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chiqelatasblog · 10 months

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CHAPTER ONE : The First Failure

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Prologue is here.

-> Chapter Two link is here.

Pairing : Sub Zero | Bi-Han x Reader

Summary : As you navigate the challenges of this forced union, the uncertainties about the future cast a daunting shadow over your every step. Amidst the grand promises that bind your clans, there lingers a fear—the apprehension of an impending first night that both duty and tradition demand.

The journey ahead unfolds as a delicate dance between obligations, fears, and the pursuit of control in a destiny that feels beyond your grasp.

Two months ago…

‘’The plan is quite simple; gain the trust of the grandmaster. Once you win his, the entire clan will trust you anyway.”

‘’Easy to say but difficult to implement. We've been fighting them for too long, brother. That's why it won't be easy for him to trust me. It may take me months or even years to be able to do what you say! If we could come up with another plan-"

"You will do whatever I say."

Your brother rudely interrupted you, casting a disdainful gaze down at you, his stature towering over yours. Despite not averting your eyes, a subtle shudder ran through your body.

Given your brother's easily provoked and irritable nature, angering him was not only a simple feat but also a dangerous one. To maintain your composure, you tightly pressed your lips together and offered a slight bow of your head as a form of apology.

"It seems that our forces are insufficient to defeat them."

While your brother was speaking, he began to slowly circle around you, just like a hunter observing his prey.

“We need a different plan. We must catch them by surprise so that victory will ultimately be ours. Isn't that right, sister?''

One of your brother's hands grasped the end of your hair, which was falling down to your waist, and pulled it slightly, showing that he wanted to get an answer from you.

"Yes brother, you are right."

“A lot of blood has been shed because of this war between the clans. You don't want to let the blood of our dying brothers remain on the ground, do you?"

‘’No.’’

"Good, I'm glad we agree on that."

Your brother caressed your hair with fake affection. When his movement caused you to shiver more noticeably than before, you got angry at yourself for the weakness you showed and stifled your shiver by nibbling hard on the inside of your cheek. Your brother gave a sinister smile, showing that he was aware of the power he had over you and enjoyed it.

‘’You will gain that man's trust, (y/n). Any information you get there is worth gold to us. You can put an end to this war and take your place among us.''

Your brother released your hair, easily reappeared in front of you in two big strides, grabbing your chin and lifting you up to look at him.

"I know how much you desire this. Don't you want to finally be accepted? Moreover, if you complete this task, you will be remembered as a savior.”

You swallowed. Of course you wanted this very much, you had spent years working non-stop, going from one mission to another in order to be accepted. You were cruel to yourself, but your desire to be appreciated was so great that you often ignored your body's flags of rebellion for you to stop. And now, the opportunity you were looking for was presented to you.

Thanks to your talent, you would frequently execute your missions without detection, accomplishing them with flawless stealth and agility. You never found the need to talk your way out of trouble since you had never been caught.

Consequently, people began crafting nicknames for you, acknowledging your existence despite never seeing you. Ghost, Shadow, Nightmare, Specter, Wraith... Among them, your preferred alias was the Silence of the Night. It carried an air of elegance blended with danger, sounding almost poetic.

The more perfect you were at your duties, the less successful you were at impressing people. As someone with the blood of a noble family, you always made sure that your movements looked fluid like water, graceful and measured. However, most of the time, you would think that you couldn't do it right because you tried too hard for it and it looked like the exact opposite.

Despite your abilities being unknown to anyone in the clan, you remained invisible to them. As a result, you didn't have many people around you to talk to in your life. Over time, this led you to give up on trying to establish a dialogue with them, prompting you to retreat into your own shell.

“Put your worries aside,” your brother said, the corners of his lips turning down in distaste as if he heard your thoughts. "You carry our blood, it is not even possible for you to fail."

You swallowed once more. You wanted to succeed in this mission and prove yourself more than anything and anyone. However, this duty also conflicted with your own values. Yes, the Lin Kuei Clan was your enemy and you needed to deceive them for the future of your own clan.

Only then could you bring an end to this war and lead your clan to victory. For this, you simply had to gather enough information and create the right moment by taking advantage of the element of surprise.

But was this really what needed to be done?

Would you be able to do this?

‘'Men are generally simple creatures. Their thoughts often revolve around fighting and sex; complicating matters too much will only confuse them. The grandmaster of the Lin Kuei is no exception. Don't let his cold demeanor intimidate you. Utilize your femininity to captivate him, distract him, fill his mind with you. Refrain from expressing your opinions on any subject; instead, be silent and observant."

Your eyes filled with tears of despair as your eyebrows furrowed slightly. But you didn't spill them, you wouldn't give your brother this satisfaction, nor would you humiliate yourself in front of him.

“When you become his wife in a few months, your body will now belong to the grandmaster. Do whatever he wants. The more you satisfy him, the easier it will be for you to approach him and learn the order inside."

You knew you wouldn't deny what was said; you were merely a pawn in this war, with no right to voice objections. It was unheard of. Nonetheless, despite the looming marriage in two months, your brother's words induced a knot of tension in your stomach.

"Did you understand what I said, sister?"

You were able to say, "Yes." in a dry voice.

A sinister smile, reminiscent of a snake, appeared on your brother's face. He cupped your face with both hands and placed a small kiss on the top of your head, as if sealing the spoken words.

''Nice, very nice. Since we agreed, you can withdraw (y/n).”

Today

You stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do.

About half an hour ago, you were married to the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei. The wedding was held in a simple ceremony attended by clan elders, family members, and high-ranking special warriors.

Even though the wedding dress fit like a glove, you felt like you were suffocating throughout the ceremony. It was as if your lungs did not fit into your chest; no matter how deep you breathed, it was never enough, preventing you from suppressing the growing tension inside you.

That's why you focused your gaze on one place, looking only in front of you, and tried not to lose control. You were a warrior; you shouldn't have been intimidated by a marriage. Moreover, it wasn't even a real marriage; it was just a significant step towards leading your clan to victory.

Still, despite all this, the weight of the task, its reality, and the obligation to meet expectations began to weigh on your shoulders with each passing minute, making itself felt more clearly.

During the ceremony, neither you looked at the grandmaster nor he looked at you. Both of your eyes were focused forward, both of your stances were upright, and there was a distinct gap between you, almost large enough for a person to fit in. It was obvious from every aspect that you were married out of necessity.

“I hope this union will end the ongoing hostility between the two clans. Now we are all a family under this roof; your happiness is our happiness, your sadness is our sadness, and your war is our war too.”

With the echoing voice of the clan elder, the trembling in your body increased even more. When the rings were brought to you in a fancy box to be worn, you turned your body towards the grandmaster, and this time you fixed your gaze on his chest, avoiding meeting his eyes directly.

Even in this situation, you felt small and cornered against the grandmaster's large body. You knew you could easily blend into the shadows and escape from there if you wanted; it would be effortless for someone of your skill. Unfortunately, running away was not an option for you as you had to hide your powers from them.

Your head could only reach the man's chest, and the cool air emanating from him had raised the tiny hair on your body. The danger signals emanating from every part of the grandmaster were clear as day; you could feel his dark aura and dominant nature to your core.

You raised your hand when the grandmaster, who was about to become your husband, reached out to put the ring on your finger. Your hand was shaking noticeably, just as you had feared. You hoped that he would think you were shivering because of the cold.

While shame turned your cheeks pink, you felt the grandmaster's gaze on you for the first time and, unable to help yourself, you stole a glance from behind your eyelashes.

When you directly met the grandmaster's eyes, at that moment your heart was filled with a strange feeling that you had never felt before, as if your heart had fallen into the void.

They were definitely the most beautiful eyes you've ever seen in your life. Dark brown eyes, with the gaze of a predator, were slightly slanted and framed by dark lashes. It reminded you of the snow leopard you encountered while wandering through the forest once, beautiful but also wild. He had a distinct danger that meant he could easily tear you to pieces if you got close to him.

The grandmaster's touch sent a shiver through you as he placed the ring on your finger, his dark eyes never leaving yours. It was as if you were jolted awake from a dream, and you quickly shifted your focus to your hand.

The silver wedding ring on your finger was plain, with a smooth surface that felt cool against your skin, and adorned with only a small, dark blue gemstone. After looking at the ring for a few more seconds, you moved to put it on the grandmaster's ring in the same way, and again the man's intense gaze never left you.

You didn't remember the rest of the ceremony, you were too nervous and stressed. You had no idea how you got to this room, all you remembered was the similar corridors and the cold seeping through the stone walls.

You told the two women who came to help you to take off your wedding dress that you wanted to be alone and asked them to leave the room, and you somehow managed to take off your wedding dress with numb fingers.

With your legs feeling like jelly, you open the suitcase left in the corner of the room, where your belongings are kept. Carefully, you take out the nightgown your brother had chosen for you, unfolding it with a sense of reluctance and uncertainty.

Examining the satin, black nightgown with its long, floor-sweeping skirt and deep slit, a wave of nausea washes over you. The front of the nightgown is once again crafted in a deep V-shape, mirroring the design of the slit, making you acutely aware that it could easily expose your breasts without any effort on your part.

As you slip into the nightgown, your growing nausea intensifies, and an unsettling sensation grips you – akin to being a gift meticulously prepared for presentation. The overwhelming feeling brings tears to your eyes, and your lower lip begins to tremble slightly.

Anticipating the upcoming moment, you frequently refrain from pondering how your first time will unfold. Coming from a noble family, voicing your opinions on marriage is a luxury you don't possess. It's a duty, an obligation shared by everyone in your family, a fate dictated by the needs of the clan's future.

Reflecting on your parents' union, you recognize that, for those of noble blood, marriage is more duty than choice. The realization has always been too daunting to confront. The notion of a stranger, someone you've never met, easily penetrating your privacy has consistently sparked fear, causing your heart to race and beads of cold sweat to form.

And now, you've reached a point where you can't run anymore.

With fingers numbed by tension, you delicately adorn yourself with jewelry left by your mother, seeking to conceal the scar that stretches along your throat. Each piece, though carrying a sense of protection, is recognized as nothing more than a fragile illusion.

When the last necklace settled down to stand in the middle of your chest, the question that you didn't want to think about but couldn't stop from appearing echoed in your mind.

Was he going to hurt you?

You were not oblivious to the whispers that circulated regarding the first night, and unfortunately, the majority of the gossip you caught wind of painted a rather grim picture.

Given your origin from the enemy clan, he has every justification to revel in your suffering. Under different circumstances, you would never hesitate to fight and defend yourself.

Your body, shaped by years of training, is acquainted with pain, and you've acquired the skill to endure it. Yet, despite your ability to suppress pain in your mind to a certain extent, it proves insufficient to pacify the fear welling up within you—a type of fear both raw and primal, an emotion you’re unfamiliar with.

Besides, you had no idea how to satisfy him. Your life was spent in rigorous training, tasks, and strict discipline. Moreover, being an outcast in your clan, you had never formed emotional connections with anyone, making you clueless about how to satisfy him.

Finally, you dabbed on a perfume with an intense scent that irritated your nose, applying it to your wrists and a bit on your neck. The overpowering smell of vanilla engulfed your senses, intensifying your nausea. Due to the stress you had been feeling since the morning, you could only manage to drink water, and the bitter taste of rising bile lingered because there was nothing to expel.

Not now. Not now. I can't throw up now, no. Please no.

While desperately trying to calm yourself down through self-assurance, the door of the room opened quietly, causing you to freeze in place. When Lin Kuei's grandmaster stepped into the room in all his glory, a cold breeze also entered with him.

You trembled like a leaf in the thin nightgown you were wearing. Maybe it was due to the tension you felt, you didn't know, but the grandmaster's large body made the room suddenly feel small.

‘‘What are you doing here?’’

The deepest sound you'll ever hear in your life echoed through the room. You swallowed; you were sure you hadn't done anything wrong, but the way the man was asking made you doubt yourself.

‘‘I was brought here,’’ you said in a soft voice. Compared to the turmoil inside, you were glad that your voice came out smoothly and clearly, without cracking. ‘’Did I do something wrong to make you angry?’’

‘‘I don't want you to be here.’’

As the grandmaster approached you with confident strides, you made an effort to project an air of composure, stifling the inner protests urging you to step back and maintaining a poised posture.

You didn't want him to think that you were afraid of him; it was too dangerous to put such power in his hands already.

Once the distance between you closed, you were able to look at him decently for the first time, having to tilt your head back a little to do so.

He was dressed in a traditional outfit of dark blue and black with the colors of his clan, and there was the clan's crest on a silver brooch attached to the left side of his chest. The grandmaster in these clothes looked more like the Chinese monarchs who passed through ancient times than a warrior in it.

His black hair was carefully gathered, and his complexion, pale enough to reflect the moonlight, framed a masculine face. With an arched nose, thin lips, and a jaw marked by strong lines, his features were striking.

Yet, what left the most significant impression and held your gaze was his eyes. Unblinking, dark orbs conveyed pronounced arrogance, a testament to his accustomed habit of looking down on others, coupled with a commanding power that compelled obedience. His dominant air shifted the room's atmosphere in an instant.

Normally, intimidation never came easily to you, a trait instilled by the harsh experiences your own family subjected you to. Your family, especially your demanding late father and your brother following in his footsteps, shaped your resilience. No one had the luxury of choosing their family, so you learned to keep your guard up and navigate around them.

Despite being a stranger, the man before you exhibited a fundamental difference that set him apart from the individuals in your family within seconds. Wordlessly, through his upright posture and tense shoulders, he conveyed a silent threat, one that lingers and continues to affect you.

‘’This is my room," stated the grandmaster. Although his voice was as quiet as the night itself, it resonated so deeply that it seemed to rumble in your ears. "The fact that we are married does not mean that we will share the same room. This marriage is no more than an alliance; you are my wife on paper, not in reality."

You remained silent, unsure of how to respond. This revelation caught you off guard, and as the temperature in the room dropped, you had no doubt that the grandmaster started to notice your trembling body.

In a whispering voice, you finally managed to ask, "But shouldn't we be fulfilling the binding of the marriage ceremony?"

"I can clearly see that you don't want to do this; you look as timid as a bird," remarked the man. One of his black eyebrows slightly lifted in a mocking manner. "I've heard that birds have heart attacks and die when they get too scared. Is that what happens when I touch you?’’

Despite the cold in the room, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and a touch of anger at being perceived as weak. The man's words carried a sarcastic, arrogant tone that ignited a surge of anger within you.

You lifted your chin and looked directly into the eyes that were carefully watching your every move like a hawk. This action of yours was bold, perhaps even displaying a rudeness unbecoming of a noble woman, but in that moment, you didn't care.

‘’I am here to fulfill my duty.’’

"We've both just fulfilled what was expected of us already, little bird.’’

You frowned at the sarcastic nickname that came out of his cold voice.

‘’On paper, you are my wife, and I am your husband. We are no more than that. We won't be. If you want this alliance to be sustainable, don't take the ring off your finger, don't try to pry into my business, and keep your mouth shut as long as you're around me. I'm sure you're talented enough to do all of these things.’’

Without giving you a chance to answer, the grandmaster grabbed you by the arm and kind of dragged you after him towards the door, while the coldness emanating from his hand took your breath away.

‘‘Your own room is at the very end of this corridor, I'll call someone in a moment to bring your things.’’

When he closed the door in your face as he finished his words, you stayed where you were in shock. Not only were you kicked out like a little child, you were also insulted.

You stayed there, your rapidly beating pulse create a ringing in your ears, while your breath coming out of your lips created a thin smoke in front of you.

You had failed the first task you were expected to perform. You knew that when you had to report to your brother, he would ask you questions about tonight and wonder if you were successful in influencing him. If you tried to lie, he would catch it very easily. You've had enough time to ignore this concern for now, but you've fallen into a complete unknown about what you should do.

As you walked towards your room with silent steps, you also felt more humiliated than ever. You've never heard of a woman being kicked out of a room on her wedding night.

Marriage was a sacred bond, according to the belief the marriage would end the same way it began. You knew well how important it was to fulfill this, especially for those who care about old traditions, such as your own clan.

Despite the marriage being crafted for an alliance, even if it was merely a facade, both sides exchanged marriage vows. While the incomplete conclusion of the ceremony lessened your concerns about the first night, it now overwhelmed you with anxiety and humiliation that you couldn't fulfill it.

Tomorrow morning, when you emerged from another room, everyone in Lin Kuei would find out the truth. Was the grandmaster's reluctance to touch you solely due to your status as his enemy? Or perhaps, beyond that, did he harbor a dislike for your appearance? Maybe that's why he wanted you out of his sight as soon as possible.

‘’Why does it matter what he think?’’

You said to yourself. Crossing to your room, you closed the door behind you and sat down directly in front of the windows, which illuminated the room with moonlight, without bothering to look inside.

‘’It doesn't matter what he think about me, he is my enemy, and I am his. I need to figure out how I can get this resolved as quickly as possible, that's all.’’

While reassuring yourself, you nervously nibbled on your lower lip. The challenges ahead were proving to be far more demanding than anticipated, yet you hadn't found the courage to vocalize this realization.

#bi han sub zero #bi han x reader #bi han x you #reader insert #arranged marriage #slow burn #lin kuei #mortal kombat #mk1 #mk1 2023 #ao3 link #ao3

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noxxha · 2 years

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Uchiha Madara - A man defined by love, hope and despair

I am all for devoted siblings that love one another - that would go through metaphorical and a literal hell for one another - but that selfsame devotion - when twisted to its opposite, is just as compelling to explore and untangle so that you can watch a unhealthy dynamic/toxic (how I loathe that word) turn healthy.

Do not misunderstand, I headcanon that Madara and Izuna had a mutual respect for one another, that they cared and adored one another with an intensity only few relationships manage. They loved one another so deeply that no one could measure it. Their relationship was one of give and take in equal measure.

But it got me thinking about the possibility of a darker tone to this very dynamic (even if just in a few instances and not their entire relationship being unhealthy).

Hashirama mentions that Madara is “indecisive”. While it is used more as a form humour, Madara’s “push and pull” dynamic is a dance that can go on for a long time should both parties participate in that dynamic. He showcases the most fundamental of desires in humans at that point, though; connection. But, as most who have been hurt one way or another, he cannot handle it at the same time and it makes him conflicted.

That indecisiveness is probably not without merit (if it’s not rooted in projection of Hashirama’s issues onto Madara, that is).

Madara most likely considered every possible angle, and how best to minimize the chances of his last brother perishing - to the detriment of the clan. Izuna had to constantly reassure his brother that he would survive and keep on watching over him - have his back as they say, quite literally. They would remain together, as they always had.

Despite seeing Izuna as someone overflowing with talent - and as his equal on the battlefield in many aspects - it would not surprise me if a part - tiny as it is - of Madara would prefer to keep Izuna away from the battlefield altogether - to Izuna’s obvious disagreement. Many a argument had probably been heard when both brothers lashed out at one another from emotions boiling over.

The constant war and bloodshed probably taught Madara early the importance (and the impossibility) of control. He, most likely, turned to his siblings to find reassurance in this world that was so unpredictable, and cruel, in that any of his siblings could perish at any moment. And perish they did. Only Izuna reached adulthood, and he died terribly young even then, aged merely 24.

The tragedy of Madara - what broke him so completely and changed him into someone no one, not even Hashirama, could recognize - was the death of his beloved brother. The remaining member of his family that once was a family of seven.

Being born with many siblings was the norm during the Warring States Era. Becoming attached and fond of these very siblings was probably - whether it was said or implied in any which way - frowned upon (due to the unpredictable lives they lived as shinobi).

Or, as in the case of the Uchiha clan; their greatest strength was also their greatest weakness (literally).

As much as bonds have the ability to shape us into the best version of ourselves, they also have the capability to cause terrible distress and suffering, and Madara is one - of many - examples of having loved and lost.

If we go deeper and see beyond the love and adoration an older brother held for his younger one, what do we find?

A man becoming unhinged.

But why?

Because he lost the one thing/person he was living for.

A bold claim to make, no? But realistically Madara was an unhinged, unstable person - due to his personality and his environment shaping him as such. He was undeniably kind and compassionate as well - but in the end those very traits would end up destroying his already fragile and declining mental health.

Izuna represented more to Madara than merely family; he was everything to him. Everything began and ended with Izuna.

Granted, Hashirama never knew Itachi and his…’heroic deed(s)’ in Konoha’s name, but he did mention that Madara’s love (perhaps/probably) overshadowed the love (and that label is up for debate in all honesty) Itachi held for Sasuke.

There is even a lore reason that points to the fact just how deep Madara’s capacity for love was - for the pain and the darkness to claim him so completely; the Sharingan and, more importantly, the (Eternal) Mangekyō Sharingan.

Madara’s dream of a peaceful world had everything to do with Izuna. That is adorable, it is beautiful, but it is also a receipt for disaster - and we are, indeed, shown the consequences of the loss of a brother held so dear (albeit indirectly because we got everything told through Hashirama’s perspective).

