#took me one thousand years to make this while my sister waited IMPATIENTLY on the phone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zmayadw · 4 years ago

Text

Hello to all :)

So, before I run off for the weekend and from this unberable heat to my own little personal Duskwood (by which I mean a house in the woods :D ), I promised to someone I would post the epilogue to my story by friday, and I keep my promises :)

Anyway, I wish you all to have a great weekend! Take care :)

CALL OF THE RAVEN

PART 27 - EPILOGUE

And so a year passed. One year since Hanna was found, one year since I met my wonderful friends. And one year since the most beautiful blue eyes I ever saw stopped haunting my dreams and became my reality.

It's been almost six months since I decided to move in with Jake and make Duskwood my new home. It was the easiest decision I ever made. They all became the most important people in my life, and I couldn't even imagine a day passing without beeing close to them. We shared a bond stronger than anything. They became my family, and family definitely doesn't start or end with blood.

--------------------------------------------

„You said five more minutes. Almost twenty passed!“ Jake announces from the doors. „I know, I know! I'm done!“ Turning in my chair, I just stare at him. „What? Do I look that bad?“ he asks worryingly after a moment. He was wearing black pants and a dark blue formal shirt, wich made his eyes color even more intense. That always amazed me, their color changing from greyish-blue to such an intense blue, I got lost in them so manny times. „Maya?“ His words snaped my attention back. Getting up I smile walking to him „Oh, the opposite, babe. You look very handsome.“ He smiles back. Wrapping my hands around his neck and kissing him softly first, then pulling him closer intensifying the kiss, hinting him more than clearly where I'm heading with this. He moves away raising his eyebrow „Oh, no, no, no.“ „What's a no?“ I ask, biting teasingly at my lover lip. Groaning he takes another step backwards from me „Argh, don't do this to me, angel!“ „I have no clue what you're talking about.“ I say taking a step towards him, playfully twirling a strand of hair arround my finger. „We don't have time for this!“ „Oh, well then.“ I say dissapointed and with a sigh start towards the bedrom. Passing him, I take my shirt off droping it on the floor at his feet „I suppose I'll go get ready then.“ I could feel his lustful stare following me. I barely stepped into the bedroom when his hand comes around me, pulling me to him, his other hand moving the hair from my neck. His soft lips on my skin sent tingles all over me. „You are driving me crazy.“ He whispers to my ear. „And you love it.“ I hum back. Turning me to face him he grins „But just so we're clear, you are going to explain to my sister why we were late to the wedding. And I'm dying to hear what excuse you will think of.“ Laughing I put my hands around his neck „Don't worry, babe, I can get quite creative when needed.“

„So, tell me you two, what was it that made you almost end up late for the wedding?“ Lilly was looking inquisitive at Jake and me. „Yes, Maya, please tell Lilly why we were almost late.“ Jake grins at me. Oh, he is so gonna get it for this! „There was...an emergency with my dress.“ She snorts „Right, I'm sure there was.“ Flashing her the most wonderful smile I could make „Oh, come on, Lilly, don't be like this. Hannah just got married, we should all be happy.“ „You two are impossible. I need a drink.“ She shakes her head before leaving us. „Emergency with the dress? That's the best you could think of?“ Jake raise his eyebrow at me. I grin „Shush it. It worked..kinda.“ „No it didn't.“ He laughs. „Fine, it didn't.“ I agree. „Then next time, you think of something better.“ He chuckles „Oh no, I'm not letting you make a habbit out of it.“ Turning to him with a wicked smile and going for a kiss, but stoping so close our lips barely touch „Whatever you say, babe.“ Without finishing the kiss, I slowly turn and head for the bar. „You are killing me!“ he yells after me. I turn my head and wink, just as Dan shows up next to him. „Troubles at paradise, man?“ he asks him. Jake grins, not taking his eyes off me „Quite the opposite, man, quite the opposite.“

The cool night breeze swirled arround me as I lean on the railings of the terrasse. Watching my friends looking so happy and laughing makes me smile myself. Seeing them like this, no one would ever thought that a year ago their lives turned into a nightmare. Even if the scars of the past events might not be visible to the eye, they are there, imprinted deep into each one of them. With time, they will fade more, and become just a distant memory.

The scars on my body are a different story. They will always be there, a reminder of bad days. But that's all right, I don't want to forget anyway. I want to remember, that no matter what shit life threw at me, I survived, I came out of it stronger. And no matter what might come my way next, I will be all right. They are also a reminder of all the good things that came along with them – new unbreakable friendships, and love, the purest and strongest love. Non of it would be able to exist without all the bad thats happened.

A raven perched on a tree cawed, calling for my attention. His beady black eyes curiously observed me. It's caw echoes around me again, it's sinister voice carried deep into the forest. That sound was frightening to me, sending shivers down my spine, bad memories resurfacing with it. But not this time. With a smirk I look at the bird straight in the eye „Don't waste your time with me, you don't scare me anymore.“ The raven continued to stare at me, moving it's head from one side to the other, as if searching to find just a hint of doubt in my words. Unsuccessfully. It's wings flapped, it's caws echoing as I watch it fly away, getting lost somewhere deep in the forest. „Everything all right, angel?“ Jake voice comes from the doors. With a smile I move from the railing and turn to him, call of the raven falling more silent behind me „Everything is perfect.“

-----------------------------------------------

„Finaly! I was beginning to worry.“ I almost yell in my phone. „Sorry, angel, I just stepped outside a minute ago.“ „Well that took forever. At least tell me you have good news?“ I ask impatiently. „Let me pick you up, then we'll talk.“ „Oh, no, no, no.“ I protest. „I've been waiting for hours, I can't wait anymore, I'm going crazy here!“ „All right, all right.“ He laughs. „Sooooo, what's the verdict? Is it over?“ I was so nervous to hear his answer. „It's over, angel.“ I screamed so loud from happines, scolding myself instantly for doing so in a place that I was at the moment. „Oh, babe, I'm soooo happy to hear this!“ I laugh „You haven't called back for so long, I was beginning to play the worst scenarios in my head. I know Dan said I can ask him for anything, but I doubt he would agree in helping me busting you out of jail. With a mention of it being a federal one, the chances are even slimmer. “ He chuckles „Yeah, I doubt that, too.“ „Tell me, did they agree to your demands? Is your record clean again?“ „Let me put it like this“ he says „They were more then extremely satisfied with the results they got from the informations I provided for them, that I could have asked for an island and they would say yes to it.“ I burst out laughing „Well, owning an island is a new trend these days.“ He laughs back. „Jake?“ I say serious. „What's up, angel?“ „Do you regret doing any of this? I mean, this was something you were forced to do, and honestly, I don't want you to end up hating me one day for any of this. I know I asked you that before, but still..“ „Listen to me, angel. I would do all of this the same way every time, without hesitation, through a thousand lifetimes, if in the end it would mean I get to have you.“ A tear escape my eye, more threathening to follow „Gosh, don't you get me in tears, silly! Now, come and get me, so we can go celebrate properly!“ He chuckles „All right, angel. And where are you?“ „You don't know?“ I ask surprised. „Don't tell me you stopped tracking my phone?“ „I will never do that.“ I laugh „Good, then you'll know where to pick me up. Love you.“ „Love you, too. See you soon, angel.“

I know why I decided to come to this place while nervously waiting for news from Jake. First time he brought me along, there was such calmness radiating from him, just sitting here, in the same spot I am sitting now. I never seen him being more at peace anywhere else but here. I guess I hoped coming here would do the same for me. And I was not wrong.

Collecting my stuff I stand up and look at the tombstone that I was sitting in front all this time.

Here lies Anna

A beloved daughter and mother

You will be missed forever

„Don't worry, Anna“ I smile at the tombstone throwing my backpack over my shoulder „Jake will be all right, I'll take good care of him. I promise.“

THE END

A/N: All right, so this is it, the end. I want to say a big 'thank you' to anyone who read it! :) I had fun writing it, and I hope you had fun reading it :) And honestly, I am a bit sad it ended, but we all know all things must come to an end eventually. Anyway, thak you again, much love to you all :)

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fanfic #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc

24 notes · View notes

nineteenninety-six · 5 years ago

Text

A Tragic Birthday

REQUEST: Could you do an imagine where the reader is a Shelby sister and Tommy’s favourite sibling and one day a deal goes wrong or something and she dies but kinda how grace died, in Tommy’s arms and it’s all hectic. Thanks:)

I was going to take a little break (only to the weekend) because tumblr was stressing me out and annoying me but when I started this, I couldn’t stop and I don’t like sitting on fics.

TW: Death

WORD COUNT: 2681

[PART TWO]

It was (Y/N)’s eighteenth birthday coming up in a week and it was safe to say that she was excited. (Y/N) had been looking forward to that day since her older brother Tommy had promised her a large party to celebrate the year before, and now that it was literally only days away she couldn’t stop buzzing about it, no doubt irritating her older siblings.

(Y/N) was the youngest of the Shelby siblings, a few years younger than Finn and was primarily raised by her Aunt Polly and her eldest brothers Arthur and Tommy. (Y/N) and Tommy were the closest between the siblings and had a special bond, that none of the others could replicate with their youngest sibling but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t close to her other siblings, because she was. In fact, it could be said that she had a special thing with each of her siblings; with Ada, they were close because they were the only girls in the family, Finn was the closest in age to her and they grew up as each other’s best friend, Arthur was the closest thing to a father she had and (Y/N) knew if she needed comforting then he would be the person she went to and John was someone she could rant to without judgment and he was always willing to help her out whenever she got in a sticky situation.

But the bond (Y/N) had with Tommy was different and there was no doubt that they were each other’s, favourite siblings. When their mother had died, Tommy had taken on the role as her primary caretaker, he changed her nappies, bottle-fed her and pretty much did anything a father would do. Polly had told her about how when she was a baby, Tommy would get a large piece of fabric and wrap her in it and secure her to his chest so that her cheeks rested on his chest because she would cry whenever she wasn’t being held by him and that it allowed him to keep her calm and content while he got some work done.

