouer, Nino couldn’t help but feel as though she looked somewhat nervous. The feeling in his stomach worsened. If she was nervous, then he really didn’t stand a chance. Madame Sancouer schooled her expression back to neutral very quickly, before knocking clearly on the door.

“What is it Nathalie?” A man’s voice called, muffled but the door.

“I have brought the court musician I had hired. I thought it be best you appraise him before he settles.” Madame Sancouer replied with a clear, yet blank tone.

“Very well. Enter.” The voice said abruptly. Without hesitating, Madame Sancouer pulled the one of the double doors open and gave a subtle gesture for Nino to enter.

If he thought the doors were a lot, they were only a taste of what was to come with the room they lead to. Between the chandelier and the gilded tapestries, everything about the room screamed “I have more money than I know what to do with”. Towards the centre back of the room stood a massive, black table that was just as elaborately carved as the door. Standing on the other side of the table was an older man with fading blond hair that was slicked back out of his face, which wore an expression that somehow showed focus and boredom at the same time as he looked down at the map that was spread out in front of him. The fact that the man was yet to look up gave Nino the confidence to shift his focus to the painting on the wall behind him. The painting was enormous, stretching from the floor to the ceiling in height, and depicted the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. He couldn’t believe a real person could hold such beauty, so he could only speculate that either she was the product of an artist’s imagination, or the woman’s feature’s have been heavily embellished. Before he could ponder if that were commonplace for nobles and royalty, the man standing at the table looked up at him, forcing Nino’s attention back down to meet his gaze. He immediately regretted making eye contact with the man, as the moment their eyes locked, Nino felt as though he had been shot with an arrow with how sharp his gaze was. Was he not meant to make eye contact with the lord? Should he look away? Or would looking away show weakness? Nino severely wished he knew the first thing about etiquette before coming to this nightmare place.

“Nathalie.” Was all the man said, not breaking eye contact with Nino.

“Yes, my lord?” Madame Sancouer voiced.

“That is a child.” The lord stated. Nino bit back a retort, knowing that talking back to this man would be the stupidest thing he could do in this moment. He wasn’t a child, he was seventeen and soon to be eighteen, so he was essentially an adult at this stage in his life. Hell, most in the village were considered adults by the time they were sixteen as they could efficiently work and bear children. Nino was even tall for his age, so he’d gone passed annoyed and into confused as to why this man thought he was a child.

“I believe a more fitting term would be young adult.” Madame Sancouer commented dryly, which surprised Nino. He wasn’t expecting her to be in a position to sass her boss.

“That may be, but in terms of what talent he could have possibly accumulated in his life for music, he is essentially a child. I know I made it clear that you were to find the best.” Lord Agreste elaborated in an irritated tone, his eyes scanning up and down Nino like an apex predator.

“I have followed your criteria. “Best” does not mean “most experienced”. Out of everyone I saw, he showed a range of becoming qualities that made him the best suited to our needs. He not only had just as much talent as men several years his senior, he also has an impressive repertoire and was far more up to date with modern styles than the other candidates. He composes his own music too, so you’d be far less likely to grow bored with his playing. As for his age… if I may be candid, I believe it would be good for Adrien to practise with someone his own age. After examining his training with the knights, his performance always improved when partnered with a knight that was closer to his age.” Madame Sancouer explained thoroughly. Nino hoped his dark skin hid the heat that was rising to his cheeks. He had no idea he had made that much of an impression on the stoic woman. But his joy at the appraisal halted at recalling the name she had mentioned. Adrien. Where had he heard that name before?

“I hope this isn’t some poor attempt at giving my son a friend, Nathalie. He is already friends with the princess, he doesn’t need some common boy for company.” Lord Agreste groaned, rolling his eyes and finally shifting his gaze away from Nino. That’s right. When he had met Princess Chloe, she had mentioned her friend Lord Adrien and prattled on about how the two of them were perfect for each other and when they got married no peasants would be allowed to attend because she didn’t want them to ruin her big day with how filthy they were. If he had known that a requirement of his job would involve spending time with someone who was a perfect match that nightmare girl, he’d have definitely turned it down.

“It was merely a choice I made based on observations of Adrien’s performance levels. Nothing more.” Nathalie replied, expression completely schooled to show no emotion. Lord Agreste sighed before returning his attention to the map.

“Very well. Take him to his room, then introduce him to my son.” He commanded with a lazy wave. With that cue, Nino hastily followed Madame Sancouer out of the room, eager to leave the intimidating man’s presence as swiftly as possible. She led him down more corridors and across a couple of different courtyards, eventually leading him into a section of the estate that while much plainer than where he’d met the lord, was still considerably more decadent than the home he grew up in back at the village.

“This is the staff quarters, where you’ll be staying while you are employed by Lord Agreste. When you are not summoned, you may stay in your room or relax in the courtyards where you can be easily found. If you for some reason need to be anywhere else on the property make sure the nearest guard is aware of where you are going so you can be found quickly if you are called upon.” Madame Sancouer explained to him as they made their way down a hallway, before they came to a stop in front of a simple, unmarked door.

“This is your room. Put down all your possessions except for your lute, then we’ll go to the young lord’s quarters.” She instructed, standing stiffly by the door as she waited for him to finish. He quickly entered the room, placing his worn-out bags on the decent looking bed. The room looked pretty good to him. On the opposite side to the bed, he had a dresser and a desk, and the far wall had a large window that opened out to a balconette that was just large enough for a person to perch on if they wished to sit and feel a nightly breeze. He couldn’t ask for more, really.

Deciding he could inspect his room further later, he darted back out of the room, shutting the door behind him. With a brief nod, Madame Sancouer was on her way again, leaving Nino to trail behind once more. As they walked, Nino silently prayed that he would not have to spend too much time with young Lord Adrien if he was anything like Chloe. After what felt like walking to the opposite side of the property, it finally clicked that Madame Sancouer had said the young lord had his own quarters. This section of the estate was twice the size of the staff quarters, and a thousand times more extravagant.

“How can one person need this much space?” He thought out loud, immediately blanching at his lack of control. Madame Sancouer quirked an eyebrow at him, before turning her eyes back to the direction they were walking.

“The young lord is prohibited from leaving the estate, so Lord Agreste decided it would be best if he was provided anything he could want or need within his quarters, so that he may never be tempted to leave.” She answered. He stopped himself from rolling his eyes. One the one hand, this guy sounded just as pampered as the princess. On the other hand, he felt a little sorry for him. A gilded prison is still a prison, after all. After a few minutes, they reached a beautifully decorated set of double doors that were lined with several locks, with a bored looking knight standing guard. When the knight noticed their approach, he jolted into a better posture and scrambled for the set of keys on his belt. Meanwhile, Madame Sancouer pulled out her own set of keys and made her way to the door. Nino watched as she unlocked half the locks, and the knight the other half in pure disbelief. What in the world did Lord Agreste think was going to happen to his son? Surely nobody would want to kidnap him that bad. Once the locks were done, the knight pulled the doors open for the pair of them, gesturing for them to enter.

As Nino walked in, his eyes blew wide open in shock at the size of the room. He’d guess it was as large as his entire house back home, and this was only the bedroom! Looking between the canopy bed, the bookshelves, the chaise lounge, and the clavichord, he wondered what all the other rooms were even for. He scanned the room looking for its inhabitant, only to realise nobody was in here.

“Adrien?” Madame Sancouer called out, only looking nervous for a second before managing to school her expression once more.

“I’m out here, Nathalie!” A bright voice chimed back from beyond the window, which he soon realised was more of a door, which lead to a large looking balcony, from what he could see. Madame Sancouer led him to the glass doors and out onto the sunny balcony.

On a stone bench pressed right against the rail of the balcony sat a poised looking young man whose golden hair caught and bounced the sunlight as though it were made from its beams. Like the senior Lord Agreste, he was also dressed exquisitely, his black jacket and pants fitting his lean form perfectly. The young man had his head turned away from them as he leaned on the rail to look at whatever view he had.

“Adrien, you have a visitor.” Madame Sancouer announced. The young man, now confirmed as Adrien, perked up as he turned to face them. Nino held back a gasp as he took in the young lord’s face. His vivid green eyes were a perfect match for the woman in the portrait, and the young man’s face was every bit as beautiful as he had previously speculated was impossible to be real, if not more. Adrien’s expression brightened with visible excitement as he looked at Nino. The bard wasn’t sure what confused him more; why this guy was so excited to see someone he’d never met before, or why his own heart was suddenly beating so fast.

Next Chapter

#ml secret santa #gift fic #miraculous ladybug #adrino #adrinino #ninoir #werecat au #medieval au #romance #pining #fluff #eventual angst #adrien agreste #nino lahiffe #nathalie sancouer #gabriel agreste #le gorille #plagg

180 notes · View notes

eleanorfenyxwrites · 2 years

Text

After Each Midnight Begins A New Day

Extra #13a - 'Technically A Cutsleeve?' (Mo Xuanyu and Lan Jingyi)

[Part 1]

[Masterpost] [AO3]

-/-

For the first time since the arrival of their visitors in Jinlintai, Mo Xuanyu attends dinner with his family. He’s missed them this week and a half, eating his meals alone in his rooms, but he tries not to let it show too much as he listens to the familiar patterns of their conversation now interrupted and enriched by the voices of their three visitors.

None of the guests speak to him directly during the meal, but that’s fine by him. Jin Lu monopolizes his attention for the evening instead, regaling him with every story she deems important that he’s missed while not attending family meals, and by the time she’s yawning over her last bowl of soup everyone else is preparing to leave for their beds as well. He rises and helps Jin Lu and Jin Zhuang to their feet, taking their hands in his and saying his goodnights to everyone he needs to before he leads the children from the pavilion to take them to their own rooms. He feels eyes on his back as he leaves, but what else is new.

Mo Xuanyu puts the children to bed with a story for Jin Lu and an affectionate, gentle headbutt - forehead to forehead - for Jin Zhuang, who has recently decided he’s much too old for lullabies unless he plays them for himself on his guqin.

He’s making his way slowly back to his own rooms, lost in thought, when he hears his name and he stops, turning to look for the source only to realize he’s outside Jin Ling’s rooms. He climbs the steps on silent feet to shamelessly eavesdrop, surprised to hear Jin Zixuan rather than Jiang Yanli through the closed door.

“...-havior towards Yu-didi has been completely unacceptable, A-Ling,” Jin Zixuan is saying and it’s clear that though the scolding has already begun, it’s still early yet. Mo Xuanyu settles in with his shoulder and ear pressed to the wooden doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he listens. “You singled him out as the only member of the family not to meet your friends when they arrived, and I said nothing because he agreed to it out of love for you; but today you treated him like he was beneath you in front of three visiting cultivators, two of whom are their sect heirs and the third of whom is his sect’s first disciple and a potential heir as well!”

“Dad -”

“Do not interrupt me right now, A-Ling. Yu-didi is not only your family, he is your senior, and he deserves your respect like anyone else of his rank - your mother and I raised you better than this. I don’t know when you got this idea in your head that Yu-didi is somehow less than my other siblings, but he is still your uncle and you do not have the right to tell him to stay isolated in the family quarters for over a week because you don’t want him to meet your friends!”

“Dad, he’s embarrassing! No one else in the world acts like he does!”

“I don’t care that you’re embarrassed, A-Ling!!” Mo Xuanyu’s breath hitches in his chest and for the second time that day his eyes fill with tears. “Have you ever once seen me lock my brother in his rooms because he embarrasses me? I’ve seen him do and say every shameless thing I can think of - and a thousand other things besides that I would have never even dreamed of - but I still make sure that he knows every day that I want him here, that this is his home and he has every right to be himself here. Do you want to know what he said to your mother after he left you and your friends in the garden?”

Utter silence greets the question and Mo Xuanyu puts a hand to his chest as if that would calm the thundering of his heart or make it easier for him to draw his next breath.

“Because of you, he’s afraid that not only you but all of your siblings will also want to keep him hidden away from everybody when it’s their turn to invite members of other sects here. He loves you so much, A-Ling, and he cried on your mother’s shoulder because he thinks you’re ashamed of people finding out you’re related, and now he’s scared that all of you feel this way. How could you do this to him?!”

“A-Xuan.” Jiang Yanli’s soft voice is hardly audible through the door. Mo Xuanyu tucks himself even closer, curling in on himself and closing his eyes to better hear her. “We should give A-Ling time to think of an appropriate way to apologize to A-Yu.”

“Fine. We’ll revisit it again tomorrow after dinner. And after your friends have finished with their visit you’re going to spend a month working with me, especially during the audiences we have with other sect leaders. It’s time you get a real look at what your uncle has to deal with from everyone outside of this family - and what he does for this sect every day without anyone’s thanks but mine, your mother’s, and Mianmian’s.”

Mo Xuanyu hastily backs away from the door and hurries soundlessly down the steps as he realizes their meeting is coming to an end and he darts around the corner towards his own pavilion with a shuddery sigh. He tucks himself into the eaves of the building to try to catch his breath, but he doesn’t get very many in before he’s tentatively interrupted.

“Mo-gongzi?”

He looks up, startled, to find Lan Jingyi hesitating a few paces away.

“Oh - Lan-gongzi. Hello,” he says with a hasty swipe of his fingertips under his eyes, grateful that Qin Su had neglected to add more kohl to his look earlier and had instead just given him a gentle kiss of pink rouge around his eyes. At least this time he isn’t in danger of smearing it everywhere with his tears.

“Ah-hah..you can just call me Jingyi if you want to,” Lan Jingyi laughs nervously and Mo Xuanyu manages to muster up a smile for him.

“Call me Xuanyu, then. I hate formalities.”

“Ah..alright. Xuanyu. Are you okay?”

“Oh. Um.”

“I’m just asking because Jin Ling was a real brat today, and..I mean. We all kind of figured he’d said or done something to get you in trouble, which is ridiculous because everyone knows he’s bound to be the bitchiest and most biased person in any confrontation, no matter who the other person is, so it’s not like whatever he could have said would have been believable.”

Mo Xuanyu blinks for a second before he has to stifle (slightly wet) laughter into his sleeve.

“Oh gods are you sure you’re a Lan, kid?”

“To just about everyone’s confusion, yeah. I get asked that a lot.”

“Yeah I’ll bet you do,” Mo Xuanyu chuckles as he dabs at his eyes with his sleeve.

“Oh, here - you don’t have to use your sleeve like that,” Lan Jingyi fumbles with his own sleeve for a second before he passes him a snow-white handkerchief and Mo Xuanyu is caught off guard by the gesture, though he doesn’t let that keep him from using the cool silk to keep drying his eyes.

“Jin Ling has told us a little bit about his family tree...situation,” Jingyi prompts when the silence has dragged on for a few long moments and Mo Xuanyu can’t help but snort at that.

“‘Situation’,” he quotes back with a nod. “Sure, that’s one way to put it. You mean how the whole thing is pretty much a circle because his uncles are all already related, and the ones who aren’t are married to each other?”

“No, I meant - wait yes! What is with that?!” Lan Jingyi bursts out and Mo Xuanyu hides another laugh in the handkerchief.

“Don’t ask me! They were all already married by the time I got here. Oh, except for Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang. I actually got to go to that one, but apparently that was just because their sect negotiations took forever since they’re both sect leaders, but they’ve been courting since they went to their lecture season in Gusu anyway so it barely counts.”

“Oh okay. Huh…Well I only mention it anyway because the idiot told us he has two Jin uncles and we all knew Lianfang-zun is in Cloud Recesses and you were here, but Jin Ling kept making really weak excuses for why you couldn’t meet us and we were all judging him. We think he was being awful.”

To say that Mo Xuanyu is startled would be the understatement of the century. He glances at the building they’re standing in the shelter of, remembers that Jin Ling’s rooms are right on the other side of the wall next to them, and without thinking he steps forward to loop his arm through Lan Jingyi’s with a conspiratorial wink.

“Walk with me,” he hums as he tugs Lan Jingyi along the path. His arm is stiff in his grip like he doesn’t quite know what to do with it and when Mo Xuanyu glances at him it’s to find that he’s blushing furiously and staring straight ahead as they walk. “So you all knew I was here, hm?” He prods as he leads Lan Jingyi away from the complex of family residences and back towards the guest quarters.

“Well I mean yeah,” Lan Jingyi snorts without a care in the world - absolutely nothing of the Lan stoicism in this one and Mo Xuanyu is delighted. “Jin Ling told us himself that you’re his uncle and that you don’t really travel so you’re always here to hang out with him and his siblings and stuff, but then you magically can’t make it to anything we’re all doing for over a week? Plus he looked guilty every time one of us asked about you. We’re not stupid!”

Mo Xuanyu is uncharacteristically quiet for a few slow steps as he thinks about how to answer. Normally he wouldn’t care, of course, but he had promised Jin Ling he wouldn’t scare his friends off, and he didn’t know yet what they could handle. He’s not very good at censoring himself though so after a long moment he sighs gustily and shakes his head a little, hair ornaments tinkling.

“A-Ling forgets sometimes, I think, that not everyone in the world is actually at his beck and call,” Mo Xuanyu says a bit tartly and Lan Jingyi laughs, short and barking. His arm finally relaxes under Mo Xuanyu’s hand as he no doubt gets over the impropriety of it and Mo Xuanyu allows himself a little smile.