Madara pinned his entire existence, his reason for fighting and perpetuating this endless cycle of violence - in the hope to create peace - onto one single thing. Even worse, that thing was a human he adored and loved more than his own life.

Humans are fickle. Our loved ones are loved as much as they are resented at times. Realistically Madara and Izuna would not be an exception to that ambivalence - no matter how close their bond. Paradoxically enough that closeness would probably have caused terrible, terrible friction from time to time. From control issues, feeling smothered and not appreciated, to resentment and anger.

The look of a man about to lose everything

Madara had dreams, powerful ones at that, but they hinged on the condition that Izuna was there to experience them with him - together.

“If it’s you I can go in peace…”

“I have not a single brother left. I have nothing to protect”

“You took even my last brother from me…”

If that is not someone being heartbroken and suicidal I don’t know what is…

And what happens once he loses his beloved brother?

Has to watch him become another sacrifice like their other three siblings, like their family and friends?

His entire world crumbles.

Literally.

One can nearly say with certainty that Izuna held the clan together - held Madara together - as without their second-in-command, Uchiha defected to the Senju due to their lack of trust in Madara to protect them. While not the sole reason, it does say a lot if the power balance shifts in the favour of the Senju.

That is not to say that Madara is an incompetent leader; he just had his priorities backwards (in the eyes of everyone else, those who could not understand).

Izuna probably chided Madara - if with a tenderness not really befitting the situation, to easier reach the brother of his who was prone to defensiveness even with him - for his protectiveness. But as I mentioned before that tenderness, to slight exasperation, had to be a terrifying sight the moment it came from a place of genuine frustration and wrath.

With Izuna gone Madara was adrift in more ways than one. What had shaped his entire existence was the war and bloodshed, as well as his love for his family - and now he was alone in an unfamiliar territory, with a different political climate to adjust to and navigate.

However, Konoha was not Madara’s dream per se - it was Hashirama’s. The condition, to which he initially agreed to it, had been taken from him. While it was a beautiful sight to witness peace take form, it must have felt - if not entirely meaningless - hollow.

Out of desperation - to find a sense of comfort - he tried to repair his bond with Hashirama. But they were too different in their values at that point and it was a friendship that was one-sided. But it was the last hope Madara had.

While not entirely swallowed by despair just yet, resentment must have been festering in his heart. Nothing was turning out the way he had hoped. His clan was once and for all turning their back on him and spat so onto the sacrifices that were made for them.

The negotiations (if as such it can be called) between Iwagakure and Konoha (with Madara sent as the latter’s representative) shattered Madara’s last shred of hope in Hashirama and revealed the way Hashirama perceived ‘peace’.

Hashirama was not ushering them into an era of peace as they longed for in their boyhood. He was perpetrating their existing cycle of violence on a smaller, more calculated scale. Attempting to unite all villages under one name (Konoha), while disregarding that not all see their peace as the only path to peace, nor do all want to join their cause.

Disillusioned, Madara’s choice is clear and absolute. Izuna’s warning has come to pass.

As a witness to Tobirama’s rhetoric and beliefs (perhaps not just yet as extreme as they would become), Madara can only come to the conclusion that, the moment Tobirama takes over Hashirama’s heritage, his clan - the clan for which Izuna gave Madara his eyes, the clan he fought to keep safe through both a promise and as their leader - is doomed.

They resent each other; that is an undeniable fact. Tobirama is the reason Madara lost what was most dear to him, denting his fragile psyche and strengthening his distrust in this village where they - Uchiha and Senju - cannot coexist. Madara, however, backed himself into a corner the moment he gave his former friend the alternative to understand him and his pain, yet his heart - kind since a mere child - could not follow through with such cruelty.

With Hashirama sprouting lofty words and empty promises, Madara turns his back onto their dream once and for all.

In canon it is the deciphering of the modified - by black Zetsu - stone tablet that sends Madara’s psyche down the deep end once and for all. But, in all honesty, it had been enough if Madara lost Izuna, and his faith in a dream, that - in the end - was not even his.

A purely psychological angle (as in, no blob of darkness there to pull the strings) would have been more than enough for Madara to conclude that an extreme path to peace (and whether it is peace, or not, is another debate) was the only way to achieve lasting peace for humankind.

He saw, after all, with his own eyes that humanity was unable/unwilling to change its ways; whether in the era he grew up in, or after Konoha was built - conflicts remained. War still broke out in the form of the First Ninja War, then the Second Great Ninja War, then a third one even.

Nothing had changed.

Everyone had sacrificed themselves for naught. Konoha was built on the corpses of their kinsmen, and everyone pays for their safety in blood still.

If going by canon, it is - indeed - the modified stone tablet that does Madara’s psyche in and that is when despair swallows him whole.

If Konoha was Hashirama’s life’s work, so would Madara’s Eye of The Moon plan end up being his (quite literally even). The Eye of the Moon Plan was born from his despair at having lived a life where he had to lose love and hope.

He went above and beyond for the chess pieces to align.

And yet, despite going so far as he did for his plan, it was terribly…fortuitous in the end. Neither Nagato nor Obito held themselves to the script, and neither would have brought Madara back to life in the end.

But all that would not have mattered to Madara, as the moment he died, Izuna was there to finally welcome him home.

#madara uchiha #izuna uchiha #naruto analysis #long post #very long post #thoughts #ramblings #I love speculating about these two #a bit too much #siblings that adore one another is my weakness #there is so much I want to write still #ended up becoming a different piece of writing than I first thought #so many drafts…

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a-world-in-grey · 1 year

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Does anyone on Mainland knows what Galahdian braids mean? Or that they even mean anything? I'm not even asking about the general population, more like people who were responsible for diplomatic relations with Galahd or who studied the culture.

Also, if Regis and Clarus don't know the meanings, would they try to learn at least some of them for Sola and Axis?

@secret-engima thoughts on this?

I imagine some things are known about Galahdian culture? Galahdian culture tends towards xenophobic (strong Insider-Outsider boundaries, strong dislike for Outsiders at best, outright hatred at worst. I know the word is distasteful, but call a spade a spade) but Lucians who have regular contact with Galahdian culture (mostly traders) will notice certain patterns.

Anyone looking to study Galahdian culture would end up talking to those Lucian traders. Because otherwise they'd have to find a very friendly Galahdian Chief willing to go against their ingrained teachings of 'keep Outsiders out of our culture' as well as risk censure from their Clan and fellow Chiefs.

So Lucian scholars/diplomats would probably know that Galahdians wear braids to signify what Clan they are part of. They might even know that they wear braids to signify marriage instead of wedding rings. A scholar would likely be able to conclude that the braids hold cultural significance, given how every Galahdian has those braids.

Otherwise, Lucian scholars probably wouldn't have much luck studying Galahdian culture.

As far as Regis and Clarus learning from Sola and Axis, I think it would depend. Cor already tripped over the hair cultural issue, so they'd know about that. But Axis grew up with the 'don't share with Outsiders' mindset, and with his issues with Clarus I don't know how quick he'd be to overcome that, assuming Clarus ever finds out that Axis is his eldest son. In most of my aus, Clarus never finds out.

Regis... I'm not sure, honestly. He'll know what Sola's Clan braid means, since the braid matching Tredd's is pretty obvious after she's adopted by the Furia. The Hero braid in her hair depends on when Regis asks. If Regis asks. Noctis might be the one to ask, honestly, and if Regis is there when Sola explains to Noctis that the braid 'recognizes her courage on the field of battle' (because Sola's not going to tell Noctis the details of that particular battle, or really any of the details of battle on the frontlines, the kid is twelve) he probably would assume it's similar to one of the Lucian military medals awarded for courage in the line of duty or something like that. Which, he's not entirely wrong - Sola's Hero braid was awarded for her killing Prince Icarus in defense of Tredd's life, and the only other Hero braid she's awarded before Regis' death is also for conduct on the field of battle, when she tears apart the Diamond Weapon at cost of her own life. Sure, the second Hero braid has different colors, but Lucis has different tiers of medals, so he assumes the Galahdians do as well.

As a sidenote: I hc that only Chiefs are really allowed to decide if major parts of their culture are allowed to be taught to Outsiders? Which is why no one commented on Nyx teaching Sola the Ulric Dance before she was adopted. He's Chief Ulric, he can teach anyone he wants. Oh, he probably got some sideways glances at first from the other Chiefs, but the only people culturally acceptable to censure him would be other Ulric Chiefs, because interfering with how another Clan runs themselves is a very good way to spark an inter-Clan conflict. Allies have slightly more leeway, but even then it's not done unless it's something the Allied Clan as a whole disapproves of. So Clan Ostium could've talked to Nyx, if all the Ostium Chiefs got together and decided that they all really really did not agree with Nyx teaching Sola. But the gossip out of the Glaive would've let them assume that Nyx was trying to entice Sola into joining Clan Ulric, especially once they hear that she's Skyborn, so honestly most dissent disappears pretty quick. Honestly, by the time Sola's adopted by the Furia, the Ostiums' biggest annoyance with Nyx is how damn long he's taking to adopt Sola. And then the Furia sweep in and steal her first and the Ostium might be a bit salty about that. At least until Sola proposes to Libertus and becomes an Ostium.

#ffxv #worldbuilding #galahd culture #braids

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lazypanartist · 2 years

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So of course Im gonna do a Bonus Thing for Donnie x Yokai reader like the rest but i just had... either a Big Brain or Big Dumb idea of the different readers and the brothers talking to each other hang on lemme just--

----

Mikey: I dunno... *sigh* What if I mess up confessing to Starsick?

Raph: *snorts* Please, theyre so delighted with anything you say to them they wouldnt even notice.

Don: *typing something, deleting something, typing again* You could probably say something along the lines of "mmme date? you? please yes?" and they'd think its cute.

Leo and Raph: *laughs*

Mikey: Oh shut it! >:[ I just dont want to ruin my chances...

Leo: Believe me, baby bro, they are ENTIRELY smitten with you. Just go for it! Heck, at least you arent in Don-Tron's shoes.

Don: *stiffens* Hey!

Raph: Night Eyes is...Kinda scary man, sorry. I dont know how you wont choke asking em out.

Leo: You think theres like a whole custom thing you gotta do? or can you just take em out for tacos and woo em with your knowledge of ant farms?

Don: *grumbling* I shouldve dumped the colony in your bed while you were asleep- Look, ill take em to a nice restaurant, maybe go dancing... once I text them....

Raph: You cant take em to Hueso's, Mikey called that one.

Leo: Hey, not to bat for donnie, but Mikey also called like....17 other places. He's gotta pick one. And anyways, Raph, whats your plan?

Raph: *blushing* I dunno what you mean.

Mikey, Leo and Donnie: PLEASE.

Donnie: You are, according to extensive data research and watching you and Origami with my own eyes, crushing HARD on each other.

Mikey: Yeah! Come on big guy, you gotta ask em out. You're so sweet on them and they seem like they feel real comfortable around you.

Leo: *nods nods* You gotta do it bro. You're adorable together, and I think youre really good for em. Plus im worried they might, like, cry or throw up if they try and ask you out.

Raph: Whatever *rolls eyes* ...and what about you, eh?

Leo: *blink* What do you mean?

Don: ???When are you finally gonna ask Homie out??

Mikey: theyre already dating guys. I overheard them talking about date night on saturday.

Leo: Guys i already told yo- wait were you eavesdropping on us...? nevermind. We arent dating. Homie's just a close friend, they dont even like me like that.

Raph, Donnie, Mikey, Splinter (who just wanted some cake and is now part of This Shit): 🤨😒

-- Elsewhere, at a cafe --

Starsick: Gosh i dunno what if Michelangelo's just being nice?

Night Eyes: Mh, no. He's down bad. He looks at you like you hung the moon in the sky.

Homie: Look, if he doesnt ask you out by the end of the week, hes probably just nervous. try confessing your feelings and see if that helps!

Origami: *nods* a direct approach is a good one.

Night Eyes: Which is why I'm asking ~Othello von Ryan~ to come visit me at a dance hall. after dinner, of course. Sushi, my treat. 💅✨

Homie: Ooohohoo~ Look at you, going in for the kill!

Night Eyes: Hes just so cute~ I like how he talks about space travel. so facinating!

Homie: So, when are you going to tell Big Red you like him?

Origami: *sputters, face red* What!! No! I do not! I just, he, um..!!

Starsick: Is nice to you, helps calm you down, encourages you to take care of yourself....

Homie: *counting on fingers* reminds you of a teddy bear, thinks you look cute when you pout, helped get you out of the foot clan...

Night Eyes: Is so painfully smitten with you yet you remain unaware.

Origami: >~< he's so sweet, and Im worried I might...be mean, or blunt, and it makes him not like me....How did you ask Leonardo out?

Homie: ...??? who, me?

Origami: ...yes??

Homie: Oh, we arent dating. We're just friends, he doesnt like me like that.

Night Eyes, Origami, Starsick, April (who was bringing their order and is now in the middle of all This Shit): 🤨😒

-📝 Anon

WNSKABDODB

OHHH MY GOD

Everyone being friends and trying to help them ask each other out?? Leo and Homie being Big Gay Idiots is, like, my WHOLE Aesthetic!

#kana's chats #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rise leo x reader #rise donnie x reader #rise raph x reader #rise mikey x reader #📝 anon

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silverjirachi · 1 year

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4-6 exile vilify pls

4. What detail in [insert fic] are you really proud of?

The whole thing with Thelem. Since I made the realization about the ending of the book very early on, I was able to shape every single scene and every piece of his dialogue around this point. There are some very subtle things going on with him; things he says, things he leaves out, little things that he does in every scene he has that make his knowledge apparent, and I'm hoping it's one of those things that deepens meaning for the reader with each re-read and recontextualizes things after you get through the book the first time. There's even some bits in the wording and tone of the prose that point to Thelem too.

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about [insert fic]? Answer it now!

Oh god well I feel like I talk about this fic a lot actually, and I've gotten a lot of great questions. But I don't think people have ever asked me just like... what my favorite parts were. So, small list of fav moments:

the scene where Azelphir gives Astor The Prophecy™

Astor's first "prediction" when he says "Because Fate has decreed it" at the ceremony and Azelphir's reaction to that

the time Astor saves the Queen from drinking the poisoned goblet

the time Thelem yells at everyone in the abbey

Astor saving Rose from the Malice (I love this detail because despite how Astor spends his entire life hung up on this fear of killing her, what he ultimately ends up doing is buying her time).

The part immediately after Astor dancing with Rose where she loses her earring and he brings it to her

Astor's short encounter with toddler Zelda just as he is leaving for exile

Astor's "you could, but you won't" moment when the Yiga Clan almost kills him when they capture him

And of course the heart-wrenching..,, "I know, Astor. I always knew."

6. What’s one fact about the universe of [insert fic] that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

Astor is the reincarnation of Ganondorf's royal seer and does not remember the pact he made. This is a big part of the reason Ganondorf is so aggressive toward him. The robes Astor obtains in the Yiga Clan hideout are literally his old robes. I mention the mark of the Order on them, but I'm never direct about how Astor ended up selected by Ganon from the time he was born.

This is my personal headcanon, but took it out because I wanted the focus of the story to be on the cruelty and randomness of fate, not karma. While Astor being unable to escape a pact he doesn't remember making--and made in a past life that should not affect him in the present--does still speak to the cruelty of fate, it also reads as karma to me, and that's different, and not the meaning I wanted to give the book. So that fact is like, canon-but-not-canon. I wrote Exile//Vilify with it in mind, but also in a way that it can also be excluded. It's up to the reader to decide if they like it or not, or even got the implication at all.

Other honorable mentions:

Thelem and Azelphir actually do love each other, but can't be together per laws of the abbey. Thelem is aware of his crush on Azelphir, Azelphir repressed his own.

Azelphir is always the first one into the chapel in the morning per his job. Something very important happens in the chapel toward the end of the book. I will... let you connect the dots there.

Astor loves Rose (I think this is obvious but maybe not obvious to him.. there is a lot of unrequited love in this book). Thelem knows Astor loves Rose.

Azelphir is the prior at the time of the Great Calamity 🤡 poor buddy

The abbey doesn't have an abbot because their abbot is Fate 😊

Check out the abbey's location on the BOTW map!! Isn't that fucked up and bad!!!!!? (There's also a floormaster/gloom hand that spawns at the abbey's precise location in TOTK??? the game's files also apparently refer to it as a "Miasma Lord" which is..... an interesting thing to note, given the circumstance.)

Azelphir has a major gap in his psychic abilities. I want to share it, but also don't so it's a surprise in Trouble Will Find Me. There is one kind-of hint of it in Exile//Vilify, but it's subtle, and in my revisions I'm doing currently I'm going to make it slightly clearer.

Ask me writing things!!

#asks #exile vilify #stories from exile #trouble will find me #writing #writing asks

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lemony-snickers · 1 year

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📓 anything involving the Uchiha perhaps? Thank you! ^.^

oof. anything i wrote about the uchiha would be Dark as Fuuuuucccckkkkkk and probably published anonymously as;ldfkjasdf yes there are a few uchiha-centric little things i've published on ao3 in this way already. here are some Scattered Thoughts:

i have thought about the uchiha massacre a lot. what it would look like from the perspective of itachi. itachi is a character i don't really get that much, but i've tried to envision what his internal life might look like. it's something i touched on very briefly in both sasuke the dragon and the dancing in the rain one-shot i wrote for him in april.

just... the dichotomy of it. that itachi was a child when he killed his entire clan. what that does to a person, how it molds him. the regret and shame and guilt but also pride, probably. accomplishment. sense of duty and righteousness. i think itachi and obito are both interesting because of their very conflicting identities. goofy tobi / murderous obito; loving big brother itachi / inflictor of clan genocide.

it would be pretty interesting to write from both of their perspectives in the akatsuki at some point, to see the conflict within and between them. i've delved into obito a little this way already in two separate fics but itachi... not so much. but i digress.

itachi was meant to be paired with neji in a modern au thing i started where this concept would have been more fleshed out. the idea was that itachi would not want to follow in his father's footsteps, but would be forced to most of the time anyway. there would be conflict between him and his closest friend shisui because shisui wants that role, but is denied it. has to play it from the shadows. itachi would be married to hanabi to join those two powerful families together, but hanabi would want nothing to do with him and give him free reign to be with neji as long as they didn't ruffle any feathers along the way. i never figured out the ending of that one, though, so i'm not sure if itachi ends up happy or not.

#📓 ask game #lovely anon

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macawritesupdates · 2 months

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Ahh loved the new Yuuji files chapter so so much it was the best one yet! Opening up with summer camp and gojo immediately falling prey to his own hubris was great I was super concerned about that mascot for a moment I was worried it would end up being the death god. Poor Yuuji he's got so much experience he's in his element but no one wants to listen to his advice. I'm not very outdoorsy myself but a good half of my family is and I know from them how easy it is to get hurt if you fuck around. There are multiple eagle scouts in my family who'd have some things to say to all the kids about how foolish they were on the river. Thank goodness Yuuji was a good person and willing to literally jump in to help cuz that could've been a disaster I'm not convinced the Kyoto kids would have survived on their own. Especially since if they had gone without Yuuji they might have ended up in the death gods territory without any way out just like all those other people. Damn Sukuna should realize Yuuji is entirely incapable of sitting by while others meet their doom by now. The death god was so creepy and cool I feel bad for him but also scared coz he wants to do good things and is currently a victim but he's also crazy powerful and beings like can so easily destroy little fragile humans or even just ruin our lives without thinking. Going together into the afterlife to fight God together is incredible good for them. The true forms were excellent Yuuji getting to appreciate his boyfriends true form was lovely and everyone seemed so cool. I'm so glad Yuuji got to kill a god that was awesome. I wonder how Susumu will feel about that. Little sun god Yuuji I love it. I had a headcannon that Yuuji was descended from Ame-no-Uzume-no-Mikoto the goddess who lured Amaterasu from a cave by dancing. In my head cannon the two goddess had a kid who could have been a god himself but he fell for a mortal woman and became human to be with her. The families pink hair comes from the dawn goddess and their gold eyes from Amaterasu. This was just me making fun little theories based on the hints you'd sprinkled in. Anyways love Yuuji being a little sun demigod good for him. Anyways I love Yuuji just casually being himself immediately forgiving rude behavior and making friends with a god as though it were no big deal. The death God's regret that he didn't take more time to get to know Yuuji was cute actually I don't think he's got much to worry about on that end though because he's going to be so busy that one human lifetime will pass in a flash and then he'll have plenty of time to hang with his new friend. Mai and Muta staying behind oh it hurts but it's also so so good! Mai will probably have a great time once she gets used to things she'll be honored as a hero in a God's court and she's so powerful now it's the complete opposite of her life with her old clan. I hope she becomes his right hand woman and achieves great things living a legendary life. Yuuji saying he's not trying to redeem Sukuna but he wants to be in the same purgatory one day damn. I could wax poetic about that forever actually. It's the love and acceptance ok. It's saying I can't save you from the consequences of your own actions but I still won't leave you alone. I will sit with you in hell. Sukuna's well hidden fear of hell too that was great. Ugh it was just a perfect chapter and you brought Toji back I can't wait to see where that goes. I still have more to say lol there's so much good stuff in this one but this comment is already getting long so I'll probably be back in your inbox later with another one haha. Until then thank you so much for writing and sharing with us!!