Just as much as (Y/N) hated being away from Tommy, Tommy hated being away from (Y/N) just as bad. He was overly protective when she was born, only allowing his Aunt Polly to get involved and help him out because despite thinking he knew everything, Tommy most definitely did not know how to handle a baby, especially not a newborn but he learnt and adapted and became a dad to her.

(Y/N) were three when Arthur, Tommy and John had to leave and go to war and Tommy to this day still has nightmares of how she screamed and cried to the point where she was almost sick at the train platform where he and the hundreds of other men from Small Heath were leaving from. (Y/N) didn’t understand what war was or why were her brothers were leaving but she did understand that her Tommy was leaving and she hated it.

Tommy had made a thousand promises to (Y/N) as he held her in his arms that day on the platform, repeatedly promising to come back alive and well and that he would never abandon her again and Tommy wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to keep them but he made it his goal to come back to her and the rest of his family.

But he didn’t break those promises and four years later, he was sobbing into the dress of a seven-year-old (Y/N), who was crying just as hard into his neck. The only time (Y/N) ever left Tommy’s arms the rest of that day was to hug her other brothers but other than that, (Y/N) was stuck to Tommy’s side. She was silent at first, slightly awkward around her brother who she hadn’t seen in years but it didn’t take long for her to become comfortable and start to quietly mutter into Tommy’s ear about everything he had missed whilst he was away and Tommy sat there in shock as she did so, marvelling at how much his little girl has grown. When he had left, she had just started to string sentences together but now she could speak in full sentences and was chatty, something he guessed she picked up from Ada.

That night as (Y/N) was curled up into a ball asleep beside him, Tommy cried once again. He was glad he was back home and alive but he knew nothing was going to be the same anymore but he was determined to keep things as normal as possible for her whilst she grew up and he was going to create a good life and world for her to live in.

And now eleven years after he’s returned home from the war, he’s pushed all his work to the side to prepare for the birthday of his little munchkin. Tommy had been dealing with an issue for the past week which involved one of his clients thinking he was overpaying for the Peaky Blinders services and was now demanding a refund. One that obviously Tommy refused to give.

Tommy called in the person who had knocked on the door, not even bothering to look up from the paperwork he was looking through.

“Hello to you too, Tommy.” The person said as they stepped into the office, moving to sit in one of the chairs that sat in front of Tommy’s desk.

Tommy grinned when they spoke up, instantly recognising the voice,

“Good morning (Y/N), what have I done to be blessed with your presence this early in the morning?”

“I have the finalised cost list for the party.” Tommy pushed his other work to the side and took the piece of paper from (Y/N)’s fingers and skimmed his eyes over it, letting out a low whistle at the final amount,

“You plan on bleeding me dry eh?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and smiled, “Don’t even try it. I know my party costs less than what the Garrison re-opening did.”

“How do you know how much the Garrison cost?” Tommy raised an eyebrow.

“I just do.” (Y/N) raised her eyebrows, a smug look on her face.

“Stop tricking Arthur into letting you see the company files” Tommy pointed a non-threating finger at his youngest sister who only rolled her eyes.

(Y/N) bit her lip in nervousness before she spoke up, “It’s not too expensive, is it? I can remove some stuff if you want!”

Tommy got up from his seat and walked around his desk and leant on it, patting (Y/N) on the head, “It’s not expensive, don’t worry, I was only teasing I’m sorry. You don’t turn eighteen everyday eh?”

“You’re the best Tommy!” (Y/N) leapt up and tightly hugged her brother.

“I know.”

Tommy laughed at (Y/N)’s scoff.

“Any plans for today?” Tommy asked as he went back around his desk and sat back down.

“Ada’s taking me down to London to pick up my dress.”

“Hmm, spending the whole day?”

“I think so. I mean we might as well. Karl and Finn are coming along too so we should be able to find something to do.” (Y/N) made her way to the door.

“Have fun.”

“Will do!” She called over her shoulder as she left his office

It was the day before (Y/N)’s birthday and the clients of Tommy’s that thought they were being scammed have only become an irritant to Shelby brothers, making threats and destroying property has become their form of revenge and attention-grabbing at the moment but none of them could do anything at that moment, all three of them making a promise to their youngest sister not to do anything gang related on the day off or the day before her birthday. (Y/N) desperately not wanting her birthday to be ruined and her brother understood and promised her that they wouldn’t. It was bugging Tommy that he had to wait on retaliating on them but he told himself years ago that his family came above everything else, especially his (Y/N).

On the morning of her birthday, (Y/N) slipped out of her bed and crawled into Tommy’s, his arm automatically wrapping her shoulder as she curled into his side. This was a semi-common occurrence between the two of them, originating from when Tommy started to try and put (Y/N) in her own bed in her own room for the night when she was a year old but it only took a few hours before (Y/N) was climbing out of her bed or Tommy himself took her back to his room. Though it had become less of a thing as (Y/N) grew up as her room was pretty much the only place that she could get peace and quiet and privacy from her wild family. (Y/N)’s room became her sanctuary.

“Good morning, Tommy!” (Y/N) chirped

“G’morning princess.” Tommy lit himself a cigarette, “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“Here.” Tommy had pulled out a jewellery box from the draw in his bedside table and held it out to her.

“What’s this?” (Y/N) didn’t open the box straight away.

“My gift to you.”

“I thought the party was your gift to me”

“Take the gift (Y/N) or I’ll throw it in the bin.”

“Alright alright, christ almighty.”

(Y/N) slowly opened the box and gasped at what laid inside. It was a diamond necklace, simple yet elegant. Exactly (Y/N)’s style.

“Oh, Tommy. It’s gorgeous, thank you.”

“Glad you like it. Now get washed and dressed, I’m still taking you out for brunch.”

(Y/N) quickly kissed his cheek and left his room, not wanting to delay.

After their brunch, (Y/N) spent the rest of the day getting ready for the party and running around fretting about the smallest things, only settling down after a threat from Ada. After several impatient shouts from John and Finn, (Y/N) was finally making her way downstairs to the rest of her family who made of a series of appreciative noises when they saw her, causing her to smile.

“You look wonderful darling.” Polly walked over to her and gave her a hug before leading her outside and towards the Garrison where the party was being held, the rest of the family following behind them.

“How’s your day been so far?” Polly asked her.

“Good! Brunch with Tommy was great as per usual.” (Y/N) grinned.

(Y/N) usually had brunch with Tommy and then dinner with the rest of her family on her birthday but because this year was slightly different, they were doing dinner the next day.

“I’m glad.” Polly patted her hands and they continued their journey with small nonsense chatter, Ada and Esme quickly joining in.

The party was already in full swing when they arrived, drinks were being passed around and the music was pounding and as soon as she stepped foot into the pub, (Y/N) was dragged away by her friends, the bunch of them squealing and giggling. Tommy and his brothers were sat on a table tucked away but placed somewhere where they can see pretty much the whole room but despite that, they couldn’t see who had slipped into the pub.

Tommy too deep into conversation with Jeremiah Jesus and one too many drinks deep meant that he didn’t notice that something was up until the music suddenly stopped and screams erupted, and as he looked up to see what was happening, his blood ran cold at what he saw.

His little sister trapped in the arms of the client that was pissed off at him, with his gun held to her temple. The man wasn’t by himself, he had brought along two other men. (Y/N) was frozen in shock, afraid that one small mistake would result in her getting hurt.

Tommy slowly stood up and noticed his brothers and other Peaky Blinders do the same thing, each of them pulling out their guns. They easily outnumbered the three men but that didn’t matter as Tommy’s top priority was (Y/N)’s safety

“Thomas Shelby! We’re tired of being taken advantage of by people like you. We’ll have it no more!” One of the men shouted.

“Okay, alright. I hear you. Let’s talk, okay? But before that, I’m going to need you to let all these people go okay, they’re innocent.” Tommy gestured to people plastered to the walls of the Garrison, (Y/N)’s friends crying.

The man nodded and everyone quickly ran out, the only people left in the pub being Tommy, Arthur, John, Finn, Polly, Ada and Michael.

“Now, let the woman in your arms go. She’s just a teenager.”

The leader was the man holding (Y/N) and hesitated before he stood his ground, “No! If I let her go then you’ll just kill me. I want my money back Shelby!”

Arthur grumbled unhappily and shifted, causing Tommy to hold out his arm in warning.

“If you let her go we won’t.” Tommy placed his gun on the table as a sign of truce, “Just let her go.”

The man slowly nodded and loosened his grip allowing (Y/N) to slip through a take a slow step forward, sobs spilling through her lips. “You’re alright, you’re fine. C’mon.” Tommy held out his arms for (Y/N) and took a step towards her.

“No! Stop letting him win, it’s not fair!” One of the man’s sidemen shouted in rage before a loud bang sounded.

The room was silent as everyone tried to understand what had happened and it was until stuttered gasps left (Y/N) did Tommy understand what had happened.

“No!” Tommy raced over to (Y/N) and caught her in his arms just as her legs buckled.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck.” Tommy slowly lowered himself to ground with her in his arms. (Y/N)’s blood spilling through her dress and on to him.

“(Y/N), n-no p-please. O-oh god no”

(Y/N) let out a soft noise of distress as Tommy harshly pressed on the bullet wound.

“I know precious, I know it hurts but I have to do it.” Tommy didn’t even realise he was crying until (Y/N) gently flinched when a tear fell on her face.

“Polly! Polly help!” Tommy heard the clicking of his aunt’s heels before he felt her pushing his hands away. “Polly-- no I’ve got to help her”

“Tommy, let me check on her okay?” His aunt convinced him to move away so check on (Y/N)

Tommy had been so engrossed with (Y/N) that he had no idea what going elsewhere until a hand on his shoulder brought him out of his trance. It was Arthur and John was right behind him, both had blood splattered on them. Finn was crouched down by (Y/N)’s head softly brushing her hair back as he whispered into her ear, Tommy could see the tears slowly sliding down his face.