“Did he tell you not to talk to us or something?”

Mo Xuanyu clears his throat a little. “Yeah. Or something.”

“He really earns his title of Young Mistress, spoiled like he is,” Lan Jingyi scoffs under his breath and Mo Xuanyu can’t help but snort, which he quickly tries to cover with little success.

“Oh gods is that what you boys call him?” he asks, delighted all over again, and he’s pleased to see Lan Jingyi grinning down at him (perhaps still a little shyly, perhaps with something curious still in his eyes, but at least he’s smiling).

“I came up with it when we were all in our lecture year. He acts just like one, don’t you think?”

“It’s perfect! I can’t believe I never thought of it before, I’m heartbroken that there’s someone out there who can tease A-Ling better than I can!”

“Mo-gongzi!”

Mo Xuanyu looks away from Lan Jingyi to find Ouyang Zizhen and Wen Sizhui sitting on the porch of the nearest of the guest pavilions under a few lanterns to ward off the gloom of dusk. He raises a hand to wave, startled when they both wave back - wave him over. He releases Lan Jingyi’s arm quickly, figuring after a moment that the gesture was for his companion and not him (and that he’d better stop teasing his nephew’s guest anyway), but even when Lan Jingyi goes to join his friends they keep looking at him as if they’re waiting for him too.

He drifts closer with a bit of caution in his steps - it’s been a very long time since he’s had a friend his own age or close to it, and certainly not young men. A-Ling is the closest he’s got since they were classmates once upon a time and could still be seen as the same martial generation if one squints, but that’s it. The concept has become a bit unfamiliar. How do people even make friends with people their own age?

“Mo-gongzi, Zizhen is telling stories to pass the time until it’s late enough to sleep,” Wen Sizhui says when Mo Xuanyu is close enough for the boy to be heard without having to speak up. “Would you like to join us?”

“Me?” he asks, startled, and though he’s expecting a flippant response like the type he usually gets from his nieces and nephews, this time all he gets instead is three quick nods, all just slightly out of sync with each other and painfully earnest. “Oh...Yes, alright,” he agrees with a little thrill for the novelty of it, being invited into a space. He steps up onto the porch to fall gracefully to his knees on the fourth side of the table, and something of his tentative pleasure for the invitation must show on his face because Lan Jingyi shoots him a smug smirk from across the table.

It’s almost like..like he’s proud that they got him to join them. Like Mo Xuanyu’s presence at their table for the evening is something he’ll be able to gloat about in the future.

(Mo Xuanyu does, incidentally, overhear him gloating about it to Jin Ling the next day, and he’s unsure why it makes him blush but at least his makeup hides it.)

#the untamed fanfic #Mo Xuanyu #Lan Jingyi #Lan Jingyi/Mo Xuanyu #Nonbinary Mo Xuanyu #Junior Quartet #Jin Zixuan #Ultimate Dad JZX lol #Lowkey sees MXY as like. kind of a brother kind of a son #but hearing that Jin Ling disrespected him and made him so upset brought out full dad mode so time for a Dad Lecture™#Am I posting this today because I just found out the one person I've ever been in love with is getting married in a month? lol maybe #It's a long story but anyway have people loving and sticking up for Mo Xuanyu who's my vehicle for blatant projection #For no questionable reasons at all

6 notes · View notes

nestasgalpal · 4 years

Text

Consequences

Fixing ACOSF Part 3

Masterlist | AO3

Summary: Nesta tells Feyre what the baby’ll do to her when she gives birth and regrets it as soon as the words leave her mouth. This chapter is a long one and it’s all about being sisters.They would die and kill for each other, we know that, that was never doubted, but where is the scene where they talk like real sisters? Here.

Tagging: @gwynriel @rhaenystargaryn @clolikescloquetas @amelievrstr @t8astr8ng @wanderlustlastsforever @saltydreamcollector @lordlorcan @esrahiba @queenestarcheron @ko0mbayamylord @jemstan300 @nessiantrashh @mothergwyn @poisonus-bloom @loveadora @frosted-crackers @mireillemystique @pataytayo @968sunflower968 @caram267

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!!

The next part will be Cassian’s pov from this chapter, which was in the book. I’ve said this already, but my intention is that you can simply pick this rewrite and exchange it with the one in the book and still have all the events before and after match, so I think rewriting his pov is necessary for consistency. That’s also why Nesta is still feeling lost by the end of this: that’s how she felt until they went to the lake.

Nesta snarled, but Feyre stepped between them, hands raised. “This conversation ends now. Nesta, go back to the House. Amren, you …” She hesitated, as if considering the wisdom of ordering Amren around. Feyre finished carefully, “You stay here.”

Nesta let out a low laugh. “You are her High Lady. You don’t need to cater to her. Not when she now has less power than any of you.”

Feyre’s eyes blazed. “Amren is my friend, and has been a member of this court for centuries. I offer her respect.”

“Is it respect that she offers you?” Nesta spat. “Is it respect that your mate offers you?”

Feyre went still.

Amren warned, “Don’t you say one more fucking word , Nesta Archeron.”

Feyre asked, “What do you mean?”

And Nesta didn’t care. Couldn’t think around the roaring. “Have any of them told you, their respected High Lady, that the babe in your womb will kill you?”

Amren barked, “Shut your mouth!”

But her order was confirmation enough. Face paling, Feyre whispered again, “What do you mean?”

“The wings,” Nesta seethed. “The boy’s Illyrian wings will get stuck in your Fae body during the labor, and it will kill you both.”

Silence rippled through the room, the world.

Feyre breathed, “Madja just said the labor would be risky. But the Bone Carver … The son he showed me didn’t have wings.” Her voice broke. “Did he only show me what I wanted to see?”

“I don’t know,” Nesta said. “But I do know that your mate ordered everyone not to inform you of the truth.” She turned to Amren. “Did you all vote on that, too? Did you talk about her, judge her, and deem her unworthy of the truth? What was your vote, Amren? To let Feyre die in ignorance? Or maybe he simply gave the order and you all obeyed your High Lord’s command, dismissing the new High Lady” Before Amren could reply, Nesta turned back to her sister. “Didn’t you question why your precious, perfect Rhysand has been a moody bastard for weeks? Because he knows you will die. He knows, and yet he still didn’t tell you.”

Feyre began shaking. “If I die …” Her gaze drifted to one of her tattooed arms. She lifted her head, eyes bright with tears as she asked Amren, “You … all of you knew this?”

Amren threw a withering glare in Nesta’s direction, but said, “We did not wish to alarm you. Fear can be as deadly as any physical threat.”

“Rhys knew?” Tears spilled down Feyre’s cheeks, smearing the paint splattered there. “About the threat to our lives?” She peered down at herself, at the tattooed hand cradling her abdomen.

And Nesta knew then that she had not once in her life been loved by her mother as much as Feyre already loved the boy growing within her. It broke something in Nesta—broke that rage, that roaring—seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumpling Feyre’s paint-smeared face.

She had gone too far. She … Oh, gods.

Amren said, “I think it is best, girl, if you speak to Rhysand about this.”

Nesta couldn’t bear it—the pain and fear and love on Feyre’s face as she caressed her stomach.

Amren growled at Nesta, “I hope you’re content now.”

Nesta didn’t respond. Didn’t know what to say or do with herself. “Don’t talk to my sister like that” Feyre snarled, the sorrow so obvious in her voice that the only thing Nesta could do was turn on her heel and ran from the apartment.

Nesta run down to the street, but she didn’t even know where to go. Feyre’s steps resonated behind her. Nesta could hear her voice calling her, too, but she muted the sound in her head.

She wanted to disappear, to stop existing, that’s what she wanted to do.

Then she heard the pair of wings in the air, aiming towards her in such speed that frightened her a little. Cassian was above her, barely five feet from where she was, but Feyre gripped her arm before he could land, and they vanished.

Nesta had never been to Feyre’s studio, but recognized the space immediatly. She had never been invited, and she had never wanted to go. Nesta didn’t like being in places where she wasn’t welcomed. There were chairs and half painted canvases forming a circle around the center of the room, so Nesta deduced her sister had been in the middle of a class. There was a couch against the back wall, and that’s where Feyre collapsed and started crying her heart out. Nesta aimed for the floor, not daring to sit in the beautiful piece of furniture.

Nesta didn’t ask why she had brought them there, why she had run after her, reaching for her arm before Cassian could.

Feyre didn’t explain either

Her head rested in her sister’s lap, and she joined her in her crying. Feyre’s was loud, unhinged, while Nesta’s was silent. What had she done? How had she allowed herself to go so far?

Nesta wanted to speak, to tell Feyre that she was sorry, but no apology could make up for the words that had already been said. No apology would prevent her from dying when the time came.

Nesta’s heart shattered. Listening to her sister was too much. She had endured her own weeping, the tears that had adorned her cheeks so many nights until she fell asleep, but to hear Feyre… to know she was the one responsible… Nesta hated herself.

For how long they were like that, she didn’t know. At some point, they both run out of tears, their hands together, their fingers interlaced. Nesta caressed Feyre’s palm until her sobbing was completely gone, pressing soft kisses to the inked back of her hand. She couldn’t recall a time when they had ever been like this, this calm, this close to one another. Alone and without fighting.

It was Feyre the who broke the silence.

“I can’t believe he hid something like this from me,” she muttered, her voice so weak Nesta almost couldn’t understand what she was saying.

She raised her head from her sister’s lap to meet her gaze. Her own eyes stared back, mirroring her pain. “I’m sorry”

“For what?” Feyre’s question was not innocent. She was mad at her too.

Nesta didn’t care for Rhysand and his wrath in that moment. She only cared about her sister and the damage she had done to her. She wanted Feyre to know how much she regretted it, bout still didn’t know how to put her thoughts into words. “For telling you.”

“I forgive you” Feyre tried to smile, but her mouth only twitched, a sobbing coming out again. “I’m glad you told me. I needed to know.”

“You shouldn’t. I certainly won’t forgive myself” She was desperate to tint her words with the mess of feelings tangling in her heart, but she didn’t know how. She hadn’t really done this before. She had regretted things, but she had never asked for forgiveness. Not once.

She was glad Feyre was the first one.

“I still forgive you” Her sister’s words were kind. Too kind. It was Nesta’s turn to become a crying mess, tears running down her face again. Feyre rose from the couch, not letting their hands part, holding tight to her sister. She found a place to sit next to Nesta, and hugged her.

“Then I’m sorry for everything else” Nesta murmured.

“It’s okay. I forgive you for that too”

“He will never forgive me”

Feyre took Nesta’s face between her tattooed hands. Her grip was firm, but her body was still trembling. Nesta didn’t want to look at her, but she did it anyway. There was no more hiding “You don’t need his forgiveness. This is not a punishment, Nesta.” Her voice broke, but they both waited for her to find her words back. There was no rush, only understanding “This was not a punishment. I wanted to help you, I really did, but I didn’t know how.”

Nesta shifted, changing her posture to face Feyre better. She still hadn’t let her face go. “I thought you wanted revenge.”

“I never meant to hurt you… to lock you up and take away your choices”. Nesta recognized the words she had once said to Morrigan; the only time she had verbalized to anyone how her sister's actions felt. The blond one had talked to Feyre about their encounter, apparently. Nesta pushed the inked hands that framed her face away and took Feyre’s body in her arms abruptly. She didn’t resist, only moved her arms to go around Nesta’s waist “I only wanted my sister back” she whined.

She understood. Nesta understood. She wanted her family back, too. But a war had happened, and she still doubted she would ever be adjusted enough to be herself again. She didn’t say it, but she knew, somehow, that Feyre understood that too.

Like war drums, the sound of two pairs of wings coming closer made both of them shift in each other’s arms. Through the walls of the studio, only her fae senses made it possible for her to hear the sound they made. Her arms remained wrapping Feyre’s body, her sister still like a statue.

Rhysand and Cassian.

They landed outside, their presences obvious to both sisters.

“I know it will take time for them to listen to me as they listen to him, but I also know they are trying. They are my friends, Nesta, don’t be mad at them” Feyre moved, loosening her grip on Nesta, so she did the same to leave her more space. Feyre rose to her feet. “They’ve been together for over 500 years.” She reached her hand and Nesta took it, getting up as well. The sisters faced each other “What I need, Nesta, if for you and Elain to be there for me too when I can’t resort to them. I know I’ve claimed them as my family… they are my family now, but so are you. I need you. I need my older sister” Feyre’s eyes were glassy, but her gaze burned with fire. Determination.

Nesta forced herself to hold her stare. She wished she could be there. She wanted to, but she didn’t have the strength. She was too lost.

“I will never fit in that perfect family you seek. Doesn’t matter how bad you want it, Feyre, it just can’t be. I’ll never be one of you.”

“You could...”

“But I don’t think I want to” Feyre didn’t say a word, she just listened to her “I don’t know if they can be a family for me”. Nesta wished she could, but it wasn’t just on her end. They didn’t want her either. Morrigan would have sent her to the Mortal Lands. They would get rid of her, if it wasn’t for Feyre shielding her.

You are a waste of life, Amren had told her once.

Nesta was not doing all of this on purpose. She wanted to have her life back more than anyone, but she didn’t know the way. “You can’t control people’s lives, Feyre. Even if you are doing it from a place of love. I wish I could tell you that there is a way, that I’m going to be there for you, but I don’t know if I can promise you that.”

Feyre finally sat back on the couch. She was pregnant, she must be exhausted. Her blue-ish eyes were caught up on the window, the view of the Sidra. Nesta didn’t sit by her side.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when we were younger. If I could go back now, I know what I would change. But I don’t know how to change the past, and I don’t know how to fix the future.”

Nesta didn’t know what else to say. She was sorry. Feyre was sorry too. Yet all their problems remained. Nesta wanted to die, to stop existing, and Feyre wanted her happy and by her side. She knew Feyre would give in, she would always give in if Nesta just asked her to, but she didn’t even know what to ask for. There was no solution for her, no future.

Nesta didn’t have tears left to fill her eyes. She didn’t know how to fix herself, her terrible impulse to hurt others, her high walls. She didn’t know and she didn’t want to find out anymore.

When she stayed close to the people she loved, they were hurt. But when she put distance between them, they still suffered.

She was the problem.

“I will live. And so will my baby. And so will you” Feyre’s words were the sentence of a High Lady, they were not up for discussion. Her sister had grown too much and too fast. She was far from perfect, but she was giving her all to become the ruler her Court needed. One day, she would be. “Run away, take your time if that’s what you need. Come to my house, we’ll kick Rhysand to a guest room so you can sleep in my bed when you have a nightmare. I don’t care. I won’t give up on you.”

It didn’t matter, Nesta had given up on herself.

“You don’t have to fit in the Inner Circle, you know?” She added, her eyes still fixed on the river beyond the glass windows. “You don’t have to be part of the Court. You can just be my sister. You can come see your nephew when he is born, help me teach him how to read, dance…” Not even Nesta’s inner demons could stop the smile that formed on her lips at the image her sister described. She would like to have a nephew.

Feyre saw her face, the trembling lips, swollen, the smile in them. She was smiling too, thought it was a sad grin.

“I haven’t forgotten what you said to me when I came back from Tamlin’s state. Any of it.” Nesta hadn’t forgotten either, the memory of herself encouraging her little sister to go back to the Wall to save her beloved. She had been a fool. That was just another point in the large list of times when she had failed her “You wanted to leave father’s state to him and Elain, and you wanted to see the world. Not what I expected, from someone who had spent her entire life revolving around marriage as the basis for a future.”

Nesta shifted on her feet, eager to understand what her sister’s point was.

“You don’t need to be a lady or a queen without a throne of anything at all. Just take your time, find out who you want to be when every possibility is within your reach. We’ll be waiting for you, whenever you are ready to come back. You’ll always fit in my family, Nesta. And it would be an honor for me to fit in yours.”

There was a knock on the door. An impatient hand moving on the wood to drive their attention.

The door didn’t open for them.

They had been waiting out there for a while, and without seeing him, Nesta could tell Cassian was nervous like a caged animal. Rhysand hadn’t moved, he remained perfectly still, waiting for his mate to go meet him whenever she wanted to.

“I asked Cassian to come” She didn’t mention her husband, why he was there “I’ll take us to the river house if you want to be there from now on. He can take you to the House of Wind, too, if that’s where you want to go.” Nesta dipped into the slightest nod, ready to go out and find Cassian mad at her, but still willing to take her back to her room and wait until he made sure she was okay. She wanted to be alone, but she liked how being alone together felt. Just as her sister, Cassian couldn’t let go of her. She hated it, and she had a feeling that he hated it too. He was out there, with Rhysand… “But there is a third option…”

Nesta waited for her sister to go on. Where else could she go? There wasn’t a place for her. There had never been.

“It was actually Cassian’s idea. He thought you might use a little time outside. You can go together to the Illyrian-”

“I’m not going back to that village” Nesta was not going to the camps. Not all of this again…

Nesta started building up her walls again. Feyre kept her cool. The crying mess she had been a while ago, completely gone, a confident woman replacing her; a High Lady in the making. “I was gonna say Illyrian Mountains. As in actual mountains. You’ll go hiking, I don’t know what he has planned exactly. To talk to him, if you want to.”