Thank you ; w ; I was nervous about this one as it has a lot of weird worldbuilding, much like the last fic, and always hit or miss if people enjoy that or not...I just like writing more epic action stories sometimes with more of the world/action ; w ; The death god has been planned for a LONG time, since dropping hints as the ending of this series of fic, the second to last curse, is so contingent on Yuuji having done something BIG that is shaking things up.

Mai and Muta had such sad deaths in the manga, like just always felt they had so much awfulness happen and never got anything to show for it. I like my angst, but I feel if there isn't hope, if there isn't any good payoff, then that death wasn't just, as Yuuji would say. Here, they choose to stay, but it is for reasons of seeking out a better path, not "dead" as much as "Living it up in the god court" ...so they can come back for plot reasons later *coughs* *coughs*

Sukuna making himself into twenty finger cursed objects to maybe be reincarnating instead of dying speaks to me that he does NOT want to die and may have a fear of what comes next, but that's just my headcanon I'm putting in here hehe.... as for the cave incident with a certain sun goddess...mmm....there is a connection there hehe!

I feel it is important for Sukita that Yuuji does NOT just handwave Sukuna being awful, but has an acceptance of it but full send, knows karma has to make this bastard boy pay for it all c: He might become better, do better, but it doesn't erase the past. There is a price to pay, one way or another.

Also Toji coming back was literally the whole reason this chapter exists. I wanted to bring him back. I stared to build the idea they somehow get him back from the afterlife. This chapter was always about bringing Toji back as the funny surprised twist from the day I started writing this fic XD Goes to show you how an idea can really morph over the course of a story!

Thank you as always for the wonderful comment!

#Maca answers asks #Makes me smile when people gush about stories I write ; w ;#love to see how people interpret parts!

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percontaion-points · 1 year

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Covet chapters 80-83

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 80

He grins. “Better get ready, then, because here we go.”

Chapter 80 summary: Grace looks good in her dress. Macy looks good in her dress. Hudson looks good in his tux. THEY ALL LOOK GOOD. THIS IS THE ENTIRE CHAPTER: WANKING OFF ABOUT HOW GOOD EVERYBODY LOOKS.

Why is this book 160+ chapters? Because every new THOUGHT needs its own 5+ page chapter.

Chapter 81

“This world belongs to us now, and we are going to have it all!”

Chapter 81 summary: On Hudson’s arm, Grace goes into the ballroom. She’s blown away by the literal dragon hoard that’s enchanted to hover above everybody’s heads. Hudson reminds her that people are allowed to take one thing home. Grace had imagined a single gold coin, not “baby fist sized ruby necklaces”, keys to an expensive sports car, or facebook stock.

After that takes up most of the chapter, everybody sits down and Nuri is like “Welcome one and all! Who rules the world? DRAGONS DO!”

Chapter 82

In fact, they’re just kind of looking at one another like they’re trying to figure out if Nuri is being hyperbolic…or if she just announced that she’s planning a Circle coup.

And while I’d like to say that my time in her office today reassured me that it’s the former, that would be a lie. Yes, she made a deal with me, one focused on destroying Cyrus’s reign so that we can bring peace to the Circle and save the lives of the people we love. But she never said what happened next, what she thought that peace would look like to her.

When you agreed to take down Hitler together, but the agreement you made was with Joseph Stalin.

“May I?” he asks, holding out his hand to me just as a slow, sexy ballad starts to play.

Chapter 82 summary: Nuri’s dragon supremacy speech makes the non-dragons present (who are basically the named characters, and nobody else) suuuuper uncomfortable. Grace now feels dumb for not asking Nuri what was supposed to come after they defanged Cyrus, because Nuri’s answer is apparently “dragons rule it all!”

They eat dinner, which is described in way too much detail, but what else is new. A bunch of girls start hanging around the table, and for a while, Grace thinks that they’re trying to chase after Flint. But then she realises that they’re there for Hudson.

She encourages him to dance with somebody, and he asks her who she’s going to dance with. She eventually says Flint. The two of them go onto the dance floor, where they apologise over the ugly words that were said earlier.

They dance, but Hudson gets too jealous watching them, and cuts in after the song ends.

Chapter 83

But Flint just grins. Then says, “Yeah, well, reach up there and grab an envelope for Grace, then. Apparently, we’ve got a Gargoyle Court to build.”

Chapter 83 summary: So they dance. And as they’re dancing, the roof opens up to the night sky, and they all watch a literal enchanted firework show.

Then, everybody starts to grab an item from the hoard. Grace asks if there are poor dragons, but Flint kind of laughs about it. Says that it’s every dragon’s nature to hoard things, so there’s not really anything like that. Granted, his own family is obviously a lot better off, but still. He says that dragons take care of their own. So it goes: family, clan, other dragons. The royal dragon family would give other dragons things if they were in need of it.

Flint then encourages them to grab something from the hoard for themselves. He pulls out an envelope with 5k in it. Macy grabs a bracelet, and Luca a watch. Eden gets a key for a fancy motorcycle.

Grace is thinking about the gargoyle court she needs to set up, and grabs an envelope, hoping for 5k like Flint got. Instead, there are over a thousand stock shares from Google, which Hudson estimates are worth about $3 million. Grace is completely and utterly flabbergasted by that.

They tell Hudson to pick something, and tease him that he needs to pick something good, to help Grace set up the gargoyle court.

#Crave series #Covet (Crave 3)#Chapter 80 #chapter 81 #chapter 82 #chapter 83 #Grace (Crave)#Macy (Crave)#Hudson Vega #padding padding everywhere and no story to be found #casual racism #Flint (Crave)#shitty leaders doing shitty things

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suuuupernovaaa · 2 years

Text

hoan

hoan [ˈho.an] n. comfort

Anonymous Request: Hi, can I request a Lo’ak imagine with a female reader where he has a bad day and to comfort him she lies face to face with him tracing the lines on his body and the dots on his face with his arms lightly around her and she says words of comfort to him and it ending up with him falling asleep on her whilst she is touching his hair?

After suffering an embarrassment, Lo'ak turns to you for comfort.

763 words

Lo'ak is fuming, beside himself with rage and embarrassment. Usually, he loves festival days - all the dancing, the food, everyone coming together, it's absolutely Lo'ak in his element.

But not today. Today, a woman tricked Lo'ak into thinking she would like to dance with him, and turned him down in front of the entire clan.

She broke his heart, and made him look foolish, and he can't comprehend why she would do it.

You stood, watching with so many other eyes, equally as mad. Lo'ak stormed off on his own, and you wanted to follow him, but there was something you had to do first.

Alone, suspended above ground in his large hammock, Lo'ak holds his head in his hands, trying not to cry.

He knows what his dad would say - crying isn't a sign of weakness, and it's okay to do it, but he's so angry and crying doesn't feel like the right reaction.

"Lo'ak," someone whispers, and he rolls over to see Y/N, climbing over towards him. "Lo'ak!"

"I'm awake," he replies, turning to face you.

"Lo'ak, I have done something bad, and I need to hide here," you tell him, trying not to smile.

You feel a little ashamed of your behavior, but mostly you feel that what you did was justified. The look on her face when you grabbed her braids and pulled her head down to swiftly meet with your knee as you brought it up, was satisfying.

No one stopped you as you turned and walked away from the girl while she howled in pain. They had all saw what she'd done, and you probably weren't the only one who wanted to hurt her.

You were just the first to reach her.

"What did you do?" Lo'ak asks, and you scoot closer.

You and Lo'ak have always been good friends, but lying in his hammock feels intimate, and you feel a little shy.

"I broke Wa'leh's noise," you whisper, and he takes in a little gasp, his eyes wide and his jaw slack.

"You didn't," he finally replies, and a smile begins to creep over his face.

I reach my arms up, demonstrating how I grabbed her head, and bring them to my knee. "Like this," I say with a smile. "She deserved it."

His face falls, and you know he's remembering what she did. "Why would she do something like that? What did I do to piss her off?"

Unable to help yourself, you reach out, pushing a braid out of Lo'ak's face. You let your hand linger there, resting on his cheek.

"She is a mean girl, and she is bored. She knows that many women would like to be yours, and she's making a sport out of you. You shouldn't think about her anymore."

Lo'ak sighs. "Many women?"

You roll your eyes. "Well, at least... maybe three or four."

"That's not many women, Y/N," Lo'ak says with a laugh.

You shrug as best you can while laying down. You notice now how close the two of you are - knees nearly touching. Lo'ak reaches out, draping an arm over your waist delicately.

"I know of one, for certain," you reply. Using your hand, you run a finger over his forehead and down his nose, around his mouth and over his chin. You bring it back up, and touch the glowing white dots that cover his face. He closes his eyes for a moment, and you can almost hear both of your hearts beating out of your chests.

"Well, it isn't Wa'leh," Lo'ak says, the corners of his mouth turning up into a teasing smile. He tightens his grip around your waist, pulling you a few inches closer, so your stomachs almost touch.

"No," you say. You bring your fingers back to his hair, pushing his braids out of his face, turning his beads around, fidgeting mindlessly.

"Tell me who it is," he says, his breath on your face.

You smile up at him. "Don't you know?"

He closes the gap between you suddenly, pressing his lips to yours in an urgent kiss, pulling you so your body is completely flush against his.

Your hands, once gentle in his hair, grab his braids ferociously, anchoring yourself to him as he kisses you.

Lo'ak pulls away for only a second to ask, "Is it you, Y/N?"

You let out a giggle, a noise you've truly never made before, and Lo'ak laughs along with you.

"What do you think?"

That night, he falls asleep comfortably in your arms, and you're sure the thought of Wa'leh will never bother him again.

#lo'ak #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak fic #lo'ak x oc #avatar 2

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scarletooyoroi · 2 years

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Name it fate or merely a stroke of luck, the coming of a certain Inazuman priestess rose many questions and engendered many more curiosities about that land. Much to her dismay, the guuji wouldn't have it without teasing her in exchange for Inazuman-inspired themes for dancing. That's how Nilou ended up this day in the hotel room Thoma and she agreed to share for one evening dressed with layers of clothes she has never put on herself before and a dance in mind to perform. "Just... promise me you won't make fun of me!"

Such was the phrase that would prelude the revelation of a fan and the beginning of a new dance she has yet to get accustomed. For all the static poses and the focus on the fan and the waves she can do with her free hand and the beautiful sleeves of the kimono, these are certainly a stark contrast with her much dynamic dances. Nonetheless, she has exercised under the careful watch of the Narukami Guuji and albeit her confidence is not entirely there, what she wishes with all her heart is to bring a piece of Inazuma right here, in Sumeru.

Part of him initially couldn’t help but think this was some brand of dream. The sort where modern day instances meshed well with his past, leading to some sort of culmination to thrive from the ichor of possibility into the state of a welcomed face taking the metaphorical stage of a sight emboldened as sweet memories from his earlier days. The initial hints were peppered well, only leaving the root cause to remain an ever roaming mystery for what was about to transpire. The room is practically saturated with Nilou’s modest bashfulness within such a moment.

Truth be told, who could blame her? Thoma’s lips were mildly agape in a tinge of awestruck-ness as for the first time in a long time, he felt like that fresh figure that’s easily swayed by any tide that the ocean directs. Surprises come far, wide and in many forms. He believed himself to be familiarized with many, and to a point of business, that’s true. Cases with who many consider the Lotuslight of Zubayr theater wound up never being such situations.

Did they always avoid that particular sway intentionally? Was it just a constant stream of luck that allows for them to highlight focus upon their very moment above all else?

Thoma wasn’t sure, and in truth, Thoma honestly couldn’t concentrate on that as their early start within the hotel would allow a gentle, welcoming wave of home to arrive upon the metaphorical shores of his heart. “I promise.” What was conjured within his tone was a genuine stir of respect firmly meted. Learning after all, meant to also roam the lands of trial and error, and for what she decided to intentionally weave together and present as her movements began a flow that drunk deep from Inazuma’s history. Settled proper upon a pulled up seat after taking a moment to clear a good portion of the grounds for much needed space.

What Inazuma’s fixer would begin to see is visions between past and present. Of days where rain mercilessly dotted the outside of blossom laden streets, the warmth of a show house amidst company familiar and alien, fresh scents of tea further complimenting sweet companionship as the kindness of a particular clan opened him to one of many avenues that heart thrived within the land considered another true home. Times back then were hard, so painstakingly difficult, requiring constant tempering, refinement well beyond any expectation that should be placed on teenage shoulders.. Yet, what little choice did they have back then?

If the hands of Thoma, and the Kamisato heirs known as Ayato and Ayaka intended to bring this home of theirs back from the brink, the world would have to witness the roaring potential they could draw to the surface.

Days like this however. The calm amidst storms, always held a particularly special place within Thoma’s heart. A rare form of peace that was highly valued, cherished, even compared to the modern day majesty they now bask in.

Right now, another special person within his life somehow gained not only the idea, but touches of that very wisdom and wished to share.

To introduce how willing she was to learn in many ways.

..And in many more, how much she comes to care.

Turning away would be the last thing he does. No, within this span of time that once again breaks the two of them off into their personal little world, the protector’s sight would remain attentive, strewn heavy with emotion as he’d watch the blooming state of her efforts. Composure however would remain constant, a proper showing that he intends to see the gestures of the fan, to the way her form elegantly spun the silks adorning her figure. Naturally there was much that could be improved upon if intends to continue, but all the same, it made happiness beat with a nostalgic brand of warmth deep within his chest.

A creeping ache that unconsciously follows wherever he goes, no matter to the deepest trenches of Apam Woods, to the heights of Dragonspine, finally found the long required sustenance he realizes. For many days that he did vie to visit Mondstadt, to visit the world, never did he imagine that all the hardship endured, and moments that thrived within Inazuma would allow him to so powerfully feel for that land in terms of sentiment. The Nation of Electro was the very grounds that did more than ruthlessly temper him.

It helped him ground, finding many treasured companions to march along such a path with, and in turn, allowed for him to be a source of guidance as well.

To adhere to a form of self he could be entirely proud of.

By the time Nilou finds a finishing mark for her performance, allowing for the fan to snap shut, eclipsing this moment into the depths of history, there would be no hesitation in rising from his seat first thing. Despite the weight of thought easily shown in his expression, the genuine brightness of that smile triumphed over all of it. Stepping over towards her within this moment, the questions could wait, thoughts of the future could wait, above all else, what gleamed and glittered from the depths of his soul was gratitude.

An earnest bow would be made in reflection of that very sentiment.

“Nilou, thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”

For not only keeping his contentment so strong in your thoughts.

But to let the expression exercised within this very dance make him realize just how much home was missed.

@haftkarsvar

#haftkarsvar #| Tucked Letters #in terms of gifts in Thoma's eyes #The personalized effort placed in it was incredible #one of the best he's received

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buckyandgeraltsupremacy · 2 years

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The Plot Part 3 (Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader)

anthony bridgerton x fem!reader

third part in a series where his entire family plots to get you two together by the end of the season

warnings: father who is blatantly sexist; she/her pronouns

author: sj

masterlist

part one / part two / part four

part three coming soon :)

taglist: @lafy-taffy @fictional-hooman @navs-bhat @littleunstable2022

You knew you were utterly screwed. The eldest Bridgerton had always had your heart and yet, you knew he would never return your feelings in the same way. The way he had danced with you at the last ball had been enough to know that you would do anything for him. The hold he had over you was overbearing.

It had been a few days since that fateful ball and you could not get the Viscount from your mind. And little did you know that he had trouble getting you out of his mind as well.

At first, he thought he was simply concerned for you. He had known you for what felt like forever so he only assumed it was normal for the idea of you and another man to consume his every waking and dreaming thought. However, it was not normal how much rage seemed to fill his body when he thought of your father not caring about what happened to you in the long run. How could he not even take a second to consider your happiness? The sweet girl from across the street who looked, walked, and talked like a living angel?

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t be thinking of his younger sister’s best friend in that way, comparing her to an angel seemed a bit on the riskier side of that territory. But he would be lying to himself if he did not admit that he thought of you not in a little sister way, but a romantic way. In fact, he thought of you that way many, many times.

You were currently sitting in your day room as a suitor was droning on and on and on about something to do with his estates. He had not asked you one question yet, only talking to you about himself. You didn’t know how much more you could take of this. As if your mind was read, the door to the day room opened and Benedict came strolling in.

“Mr. Bridgerton.” You said, standing up from the couch, trying not to sound too relived and excited to see a friendly face. He nodded to you, giving you a small, playful smile and then walked towards your mother.

“Lady Y/l/n, may I ask Miss Y/l/n to promenade with me and my family?” Your mother looked at you and your eyes practically were pleading with her to say yes.

“Of course Mr. Bridgerton.” She replied, winking at you. You knew your mother was not happy with what your father was trying to do, but she couldn’t do a thing about it. They had never had a good relationship like Violet and her late husband, in fact, they were one of the only examples of a healthy relationship that you had ever witnessed.

That is how you found yourself with your arm linked around Benedict’s in the park, strolling leisurely to the lake, towards the boats. The whole Bridgerton clan had decided to come for the stroll, giving you a chance to see them again since you were quite busy with this season’s suitors.

“So Y/n, how is your suitor hunt going?” Ben asked you. You let out a laugh that sounded more like a sigh.

“Not very well, if I’m honest. It is just filled with such dreary men. They either are a rake, terrifying, or have the personality of a broom stick.” You responded. Benedict laughed and swatted his arm that your other arm was wrapped around. “That was not very gentleman like of you.”

“Have you ever known me to be a gentleman?” He lowered his eyes towards you. You laughed in response, quickly covering your mouth, and continuing to joke around with each other.

Anthony watched you two from behind, his eyebrows furrowing at the sound of your shared laughter, wondering what you two could be possibly saying that was so funny.

“Well don’t you look like you have your pants on a little too tight brother.” Colin said.

“Whatever are you talking about Colin?” Anthony remarked, not taking his eyes off of you and Ben in front of him.

“Hmmm. I don’t know, maybe the way that you are practically staring holes in the back of Y/n’s head. Why don’t you just court her already instead of pretending that you aren’t interested in her. She would make a great Viscountess and we already love her, which is half the battle in itself.” Colin remarked. Anthony looked to his brother and nodded tightly.

“I couldn’t give her what she wanted, which is a love match. That would require her actually loving me.” Anthony spoke with a pained face, squinting from the sun.

“I thought you were smarter brother. If you haven’t seen how she has looked at you since she was young, then I am not sure what to tell you. She adores you. You just have to look.” Colin said, patting him on the back and walking towards Eloise who was waving him over.

“Benedict!” Violet called from her little huddle of the youngest two children. Ben looked up and made sure it was okay with you before he walked away. Anthony watched as Lord Grayson, who was standing nearby, spotted you alone and started towards you. Again, Anthony’s feet seemed to move on their own as he quickly came over to you.

“Miss Y/l/n.” They both said at once, looking from you to each other, Anthony’s jaw clenched. You looked to both of them staring at each other.

Lord Grayson was probably one of the only men that you had encountered that you could tolerate for longer than one dance. He had come to court you this week and you had a nice chat with him. He would make a great friend, but if you wanted a love match, you were going to need more.

“Miss Y/l/n, I was wondering if you would join me on a small boat ride.” Anthony asked, making eye contact with you.

“I would love to. Lord Grayson, did you need something?” You looked to the Lord standing before you.

“Never mind. I see I have arrived a little too late.” He said, dipping his head as he left. You grabbed Anthony’s arm as he led you to the edge of the water where there was a boat waiting.

Once you were both in, Anthony started rowing and conversation started to flow.

“So, have you found anyone you wish to court? I know your mother told me that you were looking to marry this season.” You said, mentally chastising yourself, not sure if you could handle if he said that he had found someone of interest.

“Not really. I find that if I am to find a wife, my demeanor will probably have to change. At least that is what my mother said, something about that I am too harsh with those around me.”

“Harsh? You are not harsh Anthony, you have only ever been patient, helpful and kind to me.” You told him earnestly, slightly avoiding his eyes.

“Well, thats different. With you, it is easy to be... well... gentler and more understanding.” You looked up to his and he watched how your eyes shone. They held a look in them that he hasn’t seen in a while, not since he last saw Daphne looking at Simon or his mother looking at his father.

And that is when Anthony Bridgerton knew he wished to marry you. He knew he was utterly screwed.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthonybridgertonxfemreader #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader fluff #anthony x reader #fluff

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vs-redemption · 2 years

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This piece was written as a part of the anniversary event for the @konoblog-simps Discord server. Be sure to go to the MASTERLIST to read and support the pieces by the other writers for this event.