“Tommy” His aunt had a defeated look on her face and slowly shook her head.

“No! You’re wrong!” Tommy pushed past his aunt and shoved Finn aside so that he could fully bring (Y/N) into his arms, slowly rocking for side to side, loudly sobbing.

(Y/N) was in too much pain to speak and used the remnants of her energy to squeeze Tommy’s hand as tight as she could before she finally passed.

Tommy felt (Y/N) slightly slump in his arms and knew what had happened, letting a loud cry of pain. Tommy heard the cries and shouts and tears of his family around him but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, he was too wrapped up in the pain of his youngest sister that was more like a daughter to him an how her death was his fault.

His darling girl was dead.

#tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #Peaky Blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #imagines #fanfic #angst #shelby sister #shelby!sister #shelby!reader #Tommy Shelby #sister!reader

1K notes · View notes

writeblrfantasy · 4 years ago

Text

excerpt from a council of golden swords: tattooed cairic king

planned this scene weeks ago, forgot about it, enjoyed writing it immensely. poor kayani, they're so in love

anyway i hope you love this as much as i loved writing it, acogs has been kicking my ass this week and this was a nice battle won

Asma crosses her arms. “Take off your shirt.”

Kayani chokes on their own saliva. “What?”

“I’m going to paint you. Take off your shirt.”

Kayani stares at her, open mouthed, a thousand indignities resting on their lips. Asma taps her foot, paintbrush held between two fingers, frowning impatiently. No excuse, no argument, no plea will ever sway her. She is unmovable.

Kayani stares at the floor and loosens the laces of their shirt before whipping it off. They ball it up and stand there holding it until she snatches it from them and tosses it on the sofa. “Sit on the stool,” she says, “and for Cai’s sake, stop looking so stiff. Actually look like you want to be here. You don’t even have to smile. Just look a little less queasy.”

Queasy for a different reason, Kayani thinks, but obediently sits on the wooden stool in the center of the red, blue, and gold room. The yearly trip west, spent in close quarters with almost all of the Cairic army, has driven the modesty out of them, but everything is different with Asma.

She sits on the ottoman and drags her easel closer to her, a tray of paint pools sitting beside her on the sofa. The easel legs scraping against the floor makes Kayani startle. “Relax,” she orders in a tone that’s anything but relaxing.

Kayani folds their hands and tries not to slouch. The hairs that itch when they fall into their eyes will be the least of their worries over the next few hours. Why else would Asma paint them shirtless if not just to torment them?

Once Asma has everything apparently set up to her standard, she looks up and rakes her eyes over Kayani’s torso. Her breath hitches. “You have so many tattoos. I forgot you would.” Her voice disturbs the quiet of the room, breaking a sacred peace, or however peaceful the two of them alone can get.

“Isn’t that why you wanted to paint me shirtless?” Kayani asks. “Why else would you?”

She hides her face behind the canvas and doesn’t bother with an answer. Kayani prepares for a long set of hours filled with waiting, an aching back, and keeping their walls firmly up.

After ten minutes of silence, Asma working quietly, she asks, “What does that one on your chest mean?”

Kayani resists the urge to look down and earn themself their first don’t move, idiot. They could trace the lines of the * in the darkness, in their sleep. “The death of my mother.”

She gasps. “You got tattooed when you were just a child?”

They shrug. “I’ve known some babies who got tattooed after birth because of a difficult or scary pregnancy, complications that should’ve killed them. Parents, too. We use our tattoos to cope with many things, many emotions, but prominently grief. For many people, the experience itself of sitting there for ten hours while a needle pokes into your skin—it helps.”

“By enduring pain?” Asma asks.

Kayani shrugs. “Some people find solace in pain. It’s something real they can grip onto.”

“That’s the funny thing,” Asma says, peering out from over the canvas. “It isn’t.”

Kayani’s eyes drift to the tattoo on her forearm, she follows their gaze and pulls her sleeve down. Kayani remembers it all too painfully well—her poorly stifled tears and cries while getting it, their own desire to comfort her squashed by the hatred in her eyes. It’s their fault she has it.

“What about that one?” she asks, gesturing to the wings covering their shoulders.

“Are you asking because you’re genuinely curious,” Kayani asks, “or just trying to fill the air?” They want to poke further into her reasoning, but they don’t want her to change her mind and throw them out. Alone time with Asma is bliss as much as it’s torture, and they’ll take every last bit of it.

“I got the wings one year after becoming king,” Kayani says. “To celebrate not being assassinated.”

She snorts. “Get better guards.”

“I am my own best guard besides Ajar and Samad. I didn’t want to trust anyone else. The palace guards on rotation can only do so much against an assassin hired by someone who was angry I became king and not my sister.”

Asma rolls her eyes, the soft strokes of her brush soothing to listen to against the faint chatter of birds. “And the one on your back?”

“You’re not painting that one. You can’t even see it right now.”

“Answer the question, dimwit.”

Kayani grins. As much as they love to nag Nikolai about being attracted to the ones who seemingly want nothing to do with you, they’re no less guilty. “I got the first part done after I survived the Trials.” After healing up upon their return, they went straight to the royal tattoo artist. They knew exactly what they wanted: Ajar and Samad standing side by side, blue eyes pointed to the moon.

The two of them are right outside—if Kayani’s quiet, they can hear them scratching at the door—but an ache for them runs through their chest regardless. Sometimes they’re convinced the three of them share a soul.

“I would’ve gotten the outlining done before I left for the Trials for good luck and gotten it filled in after I came back, but I didn’t want to deal with unnecessary pain. I got the second part added on after I came back from my first trip west with the army. That time, I did do it in two halves for good luck, like many of my soldiers.”

Going to get those outlines and later the full lines done with their soldiers had been one of the most rewarding experiences of their life. Sitting beside ten others in a salon, all laughing or grimacing or telling stories to work through the pain reminded them that they could still mix with normal people. Winning the Trials didn’t make them special in the soldiers’ eyes, and Kayani liked it that way.

Their second back tattoo consisted of a light brown stag leaping across the center of their back, over the dogs. “Each trip after was another add on.” They’ve since added a grassy field for the stag and the dogs to rest in, stars for the moon, flowers and sparkles in a mix of reds and browns.

“Your entire body will be covered by the time you die,” Asma says.

“That’s the goal.”

As the hours go by, Asma asks, and this? What about this? That one? What are the ones I can’t see? Kayani answers her every question, shares every story, every memory. They don’t tell her about the one on the back of their ankle, small enough to miss. A golden paintbrush.

Finally, when the sun is halfway to setting and Kayani’s lower half has gone numb, Asma announces she’s done. Kayani wobbles to their feet toward the canvas, but she picks it up before they can see it. They sigh quietly but don’t question it—until she turns around.

She’s painted them in a background more heavily red than the wallpaper behind them. It brings out the red in Kayani’s tattoos, which are obviously the star of her painting. The edges of Kayani’s muscles are blurred, but the lines of the tattoos are as clear and sharp as they are on their skin. Their eyes are halfway open, tired, and Asma captured their faint smile at something she said, maybe some memory that took them away.

The sun from the glass wall behind them drips golden light onto light brown skin, a glowing backdrop for the tattoos. Kayani sat with their left forearm up, right hand holding that wrist, but Asma painted the opposite to hide the tattoo there.

Kayani has never had the eye for beautiful artwork, nor the time to study why people devote their lives to it, but this makes them reconsider. Not because it’s them, of course, they’re not that vain. Because it’s Asma.

“I will call it ‘Tattooed Cairic King’,” Asma says. Kayani can’t take their eyes off her nonchalant expression, the casual way her fingers grip the canvas. She completed this in a day and she acts like she’s holding a piece of cheap furniture. Doesn’t she know all of her artwork will be studied meticulously after her death merely because she’s a queen?

Not just because she’s a queen, Kayani thinks. Because she’s an incredible artist. They wish they had the courage to say so, but knowing Asma, she’d make some crack about their narcissism.

“Where are you going to hang that one?” they ask. “Which guest room or dining hall or office will get the pleasure of seeing my tattoos?

She fixes them with a look. “My suite wall.”

The floor seems to swim under them.

“I thought you hated me,” they manage. “As you pointed out, last time we were together you told me to never come into your sight again.” They gesture to the canvas. “I think that violates your rule.”

For once, Asma’s silence seems to be because of her loss of words, not dramatic pause or the bother of answering a question. “It’s some of my finest work,” she settles on. “I’d like to admire it often. Let people admire it when I’m dead.” She closes her eyes and runs her finger along the top of the canvas. “Also, I’d like to do your back sometime."

“What?” Kayani sputters.

“Oh, come on. If you can survive a needle pricking your skin for ten hours, you can survive sitting still for another six.”

That’s not the problem, Kayani thinks, but only nods. Cai have mercy.

kayani being shook by asma's ability to Art is me @ all the talented artists here yall rock

also if you noticed the tsoa inspiration for "and this?" then props to u

acogs taglist (lmk to be added/removed) @magic-is-something-we-create @inkflight @spencer-nyx @writing-is-a-martial-art @ashen-crest @wisteria-eventide @nikkywrites @denkis-phone-charger @myhusbandsasemni @lynolord @ettawritesnstudies @golden-apple-s-blog @chazzawrites @pen-of-roses

#writing #writeblr #excerpt from my wip #my wip #my writing #fantasy #fantasy writing #fantasy romance #lgbt romance writing #lgbt writing #lila's wips: acogs #bean's excerpts

17 notes · View notes

virgil-writes · 3 years ago

Photo

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

chapter 8 - great expectations

SFW, but usual blood/gore warning. around 3.5K words.

He barely remembers getting dressed and returning to his quarters after such a relaxing shower. At some point he had slipped inside his pants and slid an undershirt on, thrown himself at the desk chair and poured over plans and schematics, a mess of paper and far more motor oil than necessary. He had written and read until his eyes had grown tired, like every other night, fighting off sleep to the best of his ability. He could sleep when he was dead, or when she was dead, when he was far away from this hellhole, when nothing awaited him come morning.