Nesta relaxed her back, but kept her posture straight.

“I could give that a try.” she answered. If there was an option where she went out of Velaris, she was taking it.

A smile threatened to form in Feyre’s lips, but she retained it, knowing that Nesta wouldn’t like the expression of victory on her face. Nesta had already seen the corner of her lips move, but pretended she hadn’t. Feyre had a lot to learn about keeping a blank face. She hoped one day she would be in conditions to teach her.

“Your mate is outside” Nesta said, her tone casual, her words heavy like stone.

“He is” Nesta could read her sister like an open book. She was eager to see him again, scared, angry.

She gave her little sister’s hand a tug. “Let’s go see what he has to say.”

Nesta couldn’t yet find a way to help herself, but she was going to face Rhysand, his anger, and she was going to come out on top. She was going to do it for herself, but also for Feyre, who needed her biggest sister having her back.

#nesta archeron #nesta archeron fanfic #nesta archeron fanfiction #feyre #feyre archeron #acotar fanfic #acotar fix-it fic #acosf spoilers #a court of silver flames

97 notes · View notes

prettyspence · 4 years

Text

Hanging in the Inbetween

Summary: Moving to DC proves to be the right move when you meet Emily Prentiss, finally come out to your brother, and feel like you have a happy future with somebody you could actually love.

Tags: 18+, smut, reader-insert, coming out, internalised homophobia, getting together, smut/kink tags under the cut

Pairing: Emily x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Read on AO3

Smut/Kink Tags: top!emily prentiss (but the lines kinda blur), light dom/sub, fingering, sex toys, dirty talk, kink negotiation, first time

You moved to DC for a few reasons, the first of which was that you wanted to get the fuck out of Virginia.

The move to Richmond from Manassas hadn’t even helped much: you were working in your dream field and had some distance from your family, sure, but Virginia’s still the South. And after you came to a very poignant realisation about yourself earlier in the year, you wanted to get as far away from the bigotry that defined your lived experience there as possible.

The second reason was that you missed Aaron. Your brother had moved away when you were only little, but you’d always been close and he was the only family member left that you felt you could genuinely trust with your secret, even if the idea of telling him that you liked women still left you frozen with fear.

So when he invited you to brunch with his colleagues at the FBI you agreed in a heartbeat, it seemed like a great way to meet new people in your new city and spend time with your incredibly busy older brother simultaneously.

If you had any doubts about your sexuality, Emily Prentiss would have eradicated them. As soon as she’d walked into the cafe, her enigmatic presence had captivated you and you were hooked, addicted, obsessed. She smiled warmly at you but all you could do was stare dumbly at her as you shook her hand, eventually managing a weak smile in return. It was as if she was glowing, the others dimming in comparison as you took in her breath-taking beauty. Every time she spoke your breath caught, aching to bask in her voice for the rest of your days.

It felt so dramatic, childish almost. You’d never understood that ‘take your breath away’, ‘at first sight’ kind of love, but you knew it as soon as you met Emily.

But Emily was this gorgeous, confident woman. You knew she was a lesbian, she didn’t hide that from anyone and frequently made jokes about it, and while you shared her identity, the way you approached it couldn’t have been more different. Sure, if anyone looked hard enough, they would catch the adoring looks you sent Emily at every get-together, the way you blushed at any interaction with her. Hell, even she probably knew.

But it could never happen. After years of conservative indoctrination and being surrounded by people convinced of your ‘sin’, you were still on your journey to accepting yourself, still sometimes sick to your stomach every time you remember that you weren’t ‘normal’, that your parents wouldn’t see you as their daughter as soon as you told them. So you hide under layers of facade, wear a mask of confidence over your crippling insecurity and internalised homophobia, pretend that everything’s fine when it feels like you’re crumbling under the surface.

You thought you’d crumble further when Aaron inevitably discovered the truth about you, but really it’s the moment where your foundation starts to rebuild itself. It happens completely accidentally one evening, you don’t mean to come out at all. You’ve been so careful at using gender neutral language for so long. You always talked about a future ‘partner’, said ‘they’ when talking about prospective relationships, the kind of words that don’t attract questions or attention. But you slip up.

“Have you thought about getting back out there, Y/N?” Aaron asks one evening, when you’re both sitting on his couch having a much needed catch-up. “I know it’s been hard after you and Samuel broke up, but maybe you should think about putting yourself back in the scene.”

“God, Aaron, you are not talking about my love life, please,” you groan, swatting his arm lightly. He’s not usually interested in what’s going on in your romantic relationships as long as you seem happy, but it’s been pretty obvious how low you’ve been recently. It’s sort of sweet that he’s talking about something he feels so awkward about to try and make his sister smile.

“I’m serious,” he smiles fondly. “I want to see you happy again, like you were with Tom, remember?”

You were not happy with Tom. You’re not sure you’ve ever been happy in a relationship (for the obvious reason that none of them were women) but you’re pretty damn good at pretending, so you can hardly blame him.

“Ahh, I don’t know, Aaron,” you grimace. You can’t think about anyone but Emily right now, God you’ve tried to move on but everyone seems to pale in comparison at the moment. “When I finally get a girlfriend I want it to be real, you know. An accidental meeting, nothing manufactured…”

You trail off as you see his eyes widen and face contort in surprise. Immediately, your stomach sinks and eyes brim with tears as you realise how badly you’ve fucked up. Jumping up from the sofa, you run to the bathroom and lock yourself in, barely able to contain the sobs as you feel your world implode around you. Fuck, you’re out. Aaron knows.

You sink down to the floor and fold yourself as tightly as possible, trying to hold yourself completely as you feel your walls crashing down, anxiety taking over. It’s only minutes after you’ve barricaded yourself in the bathroom that you hear the knocks at the door.

“Y/N,” Aaron says softly. “It’s okay, I’m not angry, I was just surprised. Why don’t you come out and we can talk about this? I’m not mad, I promise.”

It feels like it must be some sort of trap. Surely Aaron isn’t really okay with it? Choosing to trust your brother despite your scepticism, you peel yourself out of your protective position and splash some cool water on your face in an attempt to calm yourself down a little before unlocking the door.

You must look utterly miserable because Aaron’s face immediately softens and he envelopes in a warm, protective hug, the kind that used to reassure you in your childhood and still has the same effect today.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” he asks as he guides you to the sofa, voice gentle.

You take a deep breath before you explain everything, finally unloading the emotional turmoil that’s been whirling around inside you for months, connecting with another person properly since you realised yourself. You weren’t lying anymore; Aaron knew the truth.

Aaron basically forces you to stay over that night, tucking you in the way he used to do before he left for college, left for Washington to be a big bad FBI agent. You don’t fight him. It’s nice to be taken care of again, to feel really close to your brother for the first time in a long time.

Instead of crumbling, your foundation is firmer. You genuinely feel like you can do this, like you have a happy future ahead of you again.

⭐️

It’s a Tuesday evening and you’re running across town, butterflies swimming in your tummy. An excited smile is playing over your face on the metro, in the taxi, while you run down the road towards Aaron’s apartment. You keep checking your phone to confirm this is really happening, but the text message isn’t leaving; it isn’t a delusional mirage borne from isolation and desperation.

Hi Y/N, how would you feel about grabbing coffee with me later this week? ;) Feel like we haven’t had a chance to properly get to know one another! Let me know - Emily

You pound on the door as soon as you get there, knowing Jack is at a sleepover with his friend tonight, squealing as soon as Aaron opens the door. He smiles amusedly as he lets you in, practically bouncing with excitement as you thrust your phone in his face. “Is this what I think it is?” you ask eagerly as he reaches a hand to steady your shaking ones so he can read the message.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he says. “It could be. I’ve seen the way Emily looks at you, this looks like an invitation on a date to me, especially with the winky emoticon, but equally, she might just be asking you as a friend.” He smiles sympathetically as he says that, hating to temper your excitement. He’s never seen you this happy over a prospective partner and he doesn’t know how he missed how unhappy you were with men.

You giggle at Aaron speculating over the message as you would’ve done with your girlfriends back home. “She doesn’t know I’m gay,” you reason. “But I’m pretty obvious so she probably guessed. Maybe she really does want to go on a date with me!”

“Well, why haven’t you messaged back?” he asks.

“I wanted to tell you first,” you say, a little shyly. It was just nice to share in your truth with somebody. You couldn’t help feeling so eager about it.

He smiles fondly down at you. “Why don’t you make your message back a little more flirty?” he suggests as he makes his way to the kitchen to get you both a drink.

“Ooh, okay,” you muse. Subsequently, the next half an hour is spent agonising over the appropriate response, giggling and squabbling together in the way you used to before life got in the way.

Emily, I’d love to! It would be a great pleasure to spend some more time with your gorgeous self ;) How does Thursday at Cooper’s work? Maybe late morning?- Y/N

As long as we don’t get a case, I’m there :) - Emily

(If Aaron does his utmost to ensure there isn’t a case, well that’s nobody’s business but his own.)

⭐️

After agonising all morning over the perfect outfit, you hurry across the city to get to your favourite cafe in time to meet Emily. You arrive first, ordering yourself a coffee and a pastry and finding a cosy seat in the bay window, your favourite spot. Thankfully, it’s not overly busy and Emily spots you as soon as she walks in not long after you’ve sat down, grinning widely as she approaches.

“Y/N, I’m so glad we could finally do this,” she says earnestly as she gives you a hug.

“I know,” you smile shyly, returning her hug and revelling in having her so close, feeling the warmth of her body against yours, catching the gentle notes of her perfume.

“I’ll just go order a mocha and I’ll be right back,” she smiles, heading over to the counter.

You sit back and just watch her, how graceful and powerful she looks as she moves, how assertive and confident she is. Her gorgeous raven hair frames her face so perfectly and her body looks so strong under her smart, professional but stylish outfit. She smiles beautifully as she comes back over, holding a pastry in her other hand.

“Ah, another pastry addict,” you say, still a little shy and flustered.

“Oh, don’t you know it,” Emily chuckles self-deprecatingly. “Nothing better than a buttery pastry mid-morning, right?”

“Mm, I’ve got a huge sweet-tooth,” you confess. “I’ll do pretty much anything for a sweet treat.”

She laughs loudly at that, looking at you with so much warmth you think she might light you on fire. “I don’t blame you,” she agrees. “The team knows that if I’m grumpy, all I need is something sugary and I’m back on track.”

“You’re so lucky to have such a wonderful team,” you tell her, smiling back at her. “I’m so jealous of you and Aaron, surrounded by all these amazing people.”

“Oh, I know it,” she says. “Found family is important, and I rely on them a lot. I never thought getting into the FBI would change my life this much.”

“Oh, really? What led you to the academy?” you ask, gazing at her adoringly, not bothering to hide it. If you’ve misread the situation, so be it. You’re fed up of hiding, you’re going to take this risk, dive head first into it.

You chat amicably over coffee and pastry for over an hour, and when she frowns and tells you she has to get back to work, you can’t help the raging disappointment inside you. You’ve never felt this connected to somebody, ever. Maybe it’s just that Emily is the first woman you’ve allowed yourself to crush on properly, but it feels like more than that. It feels real, reciprocated even. You can’t help the burning excitement in your chest as you think about what it might be like to be close to her, to call her your girlfriend, to kiss her, to come home to her.

She gives you another hug before you part ways and the smouldering imprint of her body against yours keeps you warm the whole journey home.

⭐️

It’s nearing 7pm when you hear the knock at the door. You uncurl yourself from your cosy position on the sofa and put down your hot chocolate, leaving the movie you’re watching playing quietly in the background as you get up to answer it.

“Emily?” You’re a little bewildered to be honest. Wrapping your cardigan a little tighter around yourself, you send her a puzzled look, but you’re curious, too. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to tell you something,” she says, face serious. “I’m done screwing around; we’re not children, so let’s talk about this like adults.”

Right on cue, butterflies start swimming in your tummy, partly nerves, partly warm fuzzy hope. “Okay,” you say, still a little confused, but you guide her to the sofa and gesture for her to speak.

“I like you,” she says, taking a deep breath. “I’ve liked you since I met you and you intrigue me. I want to know more about you. I think you’re absolutely gorgeous, inside and out, and I’d love to take you out for dinner, on a proper date.”

You’re stunned for a moment, not entirely sure you’re actually awake. “Yes,” you say as soon as you reboot, reaching out to grab her hands gently. “Yes, please, that sounds amazing. I like you, too, I’ve liked you since I first met you.”

Her face lights up at your admission as you share a heated look before leaning in for a gentle kiss. You scoot a little closer to her and place your hands tentatively on her waist, only feeling emboldened when she leans a hand up to place on your neck, the other finding your hip. As you melt into her touch you feel her melt into yours, a mutual melding; a coming together.

It doesn’t stay chaste and gentle for long, however, quickly finding a rhythm that properly conveys the intense passion and amour filling the room, Emily eventually leaning forward and pushing you back slightly on the couch so she can lean more of her weight on you. This must be heaven. No kiss has ever felt like this, not even with your long-term boyfriends, no-one has ever made you feel the sparks that are flashing in your tummy right now.

“Hey, is this too fast?” she asks as she pulls back a bit, breathing heavily as she reaches a hand up to brush some of your hair away from your face. “Do you want to slow down?”

“No, no,” you deny, desperate to continue. “I don’t want to stop, I just… I haven’t been with a woman before.”

Your confession is shy, tentative; you don’t want to scare her off, but she simply smiles softly down at you, continuing to gently caress your hair. “Don’t worry about that,” she says. “We’ll see where this takes us and if you want to stop or slow down just tell me, alright?”

“Yeah,” you agree before leaning back in to continue the kiss, pushing your hand up under her shirt slightly and feeling her toned abs, the soft curve of her waist. It only serves to make you wetter, the feel of a woman under your palms more euphoric than you ever could have anticipated.

She moans as you explore her midriff, pushing your shirt up to do the same, and if you thought feeling a woman was amazing, being felt by one feels incredible, shivering under her touch as she runs her fingers up and down your waist, pushing your shirt up even more to caress the sides of your breasts.

“Off.” You obey and sit up a little bit to shrug off your cardigan and t-shirt as she does the same, both left only in your bras and pants, pressed skin-to-skin on the sofa. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, Y/N,” she moans, kissing you deeper as she tangles her fingers in your hair, tugging a little at the strands.

“Emily,” you whine as her other hand comes to your breast, teasing you with a finger slowly before running her thumb over your nipple through your lacy bra, squeezing gently. You’re already a dripping mess for her, this is already the best sex you’ve ever had, and you’ve barely started.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” she suggests, pulling back a little to sit up before taking your hand and letting you lead the way. “Take your bra off and lie down on the bed.” Her voice is soft but there’s an authority to it that calms you slightly. You may not know exactly what you’re doing but Emily does and she’s going to take care of you.

“I have a few toys,” you confess shyly as you follow her orders, watching her with blown pupils all the while. “They’re washed and clean, and there are condoms and latex gloves, too.”

“Oh?” Emily asks, quirking an eyebrow slightly.

“They’re in the bottom drawer,” you say, blushing wildly as you share your sex toy collection with the woman you’ve been crushing pretty hard on for a while now.

She immediately lights up and rummages through, a playful smirk colouring her face as she pulls out a few options. You take in the fairly sizable dildo -- a favourite of yours -- the finger vibrator you’d bought only last month and a butt plug you’d had for years with hungry eyes, excited for what she has in mind.

“Before we really get going, let’s talk,” Emily smiles gently, leaning over to kiss you softly before pulling back. “What are you into, up for, wanting to try?”

“I’m not really sure,” you say, blushing awkwardly. This kind of discussion is fairly foreign for you. “I’ve never enjoyed sex before because it was always with a man.”

Emily pulls a face to make you laugh before nodding in agreement. “Okay, well how about I tell you a few of the things I like and you can tell me if you’re comfortable with them? And if you do try it and you’re not into it we’ll just stop, yeah?”

“That sounds like a plan.”

“Great. I like to be on top mostly, I’m quite a dominant person but I can tone that up or down to whatever you like, too,” she starts. “I’m very into dirty talk -- a little mild verbal degradation etcetera -- I love clitoral stimulation and don’t get much from internal simulation so maybe you could use this finger vibrator on me while I tell you what to do? And I could use this dildo on you if you’d like, the butt plug, too?”

“With my boyfriends the only time they could make me cum is if they got really into dirty talk, calling me names and stuff” you confess, “so that works for me, especially if you alternate with praise. And I’m happy for you to top and be more dominant, that sounds… good. All of what you said, I want, except I think the butt plug is a bit adventurous for today?” Your face must be fire engine red but Emily is looking at you fondly so you clearly haven’t turned her off with your inexperience or bashfulness.

She grins at you before leaning in to kiss you again. “Perfect. If I say or do anything you don’t like, tell me immediately. I won’t be offended, okay? I’ll do the same.” You nod in agreement, blush calming down as she settles her body over yours, a comforting, reassuring weight in an unfamiliar scenario.

She quickly gets the lube and condoms out and once she’s ready, Emily trails latex covered fingers down your waist, tickling slightly and revelling in the shiver she elicits, before slipping beneath the waistband and pressing gently, teasingly against your clit. She presses another kiss to your lips, deepening it against your moans as she moves down to push a finger inside.