Historical/Bridgerton AU (Diluc Ragnvindr x GN!Reader)

Word Count: 3.9K Warnings: Strong themes of marriage

Diluc Ragnvindr was young, devastatingly handsome, absurdly wealthy, and most importantly, single.

By all accounts, he was the most sought-after and eligible bachelor in Mondstadt. He was the first and only son of the renowned Ragnvindr clan and owner of the lucrative Dawn Winery, which represented almost the entire wine industry in the country. Even with his obvious displeasure during social gatherings and open contempt for the city’s proud Knights of Favonius, mothers flocked to him whenever they had a chance, eager to impress him with the long list of accomplishments and talents their unwed children possessed. He could truly have the hand of anyone he wanted, yet each and every person that attempted to entice him was met with a polite but prompt rejection.

“How high must his standards be?” You overhear someone ask while walking about at the annual summer Windrise picnic event. It was a day everyone in the city always looked forward to. There were games and activities for anyone to enjoy, and it provided a chance for young people to meet outside of a ballroom. It was also the perfect place for families to eat and chat together while enjoying the fresh air. “I don’t think Diluc has even danced with a single partner all season.”

“Perhaps he simply doesn’t wish to marry,” you chime in, catching the gossipers off guard. They fluster and scramble for a reply, but you’re already bidding them good day and continuing your walk. Perhaps it wasn’t very nice to put others in such awkward situations, but it bothered you sometimes how they loved to spread rumors and talk behind other people’s backs. Your antics weren’t regarded fondly amongst the people of Mondstadt though and you also found yourself single after a few seasons of officially being out. It wasn’t the worst situation, but you certainly hoped you wouldn’t end up alone and stuck at your family estate your entire life.

You head away from the crowds and turn towards the stream, admiring the crystalflies fluttering gracefully around the statue of the seven before making your way to the water. The sounds of the current moving through reeds and over rocks was calming, and it was nice to have a moment alone, even if the solitude was a mere illusion. Drama thirsty members of society were always watching.

“Master Diluc, perhaps you’d like to join me and my family for a game of croquet? I’ve heard you’re quite skilled at the sport, so perhaps we could learn a thing or two from such an expert.” Glancing over, you realize you’d stumbled upon the heir to the Ragnvindr estate himself. He was talking with a lady you knew from the flower shop in town, but his body language suggested that he wasn’t very comfortable.

“That’s very kind of you to offer, but I’m not actually here to enjoy the festivities.” He declines and his attire suggested that he was telling the truth. He was wearing his usual dark colors which did not suit the summer theme of the event very well. “I was just returning from some business.”

“But it won’t take too long,” the girl presses, looking ready to latch onto his arm and plead shamelessly if she needed to. Diluc holds his ground though and shakes his head.

“Regrettably, I am already behind schedule.” He bows his head respectfully, his long red ponytail falling over his shoulder. “Perhaps another time.”

“Oh, but I insist.” The girl steps forward. “If your schedule is truly so full, do you not deserve a break?”

Diluc looked to be losing patience by this point, and you weren’t sure what made you want to step in but before you could second guess yourself you were making your presence known.

“Um...” You felt awkward once the attention was turned to you. “I believe Mr. Ragnvindr has… already promised to take me for a walk around Windrise.” Both the girl and Diluc looked shocked and a little outraged by your assertion. You probably should’ve thought of a different excuse. Of course, Diluc wouldn’t know to play along. He just assumed you were another suitor making a snatch for his hand.

“A gentleman never goes back on his word,” you remind him to give a little push. Even if he was unaware of your intentions, surely he’d pick the lesser of two evils. A walk was far less of a commitment than playing an entire game of croquet which could be drawn out purposely to keep him occupied longer. He seemed to deliberate his situation for a moment before giving in to defeat.

“A short walk,” he agrees, “but then I really must be on my way.”

He steps away from the lady and offers you his arm. You gladly take it and allow him to lead you off. Perhaps you would’ve felt bad about stealing him away from that desperate girl, but this was the way the game was played. People would stop at nothing in the pursuit to get themselves a suitable partner to marry, and your tactic could hardly even be considered underhanded compared to what you’d seen and heard in the past. You wait until you’re out of earshot of anyone else before speaking up again.

“If you were to need to leave suddenly in the middle of our walk for some urgent business,” you glance up at him with a small smile, “I should not be offended.” His attention snaps to you and his tired red eyes get wider. It was the first time you’d ever been this close to him, and you took note of the smoothness of his skin and warmth of his eyes. It was easy to see why people tended to swoon in his presence.

“I’m sorry?” He asks, causing you to smile wider and pat his arm.

“I’m giving you a chance to escape,” you reiterate. “No hard feelings. That girl was right about one thing, you look like you could use a break.”

“You can’t be serious.” His deep voice held a note of genuine surprise. You could also tell that he was wondering if there was a catch to this deal.

“I could always call that girl back over here…” you suggest.

“No! No.” His face takes on the slightest look of amusement and what actually sounded like a chuckle escapes his lips. “That won’t be necessary. If you’re quite sure, then I think I will take this lifeline. Thank you, truly.” You reply with a nod of your head while releasing his arm. He adjusts his gloves until satisfied and then looks around to make sure the coast is clear. After thanking you one more time, he hurries off, away from the picnic in the direction of Dawn Winery.

Only a week past before you saw Diluc again. Both of you were attending the same ball, hosted by Mondstadt’s calvary captain Kaeya Alberich. The two had grown up together, so it was probably the host himself that had strongarmed Diluc into attending the event. However, their relationship didn’t explain why half hour into the evening Diluc was suddenly crossing the room and headed straight for your location.

“Would you join me for a dance?” You’re sure that he can tell by your face just how surprised and apprehensive you are. He never asked people to dance, so what was going on now? He raises his eyebrows, encouraging you to agree. You figured it was only polite to accept since he’d blindly trusted you before.

“That sounds lovely,” you take his hand and let him lead you onto the dancefloor. Without looking, you already knew every set of eyes in the room was on the two of you.

“You must be mad,” you insist as he begins guiding you smoothly through the steps of the song. “I thought you were one to avoid being in the spotlight.”

“Normally, you’d be correct.” He hums, “But I was thinking that perhaps you and I can agree to an arrangement that might benefit us both.”

“An arrangement?” You voice held a note of annoyance. “Is that what counts as a proposal these days?”

Diluc clicks his tongue at the mere suggestion. “Of course not. But if people were to think I was courting you, I think we’d both find ourselves in favorable situations.” He continues to lead you through the dance, seemingly immune to the stares of everyone around you. “Having my attention will certainly spark the curiosity of the town, and soon enough you’ll have suitors lining up to win your hand.”

It sounded arrogant, but you could tell he was just being honest. Because of his status, his opinion was highly valued. So, if he were to be pursuing you, that meant you were worth pursuing.

“I understand,” you nod to show you were following his logic. “And if everyone thinks you have your sights set on me, they’ll know to give up the chase and leave you alone. Right?”

“Precisely.” Diluc confirms. “You’ll have your choice of suitors and I will be free from the constant pestering of every single person in Mondstadt.”

You take a moment to consider this suggestion. A ruse like that would most certainly work, and while you weren’t too keen on jumping into any old marriage, this wasn’t an opportunity you could afford to miss out on. Your chances of finding someone decreased with each passing season, and it would be even worse for someone with a reputation of being too outspoken like you.

“You do know that you’ll have to make this look convincing,” you tell him seriously. “You’ll have to show up to every ball, dance with me and give me your attention, and appear to be hopelessly in love with me.”

“Obviously,” he states confidently. “So, what do you say?”

“I’m in.” You flash a brilliant smile as if he’d just said the most charming thing ever. He smiles back, shocking you with how soft his normally stern face became with just a simple change in expression.

Even after just a single dance and a few exchanged smiles, the plan was off to an incredible start. When you awoke the next morning, your family informed you that you’d have several visitors to entertain throughout the day. It was a little pathetic actually, how suitors were suddenly clambering over one another to compliment you and bring you gifts just because Diluc had given you his approval. Still, he’d remembered to have a giant bouquet of flowers sent to your estate just to fan the fire a little more.

“You seem to be the talk of the town,” Diluc teases from across the table. After dancing together at a few balls and letting the gossip spread, he’d deemed it appropriate to invite you and your family to the winery for dinner.

“I’ve had no shortage of suitors sniffing around, that’s for sure.” You confess, “I should be able to secure a proposal from someone decent by the end of the season.”

“Someone decent?” He scrunches up his nose, a habit you’d come to find quite endearing. “Surely there must be someone of better quality than that.”

“In this town? I wouldn’t count on it.” You snort, gaining a sharp look from your family for making such a rude sound. You apologize politely, but as soon as they look away you hear Diluc chuckling at you. He clears his throat when you send a glare his way, but after a moment you both start quietly laughing again.

“Well, I’ve done as much as I can.” He admits with an amused smirk, “I can make you appear more desirable to them, but I cannot make them any more appealing to you.”

“You’ve done plenty,” you assure him. “I hope things have been just as successful on your end of the deal.”

“You’ve no idea,” he confesses. “It’s so nice not to have to worry about people trying to trick or manipulate me into marriage every time I walk out the front door. And if spending time with you is the price to pay, I must say it’s a small one indeed.”

“That almost sounded like a compliment, Master Diluc.” You grin across the table and he smiles softly right back.

“It was meant as one,” He promises. “I shall miss your company once you’re married.”

A bittersweet feeling stirs in your chest. You felt exactly the same way. Through all the dancing and fake flirting, you’d really gotten to know Diluc under all those stubborn walls he put up to keep others away. For as stern and intimidating as he tried to be, you’d learned that underneath it all was a kind, gentle, and attentive man. He’d even surprised you by showing you he had a sense of humor, albeit a dry one. It was actually quite lovely to be around him. He emanated warmth and safety. And somehow, he’d become more than just a man you’d made a deal with, but also a real friend.

“And I shall look back fondly on these memories,” you tell him before going back to your dinner.

Half a month later and it was nearing the end of the season. You knew it was time to devote your complete attention to a single suitor and secure yourself a marriage proposal. You’d dragged the ruse with Diluc out as much as you could, and you almost wished it was really him that you were going to marry. None of your options felt that spectacular when compared with him. Still, you steeled your nerves and made your choice.

“Yes, I’d love to dance with you!” You put on a fake smile and take to the dance floor at the next ball. It was hosted by none other than Jean Gunnhildr, so everyone in Mondstadt was sure to be in attendance. They’d notice right away that your first few dances of the evening weren’t with Diluc, and that would hopefully encourage your other suitors to be bolder in making a move.

“Oh, Master Diluc seems to be quite jealous.” You glance over at the man after overhearing some people gossiping. He really did appear to be glaring at the one you’d been dancing with. You give him a curious look when you catch his eye. He didn’t need to play his part that well. Evidently, he took your look to mean that he should come over because not a moment later and he was stalking over purposefully in your direction.

“What are you doing?” He hisses with a scowl on his face. Despite trying to keep his voice down, the aggressiveness of his behavior attracted eyes from all over the room.

“What do you mean?” You ask, feeling shocked at his accusatory tone. This wasn’t the kind of drama you wanted to start at a party like this and you didn’t see how it would benefit either of you.

“You can have anyone you want and that’s who you pick?”

“I… don’t see how that’s any of your business.” You weren’t sure what his angle was and you searched his face desperately to figure out how you were supposed to play along. Nothing about what he was doing made sense to you though.

“Dance with me.” He holds out his hand expectantly and you shake your head defiantly.

“No.” It was hard to know if it was the right or wrong thing to do, but Diluc had turned and stormed off again before you could second guess it. Part of you worried that you’d offended him somehow, but the other part of you worried that his bold stunt would scare off all the suitors that had only been interested in you because of Diluc.

Your fear was not unfounded. People seemed hesitant to approach you or talk to you for the rest of the evening, and who could blame them? Nobody in their right mind would reject Diluc Ragnvindr unless there was something seriously wrong with them. Too bad they didn’t know that the whole thing had been an act; one that quite possibly had just blown up in your face.

When you got up the next morning, you hoped the day before had simply been a bad dream. By the looks on your family member’s faces though, you knew it was just wishful thinking. Resigned to your fate, you find a spot in your sitting room and try to get lost in a book. Maybe if you were lucky, you wouldn’t be required to attend any more events for the rest of the season.

“A Mr. Diluc Ragnvindr is here to see you.” A household staff member bows from the doorway and you shoot right off the sofa you’d been lounging on.

“Uh, okay.” You hadn’t been prepared to face him so soon, or at all really. “I suppose we have to let him in.”

You quickly try to straighten up your appearance before he comes in, berating yourself a little in the process for even caring what he’d think. When he walks in though, you are reminded of just how handsome he really was. Perhaps that fact had gotten lost somewhere as you’d developed a closer relationship with him. However, now that the friendship had apparently dissolved, his strong intimidating aura had come back.

“Can I help you?” You knew you sounded cold and detached, but you weren’t sure how else to act. You heard your family members shifting on the furniture behind you and knew they were listening in and feeling just as curious about this visit as you.

“I’ve come to apologize.” You blink in surprise. It was the last thing you would’ve expected. If anything, you figured he would come to chastise you for making the both of you look foolish the night before. He takes your silence as a sign to continue. “The way I behaved yesterday was out of line. I know that.”

“Why did you do it then?” You ask, arms folded over your chest. “You completely sabotaged any chance I had of ever getting a proposal. The only person who benefits from any of this now is you.”

“It wasn’t my intention,” he presses on, avoiding your eyes and fiddling with the cuffs of his gloves. “I just… I was just overcome.”

“Overcome…” you let out a laugh, “with what?”

“Jealousy.” The answer is shockingly honest and you almost can’t believe your eyes when you see a hint of pink on his cheeks.

“What?”

“I…” He sighs in frustration, rubbing a hand over his face before addressing you properly. “I saw you dancing with those other people and I got jealous.”

“I’m going to need a little more explanation than that.” You were scared to make any assumptions at all. His jealousy could be childish in that he just wanted the attention back on him, or it could be more serious.

“When we were talking at dinner a couple weeks ago, I said I was going to miss your company.” He begins his explanation hesitantly. He clearly hadn’t rehearsed this meeting, but you were determined to hear him out. “I kept wishing we could continue this deal between us indefinitely. Then neither of us would have to deal with all the nonsensical drama and gossip we both clearly despise.”

So far, his speech was not going well. Not only had he just revealed the ruse openly in front of your family, but what he was suggesting was ludicrous. Keeping up the act that he was courting you beyond this season was not an option, even if you wanted it to be. Both of your reputations were at stake and you weren’t willing to shirk off your duty to marry just to enter a different kind of sham of a relationship. The longer it went on, the more suspicion and criticism the two of you would face.

“I know that would be an impossible thing to ask of you,” Diluc seemed to be following your same line of thinking, but there was still more that he needed to get off his chest. “But when I saw you dancing with those other people, I wondered if they really deserved you. I wondered if they would appreciate you the way I do.”

The speech had taken a sudden turn and there was no way to stop your heart from fluttering. Was it too much to hope that things might actually turn out all right?

“What do you mean?” You ask a little breathlessly, forgetting about your family’s presence in the room entirely as your imagination took off.

“Even though our courtship was staged, the bond we formed was not.” He explains, folding his arms and averting his gaze again. “Without the pressure of marriage looming overhead, I was able to relax around you and really get to know you. I learned that you have this incredibly disarming presence that can even put someone like me at ease. You’ve made me laugh and feel more carefree than I have in a very long time. And, somewhere along the way, I began to look forward to our time together. I found myself wanting to know more about you.”

“Diluc…” the confession left you a bit speechless, yet the man in front of you surprised you even more by stepping forward and taking one of your hands into his own.

“I can’t help but wonder if any other suitor would try to see more in you than just someone to decorate their arm. Would they even care to get to know the real you after asking for your hand?” He finally looks up to meet your eyes. “Because I would. I would cherish every moment with you and relish in the things we learn as we spend more time together. I would do my best to provide you the happiness that you’ve provided me this season and work every single day to be worthy of you.”

He releases your hand and takes a step back again, much to your dismay. By now your heart was racing in your chest and you felt as if you might just float away if he let go of you for too long. You heard gasps from your family when Diluc reaches into his pocket to pull out a little black box before getting down on one knee.

“Diluc…” you say his name softly, tears already welling in the corners of your eyes.

“Will you marry me?” He asks, his voice steady but thick with emotion.

“Yes.” It was an easy answer. Diluc was far from perfect, and both of you were bound to make errors along the way, but it would be a marriage that was real. You’d both be able to be yourselves, unhindered by social standards and able to explore love in a way most people never got the chance to.

“Really? Thank you.” There were tears in his eyes too as he stands back up and slips the ring onto your finger. You both ignore the clapping and cooing coming from your family. “I promise I won’t let you regret it.”

“I know you won’t.” You look down at the ring and then rush forward to wrap your arms around him tightly. It was an action that toed the line of what was appropriate, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. At the beginning of the season, Diluc had just been some antisocial rich man that was understandably critical of Mondstadt society and married to his work. And now? He was the diligent, attentive and honest man that would soon be your loving husband.

tagging my fellow Diluc lovers @kaysayshey and @meganwriteshq

#konoha simps #Diluc Ragnvindr x Reader #Genshin Impact x Reader #Diluc Ragnvindr #Genshin Impact #Diluc x Reader #Genshin x Reader #Cindy's Writing

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aweecrush · 2 years

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i. Tonight is their last night in Derry.

The air is warm, and around her, it’s nothing but singing, and dancing, and happy, drunken shouts. Ma’s threats must have worked in the end, because they all passed their exams: they made it. She could swear she heard something close to emotion in her voice when Sister Michael sent them off school for the last time. It was such an odd feeling, knowing they’d never come back this time. They all felt it, she knows.

Their bags are ready now. For the past few days, the house has been even crazier than usual, everyone remembering something important for her to note and keep in mind, finding something new that she would absolutely need to put in her bags. By the end of it, she’d thought her bloody head was going to melt, but she supposes it's better that it was all so mental and loud and relentless the whole time. She's not sure she would have been able to cope, if the reality of what is coming had had time to settle.

(She doesn’t think that they would have, either. It's far easier for all of them really, that unstoppable level of energy up a notch.)

Tomorrow morning, she’ll hop in the car, and leave the city that she has known all her life. Clare and James’ planes won’t leave before the late afternoon. Michelle and Orla will stay here. For now, at least - who knows.

He doesn’t say anything for a while - just sits there next to her, his arm pressed against hers. He’s wearing a t-shirt and so is she, and she can feel the warmth of his bare skin.

“I can’t believe it’s over.”

“Well, we’ll come back - all the time.”

She knows what he means, though. Of course she does - it kept her up at night these past few days, just like it must have kept him too. All of them, probably.

The days and weeks felt so long sometimes, and now…now, it seems like everything’s gone by way too fast. Now, it’s all over.

She only notices the tears in her eyes when she feels a gentle brush of his fingers against her forearm, and Erin finally turns her head to see his green ones looking at her, as soft as his smile. That’s what he is, isn’t he, their wee English fella - always so soft.

“Yeah, we will,” he promises. ”It’s going to be okay.” His voice is so comforting, too. It always has been.

And so, Erin tries to smile back and lets her head fall on his shoulder, and chooses to believe him.

ii. It’s so strange, not seeing them every day. Her family, the girls - even Jim down the street. She hadn’t realized how full and loud her days were before the silence that comes with her to Burmingham.

It’s not always like this, of course, far from it: there’s always a class, a party, a fun book club. Something to be part of. It’s thrilling so it is, and she loves it. Still, life away from everything and everyone she’s ever known isn’t as easy as she likes to pretend, and sometimes, it’s like she can physically feel the loneliness. What’s missing.

When the Quinn-McCool clan leaves after their first official visit, Erin can’t quite contain her tears. “It will be alright, love,” Da says, his arm comforting around her, his smell grounding as she hides her face in his coat. Ma puts a warm hand against her cheek, Granda kisses the top of her head and Aunt Sarah and Orla squeeze her so hard, she can’t quite breathe properly.

“We’re never very far, Erin love,” her Aunt says. Promises, really.

Aye - so they’re not.

iii. The first time they’re all together again, it occurs to Erin that she’s probably never been this happy in her entire life. James had to stay in London with his mum for Christmas, but when he arrives a couple of days later to spend New Year with them, her heart leaps into her chest.

The gang’s finally reunited.

That night, in the packed and sweaty pub, they all have to bundle up into a corner, pressed against each other. None of them seems to mind.

iv. “Do you have a fella at home, Erin?”

The music is loud under the neon lights shining around Tara’s appartement, and she has to talk a little loud to answer. “Not really, no. I mean - no period, actually.”

Her friend just grins. “Well, Paul certainly likes you.” She turns, and at the other end of the flat, the boy waves a little shily before going back to his conversation.