Some nights he would skip it altogether, keep his eyes wide open when his mind was too fraught with dreadful thoughts. He knew what would come if he finally closed his eyes, the memories that he worked so hard to put away. A dream, it was only a dream, he would tell himself over and over, but it was hard to believe it when he would wake up drenched in sweat and tears, throat sore from screaming at the top of his lungs, that all too familiar twinge of sadness and terror balling up in his chest. It was hard to believe and hard to forget, because he would see it when he held the wrench, when he brought a cup to his lips, when he pressed the buttons to get the conveyor belt running. His hands shook, his fingers lost their strength, and then we would remember it all. It was not real, but it had been once, and he is unsure whether the knowledge makes things better or worse.

Heisenberg remembers nothing but the familiar tingle on his fingertips, the numbness that overtook him, anxiety and fear washing over him like he had been engulfed in a sea of darkness. The scribbles on the paper would be evidence of how he had lost control the night before, how he had pressed the pencil hard to try and force himself to focus, to keep going. The cut on his forehead would tell him that he exhaustion had taken the reigns and he had fallen face first into the table, head hitting the metal clamp and inadvertently helping lull him to sleep.

Much to his surprise, that night, when Heisenberg closed his eyes, he was greeted with the blissful sight of nothing. Head void of dreams, of nightmares, body protesting with the awkward way he’d scattered over his work station, but nothing else. The cut had stained some papers with blood and drool had ruined some others; his arms felt numb in the morning, as they had been left hanging off the desk with his head and neck as the only support. It took him a good few stretches of his hands to feel his fingers again - all things considered, this had been a much better night than most.

If the night was almost-pleasant, the morning was anything but. A hot gust of air blew in when the factory kicked into gear with full force, like it did every day around this time, the whirring of blades and purring of engines his usual white noise. Only this time there was an intruder, a high pitched, repetitive sound that threatened to pierce his eardrums - he woke up to the incessant sound of his phone ringing. The thing sat just inside his office, an old landline that Miranda had insisted on him keeping in case she needed to speak to him urgently. She would call him every now and again, but more often than not it was his siblings that would bother him. Moreau would call to ask if he had found any old VHS tapes or old fiction books, Donna would ask him for blades and all manner of crazy-looking schematics built. Alcina rarely called, but given her interest in the bloodsucking beast that prowled the woods, he was certain that would change very soon.

Not that he intended to answer any of them, naturally. Nine times out of ten he was nowhere near the dumb phone to answer, which made Mother angry and him even angrier, because the last thing he wanted was to interrupt important research to tend to any of their petty, cruel whims. When she called, invariably he would be thrust into something barbarous and despicable; she wanted someone kidnapped, or killed, or turned into a monstrosity. She wanted him to spy or intimidate, put on his best scary mask and drill the fear of the Black God into someone’s mind. She never once asked if his research went well, if he was doing well, and though it had been years of such abuse, he could not help but feel the sting of it every time he heard her speak. Somewhere deep down, he still held onto a sliver of hope that she cared; and she would always dig deeper and deeper, until she found it and choked his feelings to death.

Heisenberg lazily lifted his head, right arm coming up to wipe away the drool at the corner of his mouth, eyes hurting under the bright industrial lights coming in through the window. A strand of hair had sneaked into his eye when he blinked, such a small nuisance upsetting him even further, a simple strand of hair that felt like the devil’s toothpick stabbing his eyeball. The phone had stopped for a few seconds only to resurge like the wailing of a baby, and the ringing prompted him to shoot up and off his armchair in a flash, too disoriented and uncomfortable to fully register what was going on. He almost fell on his way to the phone, tripping over his unbuttoned pants, annoyance levels rising with every step. He rubbed his eyes as he approached the offending object, flicked the room’s light on like it would help him hear better. At least it would keep him awake.

“Heisenberg,” came the voice from the other side, sweet and soft-spoken, domineering and stubborn. “Any news on our quarry?” Our quarry, he mouthed to himself mockingly. As if any of it was a team effort, as if he had anything to gain from this little adventure. Well, as it turns out, he did, but lady super-sized bitch didn’t need to know that. The damn hair was still stuck somewhere between his eyelashes. “A little bird told me you left the forest quite late last night.” A little bird would die a horrible, horrible death as soon as he discovered who it was that had agreed to his sister’s asinine plan of meddling in his business.

“Oh hey, sis. Surprised you get reception all the way up there.” He heard her huff of annoyance, chuckled in response. It bought him enough time to figure out exactly what he would tell her. Hey, yeah, turns out your monster is actually this gorgeous lady with a pair of tits big enough to rival any fertility goddess’? “Slippery little thing, that monster of yours. Found some bodies, some blood,” truth was always easier to tell than lies. “Caught a glimpse of something, too, but it disappeared in the middle of the trees before I could grab it. Little shit gave me the loop, took me quite a while to find the way back.” Heisenberg could practically hear her chest rising and falling as she breathed excitedly, happy to hear something, anything, even if it was a blatant lie. He could hear her nails hitting against wood impatiently, stringing together a tune he did not recognize. “What do you want with this thing anyway, needing a new pet?” Quite the funny thought, really. He was suddenly curious to know if the little witch would put up a fight as a tight collar was snapped around her neck.

“Am I right to assume you will return to the forest soon for another search?” Oh, most definitely, though his intentions were far different from what she expected. She continued without waiting for his answer, clearly aware that he would retort in the crassest manner possible. “I will see you handsomely rewarded once I have it in my possession, brother. House Dimitrescu does not forget such acts of service.” And there it was, brother, the greatest honor she would grant him, a compliment reserved for moments like these, when she desperately needed his help and no one else’s would do.

Blah, blah, blah. What was she going to offer him, a maiden? A scrawny lady with bruises big enough to make one believe her skin was purple, bones showing through her ribs and threatening to poke out at any moment? He had long decided against experimenting on women - they were always so weak and fragile, he would tell himself. Had long left behind his whoring days, too, far too focused on his research to let himself be distracted by a pair of tits. Oh, right; the irony. What else could she give him? A casket of wine made of blood of an innocent, with its thick bouquet of brutality and mercilessness?

She could offer him riches, influence, her undying loyalty. The only reward he wanted was to see her fractured into a thousand tiny pieces, nothing left of her and her daughters but the crystal cores they would dissolve into. The jewelry he would keep, the crystals he would sell to the Duke for a hefty price; the dust he would gather, send to an artist to mix into paint and commission a portrait of himself in his best work attire, his beat up trench coat and ragged hat. To make a statement, his fly would be open and his dick out in the painting, forever immortalizing him as the large, hard Lord of the Castle. With the money he would buy the best brewery he could find and have it make the worst beer, call it Lady D’s Fresh Piss, all in her honor, naturally.

He would bring over his suitcase and set up shop in the castle, tear down every reference to the Dimistrescu family and replace it with cheap replicas of innocent, idyllic landscapes, and dozens of horrible quality photos of his face. The extra large milk pail she called a hat would be used for entertainment when he gathered guests over, shoot the ball into the dead lady’s hat or take another shot. His soldats would clean house, kill every last monster in the basement, replace those god-awful torture tools with something else, anything else - maybe pigs, to pay homage to his dear sister. He would then fire all maids and forbid them from ever setting foot inside the place again, hire an all-male crew to tend to the estate and leave him well enough alone. On a clear day he would grab all of their expensive dresses, the paperwork that dignified her as gentry, her snob literature and photo albums, pile them all into the courtyard and burn it all, the vineyard alongside it, then light his cigar in the blaze and smoke it while facing the inferno, the flames reflecting beautifully on the lenses of his glasses. Once it had all turned to cinders he would strip before going through the front door, waltz around the place while rubbing his dick on all of her favorite spots. He would dump all of her fine wine in the biggest, smelliest cesspool, grab the revenue from the last shipment and throw it from atop the church in the village to watch the peasants fight each other for riches that were supposed to be hers.

Perhaps best of all, he would invite Alcina’s little monster over, encourage her to come in while dragging all the dirt and mud gathered on her bare feet. He would give her a tour of the castle, allow her to decorate every room with a harvest wreath or handmade candle, let her cover the posh couches with handmade quilted throws. Together they would roll up the fancy carpet and throw it in the fireplace, lay down the most unrefined of straw tapestries in its place. The mantle would be a display of their crudeness and peasantry, his schematics and forgotten bits of scrap metal, her incenses and rune-inscribed bones and whatever else her little heart desired. He would allow her to have her pick of his sister’s jewelry, try and convince her to take them all, to wear nothing but her favorite set as she danced under the skylight of the atelier, the flames of all tolling bells and the bright shine of the moon as the only source of light for their unholy, delicious rituals.

When silence settled he would grab her waist and pull her closer, whisper in her ear the most delectable of invitations. Together they would desecrate every last corner of the castle, from the halls to the belfry and the stairwells to the balconies, the cries of agony the place had come to be known for replaced by their sounds of pleasure. When they were far too tired to continue they would work together in the kitchen, he would help her prepare a bloodless meal that they would savor watching the wide open doors to the courtyard. He would sit at Alcina’s spot, ignore every single piece of flatware and eat with his bare hands, audibly chew on every morsel. He would draw every curtain and open every window, let the gelid gale wipe away any trace of her and her daughters. Late at night, he would carry his prized lady up the stairs to her quarters, gently place her on the giant bed and cover her with the decadent expensive sheets. She would ask him to stay, and he would, hold her close as she slumbered and he stared at the top of the canopy and let out a tired sigh almost a hundred years in the making. He would be free, and he would have claimed it all, a fitting end to his sordid tale.

If he wasn’t sure Alcina would rise from the grave and put herself back together out of sheer spite, the whole thing didn’t sound half bad.