“Emily,” you cry, panting as the initial pressure against your walls makes you see stars, warm wetness helping to ease her fingers inside. She slowly works you open as she alternates between kissing you, sucking on your neck and whispering dirty, encouraging platitudes in your ear.

“Do you think you’re ready to take my cock, princess?” she asks, tone dripping and sultry as she whispers directly into your ear, licking a stripe over the shell as you moan loudly. She holds the condom-covered dildo directly in your line of sight as she presses her own heat against your thigh, rutting slightly to ease her own immediate arousal.

“Yes, Emily, please” you beg, pushing your thigh up so she can use it properly, getting an appreciative moan in response.

“Good girl,” she praises, kissing you again as she lines up the dildo, easing it into you gently, pausing when your aroused moans betray a hint of pain. “God, you took that so well. You are a dirty little slut for me, aren’t you? Built to take my cock.”

“Yeah,” you whine, writhing as you feel the fullness of the dildo inside you, moaning again as Emily starts to fuck in and out. She starts out slowly before speeding it up, fucking you hard with your own dildo as she murmurs absolute filth into your ear. “Stop, stop.”

She stills her hand immediately, but you quickly ease her mind. “I’m close, don’t want to come yet.”

At that, she beams down at you. “Good girl. I think it’s my turn to get off, don’t you?”

Technically, she’s been grinding down on your leg the whole time she’s been fucking you, but you get what she means and reach for the finger vibrator, dildo still wedged firmly inside you, while she rolls onto her back. You fit the vibe onto your first finger and turn it on, thankful you recently changed the battery recently as you slide on a latex covering over your finger. She smiles encouragingly as you maneuver her hips to the right angle before teasing her a little with your middle finger to ease her into it before pressing the vibe to her folds first, thoroughly enjoying the jerk her hips make at the pleasure, before working your way up to her clit.

She throws her head back and moans wantonly as you work her over, running your other hand up her side before making your way to her breasts, leaning down to suck and bite gently at them as she cups her hand against the back of your neck, keeping your mouth where she wants.

“Keep going,” she moans as she approaches her orgasm, rutting against your finger as you swallow her nipple into your mouth with renewed vigour, desperate to bring her off. She shouts your name as she cums, squirming around your finger as her hips writhe with pleasure, eyes screwed close. It’s a beautiful sight, seeing a woman cum, and it’s so much better than whatever you’ve seen in porn, because you did this. Emily’s orgasm is your work of art and you couldn’t be prouder to sign your name against it.

“Good girl,” she sighs as she comes down. “You did so well. Now, shall we finish you off, baby?”

You’re virtually there already, seeing Emily’s pleasure had been getting you closer and closer to your own orgasm. It only takes Emily rolling you onto your back, kissing you again and fucking you a few more times with the dildo that’s stayed inside you the whole time while fingering your clit just teasingly enough to get you over the edge, powerful orgasm crashing over you as Emily whispers praise against your ear. It takes you out for a minute, lost in the haze of pleasure and its aftermath, feeling so right in that moment that you never want to leave it, wrapped up in Emily’s arms while you hang in the inbetween of a dreamy daze and reality.

Eventually, you blink your eyes open, meeting Emily’s glassy ones and smile up at her, working the energy up to roll her over and kiss her again in earnest, knowing exactly what she likes by now.

“What was that for?” she asks after you break apart, chuckling a little at your eagerness.

“A thank you,” you murmur, smiling fondly down at her.

“The best thank you you could give me is a dinner date later this week,” Emily grins. “And I’ll thank you afterwards with another mind-blowing orgasm, how does that sound?”

You stare down at her for a moment, wondering how on earth you managed to win somebody so perfect, before shaking out of it and smiling softly again. “That sounds perfect.”

#emily prentiss x y/n #reader-insert #criminal minds reader-insert #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #emily prentiss #my writing

173 notes · View notes

randomshyperson · 3 years

Text

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your loss - Part II "I will try"

Serie Masterlist here || Part I || Read on AO3

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction pining, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, domestic Wanda, hurtful behaviors.

Tag list: @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia / @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch

//-//

Chapter II - I will try

You hate waking up.

Because your bed is empty on the right side.

Grumbling slightly, you push the covers away from your body and get up, running your hand over your face.

It is therapy day.

After brushing your teeth and putting on a sweatshirt that smells like fabric softener, you walked downstairs.

"Good morning, honey." Your mother greeted you as soon as you entered the kitchen, a cup of coffee in her hands. You mumbled the greeting back, walking over to the cabinets. She let out a disgruntled exclamation when she saw you take out a box of cereal. "As much as I think it's great that you're eating again, why don't you try something healthier today? I'm getting worried about the amount of sugar you're taking in these last few days."

You rolled your eyes, but obeyed as you put the package back in the cupboard. Ever since you regained your appetite, your meals, especially in the morning, consist of sweet things. Bread, cereals, and even chocolate. You were eating again, but the chance of diabetes was very high.

"Do you need a ride?" Your mother asks a moment later, when you are already sitting at the table, pouring yourself some orange juice.

"Agatha thinks I should try the subway."

"And what do you think?"

You laughed humorlessly.

"That's a new one." You retorted without taking your eyes off the newspaper in front of you. "Someone asking what I think."

Your mother sighs.

"Don't be like that." She says and then rises to kiss your forehead, the car keys in her hand. "Call me if you need anything."

You bite your tongue, stopping yourself from whispering the words "I need my wife," because you didn't want to cry over coffee.

After eating, you looked around. You hated empty houses. So you hurried to get your wallet and left after locking the door.

//-//

With headphones, the subway was not so scary.

The music on the latest volume muffled the ambient noises very well. And even with a fast heartbeat, you managed to walk correctly, and keep your breathing under control until you reached the city downtown.

You walked from the station toward the building where the therapy was taking place, humming softly the music you were listening to.

Startled slightly when someone touched your shoulder, you turned, only to see Bucky standing beside you, smiling gently. You took off your headphones, moving away from his touch, he didn't seem to notice.

"I called you a few times, but I don't think you heard me under the headsets." He commented amiably. "I think we came from the same subway."

"Okay." You said simply, not knowing what to add to this conversation. Bucky smiled however, and you started walking side by side.

"You know, if we arrange the time, we could come here together next time" He says and you frown slightly. "I wish I had someone to laugh at my comments about the man in the cowboy hat who hangs out at the Sixth Avenue station." He jokes and you force a smile, trying to think of how to decline the invitation. But then you remember how Agatha insisted that you make new friends, and you are letting the words of agreement escape your mouth. "Really? I'm glad you like the idea then. We can meet in any of the first stations and come the rest of the way together."

"That'll be great." You mutter to the man who smiles contentedly.

When you arrive, Bucky waves to a few people and says he will say hello, so you walk into the gym alone.

You try not to feel so nervous about your first session with a therapy partner.

//-//

Stephen is almost late. He apologizes to everyone even though he didn't, saying that he had a minor conflict in traffic. You were already sitting in the circle, waiting for the meeting to start, when the other people came in and sat down.

Wanda sat in the chair in front of you, and you smiled awkwardly at her, who repeated the gesture before looking away from you to Stephen.

"I hope you all had a good week" Stephen began next. "Today I will be handing out the schedule of duo activities, and I expect all of you to accomplish these goals within six to eight months. Of course, no pressure." He jokes last, making the group laugh. You frown, because you are curious what kind of activities these are. "Jessica, take one and pass it to the side, please.”

Stephen asked handing some papers to one of the girls in the group who was sitting next to him. As each member took one, Stephen again spoke of the importance of communication between pairs, and how he would like to monitor everyone's progress closely. You stopped paying attention when the paper came into your hands, focused on reading the words.

Your hand rises in the air a moment later.

"Y/N, do you have a question?" Stephen asked as he interrupted his own speech when he saw your hand. You had your heart racing when you asked.

"It says drive a car here." You replied looking at him. "I don't... I don't drive."

You know that some members exchanged glances with each other, but you kept staring at Stephen.

"You can leave this activity for last. At the end of the treatment....

"No." You interrupted with a dry laugh, running your hands through your hair. "I'm not driving. I don't..."

"Would you like to share why that is?" Stephen asks tenderly, and you look around. Everyone looks at you curiously, and you feel your face heat up. Then you stare at the paper in front of you. Taking a deep breath, you try not to crumple the paper so hard as you tell it.

"My wife died in a car accident." You narrate, trying not to be bothered by people holding their breath for your confession. It was awkward to talk about it, and it was even more overwhelming to deal with the reactions of others. "I was driving, and... I can't anymore since the accident." You explain. "It's like I'm back in the car again."

You fall silent, unable to hold back your tears. The group says "thank you for sharing" next, startling you slightly. Stephen smiles at you as you look at him.

"Would you like to add anything else?"

"I would like you to tell me that I won't need to do that."

Stephen laughed. And then he denied it with his head.

"It's the opposite of that actually." He says. "I think you do need it. Maybe more than anyone else here."

You sighed, looking down. He spoke again after that, but you paid no further attention.

//-//

You swallowed your nervousness when Stephen called for the pairs to begin the first exercise.

Getting up and walking over to Wanda, you kept your gaze on the floor.

"We're going to try blind trust today." Stephen explained as he opened a small box, and began handing out black blindfolds to the pairs. He handed one to you. "You will blindfold your partner, and lead them around the gym for two minutes. And then switch who is blindfolded and repeat."

You blinked in confusion, taking one last look at the object in your hands.

"Right." You mumble, raising your eyes to the woman in front of you. "May I?"

Wanda hesitates a second, but then she nods. You turn around her, placing the blindfold under her eyes gently, and tying it to the back of her head. Wanda holds her breath momentarily, probably getting used to the lack of visibility.

" Can I hold your hands?" You ask softly as you circle her again, watching her blindfolded face. She looks... cute. The same second the thought hits you, you push it out.

"Yes." Wanda sighs raising her hands at chest height. You smile, interlacing your hands together.

"Well, we were in the circle, right?" You begin. "Come this way so you don't bump into the chairs."

Guiding Wanda through the gym, you stand close and with your hands interlocked so that she doesn't get scared of bumping into something. You catch a quick glance at Bucky, who was guiding his own partner as he passes your side.

Two minutes later, you exchange.

You hold your breath when the blindfold is on your eyes, but Wanda's hand is soft as she guides you around.

When you stumble slightly because you thought she said right instead of left, it's the first time in six months that you really laugh. It's short and quick, but it's a real laugh. Wanda laughs too, squeezing your hand lightly to get you back on the right path.

You feel a little lighter when the activity is over.

"I liked today." You comment with a shy smile after the meeting is over, and you and Wanda walk out of the place together. She smiles in agreement.

"Yeah, me too." She says. "Now we only have another twenty-four activities ahead of us."

You let out a nasal laugh, putting your hands in your pockets.

"About the homework, I can meet you when you have time." You start to say, remembering the information in the booklet, and how you probably had much more free time than a mother, and it would be kinder for you to follow whatever schedule Wanda had. "You can text me anytime you are free."

She looks slightly surprised at your words, and looks down at the floor a moment before speaking again.

"Actually, I'm free now." She says, and it is your turn to be surprised. Seeing your expression, she quickly adds. "But it's okay if you're not, or if you don't want to..."

"No, it's fine." You interrupt with a lopsided smile. "I can. I'd... uh... I would like to too."

Wanda nods frantically, and then you are silent for a moment, before turning shyly toward the street, walking side by side.

"What are we going to do first?" You ask looking forward. Wanda bites her lips, thoughtful.

"Are you hungry?"

Not much, but you don't tell her that. You just shrug, and Wanda smiles, saying that you could try the lesson of sharing a meal together.

This is how you end up in a cafeteria for lunch.

Wanda is sitting on the bench in front of you when she speaks again.

"So...do you want to have a normal conversation or do you want to follow the script of questions?"

You blink in surprise, and give a short laugh.

"Wait, is that for real?" You ask fiddling with your pockets, Wanda looks at you curiously. You take out the pamphlet you got in class, then read the back, and let out a giggle. "I hadn't seen that part. Wow, that would have been so helpful at so many times in my life."

Wanda smiles, watching you read the pamphlet.

"So you're not good at talking to people huh?"

You place the flyer on the table, looking at her.

"Are you?"

"No." She says shrugging. "Socializing has always been much more my brother's thing than mine."

You make a noise with your mouth in agreement, and Wanda's cell phone on the table vibrates. She lowers her gaze to the device, and lets out a light sigh.

"Speaking of him." She mutters as she raises her finger to the screen. She reads the notification, but does not touch the device again.

"I would like to have a brother." You count next, and Wanda looks at you. "I think it would be nice to have someone growing up together with me. Sometimes it's pretty lonely being an only child."

"I'll lend you mine if you want." Wanda teases with a smile, and you laugh lightly, looking away momentarily.

" How many siblings do you have?"

"Two." She counters. "Pietro is my twin. And the youngest is Lorna."

"How are they like?"

Wanda sighs, thoughtfully.

"Pietro is loud and nosy. And Lorna is blunt and judgmental." She says and you nod in understanding, but Wanda adds a second later, smiling, "They're amazing, really. Pietro is...very caring. He looks after the boys for me. And Lorna lives in Sokovia, but she's always calling and asking how we are, as well as visiting whenever she can."

"That seems nice." You reply. The waitress attends you two next, and after ordering, you both wait in silence for a while.

"Why haven't you asked me about my loss yet?" Wanda asks suddenly, and you look away from the wordplay that was drawn on the table to look at her with a frown.

"What do you mean?"

"I shared my loss with the group the week before you joined us." She counters. "You never asked me who I lost."

"Do you want me to ask?"

"I don't know." She replies staring at you as a mixture of confusion and surprise. "It's just... that's usually the first thing people want to know."

You nod looking away.

"Well, I just want you to tell me whatever you want to tell me." You say. "I know very well what that feels like. I don't think I could talk to any of the people I know without them asking me about Nat every time they saw me."

Wanda makes a noise with her mouth of understanding, and you fall silent again. She checks her messages next and makes a slight grimace, you can't hold your curiosity and let the words "everything okay?" escape your lips.

"Yeah, it's just... Monica." She sighs running her hands through her hair. She types something next, and looks up at you. "Monica is my brother's wife, She is... pushy."

"How so?"

"She just...she wants to help. But she wants too much, you know?" Wanda begins. "She has the best of intentions, but she just suffocates me sometimes." She counters by tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, as you look at her intently. "She lost her mother when she was younger. And since... since Vis died she just... she wants me to talk to her about it. But I can't."

You nod in acknowledgement, hesitating between what to say next, because the mention of this Vis guy seems to have left Wanda quite shaken, as she quickly wipes a tear from running down her cheek. She forces a smile, shaking her head.

"Sorry about that. It's not the best thing to cry at our first lunch." She then remarks, and you smile shrugging your shoulders.

"Don't worry, I can cry at the next one and then we'll be even." You retort and Wanda laughs. You like the sound more than you should.

When your food arrives, you and Wanda thank the waitress and talk again the next moment.

"Accordingly to this, what is our first question?" Wanda asks you nodding lightly to the pamphlet you have left on the table. You eat one of your fries as you look at it.

You lower your hand to the paper, and then let out a chuckle as you actually read the questions.

" This is ridiculous." You observe, making Wanda look at you curiously. "All the questions are death related, see: If you died, how would you like people to remember you?" You read. "Or, what song would you like played at your funeral. My god, this is a joke." You grumble as you fold the flyer, and put it back in your pocket while Wanda giggles. You look back at her next. "I am decreeing that we will not talk about death on our outings, Mrs. Maximoff. It's a rule."

Wanda smiles at you, agreeing.

"Wanda." She then adds and you look at her with confusion. "You don't have to call me Mrs. Maximoff. Wanda is fine."

You smile, nodding in agreement.

"So, Wanda, where do you live?" You ask with interest in your voice, biting into your burger next.

"Queens." She replies. "Two blocks past Bucky's apartment, who lives in Brooklyn."

"You are friends then?"

"Yeah, he's the one who introduced me to the group." She explains as you eat together. She chews some of her salad before speaking again. "And you?"

"Staten Island." You retort. "But it's actually my mother's house. My apartment is in the Bronx."

Wanda doesn't pressure you to tell her why you are living with your mother. A part of you thinks she knows why, but you are grateful that she just waits for you to share what you want, just as you do with her.

"What do you work with?" she asks next, and you sigh, biting back a smile.

"Nothing at the moment." You say, and she frowns with confusion. "It's just that I write. I’m actually a writer. With a publisher and everything. But, I'm not writing anything right now."

"I don't think I've ever met a writer before." She comments with a smile. "Do you like it?"

You look away, playing with your fries.

"I used to." You confess, but not wanting to make the conversation sad, you quickly add. "What about you? What do you work with?"

"I own a flower shop." She tells and you let out a low exclamation, finding it amazing. "I haven't been going there much lately, but I like it. It's always been what I've wanted to do since I was little."

"I'd like to visit someday."

Wanda smiles, assenting.