As Erin stands at the window talking to him that night, she laughs at his jokes, even though his brown eyes don’t quite feel right.

v. Time flies by, and before she knows it, they’re starting their second year.

Orla’s taken history and has joined Clare in Galway, where she’s still book deep into her law classes. She loves it, although they’re all afraid her number of cack attacks is only increasing. Erin can’t help but feel a little jealous that they have each other, but she’s glad.

James’ still in London, having the time of his life - all summer, he’d told them about the amazing classes he had, the movies he got to study, the craker teachers. It's nice to see, really. He's happy - she likes seeing him like this.

Of course, Michelle kept telling him to shut it and instead, talked their ears off about how well she was doing at making her way up the chain at the bar already, but some things never changed (it was always more soft now, her teasing, or followed by a friendly punch, a smirk. Things did change - just the right amount.) The thought of Michelle with so much responsibilities is a frightening one, but in fairness, it is impressive, how far she’s come.

Erin’s still wavering through everything - adjusting more and more each day. She really does like it here, now.

Some classes are a bit boring and she gets all red when she gets caught snoring once, she can’t stick her new roommate. She also finds out writing whilst in a terrible hangover is not all that class after all. Feck that - it’s absolute hell is what it is, no matter how cool and artistic it sounds. Paul always brings her cake with hot chocolate when it’s really bad, though. He’s sweet.

Sure, exams are always a pain, but they all call and cheer each other up as often as they can. It helps.

Life is good.

vi. They’re home for Easter break, and John Paul asks Erin out.

That one, she doesn’t see coming. None of the girls does, if the look on their faces is any indication. From the corner of her eye, Erin sees James get up from their table and head to the toilets.

“The nerve of that fella - after standing you up like this at prom,” Clare hisses, still staring angrily at the door he’s just walked out of.

“Aye, he’s still a ride though.” Taking another bite of her brownie, Michelle shrugs. “Might be fun. Besides, you need a rebound now, it’s time.”

She’s not sure she does, really. Truth is, the break up wasn’t that painful. “Christ but we are on a roll now, aren’t we: Erin breaking hearts all over the place -”

“I’m not.”

“ - Clare getting it on with sweet little Helen - ”

“It’s not - we’re just - ”

“ - Orla spinning that fella over,” and her cousin just smiles, oblivious, “James with his perfect girl, me with that Scottish block. Well done lads!”

Well. Maybe they are doing alright.

vii. It’s way too late to call, of course. He answers anyway.

“Hello?”

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping at this hour?” On the other end, she hears him chuckle.

“I was on my way to go hit some clubs, actually: you know, fast life of the city and all that.”

“Aye, I did hear Tuesday nights were always wild in crazy old London - lucky you.”

“I know, right. It’s getting hard, really: I mean, I’m getting dangerously sleep deprived at this point.”

“You spent all night at the movies again, didn’t you?”

James sighs, feigning defeat. “Busted.”

“Let me guess: Star Wars and Notting Hill?”

“Actually, no,” and she rolls her eyes at the pride in his voice. “I saw Star Wars last week, so tonight was just Notting Hill and a rerun of The Godfather.”

“Yes, so I’m still half right.”

“More like half wrong, but I’ll humor you. What about you?”

Erin turns the pink cord of her telephone between her fingers, eyes still to her ceiling. “Not much, really. Started to write my English essay but I couldn’t really concentrate, so.”

“Right. Is everything okay?” The badly veiled concern in his voice makes her want to cry, for some reason.

It’s so stupid.

“Yeah.” It is, really. She’s just -

There’s a beat, another. In the silence, she can hear his breathing a bit. It helps, somehow. “Just wanted to talk for a bit, I suppose.”

“We’ll do that then.”

And so, he tells her about Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant, details her how wasted he ended up last weekend celebrating his mate’s birthday (‘I karaoked Like A Prayer on top of a table - please don’t tell Michelle’), sounds half disgusted, half impressed by the lad he’s seen being chased naked down the street by the police the other day. She asks about his stepdad, and he tells her about their last lunch at his new place, all fancy and stuff.

Buried under her covers in the darkness of her bedroom, her phone glued to her ear, she smiles, and laughs, and smiles some more.

“It does it to me too, you know,” he says after a while.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Don’t always know why it suddenly comes and then goes, to be honest, but - yeah. I love it here, I do, but - ”

“It’s hard sometimes.”

“Yeah.”

“But you have Emily, right? She’s great.”

“Yes. I mean - ” There’s a pause that seems to lasts more than it actually does - gets heavier than it is. Than it should be.

It’s probably just her. “Yes, she is.”

Erin holds her covers a little closer around her body, and smiles. She’s happy for him - she really is.

“What about you? How did it go with that Danny fella?”

“It didn’t, really. There’s Matt now, I suppose.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good.”

Holding back a shaky breath, Erin nods on her pillow. “Yeah - that’s good.”

viii. The night is grand.

Clare’s friends are loads of fun. It’s her idea that they come and visit her to end the summer on a high, and it’s nice, walking around in the sun all day, only having to worry about where they’re gonna go get drunk that day. Well. Get down right pissed, really.

Tonight is no exception.

Michelle’s snogging a lad in a corner, Clare’s at the bar, laughing at something Orla's doing, all pink cheeks and crazy blond hair. They’re dancing, too, and so is she, and so is James. His curls bounce on top of his head, and she laughs as he makes her swirl, then catches her, both their chests colliding in a soft oof. She can feel his warm hands at the small of her sweaty back, and her fingers clam to his shirt for balance.

The pub is packed, and it’s all smoke and beers and shouts.

She hasn’t felt this good in a long time.

His green eyes are dazed with alcohol and crinkling with happiness when he leans forward, forehead almost touching hers, and suddenly, it feels like they’re seventeen again. In another pub - on another drunken night.

She’d wanted him to close the distance then, to just erase it and kiss her. When he had, her heart had stopped. It still does a bit, whenever she thinks about it.

She wants him to do it again. She’s been wanting him to, all summer, and tonight, her head spinning and all inhibitions sent to hell, she can finally admit it.

“Erin.”

His voice sends shivers down her back. He feels - solid against her. Right. Exactly where he’s supposed to be.

And then, Michelle surges out of nowhere, dragging both Clare and Orla behind her, and it’s a mess of tangled limbs and giggles. When they all part, dancing and jumping all around, she misses his warmth against her.

In the morning, they all go their separate ways and back to uni, and that night is only remembered as the last summer party, where Orla drank too much tequila shots and Michelle nearly rode a Robbie Williams’ look alike.

ix. She meets Cilian in the library, during the first term. They talk about Beckett for an hour, and when he smiles, she notices the dimple on his left cheek.

She struggles a bit with courses - she’s always managed studies and the work she got on the side, but essays and projects are pouring down on her, and it’s been harder than before. It’s getting more and more interesting, though.

She also kind of sets a room on fire that one time, but really, it’s not her fault.

Mammy sends her a couple of photos one day, and she smiles at how grown up little Anna is getting. It feels weird, everything moving so fast.

It’s good, though. That’s what life is supposed to be: moving forwards.

x. At Christmas, she brings Cilian home. She’s never brought anybody home before, but he can’t get back to his family for the holidays, so. Plus, she likes him. She really does.

It feels a bit strange, and of course, Granda eyes him the whole time, but her Da makes sure to chat with him, and her Ma always smiles at him gently, and it goes well. He’s polite with her family, laughs out loud at Michelle’s coarse stories, finds he and Clare share the same favorite books.

They’re in their usual booth at the pub when James announces that he’s going to New-York. It’s an internship, and it’s absolutely grand, in this big movie company. He beat out twenty others applicants, and he’ll get to read scripts and attend production meetings all day, which basically makes it his dream job.

When Cilian offers to give him some addresses that he loved when he was over there, James accepts with a smile.

xi. The girls come to visit her for her birthday. They’ve been here before, and as always, it’s great. It feels…odd, a bit. Seeing three of them and not four, blowing her candles without him clapping along.

Still, she watches as Michelle and Orla dance with her friends from uni, as Clare happily chats with her new roommate Ashley, and she smiles.

(As it turns out, it’s a shame they don’t say a couple more days, when the big, earth-rocking news come. It would have been fun, seeing each other's faces when they hear about it.

Instead, they’re left with the next best thing as Michelle calls them all up.

“Can you fecking believe that?!”

All in all, it’s fair to say that Jenny Joyce’s wedding announcement arrives with all the gasp inducing shock and drama that she was probably very much hoping for.)

xii. As Erin crosses the gates, she can’t help the roll of her eyes.

A castle. Jenny’s tying the knot in a castle.

Of course she is.

July is shining bright, there’s a band playing in the middle of the court, where it’s all flowers and butterflies and glasses of champagne being handed by perfectly dressed, perfectly handsome gentlemen. She hasn’t crossed the front door yet, and it’s all already screaming ‘yes, I did plan the loveliest event of the year’.

Dear lord.

They’re here for the whole weekend, and she’s already checked into her room when the others start to show up, one by one. Her cousin first, hand in hand with Otis - Clare with an in awe looking Julie - Michelle. When James arrives, Orla actually tackles him to the ground, she’s so happy.

They’ve never gone so long without seeing him - ever.

As it turns out, Jenny’s beau and his family are even more loaded than she is, and they’ve spared absolutely no expense. It’s the best food they’ve ever tested at every course, the loveliest bedrooms, and activities and dancing and unlimited booze. They’re still not sure why they’re invited (‘So she can show off, that’s why,’ Michelle comments, happily downing her four o’clock cocktail nonetheless), but Erin’s sure glad they are.

She has to give it to the girl: it’s absolutely grand.

The actual ceremony takes place on the Saturday evening, and although they’ve all been raging a little over this and that and the whole marrying rich thing for the past two days, more out of habit than anything else, Jenny really does look happy.

When they exchange their vows, Erin even has to swiftly swipe a tear out of her cheek. James is the only one who sees. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” he whispers in her ear as all the guests burst out in applause and shouts. She smiles back.

She can’t believe he’s actually here.

That night, the party is even better than everything else has been, somehow - the highlight (of her entire life, probably) being her and James having to escort a drunk Sister Michael back to her room closing on three in the morning.

His face is still half shock, half absolute delight as they lean against the wall railing of the back garden overlooking the lake. The fresh air does wonders for her skin, all hot from the dancing - and the, well, carrying -, her head is spinning a little, and she can’t stop giggling.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” he laughs. He’s tanned, and the green of his eyes are made that much enticing, somehow.

“The girls are going to be raging they’ve missed this. And when she talked about the - ”

“I know!”

“And then when fell and did the - ”

“I know! Christ.”

Their laughter slowly dies, replaced by the sound of the music further away, the whispers of a few conversations not far. They've been silent for a while when Erin turns to look at his face, still leaning on her forearms, as his gaze is fixed on the water underneath them.

“Admit it - New-York is class and all that, but it has nothing on this place.”

He chuckles. “It hasn’t, no. No rogue polar bears, no one to steal my tent, no luggage full of vodka being destroyed on the street - I mean, it was getting kind of boring, really,” and she laughs. “I did miss it a lot, actually.”

“Really?”

He’s told them about his cool, fancy abroad experience, of course, but she hasn’t had a chance to properly ask him anything yet. Hasn’t dared to, maybe.

He looks back at her for a second. Another. “Of course.”

“We were afraid you weren’t gonna come back, you know.”

“Well, technically, I haven’t even finished uni yet.” She shakes her head at his confused expression.

“Come on, James - if you had the chance? It wouldn’t have mattered, right? I mean, I get it: dream job, dream team, dream city. Michelle mentioned your friends were great. Your girlfriend.”

His face changes a little. That expression, she can’t quite read.

“Right. Well, as I’ve said, I really did miss it here. And she’s - she got a scholarship to study abroad, so she’s coming to London at the beginning of term, actually.”

Oh. “Plus, it’s - it was great, but I’m not sure I can actually see myself live there for real, though. It was only an internship.”

Inside, she can feel her tummy twist a little. A lot.

“Right. Good - that’s good.”

She’s not sure how long they stay silent this time. Not even sure why she speaks again. “Promise to call more often then, will ya?”

She means it to be playful, but it comes out more - real than she wants it to. He’s looking at her, though, and she feels like she needs to explain. “It’s just…you didn’t call.”

Well, twice. At the beginning, and then - never again, really.

There’s a beat, a few others, and she’s about to apologize and shrug it off, move on as if that didn’t matter, as if that didn’t hurt, when he speaks.

“I’m sorry, Erin. It’s just - you had your own life, and Cilian, and it was all going so fast over there, all the time. And that time difference thing is a bitch too, and I guess I just - ”

“You were real busy.” He’s got that hurt puppy expression now, and she smiles. “It’s fine, really. Just start picking up your phone again, American boy,” she shoulders him, and he smiles, nodding obediently.

“I will.” He looks down then, but before she can comment on how impressive Clare dance moves were tonight, he looks back up at her. “I did miss you, though. Really.”

Aye. She wants to tell him how much she missed him, too, but she’s not sure she has the right words for it, really. It doesn’t matter, though, because then he’s smiling again as he turns, facing her way.

“Also, you look really good tonight, but I’m going to put that,” he says as he shrugs off his jacket and starts enveloping her in it, “here, because you’ve got goosebumps all over your arms now, and seeing you turn blue once was enough for me.”

Again, the roll of her eyes is not even intentional. “For the last time, it wasn’t that bad, James. And for the last time, it wasn’t my fault!”

“Right. I’ll forever continue to think you falling into that pond was your own fault for drinking that much vodka, as will everyone - but nice try.”

Erin just groans. Really though, when will people stop bringing that story up? “It was ages ago - stop it already.”

“Not until it stops getting that look on your face I won’t. Also, not to be a drag, but it was barely three years ago.”

Was it?

“Shite. It all feels like it’s going so fast, though, isn’t it? And now Jenny is just making it worse, marrying the love of her life at 21 - I mean, that’s not normal, right? We’re supposed to still be getting pissed and figuring things out - that’s normal.”

“Sure.”

“I mean, I still call my Ma because I still have questions about laundry sometimes.”

“I know - she told me.” She punches him for the mocking smirk on his stupid face.

“Oh shut it, James,” although she’s laughing, too. “Seriously though…Doesn’t it scare you sometimes? How fast it goes? How sometimes - sometimes, it feels like everything’s unfolding a certain way, and you don't have time to even think about it, and you’re…you’re just not sure that’s what you want? Not even sure what you want?”

She’s sounding a wee bit mental now, she knows it. But he’s not laughing at her, and she realizes that this whole time, James’ been holding the front if his jacked closed around her body, his own body almost pressing against her.

“I guess it does, sometimes. But that’s just life I suppose. And you’re happy, right? With you friends - uni, Cilian? That’s what matters.”

She is. She loves her classes, and her friends are cracker so they are, and she likes Cilian. She really does. Sometimes, she thinks she could almost love him, one day.

Somehow, that’s not what she says.

“And you’re happy? With Lena, and her coming and all that?”

He should say it, too. He doesn’t.

She doesn’t know who initiates it, but she knows she certainly doesn’t stop it. She doesn’t want to stop it.

His lips are warm and soft against hers, so soft, it takes her breath away. He does.

That night, the sound of their breathy moans fill the room, her fingers get lost in his brown curls, his hands burn every inch of her skin, and she wants to remember everything. She’s not sure her heart's ever beaten this fast before - not sure she’s ever felt this much before.

(She knows she hasn’t.)

His face buried in her neck, Erin wraps her arms around him, their legs entangled, and lets herself get lost.

xiii. “And how is everything love? Still working hard I hope? It’s your last year Erin, you can’t get lazy now.”

In the background, she hears her sister shout something at the TV. She sighs.

“I’m not, Mammy. I mean, it’s getting harder so it is - I swear it’s like they’re trying to make us fail at that point - ”

“Erin Josephine Quinn - ”

“But I won’t! I promise. What about yous? Is Granda doing alright now?”

“Ach don’t worry love, he’s all up and about now - it was nothing to worry about in the end. Michelle brought him something to eat from her pub yesterday, the nice thing.”

“That’s sweet,” she smiles.

“She brought him a couple of Guinness as well - when I got back, the two of them were laughing like drunken imbeciles.”

Overall, everything's going well. It’s weird, thinking that the life she’s known for almost four years now is almost over. Exciting, too.

It is, and yet, in a blink of an eye, she’s posing with her whole family, smiling wide as her friend Nessa takes the traditional graduating picture.

xiv. “Erin Josephine Quinn, as I live and breathe - ”

She rolls her eyes as dramatically as she can, even though she can feel the smile growing on her face already.

Not that she can blame him, really. If someone had told her teenage self she’ll one day arrive in London with her luggages and ready for two years of Englishness, she probably would have laughed. Boked, more likely.

“Oh shut up, James.”

She still goes into his open arms - Christ, but she’s not seen him in…ages. Releasing a breathe she hasn’t realized she was holding, Erin hugs him back, her nerves settling a little at the concrete evidence that she won’t be completely alone in this big, scary town.

xv. She tends not to tell Granda that too much, but as it turns out, life in London’s not so bad.

It’s loud, really loud, but she does get used to it after a while, and there’s millions of things to see, to do. She finds a job, goes to the theaters more often than not, gets to know the best Irish pubs. Her flat isn’t that big, but it’s cute, central, and her roommate's nice enough, so she can’t really ask for much more.

James’ there most of the time, even though he has a life of his own, and it feels good - sharing a city with him. His first job is not everything that he wants it to be, but he works hard, and a lot. She’s proud of him, even though she wishes he wouldn’t put so much pressure on himself.

Her postgraduate studies are…fine. She still doesn’t know what she thinks of it, really - still doesn’t know what she wants. Until she does, it’s probably the best option, anyway. Clare agrees and always makes sure to encourage her whenever they’re on the phone.

“I still don’t get what possessed you to go surround yourself with so many English twats, but whatever suits you I suppose.”

When it comes to her new life, it’s fair to say that Michelle’s opinion is a little less enthusiastic.

xvi. Both of them go back to Derry for Christmas, and a few days later, all of them are on their way to London for New Year’s Eve.

2002. Feck.

The party's pretty class. They decide to go just them - no significant others whatsoever. Not that they really are lots of them running around, to be honest. Apart from Clare and Michelle, it’s single-city in their little group.

There’s some of James’ friends from work, and they all drink, and chat, and dance, and drink again, and again. If there's a night of the year to be absolutely pissed, after all.

Tom is there - he works opposite James, apparently, and he’s good craic. She’s seen him before, and they hit it off. She’s always suspected he might sort of have a thing for her, and tonight, he confirms it. She makes it clear she’s not interested though, not like that, and they hang out anyway.

She’s laughing her arse off with Michelle, both of them completely and positively wasted, when Clare comes running off, both panicked and buzzing with excitement.

“It’s almost time, girls! We have to find the others - quick!”

In the big, crowded flat, it’s nothing short of a mission, but it feels like they’re on an adventure, and they really get into it, Erin riding on Michelle’s back and Clare pushing through, showing the same lack of mercy as she did when president Clinton went to visit Derry, and she had to guard their spot.

They have Orla now, but the New Year is just one minute away, and they still haven’t located James, and the sense of urgency keeps rising and rising as the seconds pass dangerously fast - and then Clare makes a turn, and he’s right here.

Well, not right here. On the other side of the kitchen area, kissing a girl with high boots and ginger hair.

“ - 3, 2, 1 - HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

And just like that, another year begins.

xvii. Tom is really nice. He’s funny, and she likes spending time with him. Even more so than she thought she would, actually.

It’s going really fast, too. Cilian was her longest relationship, and it feels a little like that, but so much - well, faster. He’s a nice lad, though. It’s only been two months when he asks her to go away with him for the weekend, and she accepts with a smile.

James has someone too now. Not the girl from New Year’s Eve - someone new, who he’s just met. She seems cracker.

Erin has her favorite London spots now, and she gets along with all her postgraduates friends except for that snobby Jessica girl. She tries running but ends up quiting real fast, but her friend Sarah always drags her to her yoga thing, and she goes, although she makes a point of complaining about it every time.

That summer, for the first time in the history of the gang, they don’t get together. She sees Michelle really quick, and James catches Orla, and then his cousin, and Clare manages to squeeze a little time with each of them, but they’re never together at the same time.

It scares her more than ever, how things change. Particularly things like this.

xviii. “Jesus Christ - you’re wasted.”

He collapses on the sofa, head on her lap, one foot dangling on the edge, and chuckles like an eejit.

“D’you know what? I think I might be, Erin.” She rolls her eyes, equally amused and appalled.

Not that he’s the only one in that state, of course: the lights have gone down, the dancing part of the evening has started, and now, the whole party has turned into a shot contest.

“It’s really scary, how poorly you handle red wine - remind me to never let you go to France.” The jagerbombs probably didn't help much, but knowing him, the wine probably really was the major playing factor in that particular drunken mess.

“I think we’d have lots of fun if we went to France. Could be a revenge trip after that Paris shitshow and all that.”