Heisenberg barely registered whatever she said after, far too immersed in his little happy place to give a shit. She had talked for what seemed like hours, something about training the beast to present it to Mother Miranda, to allow her to experiment and find out what sort of things they could learn of such a splendorous mutation. Some illusions of grandeur sprinkled here and there, the very obvious wish to become the best, most adored child. He felt like Alcina wished Mother would descend upon her in a ray of light, to lift her up and away towards the heavens to take a place at her side. What a load of crap, though he had to admit it was far more than he would have given her credit for when she came up with this sordid little plan.

At some point, she finally realized she had said too much, exposed too much of her grand plan, had become too excited with the prospect of having that admiration within her reach. That, or she had grown tired of sounding too friendly with the riffraff. She quickly finished saying her piece and hung up without waiting for him to say goodbye, wishing him good luck on the hunt, reminding him she had great expectations. As did he.

He found his mind wandering back to his little witch in the woods as he placed the handle back on its hook. Where did she even come from, anyway? Was she born in that miserable place, brought up among the failed experiments of this village in middle of nowhere, Romania? Did she know how to use money, or were the lei they used foreign to her? He had it in good confidence that she could read, considering all the books he had seen around, but did she know how to write? Had she ever seen electricity at work, or had her life been lived under candlelight? Could she drive a car? Operate a telephone? Did she have toilet paper in her outhouse or did she wipe her ass with ferns or something of the sort? How did she find out about nail polish, of all things?

Had she ever lived outside that lousy shack? Did she ever get a taste of luxury, of fine wine, scrumptious desserts, someone to cook and feed her, maidens to attend to her? Had she always worked the land and tended to livestock, gathered herbs and berries in the forest? Had she cared for her parents or grandparents and learned her trade then, offered her services to lice-ridden villagers when they were no longer in the picture? Had they ever met, some day when he was too busy with his own sorrow to notice her, to take in the beauty that had come to haunt him so? Had she ever shared her body with someone, with a lucky lad or lass that caught her vulnerable and willing on a lonely night? Did she… Did she think of him, as much as he had begun to think of her?

Her shroud of blood and mystery, alongside Alcina’s excitement over the prospect of having her torn apart, had a strange feeling seep within his bones, a pang of anguish tugging at his heartstrings. All the more reason for him to hide the truth for as long as he could - even if the witch turned out to be just really clever with herbs and some hallucinogens, he wouldn’t give dear sister the pleasure of sinking those rusty nails into her flesh. Not when he had so much to discover.

Finally alone with his thoughts and away from his fantasies, he looked down at himself to see his shirt tousled, the fly on his pants undone. He had slept alright, although passed out might be a better description. In his defense, he had tried to fall asleep like a normal human being: sat down and let his mind go blank, eyes firmly shut to try and get some rest. But try as he might, he always startled as he was about to drift off, the sight of the dark horse dissolving into a puddle of blood right before his very eyes, of Sturm’s decapitated arms almost comically flying in his direction. Rage followed soon after - another failure, another waste of time. How would he make that thing rise again? He was then caught in the infinite loop of thinking, and planning, and burning out in frustration, until he could carry on no more.

Of course. He remembered it now, what had finally lulled him to sleep, in the throes of his despair. The way she had distracted him with a well-placed, gentle hand on his face, to work her magic and make his pain disappear, to preserve the secret she worked so hard to maintain. The gash on his hand that had left no trace, the lycans and moroaicas dead but not quite. The way she seemed to have a knack for putting things back together again, to prop them up on strings and have them dance like a puppeteer would. If he brought her here into his den, allowed her a glimpse of his work - would she be able to help him? Would she want to?

At first, he had thought the whole thing was bullshit. So maybe she knew a few plants, knew how to make a mean incense to get him high as a kite and seeing shit. Maybe she had some medical training and could put a nose back in its place, big deal. Maybe she held the world record on fastest, most painless stitching of human flesh, and was in cahoots with the Duke to use whatever seemingly magical substance he put in his antiseptic solution. Whatever she was smoking to say that she could actually heal things, that she might just be able to murder Mother Miranda - he wanted some.

And yet the more he thought of it, the less sense it all made. Her touch was unmistakable when she held his chin up, when the monster’s wispy tendrils had done the same. There was no doubt that she had, indeed, healed his wounds. The decapitated heads were very much alive, the blood pungent, the bite as painful as it should be. If she had killed them, how had she brought them back to life? How had she kept them alive on borrowed time, negated the effects the very creator of the Cadou could not avoid? How far did her powers go? Were they powers, like his and Moreau’s and Donna’s and Alcina’s, or a clever trick of the mind?

Whatever the case, Miranda had spent the better part of a century trying to bring back a dead girl in the body of another, necromancy a far too advanced concept for her young mind back in the late twenties. She had spent countless hours, spilled gallons upon gallons of innocent blood, spread a disease that they no longer had control over in the lycans, all for naught. And suddenly some creepy girl at the ass-end of the woods was the second coming of Jesus? She had knocked him on his ass and somehow morphed into this giant mass of blood that would make the hairiest of grunts shit their pants. If there was any chance that she was for real, then it would change everything. The possibilities were endless. He just needed to tell apart the bullshit from the truth.

#resident evil #resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg x reader #virgil writes #a rather chill chapter but next comes soon

7 notes · View notes

itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 5 years ago

Text

Male Drow (Dark Elf Vevmis) x Human! Female Reader Part 5 (FINALE)

The final chapter to The Underestimated, so I hope you’ve enjoyed this five-part series. - Stay safe guys -

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

The Underestimated Part 5 (FINALE)

Of the high shadows and prowling outlines, you acknowledged them as your demons and mistakes; even when you were locked away in slumber.

The seclusion swarmed you, it was just as cold and sharp as you had remembered it being; more so bitter than a fever.

The people: the people you saw, of the distressed faces of your mother and father, opposing of your wants and desires for medicine and to become a doctor, the subtle words of those who said you could never do what you dreamt of craving; their words wanting you to give up.

You were belittled, laughed at, told to give in and try something different, all while telling yourself one day, you would prove them wrong.

Maybe even in the eternal slumber between the states of existing and drowning, you could not even prove yourself anything, nor��them.

You couldn’t remember much: the scuffle with the group of Drow, the pain you felt that had numbed in your flesh, Vevmis-- oh, Vevmis, was he okay? Alive even?

You didn't want to believe it, never in a thousand years, but you accepted that his kind hadn’t been so merciful with sparing his life. The darkness, was this what all Drow saw in the Underdark?

When you had to open your eyes, the reality was dim and sullen, the sky was overcast and drab, with the sound of rain flooding through, dropping down in buckets around you.

You could hear it properly: the sound of the drops hitting the roof of something with such force, smashing down like a wave over cliffs below.

You keened softly, shifting, your bones creaked with the make-shift bed that you laid on, where you felt the dull ache reside in your ribs, your head tender from how you had fallen.

There was a sound that vibrated beside you when you registered it, not realising someone was there, talking you through something thoroughly.

Standing before you was a high elf that had been described many times before in the books you had read: of knights who were bold and brave - he looked to be one with his rich gold-green mail; a bleeding star sigil in the breastplate.

He was towering like all the other elves except he was pale in complexion compared to Vevmis: pale-silver hair that came past his waist, braided back, it fell beautifully past his shoulders with little movement when he moved. He radiated the pride his kind held grandly; with his appearance made him look like royalty.

With a hard disdainful look; his eyebrows raised to you when you saw his features, his eyes carefully: one eye was as fair as spring growth, whilst the other had a long fading scar that reached just above his eyebrow arch and down the middle of the lid - the pupil the hue of dull clouded moss.

You watched his mouth move open and close, his eyes scrutinising you when you didn’t answer but rather gape. When you came around to it, you blinked owlishly. “What?-”

“Common? Do you speak Common?” He asked impatiently.

“I-Yes. I do.” You found your voice again, the hoarseness resided in the back of your throat and when you moved your tongue, it ached with the pain of veiled swelling. Your fragile hand came to touch at your throat waveringly rubbing it.

The high elf sighed beside you, bringing forth a cup from his grip, holding the back of your neck so you had no other choice but to take down the liquid, the cup coming to your lips. “Drink, it’ll help your head.”

“What- I-” You choked nearly between swallowing and talking, your words muffled as you took down the earthy mixture; as syrupy as marsh water.

You nearly gagged but took it down, squeezing your eyes tight as you drank it down with too much force, finally having it removed from you as you wiped your mouth from the slop. There was a consistent feeling in the back of your mind, driving you to speak the one thing you had been worrying you since you had come around.

“Vevmis-- where is Vevmis?”

“The Drow?” He leered at the one word, his face wrinkled. “Probably fighting my men. Provoking them of some kind.”

Your heart sank like lead in a river, dropping to the bottom, your eyes glaring back at the high elf once more for little regard. He sensed your disdain for his mockery, stepping away but keeping his posture stiff as bark.

“I’ll go get him. I’m sure he’ll be most eased to see you awake.”

“Yes, uh, thanks-“

“Fenrith.” He coolly replied, leaving with not much else to say, leaving you surrounded by the deafening sounds of the weeping sky. You listened to the best of your abilities, hearing nothing but the rain pour heavy through the tent you were in, the only body surrounded by hundreds of empty ones.

A lost soul. You lamented. Perhaps that is what I have been in this life, nothing more than a nuisance. Your head was pounding, thrumming like a constant drum who’s percussionist is consistent in the rhythm and pace. A pair of shuffling feet heavy and chaotic could’ve sounded similar to the heavy rain falling around you, but your eyes had known well enough that the footsteps belonged to someone important.

The smell of rainwater strung up your nose when you heard the smallest of exhales released, a cold damp hand brought you out of your misery with a startle when it touched the knuckle of your hand.

Your name was spoken so soft you had mistaken a spirit to of been present at your bed instead of the Drow. Vevmis’ presence was dishevelled and unkempt, the rain had soaked his silver hair to look nearly greying in the dim light, his amethyst eyes so sharp and clear. “Vevmis.” You croaked, trying your best to shift to reach for him.