You spend lunch talking about the most diverse subjects. It is the lightest you have felt in a long time. Wanda tells you about her family, you learn that she lives in a big house with her two twin five-year-old sons, Billy and Tommy, and that her father was spending time with her since she lost Vis, who you figure is her husband, because Stephen mentioned that you had things in common, and it's not hard to connect the dots, even if she doesn't talk about it.

She also tells you that Pietro and Monica are helping the flower shop to keep running, and that Wanda's children love to stay at their house because Wanda's niece, Luna, is the same age as the boys.

She tells you some of her tastes, and you do the same. You both smile when you discover that you used to study at the same college, but Wanda graduated a few years before you.

When you leave the restaurant, you are not quite sure how to say goodbye to Wanda, but you don't mind her kissing your cheek and telling you that she enjoyed her lunch. You enjoyed it too, much more than you expected. She nods and turns away, and it takes a moment for you to do the same.

//-//

You decide to fix the broken screen of your cell phone.

It is because you now receive notifications of messages from Wanda, and you want to read them correctly so as not to get confused with the locations of your meetings for group activities.

You also enjoy the company of Bucky Barnes now. The first time you went to therapy together, it's a little awkward because you didn’t quite knew what to say, but he was friendly and kind, and you learned to trust him. Soon it becomes easy to share and laugh at his jokes.

In the second week with grieving pairs, Stephen brings in question and answer games. You and Wanda do very well, because it is surprisingly easy and comfortable to talk to her. You don't have lunch together, but she invites you to have coffee with her the next day, and it is very nice to see her out of therapy for once.

In the third week, you cook together. Stephen contacts a local restaurant owned by a friend, which is closed for the day, and they lend their kitchen. You and Wanda try to bake some cookies, and as you work together, the job is decent. It is probably because Wanda is a much better cook than you, and you are happy to obey whatever she tells you to do. You have lunch together again, and you find yourself suggesting that you do this whenever possible, and Wanda smiles when she agrees.

In the fourth week, there are obstacle competitions in the group. It's noisy, and it requires physical effort, but it's fun. It's the first month, so Stephen wants to see how everyone is progressing. It's only when he talks to you that you realize all the positive changes that have been happening.

You have been eating properly, and going for walks. Your nightmares have stopped since you started texting with Wanda, because she is usually busy all day and can only text at night. There is still work to be done, because you still can't talk about everything. You are still not sharing as you should, and you haven't gone back to work. But Stephen is proud, and he hands you a little progress brooch.

"I think you guys can start with the activities outside the group." Stephen suggests as soon as you accept the brooch.

"What do you mean? We have lunch together every Wednesday." You count, and Stephen laughs through his nose.

"Yes, and this is excellent." He says. "But it's still after therapy. You and Wanda have been getting along well haven't you?"

You think about the lunches. Yes. It's been amazing. You nod in agreement, and Stephen smiles.

"Why don't you invite her over for something on the other days of the week?" He suggests and you frown thoughtfully. "You could try outings that you both enjoy. Or just get to know each other's family."

"Why would we go and meet each other's family?"

"Friends do that." He says and you sigh, feeling your heart racing slightly. "Take Bucky for example. I suggested that he and Sam move in together and..."

"Wow, I'm not moving in with anyone."

Stephen laughs, touching your shoulder gently.

"I didn't tell you to do that." He says. "It was just an example. What I mean, is that socialization outside of the therapeutic environment is essential. I'd like to see you having fun excluding the activities I put on here, too."

You sigh, agreeing. It's not really a bad thing, you like Wanda. It's just weird to let people into your life again.

When you tell Wanda about Stephen's idea, you get too anxious and fumble with the words. She laughs as she raises her hands to your shoulders, asking you to breathe and repeat. She thinks the idea is very good when she understands.

Then the next week, you go to Central Park. You walk together, drink juice, and talk. You thought you would make things awkward, and not have anything interesting to say to keep Wanda's attention, but she is kind and thoughtful, and pays attention to every word you say, and finds your jokes funny. And the next thing you know, you've been talking and walking for six hours, and she has to run because she has to pick up the boys from music class.

It didn't take long for you to establish a rhythm of outings. At least twice a week outside of the therapy day, you did something together. Be it walks, or trips to the park, or sharing a meal.

You didn't want to admit it, but Wanda became your favorite person very quickly.

//-//

It was February when you met Wanda's family.

Wanda invited you to the birthday party of Luna, Pietro's daughter. It was going to be the first party you had attended since Nat's death, and to say you were feeling anxious was an understatement. But as long as Wanda was by your side in the atmosphere, you thought you would be fine.

Your mother gave you a look of mixed surprise and pride when she saw you leaving the house in an outfit other than a sweatshirt, but she didn't say anything, and you hurried to catch the subway.

It took a while to get there, but when you did, there were already a few people around the house.

You took a deep breath, and walked to the front door that was open. It was a very nice house, and you tried to find Wanda as quickly as possible.

"Hey, you came!" It was Bucky, who saw you arriving from the kitchen. He was wearing a very nice set of jeans, and smiled encouragingly at you. The two people he talked to looked at you curiously, but Bucky hurried to introduce you as "a good friend of his and Wanda's" and you felt your cheeks blush. "This is my husband Sam and this is his sister, Sara."

You smiled politely as you greeted people.

"I'm looking for Wanda." You say to Bucky, and he makes a thoughtful expression for a few seconds.

"Try the garden, I think she was helping Pietro with the snacks." He says as he puts his hand on your shoulder, and turns you in the right direction. "Follow straight this way and you'll get there."

You thanked them and waved to the other two before heading outside.

It took two minutes to find Wanda. She found you actually.

"Hi." She greeted you shyly with a smile as she approached. You mimicked the gesture. "So glad you could make it."

Wanda hugged you quickly, and you were a complete mess. Disguisedly, you smiled awkwardly, telling her you were glad to be here and wished you could meet her brother.

"Pietro is upstairs changing Luna's dress. She spilled juice on the other one." She counters and you mumble in understanding. Wanda's gaze races around and then she lets out a low exclamation. "Come, let me introduce you to Monica."

"Hey, Mon, I want you to meet someone." Wanda says as soon as you two reach a woman at one of the outside tables, wearing a very pretty blue dress. She seemed to hand out some napkins on the table.

"This is your mystery friend I imagine." Says the woman cheerfully, extending her hand to greet you.

"Hi, thank you for having me." You say clumsily as you accept the greeting. Monica doesn't mind your clumsiness one bit, and smiles, and thanks you for the small package you hand her. You were always taught that one should bring a gift if you were going to the party after all.

"It's so nice to finally meet you honey." She says smiling. "Wanda won't stop saying how funny and entertaining you are."

You cast a glance at Wanda, who just has red cheeks as she looks away.

"Here comes Pietro." Monica then exclaims, waving to someone behind you. "Come on babe, it's Wanda's friend."

A tall man approaches you, a little girl on his lap wearing a princess dress.

"Hello." Pietro greeted you politely as he stood at his wife's side. "We finally met you. We were beginning to think Wanda made you up."

You let out a half-hearted laugh, and Wanda grumbles that suddenly everyone has decided to tease her with flushed cheeks.

"Daddy, can I go play now?" The little girl asked. She was adorable, and looked a lot like her parents.

"You'll be careful, right?" Pietro asked her. "No other princess dress for you."

The girl nods and Pietro sets her down after kissing her cheek.

"I need to greet the other guests, but make yourselves at home." Monica then said, touching your shoulder lightly before leaving. You thought she was very gentle.

For the next few minutes you were basically interrogated by Pietro, but in the most polite way he could manage. Wanda stayed by your side though, so you didn't bother to tell him what you did for a living, where you resided, or with whom. He was sensitive enough not to ask about who you lost, and you were very grateful for that.

"What's he doing here?" Wanda exclaimed suddenly, interrupting Pietro's talk about his job as a seller. She had her gaze in the opposite direction from where you were standing, and Pietro sighed.

"Wanda, it was a last-minute invitation." He began, and Wanda turned her head to him quickly, a mixed look of anger and hurt. But then she took a deep breath, and forced a smile, making you frown at the whole scene.

"No, Pietro. It's okay." She says. "Don't worry, it's a party, isn't it? We're here to have fun."

A man with a thinning beard reached you all next, and you were slightly surprised when Wanda grabbed your hand, but you didn't say anything.

"Wow, it's amazing to see you guys again." The man said smiling encouragingly. Pietro rushed over to hug him quickly.

"Good to see you too, Tony!" he greeted smiling, but he also looked slightly tense. You didn't know what the story was there, but clearly Wanda was not very comfortable in the stranger's presence.

"Wanda, look at you, my little sister-in-law!" Tony said excitedly extending his arms. But Wanda didn't move, squeezing your hand lightly. The man didn't seem to mind, moving forward and hugging Wanda anyway. He pulled away quickly however, still smiling, "And who are you?” He asked you next.

"I’m..."

"Leaving." Wanda cuts you off, ducking her head as she pulls you away with her. You hear Pietro sigh lightly, imagining that he would apologize for whatever this was.

As you two walk back into the house, you consider asking, but Wanda is looking around, clearly searching for someone. She lets out a low exclamation when she finds Bucky in the living room.

"Hey, Wanda." He says as soon as he sees her. "You've seen him, right?"

"You knew he was coming?" she asked, letting go of your hand, looking annoyed. You were starting to get very uncomfortable.

"Yes." Bucky confesses looking upset, and Wanda lets out an exclamation of indignation and surprise. "I told Pietro that it wasn't a good idea, but he still needs help with the Vis business..."

"No." Wanda interrupts by closing her eyes momentarily. You blink because she seems on the verge of tears at any moment. "I just..." She starts and takes a deep breath. Bucky steps forward with his hands in the air to touch her, but she forces a smile, denying with her head to signal him not to. "We're not going to make a scene, are we? Nobody's going to want that. I just... I just need a moment."

Wanda walks upstairs next, leaving you and Bucky behind. You really didn't understand what happened, and started to consider going after her, and as if reading your thoughts, Bucky patted you on the shoulder.

"Leave her alone for a few minutes, okay?" he asks. "She just needs to get used to the idea of seeing her late husband's brother again."

You swallowed dryly, nodding in understanding. Bucky smiled weakly at you, nodding for you to join him in the small circle of people he was talking to earlier.

//-//

Every minute without Wanda at your side with a bunch of strangers was like torture. Your heart was racing and you thought you were going to hyperventilate at any moment. Bucky was probably the only thing familiar, so you stood static next to him, trying to disguise yourself as much as possible while listening to people talking.

"Thor, I'm waiting for the invitation to your wedding!" Sam joked in the middle of the wheel, drawing laughter from everyone. The tall, blond man next to him looked mildly embarrassed.

"Tell that to Jane, she's the one who's postponing it." He replies in the same tone. You don't want to hear about engagements and weddings. So you mutter to Bucky that you need to use the bathroom and he points you in the direction.

Pietro's house is easy to get lost into. You are looking for a secluded corner to stay in, and as you pass through the empty hallway, you hear a noise that attracts your attention. It sounds like loud breathing.

Confused, you walk toward the sound, carefully opening the door to what appears to be an office. You find the switch, and your eyes widen in surprise when you find a child. It is a small boy, sitting on the floor with his head between his knees. It takes a second for you to realize by the height of his breathing what is happening.

Closing the door behind you to muffle the sound of the party, you rush to kneel beside the child.

"Hey, kid." You whisper tenderly but he just sobs. "What's your name? Hey? Try to say your name for me okay?"

You bring your hands to his and he raises his head, his face stained with tears as he breathes hard.

"T-Tommy" He gasps and you nod, squeezing his hands lightly.

"Okay, Tommy. I want you to breathe along with me now okay?" You ask as you signal with your hand the movement of your breath. "In and out like I'm doing."

"I-I can't." He cries, but you insist, squeezing his hand lightly.

"Tommy, in and out. This way." You repeat firmly, until he imitates. "All right, kid. Keep going. Breathe."

When Tommy manages to start breathing properly again, you smile at him. "You see, you did very well. Want me to give you a hug?"

He nodded, and you stepped forward, hugging him tightly. He didn't let go for long moments, and you began to think he might have fallen asleep, but he moved again, and you let go.

"I'm sorry." He asked weakly, and you held his hand.

"No, honey. It's okay." You say gently, crossing your legs to sit more comfortably in front of him. "Do you want me to stay here with you?"

He nods, looking at you quickly. You wipe away his tears afterwards.

"I don't know you." He says a moment later, and you smile slightly.

"I don't know you either."

"My name is Tommy." He replies with his hands folded in his lap. "This is my aunt and uncle's house, but I've never seen you at a party before."

"Wow, you are Wanda's son." You realize with surprise. Tommy blinks.

"Who is Wanda? I'm Mommy's son."

You laugh, nodding in agreement.

"Well, Tommy, your mother's name is Wanda." You explain, and he lets out a sigh of understanding. "I'm her friend."

"Okay." He says simply. He sighs lightly then. "I'm hungry."

You look at him curiously.

"Do you want a hot dog?" You ask, and he nods frantically, smiling. "Do you want to go outside and get it, or do you want me to bring it for you here?"

Tommy is thoughtful for a few seconds, and looks at the door for a moment.

"I want to go."

"Okay."

You get up first, and then help him to stand, and keep your hand in his to comfort him.

"Hey, is everything all right?" You ask as soon as you open the door. He has his thumb in his mouth, but nods, his eyes attentive to his surroundings.

Fortunately the kitchen is empty, since the house seemed to get warm enough for everyone to go outside. You sit Tommy down at the kitchen counter and prepare a hot dog for him.

"Do you like ketchup?" you ask and he nods smiling. After handing the hot dog to him, you made one for yourself. You smiled as you both took big bites of your food. "Does your mom let you drink soda?" You ask a moment later, and Tommy looks thoughtful. "Don’t lie."

Tommy grimaces mischievously, and nods his head in denial. You laugh and reach for two glasses, pouring some grape juice for you.

"Thanks." He says thank you as soon as you hand him the cup. You think it's adorable how polite he is at this age.

"There you are, Tommy." Pietro spoke as he appeared in the kitchen. He watched the scene with curiosity. "I've been looking all over for you."

"Sorry, Uncle." Murmured the boy lowering his head. "My head was hurting again."

Pietro sighed and you exchanged a look with him. He nodded in understanding before helping Tommy down from the countertop.

"Billy and Luna are eating candy in the backyard, honey." He says as he bends down to the boy's height. "Go ask Aunt Mon to give you some too."

Tommy seems content to leave after that, but he turns and hugs your legs quickly, muttering a "thanks for the hot dog" before running outside. You place his cup of juice in the sink along with yours before turning to Pietro.

"Where did you find him?" he asks leaning on the counter with his arms crossed. You mimic the position on the opposite side.

"In the office down the hall." You count. "What does he have?"

"We don't know yet." Pietro says. "He won't turn six until November, and the diagnosis can't be made before then." The man explains, running his hand through his hair for a moment. "But I've had anxiety since I was a kid, so his doctor thinks it's the most likely possibility."

You grumble in understanding, biting the inside of your cheek.

"He's been pretty nervous lately." Pietro continues next. You don't want to interrupt him. "I guess that makes sense. I got worse when my mother died, too."

You swallow dryly, really not being intimate enough to know what to say next. But Pietro doesn't mind, he smiles, shaking his head and reaching up to pat you on the arm.

"Sorry, I don't mean to make the subject morbid." He comments humorously. "Thank you so much for helping Tommy. Come have a drink outside."

You laugh half-heartedly, denying with your head.

"Thank you, Pietro." You say. "But I think I'd better go."

Pietro blinks in surprise.

"Are you sure?"

You nod, your gaze quickly going to the stairs before returning to him.

"Yes, I'm... I'm tired." You say. "Crowded environments are quite difficult for me."

Pietro nods in acknowledgement, and then smiles, thanking you again for coming and hugging you quickly.

You smile awkwardly before heading for the exit just as he returns to the garden.

Ignoring the urge to climb up the stairs after Wanda, you leave.

//-//

When you get home, there is a message on the refrigerator door from your mother, telling you that she is going out after work and that you shouldn't wait up for her. You grumble slightly, sending her a message to use protection, before leaving your cell phone on the counter.

After taking a shower and putting on the most comfortable and warmest set of sweatshirts you have, you go back to the living room, looking for some entertainment on the television.

It must be about eight o'clock at night when a knock at the door startles you.

You are surprised to have Wanda at your front door and she hesitates as soon as she sees you.

"Hi." You say.

"Can we talk?"

You make room for her to enter, closing the door afterwards.

Wanda stops in the doorway of the room, holding her purse tightly.

"I'm sorry I left you alone at the party." She begins and you look at her attentively, noticing her nervousness. "It wasn't polite of me."

You blink in confusion, but don't interrupt her. She closes her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before looking back at you.

"It was not the right way to behave and I am sorry. I hope we continue to be grieving partners" She says.

"Wanda, why are you here?" You ask with a frown, trying to understand exactly what you are witnessing. Wanda blinks in confusion.

"To apologize."

"Yeah I'm not buying it." You retort. "I don't care about the whole manners thing, I wouldn't treat you differently just because of the party. What's going on?"