“Could be, yeah - but let’s keep you here for a while.” He agrees with a nod, never one to start an argument, and Erin smiles as James closes his eyes, and sighs contently.

He’s very much a man now - a proper lad, as much as Michelle likes to pretend otherwise -, but watching him like this, happy and drunk and not a care in the world, all she sees the sixteen year-old boy again.

“You okay there?”

“I’m great. Never been better actually.”

She snickers, her own head spinning a little. “Is that so. You look a little tired though, English.”

He wrinkles his nose a little. “Well, to be honest, I guess I sort of am? And my stomach hurts. My head too, now that I think about it.”

She’s not really sure how much time passes as they just lay there among the conversations, and smoke, and pop blasting against the walls, a couple of her polished fingers running down his face to smooth the wrinkle between his eyes, her other hand buried in his curls.

She’s not really sure how much time passes before he speaks again, his voice almost too soft in the noise that surrounds them. “That helps, though.”

“Well, maybe I should stop it then - that would teach you to down Bordeaux like it's grape juice.”

“Technically, it is,” he argues. But he’s getting sleepy now, and his words come out as a mumble. Before long, he’s out for good.

Pete, James’ roommate, helps her to change his shirt, and get some water in him, and finally, finally manage to get him to bed despite his multiple, half-pronounced whines that he’s fine and could go all night long.

Right.

She stays for another hour before she decides to go home. Tom had only stayed for a couple ones at the beginning of the night before rushing to another party, so she gets her stuff, and heads to get a cab. Pete walks her out.

“Be careful with him, Erin?”

She smiles. “I know, I know - I should grab the wine right out of his hands instinctively at this point. I mean, he always says he’s getting better at handling it, but - ”

“No, I don’t mean that.” He chuckles a little, but his eyes don’t meet hers and his face turns serious. Concerned.

Her stomach flips.

“I just mean…James adores you, you know. He really does. And it’s - it’s not always easy for him.” He sighs, shuffles on his feet. “I know I’m drunk and I shouldn’t be telling you this - even sober, I shouldn’t be telling you this, because it’s none of my business, but…"

And then, he looks at her, his baby blues a little dazed, but focused.

“It’s hard for him, seeing you with other lads. It’s always been - always. And it’s even harder now that you’re with a guy he sees every damn day, but he’s still happy for you, because that’s just the kind of block he is. But it’s killing him, Erin. It is, and I just don’t think…You always being so close, and the drinks and the calls every day - and the moments like on the couch tonight…I just don’t think that that’s doing him any good. I know that it isn’t, actually.”

She must look rude, staring at him like this. Stupid, that’s for sure. It’s like - she can’t look away, though.

She’s just -

“I - ach, it’s not like that, Pete.” Her voice sounds shaken even to her own ears. She’s not sure why. “We just - we’re friends. We’re just friends, we’ve always been, since - ”

“Since you were fifteen. Yeah, I know.” He sighs, shakes his head.

Hers is spinning, and hurting, and she can’t think straight. “Did you know he was the one who planned the surprise visit they all made to you, back in first year of uni? I was there when he phoned the girls too, actually.” Pete looks back at her, and smiles, just a little. “You were having a hard time, what with being away from everyone again after the holidays, so.”

She didn’t know. He never said anything.

It doesn’t mean anything, though, because he’s just sweet like that, their James, and he’d do it for any of them. Pete knows that - she reminds him of that.

“Right. And did you know that he almost came to see you again? Beginning of third year - alone this time. I don’t know what exactly happened in that pub in Galway the summer before, but he was restless about it for weeks, so we told him to go, you know - to at least try. And then you phoned later that night and told him about that Cilian guy, and - well. He tried to move on after this, he really did - he literally ran away trying. But - ”

She’s not feeling well. She needs to sit, or…something.

She needs him to stop talking.

“I was here for all of it. I was here after the phone calls, after the reunions, after the holidays. The night he broke up with that girl not long after you arrived in London, because she told him it was you or her.” This time, Pete hesitates, just for a second. “I was here after that Jenny’s wedding. And I’m telling you, Erin: it’s not doing him any good.”

All of the sudden, she feels his hand in hers, and Erin realizes that she’s - zoned out. He looks a little worried, and he squeezes her fingers, and it hurts.

In her chest, it hurts, and she doesn’t know why.

She manages to focus on him again, just like he’s telling her to, and that’s when she realizes that she’s shaking a little. That she can't breathe properly.

“Erin - Erin, calm down. I’m sorry - I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I don’t.” She nods, somehow, and his face softens even more at that. He’s still holding her hand, and she holds on.

“I just…He has a girlfriend - he has Eva now.”

“I know.”

Erin finally looks back at him, the lights of the living room reflecting on his face. With a small smile, Pete sighs.

After a moment, he grabs her beanie for her, a gentle hand on her elbow. “Come on - let’s get you a cab, yeah?”

xix. She hasn't seen him in a week.

They have work, and other things, and they had nothing planned anyway.

She doesn’t manage more than a couple hours of sleep the entire time.

xx. November 24th, 2002.

If she had to guess, she’d probably say that this is the day everything goes to shite. Then again, maybe it did a while ago. Probably.

Definitely.

Not that she knows it at the time, of course. There’s no reason to suspect otherwise, after all.

(She’s been feeling like a ticking time bomb lately, feeling like her head - her chest - could burst any time. Every damn day.

She didn’t think it would all go down like this, though.)

She’s agreed to a drink with Tom’s mates, only realizing that it would be with his workmates that same morning. It’s good, though. She’s not sure if Pete talked to James about their conversation, but she’s thought about it, and it’s - Pete’s wrong, and it’s all fine. In any case, she doesn’t want to start avoiding him and make it weird.

Especially when there’s no reason to. Plus, she hasn’t seen him in a few days now, and that’s not usual. She misses him.

When he walks through the door, her stomach feels like jelly.

It goes well. It always goes well with those lads, and today…It goes well.

That is, until, taking another generous sip of his pint, Curt starts telling them about his new place - and the one he’s leaving behind.

“It’s really great, I’ll miss this flat to be honest. Actually - wouldn’t you two be interested?”

It takes Erin a second to understand that he’s addressing them. Her and Tom.

“What?”

“Well, it’s a great place for a couple - we really did love it with Rita. Plus, it’s not far from the office, not far from your UCL Erin, so - just saying.”

“You did say you were thinking about switching flat, honey,” Tom smiles, his hand squeezing her shoulder.

Conversations are still going all around their table, but in a second, and for what should be such a small, casual thing, too, it’s like everything resolves around that particular exchange. All she can see, Tom expecting, clueless expression, Curt’s curious one.

She can’t see him, her eyes fixed on them instead, but she’s never been more aware of James’ presence not so far from her. Of his eyes on her.

When she says yes, she sees him get up from his seat in her peripheral vision as Tom envelops her in a hug that feels far too tight.

xxi. James moves a few weeks after that night. Los Angeles, this time.

His old team from New-York got him an interview for this replacement gig where he’ll be covering someone’s job while they’re off traveling all around the world or something. For a year, apparently.

He really hated his job in London.

xxii. Clare’s visiting this weekend.

It’s a surprise, too - she only calls once she’s at Victoria’s Station. Erin rushes so fast out of the café she’s working in, she literally falls on her own face.

The pub is packed and warm, her best friend is sitting right in front of her, all pink cheeks and shiny hair, and for the first time in a while, Erin smiles a real smile.

God, how she misses them.

“I’m taking her to meet my parents soon, actually.”

Erin stops mid sip, smirks. “Really?”

The girl’s entire face reddens, but her eyes are shining. “Really.”

“Aye, Clare, that’s so great! You have to introduce her to my Ma too though - she’ll have my head if you don’t.”

She’s sure Mammy will like her - Laura really is grand.

“How about you? How’s Tom?”

“I wouldn’t know, really. We kind of...split up.”

In front of her, her friend nods, almost knowingly.

“I thought as much, yeah. Just a feeling,” she adds at Erin’s questioning glance.

She looks down at her drink, then, and there’s a couple of beats before Clare speaks again. “That’s not the reason you look so sad though, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Erin.”

It’s probably because they’ve known each other for so long - since they were wains, really, three and barely standing on their two feet. But the second Clare says the words, blue eyes fixed on her, Erin understands.

She knows. Of course, she knows. She’s always been the brightest, after all.

Erin doesn’t want her to, though. She’s not…she doesn’t want to talk about it.

Her breath is short.

“You know, I always knew there was something going on between you two. Ever since our last year back home, really. I think the others suspected something too, actually - well, Michelle, at least. And I wasn’t sure when, what with you two being a pair of eejits, but - I always knew it was going to work out at some point.”

In her chest, there’s that feeling again. The one that never leaves now, not really. “And I know there were boyfriends, and girlfriends, and the whole distance thing, but every summer, every holiday back home, I thought - ‘right - this is it.’ I definitely did after you all came to visit me that year - and then, same after Jenny’s wedding. And then when you came to London, I could have put all my money on it so I could.”

Clare’s eyes turn even softer, somehow, and Erin realizes that she’s crying.

“What happened, Erin?”

And that’s the question, isn’t it. What did happen?

How did she end up here, on a bench in a Camden pub, her life a complete mess and her heart broken? That wasn’t the plan - that was never the plan. She’s not sure at one point it all went to shite like that.

As much as she’d like to pretend otherwise, the answer’s simple, though.

“I fecked it all up.” As usual.

“Tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell - I did, I fecked it all up, and now…Now he’s gone, and he’s not coming back this time.”

“You don’t know that.”

Feck but it hurts, so much, and maybe it’s not a bad thing, because at least it’s distracting her from the fact that she’s full on sobbing now.

Feck, feck, feck.

Her trembling hands hide her face, and Clare’s gentle ones come to rest on her forearms. Christ, but she’s pathetic.

“I do. I was so stupid - I was stupid, and scared and a coward. I fecked it all up, and now he hates me.”

Clare snorts. “James could never hate you, Erin. It’s actually quite clear it’s the opposite.” She can’t talk now, and so she just shakes her head. She doesn’t understand.

“Erin.”

When she finally looks up, Clare’s looking straight at her, unwavering.

“He doesn’t hate you. Now, tell me everything.”

xxiii. Finishing her second year of postgraduate doesn’t feel like such an achievement. It doesn't surprise her, though: she’s known for a while now that it wouldn’t.

The job she picks up at this newspaper doesn’t pay all that much, but it’s enough to cover the roof over her head, the food in her fridge, the beers at the pub, and it gives her time to write on the side, so it’s perfect, really. Plus, her colleagues are nice, and her own age. They have fun.

xxiv. Spring comes and goes. So does summer.

She gets to spend quite a lot of time back home - listening to Anna’s ramblings, Ma and Pa bickering, Aunt Sarah’s fortunes, Granda's shouts. Writing. Michelle and her drink so many free pints ‘on the house,’ she’s not sure how said house doesn’t go broke.

It feels good.

xxv. And so, there's work, her mates, her projects moving along more than she would have thought. The girls visiting more often, a lot of back and forths to Derry. On paper, it's not a bad year, really. It shouldn’t have been -

But the thing is, acknowledging the fact that you’re in love with your best friend, that you have been for years and that you can’t pretend otherwise any longer when he’s thousands of miles away and you’re not even sure he’s ever going to come back - it does brings a cloud over the whole thing.

She’s grateful, of course. For everything that she does have, and for Clare listening to her call after call. For him being so perfect yet again, and not leaving her without news, making sure to always call. But she misses him so much, it’s all she can think about, every day, and she finds herself looking up the price of transatlantic plane tickets more and more often.

And then one day, he calls to tell her he’s coming back. It’s ridiculous to say that her heart stops, but it does.

He insists that it’s fine, that she doesn’t have to, but when his plane lands back home, Erin’s already waiting for him in the airport. She has to.

(And she knows - she knows she’s pathetic, and dramatic, and a lot more, probably, but…She does. She does have to see him.

She’s not going to run all over Heathrow with some romantic music playing in the background, and confess her love, apologize for being such an eejit, and beg him to say that maybe, just maybe, he does feel the same. Despite popular belief, she knows life is not a movie - that there’s a lot more, that it's not as simple.

She will tell him, though. Soon. And for now, she really, really needs to see him.)

As the first people start to appear through the gate, she can feel her heartbeat speeding up. Again, and again, it’s excruciating really, and - and then, there’s James, all green eyes, denim jacket and wild curls. As soon as he sees her, there’s also a huge grin on his wee face, and she thinks hers might very well be just as bad.

She almost tackles him to the ground, but he catches her, his arms around her holding her up, and Erin thinks she might cry, she’s so happy. She does, really.

“Ach, you have to stop disappearing like that, you eejit.” She can feel his laugh against her chest, his smile on her neck.

She tightens her arms even more.

"If I promise I will, will you let me breathe again?"

She gets off him, her witty response already on her lips, but then there’s an arm on his shoulder instantly replacing hers. Attached to it, a girl, a smile.

She’s gorgeous.

“You must be Erin!”

And that is how she meets Amy’s, James’ new, American girlfriend.

xxvi. Obviously, she can’t tell him now.

“Obviously, this doesn’t change anything: you have to talk to him.”

Well.

“Clare - ”

“He deserves to know, Erin. It’s bad enough you’ve let it go that long - it’s time.”

Ach, that stings a little. “That’s not fair…I didn’t - know. I didn’t really know.”

“Right. And now you do, and I’m telling you: you owe it to James to tell him the truth. To yourself as well, actually.”

“He’s happy. He’s…he looks happy.”

He does, and she’s gripping the receiver so hard, her knuckles are turning white.

At the other end of the phone, Clare sighs. “Look, Erin, I don’t know if that girl’s the one. I really don’t. I don’t know how long it will last, I don’t know if they’ll break up tomorrow, if he’ll marry her. But…” Her voice is softer now, and even though she knows she’s frustrated, and determined, Erin can hear the compassion in it.

She drags her arm accross her face before she looks more stupid than she already does.

“But I do think that after all these years, he deserves to know. And truth is, whether or not he feels the same is not the issue here, because I know that in any case, he’ll want you in his life, and you’ll want him in yours. And for this to work, you have to be honest. I’m not saying it will be easy - I’m just saying, it’s a lot better than having to sit across from him every day and having your heart broken, and wondering. You can’t move on unless you go through with it, Erin.”

xxvii. She hears him before she sees him. The night is kind of cold, but the fresh air does wonders for her face.

Jesus, but it’s hot in that flat.

“You know hiding up won’t help for long, right? You will have to blow your twenty-five candles at some point.”

She groans, even though she can’t help a smile. He comes to lean next to her then, the London’s lights all laid out underneath them, and even in the dark, she can make out his mocking smirk. “It'll be alright - you still have a good couple of years left.”

When he winces from the elbow she puts in his side, it’s her time to look smug.

From there, they can hear the distant noise of the conversations, the laughs. Saturday Night playing. She’s not sure how long they stay like this, looking down at the city. The relative silence of the rooftop feels good though - soothing.

“You okay? You look a little out of it tonight.”

She shrugs, smiles. “I’m grand. Just, you know…Quarter of a century and all that, I suppose.”

“Come on - you’ll be fine.” He bumps his shoulder gently against hers, his scent suddenly everywhere, and Erin feels her chest tightens.

She feels like crying.

It must show, because when he speaks again, the concern is evident in his voice - the worry. It makes it even worse, and she hates herself.

“Hey, it’s alright. Michelle was only joking when she said it’s all downhill from here, you know. I mean, look at her: she passed that milestone a few months ago, and she’s now at her best drinking-wise, work-wise, and - and I will never be able to unhear this - shagging-wise.”

He’s teasing, of course, and she’s chuckling, and he’s smiling because he managed to make her, and Erin wishes he’d stop there. That they’d change the subject, which he’ll never do, because it’s James, and of course he won't stop until he knows she's alright. Always the knight in shining armor, that English.

They should head back to the party. She should lead them there.

Before she brings herself to, though, he speaks again. “Out with it now, Erin. What’s going on?”

They really should head back downstairs. And then, and yet -

“I’m not with Tom anymore.”

There’s a small pause, barely a second. A hesitant one.

“I know. I’m sorry about that.”

He sounds a bit taken aback. Why wouldn’t he? It was more than a year ago now.

“I broke it off right after you left. The very day you left, actually.” She should stop now. It’s still time to stop. “And - the day I met Paul, when I went and talked to him at that party, I was really missing you. A lot. And I was also really missing you when I broke up with him.”

Next to her, she can feel his whole body tense.

Her breath’s short.

“I don’t think there would have been Danny if you hadn’t had Emily, I don’t think I would have jumped into such a serious thing with Cilian if I could have stopped thinking about what could have happened when we went to visit Clare. It felt wrong, bringing him home, and - and it all felt so right at Jenny’s wedding.”

“Erin - ”

“It did. For me, it did. And when I came to London - well, I could have gone anywhere I suppose, couldn’t I? When I came here, I guess I was hoping…and then one minute I was telling Tom I wouldn’t go out with him, and the next, everyone’s yelling ‘happy new year,’ and we find you in that kitchen with that girl, and I go back and tell him the exact opposite. Like an eejit.”

“Erin, please stop - ”

“I think I'm in love with you, James.”

She finally looks at him. He does the same, and the yearning for him pushes on her chest so hard, it hurts. “And I don’t know why I’ve just said that, because I don’t think I am - I know. It took me fecking forever to admit it, but…but I do know.”

She’s never been more sure of anything.

It’s all a little too much now, and she lets her eyes focus on the city lights once again, lets the air fill her lungs. Tries to, at least.

“And I apologize, because I also know that you probably don’t want to hear this, that it’s fecking everything up. That you have someone, that you’re happy now. And it’s fine - really, it is.” Feck, but she’s crying now. “I’m not trying to change that, I am happy that everything’s going so well for you, I swear I am. Shite - I don’t even know why I’m crying, it’s just… I’m a bit drunk I think, and - ”

“Is that why you’re saying all of this?”

His voice is…odd. It’s not surprising, given what she’s saying, but it’s - distant.

It makes her look up to him. “Because you’re drunk?”

He’s staring at the ground beneath them, although she knows he’s not really looking at it. She shakes her head, even though he can’t see it.

“No.” She’s barely had one drink, really. “I’m saying it because...because it’s true.”

“Sounds familiar though, doesn’t it.” He chuckles, not an ounce of humor in it. “I mean, you’ve just said it: at that pub when we were in Glasgow, at Jenny’s wedding. At that party too, when we were still in school, the very first time - always a lot of alcohol involved."

“I just - ”

“You just what, Erin? Feel lonely, and need someone to comfort you until the next perfect lad comes along?”

“It’s not like that - ”

“What's it like then? Please, explain to me what exactly this is, Erin, because it’s been ten years, and it’s really starting to look like whenever you're in the middle of a romantic crisis of any sort, or lack of actually, you have a habit of coming to me pretending to feel things that always, always disappear come the morning, before running off with a brand new fella the very next day.”

He looks so angry - so frustrated. She’s never seen him like that. He’s never looked at her like that.

She can’t cry though. Jesus but she can’t - she has to stop.

Please God, make it stop.

But he continues, and her stomach twists so much that she feels like throwing up. “Not that I blame you, really: I mean, it does always seem to work out for you in the end. But the truth is Erin, I’m sick and tired of being the idiot who always comes running as soon as you whistle for him to, only to end up like a prick who should have known better.”

No. No, no, no -

“You’re not - James, you’re my best friend, and - ”

“Am I?" He’s looking right at her, his green eyes filled with - so much.

She can’t breathe. "Is that why I’ve earnt that special treatment all these years?"

She wants to stop him, tell him that she’s sorry. Tell him she hates herself too, beg him to forgive her. She wants to say all of this and more, so much more, but she can’t breathe, and she can’t talk, the words stuck in her throat.

He looks away, and she wishes she hadn’t seen the new pang of hurt that crosses his face before he buries it in his hands.

In the darkness, she can see them shake, almost as much as her own.

"Jesus Erin, every time - you do this every fucking time! And your timing is always impeccable as well, I mean - it’s impressive at this point, really.”

He turns back to her, his eyes almost dark. “How do you do it? How does that happen exactly? Do you sense it or something? ‘James might be happy, time to swoosh in and fuck everything up’?”

“No! Of course not - James, please, I swear, I’m not trying to mess everything up, I just…I wanted to say something for so long now, and I know it was still too late, but before that - I didn’t know before, I just didn't realize it at the time I think. I was stupid, I was so fecking stupid, I know that now, but - ”

“Pete told me.”

There’s a beat. Another.

“What?”

“After the party at our place - before I left for Los Angeles. Pete told me what he said to you.”

Right. She always thought he did, really.

It physically hurts now, the way he's looking at her.

“Yeah. So which is it, Erin: you didn't know, or you just didn't care?”

So many times, she's imagined this moment- fantasises it. How she'd apologies, take responsability for her stupidity/ Let him know that. As much as her mind would often wander off to what might happen if he did feel the same, if he forgave her, she always knew it wouldn't be as easy, no matter what direction their relationship would take. She knew. She thought of everything he'd say, each thing she'd respond to explain.