He noticed and with some tentativeness and wariness, came to the side of your bed and kneeled, his shaking hand came to hold at your head carefully, his eyes glistening with opaque drops that looked like rainfall. “I’m here.” His voice was gravelly as if he had been caught mid-screech and was trying to cool down.

“I—what happened?”

“A camp came through, just before we were to both be executed. A Band of the Faith regimented by whatever high lord ruled that area came and slaughtered them, putting each one of them to the sword, sweeping through them like butter.”

You were a loss for words, astonished. “They spared you though.”

“Hardly,” Vevmis had laughed humourlessly, his wine-red eyes flickering, “I knocked one of their teeth in when I had the chance to, another I broke their arm.” You chortled dryly, knowing that Vevmis would do such a thing. “they dragged me chained and bolted to the end of a horse, where we ended here in their camp. That was almost—” his light eyebrows scrunched in awareness, “that was almost three days past.”

You were left wordless, thinking about everything to yourself silently, the pressure of his hand on yours a soothing reassurance to bring you back to reality. “But I promised myself that as soon as you would wake up, I would get you out of here, no matter how.” There was a brittleness to his word as if the promise to you was everything you needed, but he knew more to the end of the story, a few pages ahead.

“You… wanted me to get back to my village, didn’t you?” You questioned softly. The Drow’s’s face fell downcast, full of emotion compared to when he had never once shown it anything to you but callousness in the beginning. “Vevmis, you know I cannot leave you.”

“But you could, and that is for certain. You could go and live and die in your quaint little village and live a wonderful life, with a husband and child, but what about me?” His irritation was not hot nor full of rage. It was him having to grasp at this being his only choice. “No matter where I go, my sister’s wraith will see to have me miserable in this life and beyond. No matter where I go, I shall never be welcomed.”

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes at his words, the Drow hadn’t raised his voice nor show any tears. But he had shown you that there was a growing part of humanity he had that you had shown him and he had grown to accept one human. “You wish to become a doctor, but you will wish to become one in your village.”

“How so?”

“It has been your want, and you have that want to help people.” Vevmis accepted. “I cannot be happy anywhere.”

“I have a want- yes, but I also have learnt much more along this journey with someone who I did not believe would accept me.” You began. “There has been so much we have gone through and I will not stand to just have one person happy, Vevmis. I will not stand with it.”

He squinted his eyes quizzically to your words. “What do you mean, pet?”

You smiled at the nickname he had given you once, one that had the connotations to something sour and awful, but now, that little word had become something so much sweeter. “What do you dream of, Vevmis? The arrival of spring? Eternal wealth? To live on a farm in the middle of nowhere and live the rest of your days as a farmer?”

He had smiled at them all, but he had not said yes to any. “I could see spring every year and not miss it. Wealth only makes you happy for a short time, but not for forever. And to live on a farm spreading cow shit? Now, perhaps that would be your dream. I like no animals.”

He had cradled your face in his fingers, stroking the flesh there. “No, one thing would make me happy, and that would be to be beside you and live out the rest of our days in contentment.”

A soft groan had come from the pitched bed and the soreness of your bones and body when you had tried to sit up, Vevmis was hesitant in letting you when he helped you to the end. You had collected the strands of his moonglow hair, a small smile on your face when you had spoken.

“Then, what are you waiting for?”

The glare had been bright but heartening, it soft glows came in through the gaps of the sheltered interior, with the smell of buckwheat and hay strong in the air. Maybe a long time ago, Vevmis would never have believed he would’ve liked the long days of the summer, but he had grown to like many things.

His dirk had been shining and pure, the cool smooth silver-blue stone had been clasped in his hand when he sharpened the silver blade over and over again; his own state of euphoria and tranquillity that had lulled him into a dream of hope.

He couldn’t have lied if he said he didn’t like the smell of nature around him, the constant essence of being outside, with crops flourishing in an everlasting heat that grew throughout the day and never ended in the nights.

Through the afternoons when the sun was not so high, he found serenity through meditating, controlling his breathing and going into a state of silence, breathing in the past and exhaling the future. This, he found was the most peaceful thing about his days, resting and keeping out of the sun and seeking shelter for a state of serene.

He had been known he was being watched when a small sneaky snap of hay came from metres behind him, the noise that made Vevmis’ ears prick upwards immediately, a small smile gracing his features, pretending to remain oblivious.

The steadiness made Vevmis count in-between the waits, his breathing stilling as he awaited the strike, the moment for all to go stale and cold- “Gotcha!”

A squeal came when he had been as quick as a deer, he swiftly grabbed the culprit and raised them high above his head, the joyous sound of laughter filling the sweet air. The Drow lowered the small one down, his wine-coloured eyes assessing with false discipline. “You almost had me there.”

“Almost,” Vevmis had looked over the little one with curls of silver-white just as bright as his, dusky skin with freckles along the skin, bright eyes that no Drow had before. “but I’m becoming quick.”

“I could hear you as soon as you were by the door, Rayelle.” Vevmis grinned, his white teeth gleaming. “But you’ll get there.” He was swift to once again lift the little girl up and swing he around and about, her joyous giggles and squeals echoing through the barn. “Again, papa!”

“No, we must get inside before mama has a go at the both of us.” He said, before finally putting his daughter over his shoulders, her small dusty feet dangling just below his neck. “You’re not wearing shoes, pet.”

“No,” Rayelle grinned from ear to ear, holding her father’s silver hair in her round fingers, “mama told me to get you.”

“Ah, so you thought you could test your stealth on me?”

“Uh-huh!” She beamed, pulling at his long ears.

“Hmm, you will have to remember them for next time. It is dangerous not to have them out.” Vevmis hummed as he sheathed his dirk into its holster, knowing that his daughter’s eyes were on the blade when he put it away. “When will I get a sword, papa?”

“When you’re older.”

“But I am older than I was today.”

“When you’re older than you already are tomorrow.”

“Aww.” Vevmis knew she had been pouting, so he compromised. “You can have a pony or another goat. I know your mother would like another one of both.”

“I don’t want a pony.” Rayelle thought for a moment, giggling to herself as she blurted. “I want a dragon!”

“A dragon huh?” Vevmis chuckled warmly. “They smell and always burn things. They would be irritating.”

“But I’d get to fly! Like now!” Rayelle brought her arms out to both sides, swaying side to side as she screeched and roared. “I am Zirenth the Old!”

Vevmis rolled his eyes playfully, pretending to sway with her when she rocked side to side. “Come now, young dragon. Before mama dragon calls for us.”

The two had wandered through the long tall grass, watching over the endless sunset that was beginning to fall slowly across the horizon, a sea of trees below in the distance. Vevmis wondered had he hadn't gone with you and lived this life of solitude, what would his life be like now?

They entered through the back of the small home, the soft humming drawing Vevmis to the kitchen as he lowered Rayelle off his shoulders. The small home you had made five years ago had been filled with old scrolls of sepia and tubes full of crushed medicines and herbs, the constant smell of sage and mint burning in the air; a healer you had become and a good one too.

“You two back in?” You called. “Mama! I’m a dragon!” Rayelle pretended to breath fire when you came through to peer at the two, needle and thread you had put down as you picked your daughter up.

“Oh, and what a mighty one you are!” You exclaimed brightly, Vevmis watching from the side as he took in your matured features of the new wrinkles you had picked up and small fine silver-grey wisps growing through your roots. You had still looked beautiful in his eyes, no matter how much you had aged within the last few years.

Your eyes had been on him when he had looked to him, the glint that he had know a long time ago, bright and bold still. “But I see another one not too far. He is rather old too.”

He had chortled dryly at that as he neared to you, running his hands over your hips and along your waist. “My little family of dragons. Bold and daring, my two girls.”

You leant over to kiss Vevmis’ lips, earning an exaggerated “eww, that’s gross!” from Rayelle, before lowering her down. “Come now you two, dinner is ready. And this dragon wants to eat everything before it is consumed!”

Rayelle joined you with a linked hand as Vevmis joined behind, smiling broadly at the life he had made.

Maybe his luck wasn’t so thin.

305 notes · View notes

seiin-translations · 4 years ago

Text

2.43 S1 Chapter 1.1: Young Yunichika

1. FIRST TOUCH

For this whole series, just imagine that everyone except Haijima is talking in dialect

Translation Notes

1. Itoko (従姉妹) is the Japanese word for cousin, so Kuroba’s itoko is Itoko, it’s a pun

Previous || Index || Next

Continuing to fall almost nonstop since New Years’ Eve, the snow completely buried the school building right after winter break. It was just like a drifting classroom isolated in the gaps of space-time. The window glass that was pure-white with condensation cut off any connection to the outside world, and the air warmed by the stove amassed in the classroom without circulating. Steam rose gently from the brass basin that was placed on the stovetop, and the air near the ceiling appeared to flicker.

The old school building seemed to be creaking under the weight of the snow, and he was afraid that it was going to collapse, but it had held up every year without any problems. If only somewhere else in the school—like around the principal’s office—had been crushed flat, the talks of renovation would have proceeded quickly.

I mean, Grandpa can just make a donation. Should I try asking him seriously this time?

He thought that for a moment, but there was no doubt that he would have graduated by the time the new school building was completed, so that was a little silly. The middle school in the neighboring Suzumu City, which he had visited before at a town exchange event, was a new, clean, and sturdy reinforced concrete building, and the entire building was warm even though there were no kerosene heaters to be seen anywhere. He received a culture shock when he learned that the toilets were not cold.

I wanna be in high school soon, he thought vaguely. Since there were no high schools in town, you would have to go to Suzumu City for the closest one. However, the one year and three months until graduation was a length that could be called an eternity.

Fourteen years old. He had finally just started the third semester of his second year of middle school.

“The transfer student’s late, isn’t he?”