"I don't... I don't know what you're talking about." She says shaking her head slightly, her eyes wide. You look at her in disbelief, she seemed on the verge of an outburst. "I just came to apologize for not being a good hostess, and not even a good friend. And..."

"I don't give a damn if you weren't behaving as you should." You interrupt seriously. "You don't have to pretend to be okay with me. I saw the way you were forcing yourself to smile during the party. What was all that about? Why are you pretending?"

Wanda let out a humorless laugh, holding up her hands, her eyes filled with tears.

"I don't know what..."

"If you're going to lie you can leave." You interrupt seriously pointing to the door. Wanda swallows dryly, looking at you in surprise. "I'm not like those people, Wanda. I don't want to see your version of the perfect housewife, who pretends everything is fine while it's falling apart so others will feel better. Either you tell me the truth, or we' re not going anywhere."

Wanda stares at you for several seconds, then looks away, tears streaming down her face. You sigh, uncrossing your arms to walk toward the door. As you begin to open it, however, Wanda rushes in and pushes the wood with one hand, the noise and movement startling you momentarily.

"Please." She begs throwing herself against you, her arms clutching around you as she buries her head in your chest, her tears wetting your shirt. "I can't lose you too."

You sigh, hugging her back in the same intensity to calm her.

"Breathe, Wanda." You say. "I'm right here."

When she stops crying, she breaks the embrace, and you give her a smile even though she is looking at the floor. You bring your hands to her face to wipe away her tears, moving closer to give her a kiss on her forehead before pulling away.

"Let's have some tea."

As you prepare the drink, Wanda sits down on one of the stools in the kitchen. You join her after lighting the fire.

"Do you want to talk now?" You ask next, swinging your seat slightly. Wanda gives you a weak smile, nodding her head. She sighs before she begins.

"My husband died last year." She counters with a lost look on her face. "That man at the party...his name is Tony. He is my brother-in-law. He... My husband died in an accident. He..." Wanda paused, probably overwhelmed by the memories, you reached out for her hand on the counter, and she sniffled before continuing. "Tony is an alcoholic. He...he needed someone to pick him up. So he called. And Vis... They... They argued outside the bar, and someone thought Vis was a cop. And then someone had a knife and..." Wanda stopped in a sob, releasing her hand to cup her face. You stood up, hugging her by the shoulders, and she buried her face in your neck, crying heavily.

"I'm sorry." You sighed, squeezing her. Wanda cried, hugging your waist. You only let go when the kettle beeped.

She wiped away the remaining tears as you went to turn off the fire.

"Do you want to go on?" You ask as you join her again, holding her hands. Wanda gives you a tired smile, denying it. "Let's drink our tea, then."

//-//

"Can I sleep here?" The question doesn't surprise you. After you had finished drinking tea, and you tried to distract Wanda with some small talk, you stood up to take the mugs to the sink, and her voice invaded your ears with the question.

You bit the inside of your cheek, but when you turned around, you didn't hesitate to agree.

And that's how you ended up in your closet doorway, looking for extra pillows.

Wanda walked around, observing your room with curiosity. You mentally thanked your mom that it had only been two days since her monthly cleaning, and your room was not messy.

"Who is this?" Wanda asks as she holds one of your frames in her hand. You have an extra comforter in your hand as you walk over to her to look at the picture.

"This is Bruce." You say looking at the photograph for a moment. Ignoring the wave of guilt that fills your stomach, you walk over to your bed. "We've studied together most of our lives. And the girl next to him is Carol, she was my maid of honor."

"Are they the friends you don’t talk to anymore?" Wanda asks as she returns the picture to the headboard. You mumble in agreement.

"Done, Wands." You say as you place the comforter on the bed. "You can have my pillow, I'll use the cushions on the sofa anyway."

Wanda frowns in confusion.

"Aren't you going to sleep with me?" She asks and you laugh in surprise, feeling your heart race.

"W-what?"

"I thought..." She starts and seeing your reddened face she looks away, clearing her throat. "I'm not going to make you sleep on the couch."

"It's okay, really." You assure her with a smile. "I'll be downstairs and if you need anything you can wake me up."

"Y/N..."

"Good night." You interrupt with a smile, moving closer to place a quick kiss on her cheek before turning and leaving the room, your heart racing.

You haven't slept in the same bed with another woman in many months. That is absolutely not going to happen tonight.

When Wanda finally lies back against the sheets, she grumbles softly. Your scent is everywhere, and she knows very well what it means when her body shivers and she feels a small warmth at the pit of her stomach. Pushing these thoughts away, she closes her eyes, hoping that the tiredness of the day will be enough to make her sleep.

#sorry for your loss #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wandaxyou #wandaxreader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff reader #wanda maximoff you #marvel imagines

325 notes · View notes

pickalilywrites · 3 years

Text

for @certainbonksaladranch, whose kind words always give me a reason to continue writing. thank you for always being a beautiful soul in the rivetra fandom 💖

--------------

If You Have Some Time, Would You Like to Marry Me?

Rivetra. My Girl + My Strange Hero AU.

A Love More Than Diamonds Series: Chapter 1

10175 words.

Read on Ao3!

The first time Levi encounters her is at a wedding.

Levi does not know the bride nor the groom. He actually doesn’t know anyone at the wedding. The only reason he’s attending at all is because the bride is the daughter of a businessman who has been a close associate of his grandfather’s for years. Because Levi’s grandfather was unable to attend due to his poor health, Levi had come in his place. He should be used to it by now, attending all these business meetings and social events with people whose names he can’t ever remember, but Levi still finds them tedious. This wedding is no exception.

After being greeted at the front of the garden and handing off his wedding gift to a staff member, Levi wanders aimlessly around the garden trying his best to be sociable even though so many unnecessary conversations leave him exhausted. He has to remind himself several times not to glance at his watch lest he appear rude. He does one round around the garden, making sure he doesn't miss anyone, before giving up on socializing completely and spending the rest of his time standing beside the fountain and remarking to everyone that passes by that he had never seen such a beautiful wedding before even though it’s a lie. He’s probably been to half a dozen ceremonies that were just as good if not better than this one.

When it’s time for the wedding ceremony to begin, everyone falls into place easily. It seems Levi is the only one stumbling about searching for a free seat. There isn’t anyone he wants to sit next to nor anyone that seems to want to sit next to him, so he sits in the very last row in the corner where nobody will take too much notice of him. He fidgets in his seat, frowning when the orchestral quartet begins to play Pachelbel’s Canon.

It shouldn’t be too long now before Levi can leave. He just needs to wait until the bride walks down the aisle and says her vows alongside the groom and then he’ll wait for the appropriate amount of time before leaving. He just needs to be patient.

Levi turns his head, expecting to see the bride making her way down the aisle. He doesn’t expect to see another woman hurriedly running towards the area where Levi and all the other guests are seated. Other staff members in their monochrome suits chase after her, hissing at her about trespassing because they’re too afraid to raise their voices and ruin the bride’s moment even more. It’s only when the woman pulls out an invitation from her purse and flashes it at the staff that they stop chasing her, although it might be in confusion over how a guest could possibly be so rude as to show up this late. The woman finally reaches the seating area and Levi glances at the bride at the end of the aisle, but it’s difficult to tell her expression under the covering of her veil.

When Levi turns around to check where the late guest has decided to seat herself, he’s almost horrified to find her sliding into the seat next to him. The woman doesn’t seem to notice his horror because she settles in easily next to him, brushing her ginger hair out of her face and flashing a smile at him.

“Ah, my ride was late,” she tells him as if he had asked. At least she has the decency to keep her voice low. Leaning her head towards Levi, the woman asks, “Do you think the bride hates me?”

“I don’t know,” Levi answers. He doesn’t know why he replies at all. He should have ignored her. The woman already made a small scene by arriving late to the wedding, and nothing good will come out of associating with her. He’ll probably have to apologize to the bride’s father for being seated next to the woman even though she was the one who sat next to him. He knows all this and yet he still finds himself saying (quite unnecessarily) to the woman, “I don’t know her at all.”

The woman doesn’t look surprised, only curious. “You’re a friend of the groom’s then?” she asks as they begin to untwist their necks and sit properly in their seats now that the bride is walking down the aisle through the rows and rows of seats.

“No,” Levi replies. “Not really.” He should have lied and said it was true or even made up some kind of distant relation between him and the groom. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t. Maybe he’s so surprised that he’s even having this conversation that he doesn’t think to tell any lies.

To Levi’s confusion, the woman looks absolutely delighted. She leans in even closer, her smile dazzling as she grows ever near. “Me neither. I don’t know anyone here at all,” she confesses, which only confuses Levi all the more.

She had clearly shown an invitation to the staff earlier or she would have been dragged out of the garden when she had first waltzed in late. Why, then, is she claiming not to know the groom or the bride? It might be the case that she is like Levi, only there to maintain a business relationship with either the bride or the groom’s family, but the more he studies the woman, the more unlikely Levi finds this theory.

The woman isn’t dressed in the same black-tie attire that everyone else is wearing, Levi realizes. While all the other women wear gowns with skirts that trail on the grass, the woman’s skirt barely ends at her knees, revealing smooth legs and open-toed shoes. Her hair hangs in a simple bob, ginger locks framing her heart-shaped face, instead of done up in an intricate hairstyle or set in elegant curls. It makes Levi wonder if she had perhaps missed the dress code on the RSVP, but he thinks it’s more likely that she doesn’t belong here at all.

He’s about to ask her how she was invited to this wedding when she suddenly lets out the tiniest squeal and whispers to him, “This is my favorite part!” She sighs with the most wistful smile on her face. “This whole thing is awfully romantic, don’t you think?”

Levi forces himself to look up front where the bride is standing with her groom. The groom’s back is turned to Levi as the bride’s veil is lifted, the bride’s smile blinding as she looks up at her husband. Levi assumes the groom is equally elated to have his soon-to-be-wife by his side. As the bride and groom recite their vows to each other, Levi watches the woman beside him from the corner of his eye.

She sighs almost wistfully as the bride and groom share their vows, chest heaving with a longing sigh and eyes sparkling. Levi doesn’t know how someone can look so enamored with the matrimony of two people they don’t even know, but maybe she’s a hopeless romantic who watched too many romcoms. He expects her to get teary-eyed when the minister asks if anyone would like to “speak now or forever hold their peace,” but she doesn’t. Instead, the woman does something much worse.

At the minister’s words, the woman stands up and Levi has no choice but to watch her even though he wants nothing more than to drag her down by the arm and ask her in a hushed whisper what the fuck she’s doing disrupting the wedding of a perfect stranger. He watches helplessly as the woman stands, her face cold and steely as if she hadn’t told Levi a few minutes before in an awestruck voice that she found the whole wedding awfully romantic, and says the absolute worst thing that can come out of her mouth:

“She can’t marry him.”

And then somehow even more unexpected and horrible:

“I love him.”

She’s staring directly at the groom, Levi realizes, the same groom she had claimed not to know when she had first met Levi. At first, Levi thinks this is just some terrible joke or that he had heard wrong, but everyone around him looks equally horrified and it’s clear that they’re all in the same state of disbelief as Levi.

Tears are welling in her amber eyes, an elegant tear even dripping down her cheek as she looks at the stunned couple. All eyes are on her, but it’s as if she doesn’t notice. Her gaze is fixed on the groom whose hands have fallen from the bride’s. As if entranced, she walks to him, stopping only a few paces away. With tear-filled eyes, she looks to the groom and stretches a hand towards him.

“Darling,” she says. Her voice is hardly a whisper but it seems to ring in the stunned silence. “Darling, run away with me. I love you.”

Everyone’s gaze turns to the groom now. The man looks just as confused as the other wedding guests, but he takes a tentative step towards the woman, then another. He takes another step and then one more until he’s finally reached the mysterious wedding crasher. His hand reaches out to meet the woman’s and she smiles as she intertwines her fingers with his. The woman’s face breaks into a dazzling smile and, without another word, she pulls the man after her and the two run down the aisle while the bride begins to shriek for the wedding staff not to let the runaway groom get away.

Levi watches as the poor maids and butlers try to chase after the groom and the woman who has just spirited him away, but the escapees manage to slip right through everyone’s fingers. The groom and woman make it to the entrance of the garden where an idle van awaits them. As soon as the woman slips inside after the groom, the door slams shut in the sweaty faces of their pursuers and the van takes off. Everyone watches as the van grows smaller and smaller until it finally vanishes and all the while the bride sobs like her heart is being torn out.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

The second time Levi sees her is at a bar that he had initially no intention of going to.

He usually didn’t have the time to attend social outings aside from the ones necessary to appease the business partners that Levi’s grandfather had long been associated with. It doesn’t bother Levi most of the time. He’s not a fan of crowded places, but Hanji always has a way of dragging him to places he doesn’t want to be. They had insisted that this particular bar was worth going to at least once, and Levi had reluctantly agreed because Hanji assured him that it was a hole-in-the-wall establishment where he wouldn’t be bothered even if people did recognize him.

“The atmosphere is very relaxed there. You might be able to take your mind off work for once,” Hanji told him. “The drinks aren’t half-bad either for their price. Oh, but the singer is absolutely divine. She comes out every week and she’s really amazing. Doesn’t a talented singer add to the ambience of a place?”

Upon arriving at the bar, Levi does have to admit that the atmosphere of the restaurant is indeed as relaxing as Hanji had assured him it would be. At the back of the restaurant is a small stage where a jazz band is playing. The place where the singer should be is empty, but Hanji assures him the singer is probably just going on a break and will be back soon. The bar is dimly lit, which gives Levi a slight feeling of anonymity that he typically doesn’t have under bright lights and flashing cameras. Nobody stares at or turns their head as Levi and Hanji make their way to a table in the corner of the bar, and Levi finds himself breathing more easily than he usually does.

“So, tell me about the runaway groom and the mysterious woman who whisked him away,” Hanji asks. In their hands, they cradle a glass filled with an electric blue beverage that smells vaguely of peaches with a wedge of lemon stuck to the top of the glass.

“You’ve heard this story already,” Levi replies. He knows it’s his own fault that he’s about to talk about this scandalous story over a gin and tonic. He doesn’t care for gossip, but he had off-handedly mentioned that he had sat next to the mysterious ginger-haired woman after Hanji had shown him an article in the news about a famous businessman’s daughter being left at the altar. Hanji, always interested in stories about anything strange or scandalous, has asked him to retell the tale at least a dozen times since then.

Hanji leans forward, elbows on the table and face in their hands. “Did you know when she walked in that she’d be running away with the groom? Did it look like the groom was having an affair behind the bride’s back the whole time? Was their getaway dramatic enough to be in a movie?”

Levi rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his gin and tonic. The sharp taste of alcohol burns quickly down his throat and he’s left with a lemony aftertaste on his tongue. “It’s not like I got to talk to her very much. The woman came late to the wedding. She sat down just as the bride was walking down the aisle,” Levi tells Hanji.

Hanji whistles. “Wow, she ran away with the bride’s man and didn’t even have the audacity to come on time. You’d think she’d have some manners.”

Levi believes the tardiness is negligible given the woman’s more offensive crime of running away with the groom, but he doesn’t say that out loud. “It’s strange though,” he says instead. “The woman mentioned that she didn’t know anyone there — neither the bride nor the groom. It might have been my imagination, but it didn’t look as if he recognized her either, at least not at first. He didn’t seem to expect her at all.”

“Well, it’s not every day that someone crashes your wedding and proposes that you run away with them,” Hanji points out. They’re not wrong, but that doesn’t explain everything either.

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Levi grumbles as he settles with his back against the seat, his arms folded across his chest.

“Maybe she was his first love or something and their parents wouldn’t let them marry because of their difference in social status,” Hanji says, chewing on their straw thoughtfully.

“This isn’t a soap opera,” Levi snorts.

“No,” Hanji agrees, “but it could be.”

Levi shakes his head, trying to rid his mind of the strange woman. He doesn’t have the time to think about a wedding crasher he’ll probably never meet again. It’s already too much drama that he doesn’t care for.

“Was she pretty though?” Hanji asks. They reach across the table and munch on a crispy potato chip from the appetizer bowl that was set for them when they had first arrived. It’s clear that even if Levi is done talking about the woman, Hanji certainly isn’t.

Levi wrinkles his nose. “I don’t see why that’s important.”

“It’s important to me,” Hanji says. They sigh and nibble at the end of their straw. “I was just curious if you had an opinion of her. I probably shouldn’t have asked though. You never have an opinion on these things.”

He rolls his eyes and is about to open his mouth when the lights on the stage begin to change color from a soft white to a warm violet.

Hanji sits up and twists in their seat. “Ah, it looks like the singer is about to start,” Hanji says eagerly. They settle down against their seat, hands folded in front of them. “You’ll see what I was talking about, Levi. Even if you aren’t a music aficionado, you can’t deny her talent.”

Levi merely grunts and lets his eyes flicker to the stage. As the band readies their instruments, a woman walks on the stage and the sight of her nearly makes Levi fall out of his seat. The flash of the woman’s ginger hair makes Levi blink — once, twice — and he leans forward in his seat to get a closer look.

The more he stares, the more he’s certain that the woman is the very same that he had met at the wedding. It’s the same woman he had seen running away with the groom, the woman Levi was certain he would never see again.