It hurts so much though, the pain still visible behind his rage, his voice - the fecking regret.

She was confused. Trying to pretend she didn't feel what she felt because it could never lead to anything, and then because she was scared. Stupid. Scared.

She does care. She always will, when it comes to him.

But she's not even able to offer him that, and as the tears roll down her cheeks, and something breaks between them, he averts his eyes (disappointed, frustrated, hurt, hurt, hurt) and Erin feels something breaks in her chest, too.

He swallows, does that thing with his lip. Scoffs.

“Jesus. You know, I've been in love with you since we were sixteen. Maybe even before that actually - I don't know. And I've watched you swoon over David Donnelly, and John Paul, and all the others, and even though it felt like someone ripped my freaking heart out every time I saw you with one of them, I never said anything, because - because it was still worth it. If I still got to see you, if I still got to speak with you, be in your life…it was, no matter what.”

It’s happening - the worst possible outcome of this whole mess. She knows it before he even says it.

It doesn’t mean she’s ready when he does. "But I don't think I can do it any more. I thought it would stop at some point - when we went to different cities, when we met new people. Built a life. I was hoping time would just do its work or something because really, it’s ridiculous: you can’t be in love with someone who doesn’t love you back for an entire lifetime. But nothing’s changed, and - I can’t do this anymore,” he says again. “Pretty sure it’ll kill me if I have to go through it again.”

He looks back at her. All trace of anger is gone now. Somehow, it's a hundred times worse.

The silence is deafening.

“I - I understand,” she manages after a while. An eternity.

She’s not sure anymore. “Thought you might never see me again. I had it coming, hadn’t I,” and it comes out more desperate than she means it to.

It’s difficult, though, right now - keeping control.

“I uh - I get it. I really do, but I just need you to know that - I do. I swear, I do love - ”

“Please, don’t say it Erin -”

“I love you.”

She wishes she could stop the tears, making it all look like a rehearsed, pathetic piece, much too aware of what it looks like. Sounds like.

But she’s not trying to make him pity her, or gain sympathy, she just has no control anymore, none over years and years of suppressed - everything. And most importantly, she does. She does love him, and it’s so important that he knows.

“I love you. I know I fecked up, and you’ll probably hate me if you don’t already, and you don't want to hear it but - I really need you to at least know that.”

He snorts. "Hate you."

In the tamed light of the night, the one that’ll probably haunt her for the rest of her life, the lines of his face are well defined, his Adams’ apple the only movement visible from him, the only indication of what’s going on inside.

He’s beautiful. It’s such a stupid thing to think about in this particular moment, and yet - he is. He really is, and the certainty that she might never see him again after tonight is unbearable. And so, Erin looks at him while she still can.

She’s not sure how she’ll go on, if she doesn’t remember every detail. Every line, every shadow.

“Why now, Erin?”

The words are so softly spoken, it’s almost funny, how they manage to cut through a silence that’s become so thick. So heavy.

“I dunno.” She doesn’t, really.

Why did she? Why didn’t she wake up when she was 20, when she was 18. When she was 16, and she fell in love with the wee English fella that had just entered her life.

Christ.

She wishes she could say more. She wishes she could answer better, explain, but the truth is, she doesn't know what to say. There’s no excuses, no rationality. She doesn’t want to pretend there is. He deserves better.

She wishes she could talk to him, though.

But the words are stuck in her throat, her eyes glued to his green ones, sad and angry and so many more things at the same time. She can’t.

Way too soon, she watches as James mumbles his goodbye, and Erin finds herself standing on her deserted rooftop, her fingers cold, her heart broken in what feels like a million pieces as the boy she is in love with turns away.

(Is, has always been. Will always be.)

xxviii. “Dear James,

I know you don’t want to see me. I don’t blame you, really. You probably don’t want to read me, either, and I’ll understand if you just stop now and tear that letter up. Maybe you should. Heard my letters can be pretty boring, actually.

It’s not the first one I write to you. The first’s still in Derry - in my diary. I didn’t think I’d ever show it to you, or tell you about it to be honest. But after you almost left the city to go with your mum that day, after you almost left us, I felt the need to have it on record or something - that I couldn't imagine that place without you. That I didn’t want to. Looking back, maybe that was when I started realizing - well, everything.

I won’t get into all that I’ve said the last time we spoke. I meant all of it, including the fact that I’m not trying to ruin anything for you. I swear I’m not - please know that. I just want to say what I couldn’t that night. Or all the years before that, really.

Which is that I’m sorry. I’m really sorry it took me so long to understand, and to get it together. I’m sorry I’ve been such a coward, and so selfish. Pete did talk to me, and from that moment, I should have - well, there’s so much I should have done. And said. Even before that. I’m sorry that I didn’t, and most of all, I'm sorry that I’ve hurt you all this time. If you only choose to believe one thing from all of this, please pick this one, because that’s the last thing I’d ever want to do, James. I’m really sorry.

I hope that one day you’ll forgive me for all of this, including me telling you all that out of the blue. Ten years is a long time though, I think I just really couldn’t go on pretending any more. Truth is, I thought I owed it to you as well, because no matter what, you’re my best friend, and the person I’ve loved the most.

Aye, I’ve probably sent you to sleep now. I promise I won’t write any other letters - life is shitty enough as it is, isn’t it.

Erin, xxx”

xxix. She’s been 25 for a whole month.

Life’s been absolute shite for just as long.

xxx. Groaning, she finishes her paragraph, and bends down from her chair to pick up the pages that have once again slipped out from that stupid desk of hers. Not that putting them back changes anything to the chaos around her, really: the place looks post-apocalyptic.

It’s not really her fault though. Well, she has been alone in the flat for a week, and technically, she’s also been setting up a very questionable yet functioning organizing system for her ongoing articles and draft all over the living room, papers and forgotten empty tea mugs everywhere. But in her defense, work has been absolutely crazy lately, and well - she had to adapt.

Which is good - she wants it that way. Actually went above and beyond to get as many articles as possible. If Gary’s surprised at her demand, and at the speed at which she’s been delivering, her eyes a little red from exhaustion and her smile a little stiff, he doesn’t say anything. She’s grateful.

When she’s not writing for work or trying and falling to sleep, she focuses on her book. Christ but it’s weird, articulating that thought.

She’s writing a book.

It probably won’t amount to anything, but Erin finds that she doesn’t care that much. Maybe it won't - it surely won't, but she’s been saying she wants to for years, almost a decade, and it’s time to own up to what she wants, and act for a change. So, she does. And even if it does turns out to be shite, she’ll just write another one, this time with more experience.

Plus, it feels good, writing. It’s about the only thing that does, lately.

She’s getting a move on though. Her roomate has sworn she’d, quote, “beat her to death with a stick” if she came back to find her drowning in a pool of self pity, so she’s trying - to go for a beer after work, to go down to the coffee shop and work there sometimes. To go read at the park, or to the movies. She keeps her word - she stays busy. (Distracted.)

It’s almost three that afternoon when there’s a knock at the door, and she smiles. Clare has warned her that her (“very late, I’m so sorry Erin, but you’ll absolutely love it”) birthday present will be arriving soon.

Finishing her sentence really quickly, she gets up, tying her mess of hair in a bun and making sure her jeans are buttoned, and opens up.

And that’s when her heart almost jumps out of her chest.

“Hi.”

It - takes her a second.

A few, actually.

“Hi.”

She should probably say something else. Anything else. She definitely should, in fact, she just - can’t.

James saves her from herself.

“Sorry to show up announced, I just…Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah - uhm yeah sure,” she finally manages to shake herself. “Come in.”

When he brushes past her, she gets a whiff of his perfume, and the familiar smell and the sudden realization of what’s happening set off a wave of relief and - so much more.

Feck, she’s missed him. She does miss him.

“Were you working?,” he asks, gesturing towards the papers scattered on the floor.

“Kinda. I mean, yes I was. But I was about to take a break anyway, so.”

“I won’t take long.”

Please do. Please, please, please, stay.

“It’s no trouble,” she says instead. “Do you want something to - ”

“I’m sorry.”

They haven't looked at each other in the last, very few seconds since he's entered, and her eyes snap back up to meet his.

She can't read them.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. About your birthday, about…” He sighs, and she thinks he’s frustrated with himself.

She’s not sure why. “I was a dick - I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“You - James, you have nothing to apologize for. I - ”

“I do, actually. It was much easier to pretend otherwise, but - I do. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that,” he says again. “I shouldn’t have snapped. Especially when I was being such a hypocrite.”

Her brain is not functioning that well, that’s for sure, but she’s so hyper focused on him, she does see it. The way his chest rises with difficulty. The way his face both softens and falls at the same time.

The step he takes, closer to her. “I blamed you for everything, but the truth is - I never said anything either. All these years…I never said anything. And apart from almost jumping in a plane one time, I never did anything. I literally ran away instead - twice. So I’m the last person who can come at you about being a coward.”

Around them, nothing’s changed - at least, she doesn’t think so.

Yet, it’s becoming harder to breathe.

“At least you actually had the courage to do something in the end. And I’m sorry I was such a fucking prick when you did.”

“You’re not a prick,” she breathes. Without even realizing it, really.

“Pretty sure Michelle would disagree with you on that one.”

He smiles at her, then, and she smiles back, and for a split second, it’s like everything fades - the fight, the heaviness.

For a second, there’s just - him. That look. The warmth in her entire body she only feels when he’s around. And then -

“I broke up with Amy.”

He’s looking straight at her.

Her brain short-circuits.

“What?”

She vaguely realizes that it’s her own words she’s just heard. That her heart’s racing in what is probably a worrying way.

Everything’s going on so fast, and she’s not - She doesn’t understand what’s happening.

“I wasn’t being honest with her anyway, was I. Not with her - not with the others.” He takes a breath, almost imperceptible. “Not with you."

She’s not sure how long they stay like this, staring at each other in her messy living room, the sound of the city acting as a back noise filling the otherwise silent room, her remaining breakfast still on the coffee table.

She’s not sure of anything.

But James moves, then, and her watery eyes follow his as he looks down to his jacket pocket, his fingers slipping inside.

“I didn’t want to read it. I was afraid that you’d tell me you’d never want to see me again, and that I wouldn’t be able to pretend I could come here to apologize for being such an idiot for the past ten years. I cracked right before I knocked at your door, though.”

It’s stupid, because she knows what it is. Of course she does. Yet, when he takes out her folded letter, her stomach does a somersault inside.

“I don’t think your letters are boring, by the way.”

He finally looks back up at her, and it takes her a second to do the same. When she does, the look on his face is…well.

Her fifteen years-old self would be appalled, but again, she doesn’t have the words for it.

She doesn’t understand what’s happening.

She freezes.

“Did you mean it?” He's getting even closer now, a slight hesitation in his steps. An anxiousness that reflects on his face, in his eyes.

There’s something else, too - there's so much.

He stops, so close, she can almost feel his breath on her skin. "Because - because I did.”

She barely has time to pray that he’s referring to the part of that terrible night that she hopes he is, that he’s confirming it. “I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen, Erin. And I haven’t been able to stop.”

Christ, but her vision blurs.

“I don’t want to stop.”

She doesn’t understand - With a final step, James closes the distance, his forehead against her, and she doesn’t want to understand, to believe what she thinks he’s saying, because it’s all too much. It’s like the air has been knocked out of her, but she doesn’t want to let herself believe, hope, because there’s no way he can forgive her, and there’s no way -

If she lets herself believe this is actually happening, and it’s not true, there's no way she’s not going to survive it. She knows she tends to be dramatic - she knows.

But she won’t.

“I thought you were going to hate me,” and feck, she’s sobbing now.

She can’t see his face, but she feels his small puff of air on her chin as James chuckles.

“Couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

He kisses her despite the tears and the snot that’s probably here and despite the mess that she is, and it’s desperate - desperate, and perfect. Yet, not enough.

She holds him as close as she can, her arms so tight around his neck, it hurts a little. It probably hurts him too, really, but he doesn’t seem to mind, and she just - One of his hand keeps her close, the other lost in her hair, his lips softer than they have any right to be against hers, and Erin’s never felt so much before.

Her heart keeps skipping beats.

“I’m sorry,” she says between kisses as they reluctantly part to breathe, just for a second. “I’m so sorry, James.”

“I know." His lips barely leave hers before he’s kissing her again, and again. “I’m sorry.”

“I did mean it.” She threads her fingers in his curls, molds her body into his as best as she can. When she leans away, just a bit, he groans and leans back in for her lips, and it sets off the butterflies in her stomach. "I'm so in love with you."

At that, his half opened eyes leave her lips to meet hers. In the ten years that she's known him, she's never seen him smile quite like that.

"You are, huh."

They have so much to talk about - she has so much to say to him.

But as James holds her close, clinging to her like he's afraid she might slips away, Erin just takes in his happy, smug little smirk, the crinkles of his eyes, and pushes on her tiptoes to kiss him again.

a year later.

He wakes up slowly, gently.

The early afternoon sunshine comes to tickle his face, and he scrunches his nose a little, his well inherited eyebrows furrowing in that way that’s oddly enticing. He rubs his face against her skin, burying it even better in her neck to escape the source of his growing annoyment, and she lets her hand travel on his shoulders, his upper back before moving it back to his curls.

They’ll have to add curtains for the living room to the list of things they still need to buy.

Dropping her book on the wooden floor, Erin let her eyes wander over the room, the big plant put on the corner for the time being. The still very much unpacked kitchen a little further, the boxes here, scattered all around the couch.

Against her, James moves a bit, his body warm and heavy. She moves her now free hand up his arm, wraps it around him to hold him even better, a wave of affection for him washing over her. The window’s open, and she can vaguely hear music coming from somewhere on the street. Their new neighborhood is absolutely cracker.

In his half asleep state, James tightens his hold on her.

“What time is it?,” he mumbles after a while, lips moving against her skin.

“Dunno. Around two, I think.”

She massages the back of his neck, heart fluttering when he sighs heavily, content.

“We have a lot of unpacking to do.”

“We have a lot of unpacking to do,” she smiles as he looks up at her with those half open green eyes of his.

“We’ll have to get up from the couch soon.”

“Aye.”

She runs her thumb along his jaw, and he closes them back, all but purring as he hides his face again, his fingers moving lazily under her shirt, his touch warm on her back.

“Five more minutes, though.”

Chuckling, Erin drops one, two kisses on the top of his head, his scent filling her senses.

“Sure, baby.”

As his lips graze the skin of her throat, she holds him even closer, and closes her eyes.

It's okay - they’ve got time.

Also on AO3.

#jerin #derry girls #james x erin #erin x james #I started this story soooo long ago now #I can't believe I'm finally posting it #there was only a few parts missing but life got in the way #I wanted to publish it before series 3 #so publishing before the end of series 3 is now the next best thing #I had to rush which I absolutely hate #but hopefully some of you like it anyway #(very au #of course #but the idea would not leave me alone)#fanfiction

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roger-that-cap · 3 years

Text

wildest dreams

witch!wanda x reincarnated!reader

summary: wanda had walked around the earth for centuries with no magic and hardly any soul left after losing her soulmate. she thought that her lover would never return and that the only reunion they would have would be in the afterlife, but a run-in with bucky changes everything after he insists that he met the long gone y/n at a fountain in the park.

yet another au by me...

word count: around 6.5k?

imma tag one person bc she gets upset when she isn’t tagged- and idk if anyone else would actually be interested?

@teenwonder

also this picture is not mine, and the dividers are by @firefly-graphics !!

without further ado, it’s almost 6 in the morning but i give you this!!

She held you tight, fingers digging into your skin as she trembled above you. The rose bushes were rustling in the wind next to you both, the sweet smell of the flowers contrasting with the moment. You were halfway gone already, eyes far off but trying to swim back to the surface, wanting to look at her one last time before the inevitable happened.

“S…” you tried to say, but she hushed you immediately, tears falling down on your face and mixing with your own. You shook her head at her as hard as you could, begging for her to let you continue. “Say you’ll remember me,” you ground out, fingers tightening around her hand.

“What?” Wanda asked, voice already thick with grief as she tried to decide whether or not it was better to keep the knife lodged between your ribs inside of you.

“When I come back-” you cut yourself off by coughing up blood, and Wanda didn’t even wince when it splattered on her cheek. “Back for you, promise that you’ll remember me.”

“Darling,” Wanda whispered back, her voice cracking as she bent over and rested her head on your stomach for a moment, hiding her sob. She could feel her magic tingling inside of her; under her skin, in her bones, dancing on her fingertips. “I wish I knew- I wish I just knew how-”

“Please.” You said, a desperate look in your eyes as you halted her words, already knowing what Wanda wanted. But natural magic was nothing to mess with. She sobbed again with her lips pressed together, no sound escaping her. You squeezed her hand tighter as the sun started on its routine descent, basking the two of you in an orange glow that you would have stopped to admire in any other moment in time. But Wanda would grow to hate that shade of orange with every breath in her. “Please.” It would always remind her of the sound of your begging, voice reaching for something that she couldn’t see.

Maybe it was the desperation in your voice, or the way that she just knew that you were well within your last moments, because she looked up at you one last time. “Of course I’ll remember you, darling. I couldn’t even dream of forgetting you.” There was a wheezing sound that came from your chest as you cracked a bloody smile, and then you gave one last squeeze before you looked away from her, your soul settling in the afterlife.

Wanda Maximoff would never forget it. Suddenly, her previously irrational fear of losing her magic became real, but that feeling didn’t even come close to the one she got when you grew lifeless in her arms.

Ever since you knew what a normal person was supposed to be like, you had identified that you, in fact, were not the normal person that you were probably supposed to be. Normal people didn’t daydream to the point where it felt like their bodies weren’t in the present anymore. Normal people didn’t have birthmarks under their ribs that aced and burned. Normal people didn’t feel out of touch with their world, like they weren’t even meant to be in the century they were in. Normal people didn’t feel like they were searching for something tirelessly, something just under their noses. And normal people surely didn’t dream of the same set of hands, same pair of eyes, or the same voice over and over again, a new setting every time, but always the same, faceless person. You either drew the same faceless person or rose bushes, and every sketch book you ever had was full of them.

At first, you were sure that you were going insane. Every time you closed your eyes, you would see a flash of reddish brown hair, or the same set of eyes, or the same pair of pale hands. You kept seeing this person without ever seeing a face for nights at a time before you went to see a therapist, who just ended up telling you that worrying about it was only going to make it worse, whatever it even was. But eventually, you learned to get used to it.

Acceptance turned into expectancy. You went to sleep knowing that there was going to be a pair of hands accompanied by the same slender fingers as always before you, sometimes intertwined with your own. You knew that there was going to be a set of eyes on you, watching you intently with no ace to go with them. You knew that you would hear whispers of the same voice, speaking so clearly in a language you didn’t even come close to understanding, and soon, you were craving to see and hear those things. And wanting to see them led to something that you never told your therapist; drawings.

You drew nearly every day under the sky, trying to find different park benches to see the sun rise and set at different angles for inspiration. You loved the sky, moon and stars alike, but there was something special about sunrises and sunsets. Sunrises and sets both meant new beginnings to you, out with the old and in with the new, and each rise and fall filled you with a strange feeling of nostalgia. You were watching the sunset on a park bench by yourself, a sketchbook sitting on your lap as you held an idle pencil, still thinking about the way you wanted to draw the hands. The birthmark between your ribs started to tingle, letting you know that it was about to burn again. That damn birthmark. You dropped the pencil and scratched at it, trying to beat the annoying feeling at its own game. You cursed the mark, but your eyes didn’t leave the sky, and you noticed your heart swelling in your chest, faint despair in the pits of it, churning around like the middle of the deep sea.

You shook your head and put your pencil in your hand again, brain not even having to work hard at all to see the features of the faceless person who was in your every dream.

Even before she ever met you, Wanda didn’t sleep well. She would toss and turn for at least an hour before she finally found some temporary, flimsy form of peace. Her sleep was always light and she hardly ever had dreams, which was customary for a woman like her at the time- an un-blossomed witch.

It was hard for her to remember the time where she didn’t have magic, but that time certainly existed. It lasted nearly thirty years. She never aged a day past twenty one, time moving past her without a care in the world. She was stuck right there, no magic except for the little bit in her bones that was keeping her young. And then she met you.

You were the person that kicked her magic into gear. You were her kindred soul, her other half and the power to her magic. Meeting you had flung her right into the world of magic and spells, things that she only watched others do, but even as she was introduced to an entirely different world, she could remember only really wanting you. Her heart and soul called to you far louder and stronger than spells called to her eager mind. When she met you, it all fell into place. It was an easy love, one that was never going to be disputed or questioned, and loved it. She was prepared to move heaven, earth, and the gods for you, if she had to. Your arrival into her life had caused her to finally blossom.

But now, she had bloomed and flourished and wilted all the same, and she was just waiting to decompose.