After performing the penance of opening ceremony in the frigid gym, Kuroba Itoko said and she hung her behind on the edge of his desk during the strangely slow waiting time after they returned to the classroom. “Heave ho,” she said as she wriggled her butt back to put her thighs on his desk, so Kuroba Yuni reflexively removed his chin resting in his hands on the desk and leaned back. This is just a bit embarrassing, oi… Even if all the female middle and high school students in the city did it, it was hard to understand why so many girls were shortening their skirts when the circumstances in this snowy country was different.

Itoko’s class was Class 2 next door, but she often made trips to Class 1. From entry to elementary school to middle school graduation, the faces in each grade didn’t change fundamentally, so everyone knew each other even though the classes were different. She seemed to have gotten some kind of information from the group of Class 1 girls who were still talking at the doorway even now.

That was right, a transfer student was arriving. There was no small amount of excitement in the air in Class 2-1 for the big event of the new semester, which was rarely encountered. It was a depopulating town where the number of people in school decreased, but rarely increased. What was more, apparently the transfer student was coming from Tokyo, so the expectations were high no matter what.

“I wonder if he’ll be cute. I hope he’ll be cute.”

“He has a normal face. Maybe a bit below normal.”

“You knew him until you guys were in senior kindergarten, right? He might have gotten cute.”

“I’m telling you, he didn’t. He’s going to be a pipsqueak with glasses who’s bad at sports. He became a wuss who’d get scared by this amount of snow...”

“What’s with you, are you sulking? You really are a little kid…”

“Shut up. I told you stop acting like you’re my big sister. The teacher’s coming soon so get back to your own class.”

As soon as he told her to stop, Itoko said, “Yes, yes, what a hopeless kid” with the utmost superior look on her face, shrugged her shoulders and jumped down from the table. Her short skirt fluttered lightly.

“I’m wearing underpants, so there’s no use peeking.”

“Did you make knitted panties? So ugly. I don’t get why you try so hard to look like that.”

“Being stylish is all about grit.”

Brushing aside the unintentional insult that rushed out of his mouth, Itoko slipped through the gaps between the messily aligned desks. Since she didn’t deny the knitted panties, did that mean that was true?

Kuroba Yuni and Kuroba Itoko had the same family name, but they were not siblings. It either made it confusingly similar or easy to understand, but…Itoko was his cousin. (1) They had the same grandfather and their fathers were brothers. She always acted like his older sister, but they were the same age, and since Kuroba was born in September and Itoko was born in October, he wanted to assert the fact that he was the one who was older.

She turned her miffed face away and rested her chin in her hands again. Kuroba’s seat was at very back by the window—until today. When he came to school today, a brand new desk and chair was brought in behind him.

He wiped the condensation on the window with his palm. Even when he cleared away the white film, all you could see beyond it was a blanket of white snow. The snow had stopped for now, but heavy snow clouds remained in the sky, and it wouldn’t be unusual if it started snowing some time again. There was a narrow path created from the school gate to the building sandwiched between walls of snow, but since the snow removal operation in the early morning, it had gotten buried again by the continuing snow.

He squinted outside the window to see if there was anything visible in the white. He was a slow and clumsy kid, so I hope he didn’t get stuck buried in the snow or something…

The truth was, Kuroba took pride in the fact that he was looking forward to the transfer student more than anyone else, a hundred or a thousand times more than Itoko or his classmates. Even though he was supposed to have finished moving house during winter break, he showed no indication of coming over to his house to show his face, so he was just a little frustrated about that and his excitement went down. They parted with each other in senior kindergarten, so it had been eight years. He wondered if he had been thoroughly steeped in Tokyo and forgot about this place.

Although, it wasn’t as if Kuroba remembered a lot either. He could remember meaningless episodes like what he did to get injured or what he did to get scolded, but as soon as he tried to systematically trace his memories, they became hazy. Like a snow scene that became misty with a glass that was already clouding over again—

In the midst of the white, he could see a flicker of something black moving.

Surprised, he half-rose to his feet and pasted himself to the window. There were two figures walking in the gorge between the walls of snow that seemed like they could collapse at any minute.

“…He’s here!”

He unintentionally exclaimed, and the miscellaneous chatter that filled the classroom quickly faded. There was a beat, and then shouts of joy rose. His more than thirty classmates surged towards the window and lined their faces.

The smaller figure, dressed in a stocky blouson down coat, was an old lady when he looked closer. So that means the other, bigger figure was…? Wait, how can he be that big…He was confused for a moment because he didn’t match his image of that kindergarten kid.

However, as soon as he strained his eyes and looked into his face, a warm-colored lantern lit up the snowy landscape of his white hazy memory, and a fresh image appeared in his mind.

“I’ll never forget you, Yuni… But, goodbye…”

Certainly, there was the face of a crying kindergartener who came to say goodbye to him while sobbing eight years ago. His pale face was drenched with tears, and even his glasses were wet. No matter how much he wiped them with his hands, large drops of tears continued to run down his cheeks, so much that he was worried that he was going to squeeze all the water out of his body.

That’s right, the glasses. He was already wearing glasses in kindergarten, and that might have helped giving him an introverted and quiet impression. Glasses and short and bad at sports. That was exactly his impression at that time. Once he remembered one thing, the vivid parts increased one after the other. One lantern lit a new lantern, and it became brighter and brighter.

Immediately, he stopped caring about how he didn’t come to see him over winter break or any of those small grievances. With impatient hands, he unfastened the screw lock on the window frame and threw open the window. The cold wind blew in and his classmates reproached him with “It’s so cold—“, but everyone’s voices bounced off him. Fine snowflakes blown up together with the wind struck his face. He shook his head and brushed away the snow.

“Chika!”

He leaned so far out the window that it looked like he was about to fall down and raised his voice.

The figure stopped and looked up. His eyes met his through thin-framed glasses. How will he react at first? His heart was beating fast from the anticipation.

He just reacted in such an indifferent way, like he just happened to exchange lines of sight with a stranger. He moved his face down without changing expression and disappeared into the shade of the eaves of the school entrance. The old lady who was left behind bowed slightly like she was troubled and followed after him, her snow boots making crunching noises.

Huh…? Did he…forget me?

Feeling let down, Kuroba stood stock still near the window. The two footprints that continued from the school gate were swept away by the white snow-mixed wind as the hanging lanterns that lit his memories went out with a puff.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“Haijima Kimichika-kun came from Tokyo. It seems that his grandfather’s house is in town, and he lived in Suzumu City until kindergarten. Perhaps some of you might know him.”

The gazes of everyone in the class was focused on the gangly school uniform standing at the teacher’s podium. How tall is he, it looks like he’s about the same as me? Kuroba thought absentmindedly as he stared at the small tip on the first stroke of “Hai” from the family name that was written vertically on the blackboard by the homeroom teacher. From among the three past elements of glasses, being tiny, and bad at sports, the glasses remained and pipsqueak disappeared. The remaining unknown was his motor skills.

He had a pale, smooth face and a rather neat set of features. If he had to decide between strong or weak, he would say they were weak. Depending on how you looked at it, they might look reptilian. At the very least, the characteristics of an idol-like pretty boy that Itoko had sweetly hoped for were nonexistent. To be frank, he seemed unfriendly. He still hadn’t smiled even once since he entered the classroom. He didn’t even try to look around at his classmates’ faces, just pursing his lips together and staring at his feet. Hmm, shyness?

“Kuroba-kun.”

Suddenly called on by the teacher, he made a stupid “Yeah?” sound.

“Haijima-kun played volleyball in his last school, so he will be joining the volleyball team. Please teach him about the team activities. Also, Haijima-kun’s eyesight is not good, but as you can see, he is tall, so you will move a seat behind. He will be the second from the back by the window.

Still without saying a word or even making a sound, Hajima nodded, took his bag and descended from the podium. Everyone’s interested gazes moved with his movements. As he turned twice at right angles and walked over to him without hesitation, Kuroba hurriedly got up as though to jump out of the way, and he put his bag on Kuroba’s seat with a thump before sitting down.

“Oh,” When Kuroba started to talk to him,

“…?”

He glared at him with a sideways glance, looking suspicious. What he placed on his desk was a somewhat stylish dark red backpack that looked like something from a school in the city, and had a somewhat stylish, unfamiliar school emblem embroidered on it.

“No…it’s fine.”

Kuroba took the seat behind his, thinking, Well, if he’s fine with it, then I guess it’s okay. Unlike his desk, which had scribbles carved all over it with a cutter, the desk prepared for Haijima was still brand new, the surface shining brightly.

“Hey, how tall are you? You’re seventy, right?”

He leaned over the desk, poked the back before him and started talking to him. Kuroba was 173 centimeters. He had heard that the average height for second-year middle school boys was around 160, so he was on the considerably tall side.

Haijima turned around, looking like he couldn’t be bothered. His narrow eyes glared at him again. A gaze where you couldn’t feel anything like charm or friendliness at all, as if all the temperature was absorbed while passing through the thin lens of his glasses.

“Your position?”

That was the first sound he made since entering the classroom. Similar to his eyes, the way he spoke made you wonder if he had thrown away all his charm and friendliness at a station on the express train ride here from Tokyo. His voice finished changing…maybe? He had a low voice that carried well. It was just a bit frustrating.

“On the volleyball team?”

Haijima raised his eyebrows and repeated his words when Kuroba was just staring at him vacantly. Huh? His intonation felt strange. He was speaking in standard Japanese. Has it always been that way? It shouldn’t be like that, though.

“Oh, oooh, that’s what you meant by position?” This guy talked in a way that lopped off the context before and after his words. “Well, let’s see, I feel like we didn’t really decide them…”

“You didn’t decide? What do you do in matches?”

“Matches? Ah…”

He hadn’t heard that word in a long time. After gaping like it was someone else’s problem,

“We’ve never been in a proper match. It’s a club of guys who only belong to it in name only, and the practice days are whenever. Look, you have to join a club here. Don’t you know that?”

An expression that actually looked like an expression appeared on Haijima’s face, it looked like. Though it was only slightly, his narrow eyes widened—is this shock? And then his eyes suddenly lowered, his mouth turning down at the corners. Is this sadness?

“Oh, was your old school really strong?”