The woman sits on a stool at the center of the stage while the soft violet lights settle on her. Her eyes are cast downward as the band begins to play, a slick jazzy tune that drifts through the bar, and raises the mic to her lips. When she opens her mouth, the most angelic voice comes out, a voice that was made for singing.

Levi leans over the table, tapping on the surface to catch Hanji’s attention. “That’s her,” he says, not taking his eyes off the woman for a second. “That’s the woman who was at the wedding.”

“She’s the woman from the wedding?” Hanji repeats, confused for a second before they realize what Levi is saying. They do a double-take and then turn back to Levi, eyes wide. “She’s the woman from the wedding you’ve been talking about? Why didn’t you mention she was an amazing singer? We could have found her earlier!”

“It’s not like she sang at the wedding,” Levi scowls. “And even if I did find out she was a singer, how would you be able to connect those two dots?”

“I would have,” Hanji says confidently before taking a sip of their cocktail. They turn back to where the woman is singing. “Should we ask if we can talk to her backstage after the set? She seems so interesting. You don’t meet a wedding crasher with a phenomenal singing voice every day, you know.”

“Please don’t stick your nose into things that aren’t any of our business,” Levi says, although he knows Hanji isn’t listening. They always do what they want anyway.

Levi raises his glass to his lips and takes a sip of gin. He’s so fixated on the woman on the stage that he hardly feels the burn of the alcohol as it slips down his throat.

The woman looks comfortable on stage. Dressed in a loose white peasant blouse and dark trousers, she looks like she belongs under the spotlight and isn’t at all out of place like she was at the wedding. Her voice is melodious and sweet like a songbird, which Levi finds strange. He doesn’t recall her speaking voice as being musical, but he supposes there are people who have singing voices that don’t match their speaking voices.

He ignores Hanji as they flag down a server. The server leans over to hear Hanji’s request better — they’re most likely asking the server for a chance to speak with the singer after her set is over. Levi has half a mind to swat the server away. They’re blocking his view of the stage.

He wonders what a nameless singer is doing in a hole-in-the-wall jazz bar after crashing the wedding of two of the most powerful families in the city. Why isn’t the woman with the runaway groom somewhere overseas where nobody could find them? Why is she here singing at a bar like she hadn’t ruined someone’s wedding the week before? Who exactly is this woman?

“Is she really that pretty?” Hanji asks and snaps Levi out of his thoughts. When Levi looks at his friend, they gesture towards the stage. “You’ve been staring at her. If you’re enraptured by her, just remember: she already ran away with the groom at the wedding.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Levi frowns. He sits up and turns his head, pretending to stare at the wall as he sips his drink but he takes a peek at the woman from the corner of his eye.

Hanji rolls their eyes. “You don’t have to pretend you’re not staring,” they tell him. Levi is about to open his mouth and protest that that isn’t what he’s doing, but Hanji waves their hand about to silence him. “The set is almost over and the waiter I talked to earlier said we could meet with her backstage if you’re so curious about her.”

“I’m not,” Levi says, but Hanji clucks their tongue at him and gestures for him to follow. He doesn’t want to be left alone in an unfamiliar place, so he reluctantly follows Hanji. At the very least, he can apologize to the woman about his nosy friend.

The two follow one of the bar staff towards the stage where they’re taken to a backdoor. The staff holds open the door for Hanji and Levi. The staff member informs the two that the woman has been told of their request to see her and is expecting them backstage.

“She’s very flattered that you want to see her,” the staff member says as they lead Hanji and Levi through a dark hallway. “She’s very shy, though, so don’t do anything to startle her.”

“We won’t,” Hanji assures.

“If she’s so shy, how is she able to perform on stage every night?” Levi asks. He yelps when Hanji jabs him in the side with their elbow, but his friend only smiles sweetly at the staff member who turns around curiously.

The staff member leads them to the back of the stage where some of the musicians are resting. Hanji and Levi follow them to a woman standing nervously in the corner staring at her phone. She looks up quickly at them before looking back at her phone. It confuses Levi when the staff member stops them right in front of the woman. The ginger woman who had sung on stage only moments ago is nowhere to be seen.

“Ruth, here are the people who were so eager to meet you,” the staff member says to the woman, who smiles timidly at Hanji and Levi. To the two, the staff member says, “I’ll leave you two here for a bit. I’ll come collect you before the jazz band starts their set.”

Levi and Hanji don’t say anything for a moment. The three awkwardly watch as the staff member leaves before turning towards each other. It’s clear that the woman in front of them is too shy to say anything and both Levi and Hanji are too confused to introduce themselves properly.

After a moment, Levi asks, “Where’s the woman who was singing just a moment ago?”

“She’s ... I’m the one who was singing,” the woman — Ruth, the staff member called her — says. She plays with her hair, wrapping her finger around a dark lock and spinning it around and around. Levi notices that she doesn’t look up as she speaks. “The woman who was on stage … she just lip-syncs.”

Hanji is much faster at putting the pieces together than Levi. “So you’re the one who sings, and she lip-syncs,” they say, rubbing their chin thoughtfully. They tilt their head as they give Ruth a once-over. “Why, though? Do you two have some sort of deal? Is she forcing you to sing for her so she can claim all the glory?”

“N-no, it’s nothing like that,” Ruth says with a shake of her head. She bites her bottom lip as she finds the words to explain. “I’m just … so shy. Painfully shy. It’s just easier for me to sing backstage and have someone lip-sync on stage. She goes on stage and I sing, and then she gets a small cut of the money every night I work.”

Hanji hums. They’re no longer curious about the singer, but about the woman that had been on stage earlier. “Are you two friends?” Realizing that their questions might be frightening the woman, Hanji straightens up and gives Ruth a friendly smile. “Sorry, I’m just curious about how you came about this arrangement.”

Ruth looks down as she purses her lips. She kicks at some imaginary dust on the floor. “There’s a … company. They fulfill odd requests like mine,” Ruth replies. “I asked them if I could have someone stand on stage for me while I sang and they sent that woman.”

“That woman,” Levi repeats. He doesn’t say it in a particularly harsh tone, but Ruth still flinches. He should probably apologize for startling her, but he has a question he’d rather ask. “Does she have a name?”

Ruth nods reluctantly. “Yes … but she said it was a need-to-know basis,” the singer says. She rubs her arm awkwardly, her expression almost apologetic. “She told me when we were introduced, but she also requested that I not give out her name.”

And so the mysterious woman grows even more mysterious, Levi thinks with a frown. No longer interested in making conversation with Ruth, Levi withdraws behind Hanji as his friend bombards the singer with more questions: Where else does she sing? How long has she been singing? Would she be comfortable doing shows where she wouldn’t have to show her face? At a certain point, Levi thinks Hanji is overdoing the polite conversation and he’s thankful when the staff member finally comes back to collect them.

“So she’s a bar singer in the evenings and a wedding crasher on her free days?” Levi asks when they settle down in their booth. He slumps against his seat, frowning with his arms crossed against his chest. “This just makes less and less sense.”

“I think she’s just a woman of many trades,” Hanji says. They pull something out of their pocket: a little business card. They push it across the table towards Levi.

Levi picks up the card and inspects it. In the very center in simple typescript are the words “As You Wish.” In smaller font underneath are the words “A Wish-Fulfillment Company.” On the very bottom is a number and a website address. Levi looks back up at Hanji, an eyebrow raised.

“It’s really like Ruth said,” Hanji says with a smile. “The woman you’re so curious about works for a wish-fulfillment company. Apparently, they do odd jobs at strangers’ requests. For a price, of course.”

Pretending not to be interested, he pushes the card back towards Hanji. “Are you going to call them up?” Levi asks.

“Nope,” Hanji replies. They look at him with a grin. “I don’t have any wishes for them right now. You can keep that card though. If you really want to know more about that woman, you could call them.”

Levi snorts. He knows he’s never going to call that number, but he tucks the card into his wallet anyway.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

The third time Levi sees the woman is when he finally learns her name.

He’s just finished dining at a restaurant with a few businessmen, who had (of course) left him with the tab. While everyone else has left, Hanji remains at the table, eating an enormous ice cream sundae that’s large enough for two people.

“We could just take it to-go,” Levi tells Hanji, who shakes their head.

“You’re just going to complain when I get ice cream on the car seats,” Hanji says, and they’re absolutely right. They’re a terribly messy eater and them dropping ice cream on the seats is inevitable. They gesture towards their ice cream. “I’m almost done anyway, so just give me a second.”

They aren’t almost done. They have over half the sundae left, but Levi just rolls his eyes and settles in his seat. He lets his eyes roam about the room. He looks over people who are eating and chatting about trivial things: the celebrity they ran into at the hair salon, the dress someone was wearing at the charity dinner, the yacht party someone else held the other night, or something equally unimportant. He’s about to turn and tell Hanji to hurry up when his eyes rest on a familiar head of ginger hair. He sits up in his seat and narrows his eyes, wondering if he’s imagining things.

The woman a few tables away from him has hair the same shade of ginger as the woman who had sung at the bar the other night, the same woman who had sat next to him at the wedding before running away with the groom. She’s the same height and build too, from what Levi can remember. She’s dressed just as oddly as she had been at the wedding, not inappropriately, but it’s clear that she doesn’t belong here. While most guests at the restaurant are wearing suits and elegant cocktail dresses, she wears a short frock that ends inches above the knee. Although he’s sitting from a distance, Levi can tell that even her jewelry is out of place: cheap cubic zirconia instead of the flashy pearls and gemstones that other women are wearing here.

He leans over towards Hanji and asks, “That woman over there … doesn’t she look familiar?”

“Mmm?” Hanji hums with a mouth full of ice cream. They follow Levi’s gaze to where the woman is sitting and their eyes widen. Nodding excitedly, Hanji hastily swallows their ice cream and says, “Oh my god, it’s her! The-the-” They gesture wildly as they try to collect their thoughts. “The woman from the bar! The one who wasn’t really singing! The one you said was at the wedding!”

Levi hurriedly shushes Hanji, not wanting to draw the woman’s attention. She, like many other guests, looks over in Hanji and Levi’s direction, but her eyes just gloss over him before returning to the man she’s seated with.

He’s not the groom from the wedding, Levi notices. He’s a completely different person. Unlike the woman, his attire is suited for the restaurant they’re dining in: a slick suit of midnight blue with a powder blue tie and a matching handkerchief tucked in his pocket. The man looks like he’s apologizing to the woman for whatever reason, bowing his head as he does so, but the woman simply smiles and waves her hand. Levi wonders for what occasion they’re dining together, but he finds out soon enough.

Another woman, an older one with a heavy fur coat and dangling pearl earrings, bursts into the restaurant.

“Where is he? Where is he?” the woman screams as staff members try to hold her back. They say something about having to make a reservation beforehand, but the woman ignores their words and shakes them off before bellowing, “Where is my son?”

Levi watches as the man seated beside the ginger-haired woman shrinks. He looks as if he’s about to hide behind the woman, but the ginger woman puts a comforting hand on his back and says something in his ear.

The woman in the fur coat scans the restaurant and sees where the ginger-haired woman and her companion are seated. She’s absolutely seething as she crosses the floor to where the couple is seated. Her face is flushed red and she’s breathing hard when she finally reaches the two.

“You stupid brat!” the woman hisses, reaching out to pinch the young man’s ear.

Alarmed, the ginger-haired woman reaches out and tries to pry the mother’s fingers off. “God, what are you doing? We’re in public!” she says.

“Oh, don’t pretend to be so innocent, you tramp!” the mother screeches. She lets go of her son’s ear to point a menacing finger in the woman’s face. “It’s your fault he’s like this! Maxed out his credit cards because you goaded him into buying luxury cars and flying you two to Cancún on spontaneous vacations! You’re responsible for this too!”

“Mom, can we talk about this somewhere else?” the man says. He looks nervously around the room. “Everyone’s staring at us …”

“Oh, now you’re concerned about people staring? You didn’t care when people talked about you having a cheap floozy on your arm,” the mother hisses. She looks at the ginger-haired woman disdainfully. “She’s not even pretty, and you’ve clearly bought those earrings at the dollar store. How dare you corrupt my son?”

“Ma’am,” the ginger-haired woman says, not even flinching at any of the insults. She gestures towards the guests. “If you could just sit down, maybe we could talk this through like civilized people. I’m sure we could work things out. You’ll see I’m not as bad as you might believe me to be and -”

The ginger woman doesn’t get to finish her sentence before the woman in the fur coat picks up a glass of wine from the table and spills it over the younger woman’s head.

“Don’t you try to talk to me about being civilized,” the mother sneers. “I’ve seen dogs more civilized than you.”

Levi doesn’t know when he had stood up or crossed the room. He doesn’t know when he grabbed the wrist of the woman with the fur coat. He doesn’t know why he’s getting involved when he normally wouldn’t. He’s almost as shocked as everyone else when he says to the woman, “Don’t speak to her that way. You’re the only one here being less than human.”

The woman is speechless — everyone is speechless, holding their breaths as they guess what’s about to happen next — and Levi turns to the restaurant staff.

“Please escort this mother and her son out of this establishment. She’s disturbing everyone here,” Levi tells them.

The woman is sputtering something incomprehensible as the wait staff ushers her out of the restaurant. The son leaves rather reluctantly, apologizing profusely to the ginger-haired woman. The ginger-haired woman is oddly unbothered by everything, calmly dabbing the wine out of her dress with a cloth napkin from the table.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think she’d be that bad,” the son says as his mother is dragged kicking and screaming out of the restaurant. “I’m sorry. I really am. I’ll … you can send me the tab for the dry cleaning.”

“Oh, I could just throw this in the wash,” the woman says, wringing out her hair. Wine drips on the floor and she frowns. “Don’t worry about it, really. Just wait for your mom to cool down and I’m sure everything will be fine. If she hates me this much, it’ll make your real girlfriend look so much better in comparison. Just … budget yourself more when you take her out on dates and stuff.”

“I will,” sighs the man. He looks reluctant to leave, but some waiters are already asking him to leave. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

“That’s fine,” the woman says with a smile. She gives him a small wave as he leaves before turning to Levi. The ginger woman raises an eyebrow. “Thanks for stepping in, but I had it handled.”

“That woman dumped wine all over you,” Levi points out, but the woman just waves him away.

“It’s fine. It’s just part of the job,” she tells him.

“And what,” asks Hanji popping up from out of nowhere, “is your job, exactly?”

The woman pauses for a moment before pointing from Levi to Hanji. “A friend of yours?” she asks him.

“Yep,” Hanji answers happily. They extend a hand towards the woman, who takes it after a beat. Hanji shakes the woman’s hand enthusiastically, pumping it up and down. “I’m Hanji Zoe, and this is Levi Ackerman.”

“Petra Ral,” the woman says.

“Ooh, cute name,” Hanji says. They look slyly over at Levi and give him a wink. He knows Hanji is going to brag about finding out the mysterious woman’s name once they get back in the car. To Petra, Hanji asks, “I see your companion has abandoned you. Would you perhaps like to dine with us?”

“We just finished eating,” Levi begins to protest but Hanji hushes him.

“Sure,” Petra says with a shrug. She doesn’t seem at all embarrassed to be dining in a wine-stained dress.

With a sigh, Levi gestures for the wait staff to clear out the table and waves over another waiter to take the woman’s order. The woman hardly glances at the menu before ordering, not shirking at the expensive prices.

“The crab cakes, please,” Petra says as she hands the waiter the menu. “And the Caesar salad as well.”

“Oh, and the dark chocolate crème brûlée,” Hanji adds quickly. To Petra, they say, “It’s amazing. You have to have it.”

“Don’t,” Petra says, eyeing Levi as he begins to pull out his wallet. “I’ll get the tab for my food, thank you very much.”

“You make a lot of money, then? Doing all this?” Hanji gestures at Petra vaguely. Hanji’s question makes the ginger raise an eyebrow, wondering if she should be offended, but Hanji quickly elaborates. “I’m just curious. Levi took notice of you at the wedding the other weekend, where you ran away with the groom.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Petra says. She nods at the waiter pouring her a glass of water and mouths a quick thanks before taking a small sip. She purses her lips and looks at Levi, tilting her head as she tries to recall him. He’s a bit uncomfortable under her cool gaze but he tries not to look away. After a moment, she smiles and sets her glass on the table. “Ah, did we sit next to each other? I think I remember you.”

“Well, he definitely remembers you,” Hanji says unnecessarily. It doesn’t surprise Levi when they begin to tell Petra exactly how they came about learning about her and her rather strange occupation. “He was so intrigued by you — I mean, who wouldn’t be? A mysterious woman running away with a groom at such a glamorous wedding — and then he recognized you at the bar you sing at sometimes.”

“She wasn’t singing,” Levi mumbles.

Petra glances at him but doesn’t react, her eyes quickly flitting back to Hanji who’s still talking.

“And then we found out, as Levi pointed out, you weren’t the one who was singing. We spoke to the real singer and she talked about you and the interesting work you provide,” Hanji gushes. They tap their cheek thoughtfully. “What was it again? ‘As You Wish,’ I think was on the card. A wish-fulfillment company. I didn’t know people had wishes about having people ruining their weddings, lip-syncing for them onstage, and getting drenched in wine by their mothers.”