“Have hope,” was all that Bucky, a warlock who had been tortured enough in his own way, would tell her. “Have hope that something good will come to you, and it will.”

She never had the heart to tell him that good things hardly came to those who waited. He himself was a product of waiting, and it had served him well. Before he met his other half, he was taken by a rival clan and experimented on with spells that were so far past illegal that they made the casual witch shudder. Eventually, he was broken out and the rival clan was defeated, but he returned to them as an empty shell of a man. But then, Steve came, and then the man was nothing but a ball of light. His magic grew to be strong and so did Steve’s, and together they became known as some of the strongest practitioners of magic in the world.

But what did Wanda have to hope for when you were gone? What did she have to wake up for and smile at when she knew that she had buried you hundreds of years ago? It wasn’t even about the magic. She couldn’t care less about the way she felt the energy leave her- and it was dramatic- leaving in a singular burst of light the second you left. She only knew that you were gone, and that was the only thing that mattered, and it seemed to be the only thing that she even really felt.

Well, she did feel one other thing. Exhaustion. Exhaustion caused by the lack of you by her side. And exhaustion was exactly why she assumed that she was hallucinating when she felt a small tug at her heart, in a part of her brain that had been dormant for years and years. She shook her head and tried to take her thoughts away from you and the nagging feeling in her gut.

“Oh, no…” you exclaimed, voice tapering out into a whine as you watched the ruined paper sink deeper and deeper into the fountain, a fist clenching at your side in disappointment when you realized how many hours were lost, just like that, and then even tighter when you realized that part of you wasn’t even truly upset about the time spent on the ruined art. You were mostly upset that you lost the only vision of the hands that you had during the daytime.

You were on your knees, sleeves still all the way down as you reached into the water frantically, causing the paper to move even further away. You weren’t even worried about your sketchbook that had fallen open onto the pavement, more focused on the rapidly deteriorating piece of paper. You hardly even noticed the man who knocked into you talking, trying his hardest to make the situation better. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do?”

“I mean,” you breathed out, taking the nearly disintegrated paper from the water and grimacing. When you realized that the man was fumbling to say something from behind you, celery apprehensive over the fact that you were upset, you took a short breath and turned around, giving him a small smile. He had dark brown hair that was cut short and crystal blue eyes that were striking, but you knew that they held thousands of stories by looking just once. He was holding your sketchbook, and by the way he was gripping it tightly, you could tell that he had flipped through it for a second. “It’s just a drawing. I guess I can make another one.”

His eyes widened. You saw his jaw slacken and his neck stretch out, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He blinked three times, and his parted lips trembled for a second before he slammed them shut. You cocked a brow at him, your sadness about losing the drawing being replaced by a weak feeling of uneasiness. “Sir?”

“Knew it.” His face was clear from any type of emotion as he watched yours, and when you opened your mouth to ask him if he was okay, a grin spread across his face. “I’m Bucky, what’s your name?” You furrowed your brows at him, asking what the hell had just occurred without saying a single word. “I’m sorry, you just looked really familiar.”

Just like that, you smiled. You knew that feeling, you felt like you got deja vu far too often to be normal. You hated when people made you feel strange for it, you always had, so you tried your best to ignore it with him. “You’re fine, don’t worry. I’m Y/N.” You extended your dry hand for him to shake it. He stared at it for a moment, and then with an eagerness that made you smile, he shook your hand.

“‘I’m Bucky.”

For a moment, you could have sworn that you had done more tha just seen him before. Could have sworn that you had shaken his hand, met him before, been at the receiving end of his blinding yet somewhat shy smile. It flashed through you warm and bright, and you cleared your throat before pulling your hand away and realizing you had held it for too long. You cleared it again when you saw something flash in his eyes, a weak smile lifting on your lips.

“It’s not her.”

Wanda was furious. She was insulted more than anything, really, angry that Bucky could even mistake the light of you for someone else. She knew that you would never grace the earth with your presence again, and she was so used to the fact that she was going to have to die before seeing you again. And for one of her closest friends to try to convince her that you were back?

“She would have already found me.” And Wanda believed that with her whole heart. You had asked her so long ago that you remember her, like she could ever forget. Your scent was so flowery that whenever she walked past a growing garden that she smelled you, your smile was so bright that she saw it in the way the rays of sun came down on the earth. She heard your laugh in the chirping of the birds every morning, and she saw your playfulness in the running waters of the stream by the cabin. She could never forget you, because everything was traced back to you. And you would never return without finding her.

“I don’t think she even knows it yet, but she is looking for you.” Bucky insisted, stepping forward and receiving Wanda’s burning glare while Steve stepped to the side and let it happen. “I bumped into her and she dropped her sketchbook. I saw her drawings- she drew your eyes.”

Wanda’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“She dropped the drawing of hands in the water, but I saw she had drawn eyes that looked just like yours, hair the same shade as yours, even drawn the necklace you used to wear. She draws roses, too. I swear to everything above, it’s her.”

She could feel herself getting warm, the sort of emotions stirring inside of her that had the potential to turn into a singular weapon. The thought of a rose bush made her sick to her stomach. “It’s not her.”

“You forget that I knew her, too,” Bucky stated, and Wanda’s desolation was replaced by some ancient feeling of possessiveness. “I could never forget her face, and that was it right there. That was her face, without a shadow of a doubt, And her voice-”

Wanda’s face curled into a snarl. “Stop talking about her.”

“Hey, Wanda, take a deep breath,” Steve cut in, ever the mediator, but Bucky was hardheaded. If he thought something needed to happen, he was the one to push for it to happen, and he needed her to see.

“She looks the same as she did the day she left.” Wanda let out a choked noise. For a second, all she could picture was her lover dying by the blooming rose bushes in the sunset, ruining two of the most beautiful things in life at once. The third (but first) was you, but not even your horrible death could taint Wanda’s memory of you. You would forever be the brightest and most beautiful thing to grace the earth. “I got her number, we’re meeting at a coffee shop a few blocks away.”

“Leave her alone.” Wanda said through gritted teeth, tears welling up in her eyes. When she saw the brunet’s eyes widen and his mouth drop open, she spoke before he could get a word in. “Just stay away from her, Bucky.”

All she could think about was your death. The way you choked on your own blood. The way you cried and looked up at her, but still managed to smile. And as she was consumed by rage and memories, the only other thought in her mind was that she was yours and you were here, and that she couldn’t save you then. But she was surely going to preserve your memory from Bucky’s mouth.

“I know you feel it coming back. You haven’t felt it in so long, but it’s warm, right? It’s powerful. You always were the strongest, and you’re not dormant any longer. Stop lying to yourself and depriving yourself of love, Wanda. You know Y/N-”

She saw red. Red as red as the fires that burned in the magma underneath the ground, as red as embers in a fire. “You don’t get to say her name.” She saw so much red, so much hot anger that hardly covered her sadness, that she didn’t even see the way that she had her hand out red coming from her palm as she lifted Bucky right off of the wooden floor of their shared home. “You don’t get to talk about her.” There was a warbling noise in her ears, whispers that sounded like her name, getting louder and louder until she finally realized it was Steve trying to get her attention.

“Wanda.”

Instantly, she dropped her arm and watched Bucky fall to the ground, landing in a crouched position. She watched him catch his breath on the ground. She opened her mouth to apologize, to say that she felt terrible and that she had no idea what happened, what took over her, but she was stopped by the brilliant smile that came onto Bucky’s face.

“You used magic.” He said, slowly and steadily, not a hint of hesitance or animosity in his eyes or voice. Instead, he seemed more proud than anything. “You can’t deny this now, Wanda.”

She was hyperventilating, the pain in her chest intensifying as she tried without any results to get the right amount of air in her lungs. She felt her knees hit the ground before she knew that she did, her hands covering her face as she sobbed into herself. Her heart ached, tugging in so many different directions as her brain fought to rationalize what everything meant. She had used magic, and that meant that you were back, in one way or another. She was in disbelief. She was in despair. She was in shock.

“I know you do, I know you do,” It was Steve’s arms around her, and Steve’s voice in her ear, and she realized that she had been saying I miss her, I miss her, over and over again until the words jumbled. “We know you do, Wanda. We miss her too.”

But he didn’t understand. He hadn’t lost Bucky since he had found him. He hadn’t walked the earth for centuries after losing the only thing that mattered to him as an empty shell of the person he used to be. He would never understand, but that wasn’t his fault. In fact, she prayed that he would never understand.

“I’m sorry I approached you like that,” Bucky said, crouching down and hugging her just as Steve was, enclosing her into a hugging circle. They were coven, related by magic, and just being around them made her tears subside. “But you know that I would have never said anything like that unless I was one thousand percent sure. I would never do anything to hurt you, Wanda. All I want is for you to be happy. And I know that I found her.”

And how could he want anything but the best for her? He knew her just as much as Steve did. Just as much as she probably knew herself. He and Steve were the ones who stormed the coven that took you from her by her side, and they were the ones that helped her send them to their graves. They supported her through thick and thin, through revenge and peace, and mostly, they loved you almost as much as she did. Why would Bucky lie?

Wanda blinked, staring down at her hands in fear and wonder as her heart beat started to get away from her. Steve’s warm hand landed on her shoulder, and she flinched from the sudden touch after such a rush of power.

“I think you should go with him, Wanda.” Her heavy breathing was all that filled the air for a moment. “Just take a look at her from outside so you can leave if he was wrong without anyone knowing, but you should at least try. I think Buck’s right.”

Wanda’s breaths were still labored. Her hands trembled as she moved hair from her eyes, and her lip quivered before she found the strength to mutter a few words. “Will she- will she remember?”

“I think she will,” Steve said softly. “But she’s probably just a human. It may take more than just seeing you for her to remember everything.”

Her eyes were wet with tears, and her heart was so big with warmth and need that she was scared that it would burst open at the seams. But she was even more terrified to lose the idea of you. Slowly and shakily, she nodded, her head bobbing up and down as she sealed her own fate. “I’ll go.” She saw Steve give her his fatherly and supportive smile, small yet full. “I’ll see her.”

You didn’t know how you were gently swindled into giving Bucky your number. You knew that it was nothing but friendly, but he was so charming that you felt like you could never not know him. In fact, it felt like you already did know him. He said something about maybe commissioning an artwork of yours, and of course that excited you. You were going to meet him at a coffee shop, in a public place even though you weren’t the slightest bit afraid of him. But something felt different.

It started once you got into your car. You were driving to get to the shop when tingles came down your spine, and bumps raised on your arms, like someone was whispering against your skin. You started to feel warmth come and go in waves, brushing against your mind and then retreating again. You shook off all of the strong feelings as you turned your car off, parked in front of the coffee shop while the music from your speakers filled the silence, soft piano music that was perfect for the weather.

It was drizzling, the kind of weather that you liked to call a “lover’s drizzle” because of how often it was seen in romantic scenes. Scenes of confession, of reunion, of desperation between two lovers- more often than not, they had the mild rain to stand in. You turned the music down before shutting your car off and then stepping out, closing the door and locking it immediately before walking briskly to the entrance of the coffee shop with your recent drawings in hand.

Bucky wasn’t there when you arrived. In fact, hardly anyone was there besides the few employees, who smiled at you when you entered but otherwise fell back into conversation amongst themselves, which was fine with you. There was one beefy blonde man who was sitting with a laptop and a ball cap on. He glanced up for a moment and then took a double take, blinking hard at you with a star struck look on his face, and then he shot his gaze back down and went back to typing.

You sat down at a table for two, the only type of table that was there besides the long, awkward study tables that they had set up in the center of the room. You would much rather take the intimate setting of a two-seater than to sit in the middle of the shop, so you did just that. You flipped through your work, looking at it closely now that you had the time. He had mentioned something about possible portrait work for a friend of his, so you naturally brought most of the drawings that you had done with hands, arms, eyes, hair, nearly everything that was the closest to your heart. You rested your palm on top of them and watched your fingers trace the slender ones that you had drawn in what felt like by memory at the time, like you were just remembering the way an old friend’s hands used to look. You peeled that one back and looked into the eyes, the strangest and prettiest light green color that made your heart pound every time you looked at it. You took a deep breath in.

“That’s gorgeous.” You jumped in your seat as the chair in front of you pulled out from under the table, and there was the charming brunet that you had met by the fountain, giving you the same welcoming smile that he first granted you. You smiled back without hesitation, your heart warming at the sight. “You sure can draw.”

“I try,” you joked, your grin nearly splitting your face. “Do you drink coffee?”

“Nah,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “But I like tea, though.” You gave him a thoughtful look.

“Are you into herbal healing?”

You could have sworn that there was some sort of excitement in his eyes, but you weren’t sure enough by the time he opened his mouth again. “Yes, actually! What, does it look like I’m into it?”

“No,” you answered, and it was true. Bucky was huge. He had the kind of build that intimidated other guys at the gym, the kind that made athletes jealous. He looked like the typical meathead, but he was sweeter than you could have imagined. But he looked nothing like a man who would be into herbal healing. “Just a guess.”

“Pretty good guess,” he mused, and you grinned back. Your head was in the clouds of some strange deja vu when he asked you if you wanted something, and the entire exchange of whether or not you were going to pay was on the back burner as you sifted through your thoughts. By the time he came back, you noticed that you must have told him that you liked hot chocolate, and that he must have paid. You scolded him before he sat back down, waving you off. It was silent for a few moments as you looked out of the window, the rain still steadily working through the atmosphere. The cup was comfortingly warm.

“Can I ask you something?”

With any other man, you would have immediately told him no, or at least have your guard up. But there was just something deep down, so buried that it was faint, but it was there, that told you that he was nowhere even close to being a threat. “Yes.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his tea and then putting his cup down gently before giving you an intense look. “Who’s the girl?”

You frowned. “What girl?”

He raised a singular brow. “The one you draw.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. You blinked twice, and then tilted your head to the side. “I don’t draw just one person,” you said slowly, the lie dragging its way out of your mouth and through your teeth. “They’re different people.”

“Oh,” he said, but the smirk on his face told you that he knew you were lying to him and to yourself. You sipped your drink and something tugged at you, telling you to look out of the window and into the rain again, just one more time before you spilled your guts about seeing things- and then something caught your eye. A flash of a familiar reddish-brown. You turned your full body to look that way, and once you did, you nearly dropped your cup.

There was a woman staring back at you, eyes wide and full of so much emotion that the artist in you wanted to rush to make an unworthy attempt at capturing it. Her lips were parted in pure shock, but you were watching them tremble even from far away. She was getting slightly damp in the rain, but she stood there like it didn’t even matter, just locking eyes with you and sending your heart rate through the roof. When your eyes finally came back to hers after looking at her for what felt like the quickest eternity, you gasped. You knew those eyes.

If you weren’t so deep into gazing at the woman stuck behind the glass, you would have noticed the pleased and content look on Bucky’s face, and the look that he gave the big blond sitting with a ball cap on all by himself. You would have noticed the way that the blond man was turning his body towards your table, watching with the same amount of anticipation as Bucky was. You tried to understand why she looked so familiar, why she was scratching the part of your brain that always tried to convince you that you were much older than twenty something- and then it hit you.

You had been drawing this woman. And you had been thinking about her ever since you knew how to think. It was just the first time you were ever seeing the full picture. “I-” you muttered, eyes stuck on her and the way she looked like she was about to topple over from emotions. The words got stuck in your own throat as you weakly tried to get your mind to take you back to the conversation. “I- excuse me. I have to- I’ll be back- excuse me.” Your chair made a loud noise as you stood from the table in a haste, pushing the door open and walking towards the woman who was still standing on the sidewalk, dumbstruck.

Before you even knew you were outside and into the rain, you were standing not even four steps away from the woman, who was now looking at you with an incomprehensible look on her face. You couldn’t even feel the rain on you. All you could feel was her gaze and the warmth that was settling in your stomach and chest, and the same intense familiarity that was hitting you when you looked at Bucky. But it was so much stronger.

“I-” you frowned, taking a step closer and resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. “Do I know you? Have we met?” You had to have met. You had seen her in your sleep, in your daydreams, in your sketchbook. And still, you never could have imagined how beautiful she was.

She was silent.

“I know this is random and that I just bum rushed you, but, did we go to school together or something?” You were embarrassed. You had never begged someone to remember you before, but this woman was different. She hadn’t said a word to you, and you didn’t even know her name, but you were enraptured. You swore you knew her. You swore you saw her eyes glaze over for a second.

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Her voice struck something familiar in your chest, something warm and comforting. It was so familiar, so far back in your memory that it felt like home. Her accent, her inflection, the way she spoke slowly yet deliberately. It was all there in your mind, but you just couldn’t figure out how you knew it so well. “You don’t remember who I am?”

That had you closing your mouth. You tilted your head to the side at what could have been a hostile question, but her tone made it sad. Did you forget a high school friend? “Oh, um, I know you from somewhere, but I can’t really-”

“Think.” The desperation in her voice made your knees shake. If she were anyone else, you would have told her to go away, but you couldn’t. You didn’t want her to go away. But you couldn’t quite place her either, even though your own heart was screaming at you to remember.

“I’m sorry,” you said, a hurt expression on your face. You braved yourself to leave, taking a deep breath and giving her a weak smile that embarrassed you even further. “This was weird of me. I’ll just-”

She was reaching for you. Time started to run slower as her pale arm extended towards you, long fingers that you had committed to memory and to paper a thousand times outstretched. Your mouth dropped open ever so slightly as you stood in place for a second, body still until you subconsciously leaned forward, your nerves buzzing under your skin.

For a second, the only thing you could do was look at the point where her skin touched yours.

You had seen magic before. You had seen it in movies and at theme parks and when miracles happened, but nothing ever like when her skin touched yours. You swore that the warmth that your body had been feeling kicked in even stronger, surrounding you in comfort. Her hand was wrapped around your arm, gentle yet begging, firm yet wishing all the same for something you couldn’t quite see yet. You looked up and into her eyes, the eyes you had drawn and seen so many times, and then you saw it.

You saw it in more than flashes. They were coming in at the speed of light, but somehow you were able to catch every moment and every feeling that came along. You heard her voice as clear as day, ringing with laughter. You saw the two of you attempting to skip stones. You saw her enchanting your stones behind your back to make you think you had actually done it. You saw her mouth brushing over your cheeks, your mouth, your forehead. You could feel her hands on you, holding you, protecting you, cherishing you all the same. You could remember the way that you felt when you saw her standing in traditional witch’s clothing, being inducted into her coven as a blossomed witch. You saw everything and nothing, and you remembered it all.

Wanda.

A strangled sound escaped your body, so feral that it scared you, but you didn’t care. You pulled her forward, your head clashing against her chest. You could feel her shaking, like she wanted nothing more than to hold you just as tightly, but she was hesitating. “Wanda,” you called out, hugging her tighter, and then, like something in the universe stretched too far and then snapped right back into place, she was returning the embrace.

“I thought I had lost you forever,” she said, her voice hollow yet so full, so expressive. “I lost you, darling.”

The memories were all there, like all it took was a touch, but you were still coping with the knowledge. You had been murdered. Murdered by witch hunters, way back when witches were known and feared. That had to have been hundreds of years ago, you knew it. But still, your focus was on Wanda. It always would be on Wanda, forever and always. Just like hers was on you.

“You didn’t,” you managed to say, your own voice thick with emotion as you buried your face into her neck, finally feeling the texture of the hair that you tried so hard to get right. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly sobbing in your arms. You had no idea how you weren’t being interrupted in the crowded streets, but when you took a look back inside of the cafe to see the men who you so clearly remembered as Steve and Bucky, you knew it had something to do with them and their fulfilled smiles. “I wasn’t able to save you. I let you die, and I’m so sorry, darling. I’m so sorry.”

Her words brought you back to the present. “Wanda, no. No, no, no.” You wanted to pull away and look at her face, but the second you started to, she held onto you even tighter. You leaned your head back onto her chest. “It wasn’t your fault. There was no way any of us could have known, and no way that you could have saved me. It was beyond us.”

“Nothing should have ever been beyond us.” She argued softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“But it was,” you said. “And now it’s behind us. Don’t apologize, Wanda.” You wiggled around and got free enough to look up at her teary face. “I may not have recognized you, but now that I do, I can’t believe that I ever forgot you.”

“A new life will do that to you.”

“Is it really a new life if I remember everything?” You said softly, the rain long gone as you stood with each other, bodies nearly molded together with how close you were.

She pulled away to look down at you, her eyes and overall expression tense, and then there was a look that you recognized from a long time ago. It was a look of sweet desire. You closed the cap between the two of you, pressing your lips to hers in a way that proved that you were both two lost souls who had wandered their way back to their other halves.

“It can be whatever you want it to be, darling.” Her lips brushed your again, soft and tender and eager for more touch. “As long as you let me be in it.”

#wanda x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #my fics #witch!wanda #marvel au #witch!au #scarlet witch #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #no idea what to tag this-#wanda x you #lgbt marvel #lgbt

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