Petra doesn’t flinch at any of these descriptions, although Levi would personally find them distasteful. She only shrugs. “Rich people have an odd assortment of problems and I help them through it,” she says. She pauses to allow a waiter to place a plate of Caesar salad and another dish of crab cakes in front of her, turning for a moment to thank the waiter before taking a fork and knife to cut off a chunk of juicy crab cake. “Although, I’ve had drinks thrown at me more times than I’d have liked.”

“Why do you do it then?” Levi asks.

Petra looks surprised at the question. She doesn’t answer right away, instead cutting another piece of the crab cake. It’s thick and juicy and the outer layer is crisp as she cuts through it. She lifts her fork to her mouth and takes a delicate bite of crab cake, chewing thoughtfully before she replies. “I like money,” she finally says. It’s not the answer Levi expects, but it makes Hanji roar with laughter.

“Gosh, you’re so interesting,” Hanji says. Levi’s certain that Hanji is giving Petra an admiring look. “I bet you have some stories to tell.”

“Probably as many stories as anyone else,” Petra says with a half-hearted shrug of her shoulder. She eats well, Levi notices, making sure to get every crumb and bit of sauce off her plate.

“But do you like your work?” Levi asks, and he watches as Petra stiffens at the question. He probably should prod and normally he wouldn’t poke and pry into stranger’s affairs but he’s been curious about her for quite some time. He was hardly thinking when the question just slipped from his lips.

“Why wouldn’t I?” The ginger woman doesn’t look at him when she replies. She keeps her amber eyes steady on her plate, cutting the last bit of her crab cake into tinier and tinier pieces but never picking up another bite to eat.

“Well, because it’s all a lie, isn’t it?” Levi says. He can feel Hanji look at him in alarm and he knows he can stop, but the words continue to spill from his mouth. “You posed as someone’s long-lost lover to get him out of an unwanted marriage. You posed as a singer to mask someone’s stage fright. You posed as someone’s gold-digging girlfriend to divert a boy’s mother from the truth about her financially irresponsible son.”

Petra continues to look down at her plate, pushing her food across the porcelain dish. “People have problems and I simply help them in whatever way I see fit, Mr. Ackerman,” she replies.

“If they think poorly of you because of it, if they’re throwing things at you and insulting you, I can’t see how it’s worth it,” Levi says. “Don’t you value yourself?”

It’s only then that Petra looks up at him, but her expression is unreadable. “I value myself enough to not let the opinion of others hurt me,” she replies easily. There’s a flicker in her eyes, a spark that makes it seem like she’s challenging him. “Some people hire me because they need a shield to hide behind, someone to lie for them. I don’t mind being a liar, especially if they pay me well enough.”

Hanji looks at their watch in an obvious attempt to end the conversation. “Ah, Levi, it’s getting a bit late now,” they say. They reach out to tug at Levi’s sleeve, but he snatches his arm away.

“That sounds terrible,” he tells Petra.

“Then you’re lucky. I guess you have enough money to solve all your problems. Since that’s the case, I don’t expect you to understand why I do this since it seems you neither care for nor have a need for my services,” she says rather coldly. She turns her gaze away from Levi once more and goes back to her meal, finishing the last bites of her crab cake. Lazily, she flicks her fork in Hanji’s direction. “Are you going to leave, Hanji? I think it’s best to do so now. I’d hate for us to leave on bad footing.”

“Bad footing? Oh no, the footing is great. It was a pleasure meeting you. I just have to apologize for Levi. He’s rather … rigid in many ways,” Hanji says with a nervous laugh as Levi scowls. They’re already getting up on their feet, tugging Levi by the sleeve and forcing him to follow. “It was … fascinating meeting you, although it would have been nice to meet you under nicer circumstances.” They gesture from their head to their person, alluding to the wine stains on Petra’s dress.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. It was interesting bumping into you two at this time,” Petra assures. She pauses for a moment, choosing her next words, and finally says, “And thank you for earlier, Mr. Ackerman.”

“... Sure,” Levi replies stiffly, but he still wants to know more even as Hanji is about to drag him out the door. He wants to know if she’s going to continue her work even if she’s left humiliated half the time, if she really only cares about the money, and if she really doesn’t care what other people think about her that she’d let them hurl drinks and insults at her without even batting an eyelash. He doesn’t, though, because Petra’s right. He doesn’t care for her work, so it isn’t any of his business. He turns around to follow Hanji only for his friend to stop abruptly.

“Ah, Petra!” they say, hurriedly returning to the table. They twiddle their fingers while their eyes wander towards the ceiling. “I was wondering if I could have your card or maybe your number?”

Petra looks confused for a moment and then amused. “Do you have something you need help with?” she asks. Her face breaks into a smile and Levi’s hypnotized for a moment, remembering how dazzling it was when he saw her smile the first time at the wedding.

“Well, not at the moment,” Hanji says sheepishly, “and maybe not even in the future. If you don’t mind having a chat every now and then, we could go out and grab a coffee. You just seem so … fascinating.” They say the word ‘fascinating’ as if Petra is a rare butterfly or a never-before-seen dinosaur fossil. It makes Petra laugh.

“You’re peculiar,” she says, “but that might be fun. Call me whenever you feel like it and maybe we can chat.” She reaches into her little clutch purse, a beaded bag with some loose threads here and there, and pulls out a card. It’s the same business card that Ruth had given to them at the bar the other night. “Just ask for me,” Petra instructs.

“Great, will do!” Hanji beams, cradling the card in their hands like it’s precious gold. They hook their arm around Levi’s, giving Petra a little wave as they practically skip out of the restaurant.

When the two settle into the car, Hanji is still holding the card in their hands, turning it from front to back several times. They look completely enthralled even though it’s just a tiny piece of cardstock.

“Are you really going to call her?” Levi asks.

“Why are you curious?” Hanji says. There’s something of a smirk curled on their lips. Levi wants to smack it off. “Do you want to call her, too?”

“Not at all.” Levi pretends to be disinterested, leaning against the armrest with his chin in his hand as he stares at his reflection in the car window.

“Well, let me know if you ever change your mind,” Hanji says in a sing-song voice. They waggle the card under Levi’s nose. They pause for a moment. “Do you still have the card that Ruth gave us?”

“No, not at all,” Levi lies. The card is still sitting in his wallet. He hasn’t taken it out since then. He had said he’d throw it out, but he never had. He just never had the time to and he had forgotten it after how busy he was, although he can’t say for certain that he would have tossed it even if he had remembered. “I threw it out a long time ago.”

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

Levi sits beside the hospital bed where his feeble grandfather lies, holding the old man’s hand. It’s so bony and withered compared to his own. His grandfather is sleeping as he normally does. He’s usually asleep whenever Levi comes to visit. Although he’d much rather his grandfather were awake, he understands. It takes so much energy for his grandfather to even open his eyes some days.

It’s quiet in the room save for the gentle beep of the heart rate monitor in the background. It’s more feeble than it was the last time Levi was here. It always surprises Levi whenever he visits his grandfather. Although his grandfather’s health has been deteriorating for quite some time, it's so strange seeing someone who was once a powerful businessman waste away in a hospital bed. He had a weak heart, the doctor had said a few years ago, probably from stress and overwork. It would be a miracle if he lived more than a year. Levi’s grandfather exceeded those expectations, still living years after the diagnosis, but it has taken a toll on his health. The doctors have warned Levi’s family that the man could pass away at any time.

Levi’s grandfather stirs in his sleep and Levi grasps the man a little tighter. He can see the old man’s eyelids flutter until they open weakly. His grandfather looks around bleary-eyed, eyes resting on Levi but not quite able to fully focus on his grandson.

“Grandfather?” Levi asks, his voice soft. His grandfather looks so fragile that Levi’s afraid even the slightest noise will be able to shatter him. “How are you? How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”

“Levi,” his grandfather rasps. His voice is barely audible over the heart monitor.

“You don’t have to answer if it’s too much. Just rest,” Levi says. He gets up to fetch his grandfather water, pouring some into a glass on the nearby nightstand. Gently, he brings the glass to his grandfather’s lips and tips it for the old man to drink. It saddens him that his grandfather can’t even drink without help. With a careful hand, he wipes at his grandfather’s mouth with a handkerchief.

“Thank … you …,” Levi’s grandfather manages to say before closing his eyes once more. His breathing slows, his breaths so shallow that Levi can hardly tell his grandfather is breathing at all. If it weren’t for the heart monitor beeping in the background, it would look like his grandfather had already passed on. Levi thinks his grandfather has fallen asleep, but the old man’s eyes flutter open again and he looks at his grandson with a displeased frown. “Levi …”

“Yes?” Levi says, quickly sitting up and grasping his grandfather’s hand with both hands. He glances at the button on the side of the hospital bed, wondering if he should press it and alert the nurse. “What’s wrong? Should I call the nurse?”

His grandfather shakes his head, the movement so slight that Levi would have missed it had he blinked. “I want to … apologize,” his grandfather says. His breathing deepens, chest heaving like it’s taking everything he has just to speak these few words.

“Apologize? What for?” Levi asks with a furrowed brow. He shakes his head and on the edge of his seat if only to be a little closer to his grandfather. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Once more, Levi’s grandfather shakes his head. “I’ve been … so hard on you … all your life,” the old man pants. His hand trembles even as Levi holds it. “Sometimes I wonder … if you’re ever truly happy.”

Levi isn’t sure how to react. He’s not sure what brought about this line of thought from his grandfather.

“All your life … I’ve made you do everything I wanted,” his grandfather continues, his voice growing weaker and weaker. He no longer looks at Levi as he rambles on, his eyes wandering all about the hospital room as if he’s speaking to the air. “To make you into the perfect heir … you’ve had to sacrifice so much, haven’t you?”

Again, Levi doesn’t answer. Nothing his grandfather is saying is false. At first, Levi had thought it a burden following every one of his grandfather’s desires for him. As he grew older, he came to not mind them. He just went through with his tasks mindlessly and didn’t complain. Perhaps he hasn’t been able to do everything he wanted, but he has learned not to want things for himself as the years have gone by. Maybe he isn’t happy, but he can’t say he’s unhappy either. He is ... comfortable with his position in life and wouldn’t complain about it, especially not to his grandfather.

“I don’t … mind it,” Levi says reluctantly.

His grandfather gives him a pitying smile. He reaches out to touch his grandson with a withered hand. “I was so hard on you … because I wanted you to be happy. Reflecting on it now … I know that I have been selfish, never asking you what you wanted,” his grandfather murmurs. He’s lying back again, his eyes closed as if he’s about to fall asleep. “Before I pass … I want to see you truly happy …”

I am happy, Levi is about to insist, but his grandfather opens his mouth once more.

“Oh, to see you wed, happy with someone by your side,” his grandfather breathes. His eyes are open again. They sparkle with tears that are beginning to spill over and run down his cheeks. “Then, I think, I can truly die without any regrets.”

Levi is silent for a moment. Then he speaks. “You mean marry?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” his grandfather says with a sad smile. “I’m afraid … that by pushing you to inherit the family business … you’ll be too busy to find love and happiness with another. If I were to see you marry before I passed … I think I could rest well.”

“I see …” Levi’s voice trails. He doesn’t say anything more, just gives his grandfather’s hand a few comforting pats. In a few moments, he hears his grandfather’s breathing slow again and gentle snoring. It makes him feel slightly better.

With a sigh, Levi gets up from where he’s seated and steps out of the room. He sends a small update about his grandfather’s condition to his mother before tucking his phone in his pocket. For a while, he wanders around the hospital and eventually finds his way to the lobby where he slumps down tiredly in one of the benches with his face in his hands.

Levi knows he should just accept the fact that his grandfather will die without having his last wish fulfilled. After all, not all grandparents live to see their grandchildren marry, but he can’t shake the sense of guilt that rests so heavily on his shoulders after hearing his grandfather’s last wish. The more he thinks about it, the worse it makes him feel. Compared to everything else he’s done for his grandfather — graduating at the top of his class, getting a Master’s degree in business, inheriting the family business — getting married seems so much easier. Isn’t it just meeting someone you’re compatible with and signing a document saying that you’re legally bound together? It’s so simple that Levi feels pathetic for not reaching that milestone, especially now that his grandfather is lying on his deathbed.

But what if …?

The color ginger flashes through his mind for a brief second. Levi quickly shakes his head before the rest of the woman can conjure up his mind, but it’s too late. It reminds him of the card that still sits in his wallet.

He shouldn’t think about fishing the card out of his wallet, shouldn’t wonder about calling the number on the card, shouldn’t imagine asking for a Miss Petra Ral when the person on the other side of the phone picks up, but he finds himself sitting on the hospital bench with the card in his hands. It’s a little less crisp after sitting in his wallet for a few days and the printed words are already a little faded, but he can still read the number on the card.

Levi has to wonder if this is his last option. Is he really this desperate? Surely, there’s a friend he can recruit to get engaged to. He tries to think of one friend or even an acquaintance that would agree to such an arrangement. Unfortunately, Levi realizes, his list of friends is quite short. The only people he can think of that might even entertain the thought of getting engaged to him are Hanji and Isabel, but both are impossible options. Nobody would ever believe it. Everyone knows he shares a strictly platonic relationship with Hanji and that he and Isabel are like siblings.

Then maybe, he thinks, he could hire an escort. The problem with this is that quite a few people in his distant social circle use escort services and they usually hire people as more than just companions for social events. It would be a problem if, by some slim chance, word came out about his engagement and he knows that it won’t be long before people stick their noses where they shouldn’t be and find out how he met his contract-fiancée.

No, Levi grimaces, if he’s getting engaged, he needs to get engaged to someone that nobody knows, someone that can slip in and out of a wedding without anybody knowing their name even after running away with the groom.

Levi looks at the card again, holding it between his two fingers. He stares at it for another second, two, and then pulls out his phone and dials the number on the card. Holding his phone up, he listens as it rings. It takes a few seconds for someone to pick up.

“Hello?” It’s a woman’s voice but not one Levi recognizes.

“Is this … As You Wish?” Levi asks hesitantly. He feels a little nervous now, although he doesn’t know why. After all, this is exactly the kind of business this company deals with.

“Yes,” the woman replies. “How can I help you?”

“I was wondering if I could speak with one of your employees,” Levi says. He can’t believe he’s really doing this. A part of him wants to hang up and forget he ever called, but he’s already made it this far. He might as well just go through with it. “Would it be possible for me to speak with a Miss Petra Ral?”

“Petra?” the woman repeats. There’s a pause on the other end and he can hear muffled voices on the other end. After a moment, the woman returns. “Yes, she’s available. Please wait right one second.”

“Thank you,” Levi says.

As he waits for Petra to pick up the phone, he realizes that this might not be a good idea. They hadn’t left on the best of terms the other day. He had looked down on her job, calling it degrading and humiliating, while she made it clear that she thought him a privileged and spoiled brat. He’s almost certain that she’ll turn him down as soon as he says his name. Levi is about to hang up when he hears Petra’s voice on the other end.

“Hello?” Petra pauses for a moment, waiting for him to answer. When he doesn’t, she says, “This is Petra from As You Wish. I was told you asked specifically for me.”

“I … did,” Levi admits reluctantly. He clears his throat awkwardly, swallows, and then proceeds. If he’s going to get rejected, he should get it done as soon as possible. “It’s Levi. Levi Ackerman.”

“Levi …?” The name doesn’t seem to ring a bell because Petra’s voice trails off until it finally disappears. She doesn’t say anything else and Levi wonders if it’s because she truly doesn’t remember him or if it’s because she’s pretending just to spite him.

“From the restaurant when …” He stops himself there. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, and he’s not sure she’d want to be reminded about any of it — the woman with the fur coat screaming at her and creating a scene in the middle of the restaurant, getting a glass of wine thrown at her, and having Levi speak so disdainfully about her lifestyle. He purses his lips and tries again. “The wedding. I sat next to you.”

“Levi Ackerman … restaurant … wedding,” Petra murmurs. There’s a few sharp sounds on the other end, the sounds of someone snapping their fingers, and Petra says, “Ah, from the wedding. We saw each other at the restaurant the other day, didn’t we?”

He’s about to answer but Petra speaks again.

“But why are you calling me? I thought you made it clear that you thought my line of work was revolting.”

Levi sighs. He shouldn’t have said any of it. Even if he had thought it at the time, it’s not his place to tell her how to live her life. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he says. He’s not sure if he should spit out an apology. He doesn’t know how to give one without sounding like a sniveling idiot. “I’m actually … calling because I need your help.”

There’s silence at the other end and then a snicker. “Hypocrite,” Petra says, and the tips of Levi’s ears sting. He thinks she’s about to tell him to get lost or that she has no interest in helping him but to his surprise Petra asks, “What do you need help with?”

Levi blinks. Once. Twice. He didn’t think he would get this far. Now that he’s here, he’s not quite sure what to do. “I need …” He stops. It’s not a real engagement, so it doesn’t need a real proposal. Still, he should at least ask her for her hand civilly. After thinking for a moment, Levi asks, “I was wondering … if you have the time, would you like to marry me?”

#rivetra #petra ral #levi ackerman #my girl au #my strange hero au #almtd #a love more than diamonds series #certainbonksaladranch #snk

31 notes · View notes