Crap, I might make him cry. He didn’t really understand, but he felt that he said something wrong, and when he panickily tried to stay on topic,

“Tch…”

He heard that. No way, did he click his tongue just now?

“So you’re just uselessly big?”

He heard a sudden, unbelievable insult from the mouth of the transfer student, who one would think would be generally burning with the desire to build good relationships with the people at his new school. With that, Haijima abruptly faced forward and started emitting an aura of “Don’t ever talk to me” from his back. Kuroba could do nothing but stare at that amazingly obstinate back with his mouth wide open.

“I’ll never forget you, Yuni… But, goodbye…”

Which station did you lose the “Chika” from eight years ago who was sobbing because he didn’t want to say goodbye?

Previous || Index || Next

#2.43: seiin koukou danshi volley-bu #2.43 translation #2.43 book 1

51 notes · View notes

wu-sisyphus-gang · 3 years ago

Text

Motion Sickness Chapter 69

This arc. Arc four is the shortest arc. But it blurs a little bit into three and five so depending on how you want to cut it, it isn’t. But it probably is the shortest. It’s also my favorite I think. Of the arcs I’ve written so far.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

(Ruby PoV)

I brushed a comb through my hair. I wanted to look at least decent for when I saw Jaune again. What? Just because I could bullseye you from a thousand yards doesn't mean I didn't like girly stuff. One of those things was looking nice for my boyfriend when I visited him in a military psychiatric hospital.

I grinned wolfishly at the mirror. I didn't have a lot of hair to comb through like Yang or Weiss but I had enough to drag a brush through and make it look a bit neater. Speaking of Weiss, she came by and leaned at the corner of the wall in the bathroom. Her hair was still down and not up in its braided ponytail. I turned away from the mirror to actually look at her.

"What?" She asked. She looked beautiful with her hair down but she probably wasn't planning on coming to see Jaune like that. It just wasn't in the cards for her.

"You're not coming with me to see Jaune?" I shot back.

"He likes you, remember?"

"He liked you first," I retorted. "All freshman year, remember?"

She sighed. "I don't want to overwhelm him. He's probably going through a lot as it is. He doesn't need whatever is going on with me to add to that." She waved a hand at herself.

"That you like him," I cut through.

"Yes, Ruby. That I like him." She sounded a touch exasperated.

"Don't you want to tell him how you feel?" I asked.

"I-I suppose..."

"Come on. Let me do your hair." I guided her in and sat her down by the bath and ran my fingers against her scalp. She sighed back into my touch and I let a grin stretch my face. I started to do up her enormous plait.

"It's just so confusing."

"No it's not," I said. "The only thing left to see is if you like him back. And you flirted with him occasionally in Mistral."

"In Mistral…" she repeated. "I just don't want to confuse him."

"But what if you don't have the chance to tell him how you feel again. Think about how stressed you were before you told me how you felt."

"Ruby…"

"You don't want to let this opportunity slide by, even if he's stressed out it's not like having you like him will make things worse."

"Easy enough for you to say. You've already slept with him. And I've already kissed you. It's fairly clear we both like you while it's not so clear that he and I would work out."

"I've just slept with him three times."

"Just three times you say. Forgive me. I didn't mean to blow it out of proportion," she said sarcastically.

I kissed her on the lips with a bit of passion before I went back to doing her braid. "It'll be alright."

"And you're okay with all this? Sharing him? Sharing me?"

"Of course." I was raised by Yang and my dad so maybe my view of love was more relaxed than Weiss's. She was raised up here in Atlas where things were more strict. To me, love was love. It was about sharing and being shared. Nothing about this was crazy to me. I liked what I liked what I liked. And I wanted it, too. "You're alright with sharing me with him."

"W-well yes," she agreed.

"Then don't worry about it. You're stressing way too much."

"But what if he says no."

"Why would he say no? He flirted back with you in Mistral if what you told me is true. He had a crush on you first. Even before all that business with Pyrrha happened. So why would he say ‘no?’"

"What if he wants to be monogamous with you. What if he's not poly." Weiss came out and said it. The big humdinger.

"Then why would he have flirted with you in Mistral?" I countered. And I didn’t really blame him for it if he did. I wasn’t mad.

She sat in silence while I did her plait. I bobby pinned it up as I worked my hands through her long beautiful hair. I squealed a little and wanted to squeeze my face into the silky mass.

"We just need to be open with him. He'll understand. I'm fairly certain he won't be upset that another beautiful girl loves him. He'll probably just be like 'I hate myself and I don't deserve it.' He's like that a bit. We just need to shut that down."

"You've thought about this a lot," she accused.

"Not really," I responded. "That's just how he is, he loathes himself, sometimes. And it's how we could be. All together. I love you Weiss. And I love him. What's wrong with that? What's complicated about that?"

"It's just a whole person to be added to the mix. And you weren't ready before."

"But I promised you I would be ready eventually."

"And that's now?"

"Yes. I'm fairly fast, in case you haven't noticed. It helps that I have him back. I was worried about him. He was alone stewing in whatever happened to him for real. He was off dealing with Salem's mind control by himself, even if we didn't know about it yet. But that's over now. We're going to keep him safe, you and me."

"You make it sound so easy. It's not. It's three people. All with their own desires. That's about as complicated as it gets. Plus you have no idea how to help with the mind control piece."

"You're stressing about nothing until we talk to him."

"It has been a long time…"

"Just a month or so," I returned. "That's less time than you spent with him in Mistral."

"You're too excited for this."

"Why wouldn't I be excited? I get to be with both my best friends."

"If he likes me back," Weiss amended.

"You're still worried about that?"

"It's kind of a big hang up, Ruby."

"He likes you. I promise. What's not to like about you?"

"I'm uptight. I worry too much. I'm an overthinker."

"Now you sound like Jaune did before he admitted we were a couple. Maybe I've got a type." I sighed.

"Jaune and I aren't that similar," she protested. "That's kind of what I'm worried about."

"You're both overthinkers. You're both super smart," I disagreed. "You have more in common than you think, Weiss. I think so, at least."

"Really? I always thought he was a bit like you, Ruby."

"Impatient?" I asked.

"Energetic and a touch clumsy," she corrected, a small smile quirking her pink lips.

"Huh," was all I could manage. We sat in relative quiet as I worked for a moment. She hummed back into my touch. She had a lovely singing voice. I could stand to hear it more.

"And now that he's got that real confidence and honesty behind him I always thought he was… well, you know."

"Hot?" I asked. He was a little.

"You see it too, then."

"You should just wait until he kisses you. Now that's hot."

I watched Weiss rub her legs together a little. "And you're alright with that? You'd be onboard with me kissing him."

"For the hundredth time, yes!" I wanted to shake some sense into her. They were both my best friends. I wanted to share them. "It's not so complicated. It's just one more person, like you keep saying."

To be honest the thought of watching Weiss and Jaune kiss was about the hottest thing I'd thought of in a bit. It made me shudder a little.

"We should see how he is first. He might not be in the best place mentally for it."

"But when he's ready we'll snatch him up, you and me."

She wrapped a hand over my neck and turned me to kiss her. Her tongue dove forward a little and I let it into my mouth. I moaned into the kiss. It felt like everything was going to be okay. For the first time in a long time I really felt it.

"Weiss…" I whimpered. "I need to finish your braid…"

"What's the hold up?" She whispered against my lips. "Are you distracted?" She teased me.

I whined a little and clenched at her hair with both hands. She groaned a little as I pulled gently on her platinum threads.

"Maybe a little." I confessed, desperately. "Let me finish!"

She turned back away from me with her face pink. She was breathing hard enough to make her chest heave. For all my sister's teasing about Weiss's modest chest size, I liked it. Her breasts swelled up at me as she panted from our long kiss.

She was only in her morning wear so I thought I could see the tips of her breasts hardened in the early yellow light. I was no better with my heart beating fast, hammering away in my chest at my ribs. The way she made me whine was enormously domineering.

It was so unbelievably attractive.

I desperately tried to remember where my fingers were and finish up her braid. My hands were trembling more than a little. I slowly got my breathing back under control. My face was as red as my cape in the mirror.

It took a moment to get myself under my own command but eventually I succeeded.

A knock came by the open door. I turned to see my older sister. "Yang?" I asked. I put the last tie in Weiss's plait. "Are you coming to see Jaune too?"

"Yeah, Blake and I both are. I talked her into it. Jaune turned himself and the relic in. That counts for something."

"Thank you Yang." Weiss tucked her hair behind her shoulder and stood up. "I was worried that this would divide us."

"Yeah well it still might," Yang said. "Jaune is a criminal now. Plus he was working with Neapolitan. He better have a good reason for that. For both those things. Let's be honest, I want Jaune on our side, his power and strength are awesome, but I don't know if I can trust him. Especially with the mind control stuff."

I sighed and nodded. I was grateful for Yang coming at us honestly. I was willing to bet the reason was good enough for Jaune, but would Yang agree? I wasn't sure.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

Jaune looked good. Tall with little blue diamond piercings like his eyes. His hair was done up in a spiky messy fashion that made him look dashing. His armor was under black clothes and he had a touch of red where Pyrrha's sash was tied to his arm and he had this little half cape to him too that made his silhouette look slick.

None of the others had brought up his outfit change. It hadn't been as important as other topics but it was there and Jaune looked good-enough-to-eat in his git-up. And if I had it my way I would.

He sat down with us just at a table within the hospital behind double locked doors like an airlock. Someone would have to let us out and the double doors ensured that none of the patients could escape, should they try.

"Ruby, Weiss, Blake, Yang." He nodded with a charming smile. "It's good to see you again."

"Jaune." I embraced him deeply. His wide frame wrapped me up easily. I inhaled his familiar smell wildly. Crisp spice and something else, something torched.

I had missed him. It dragged tears from my eyes which I wiped away.

"How are they treating you in here?" Weiss asked.

Jaune waggled a hand. "Eh. About as good as I could reasonably expect considering the liability I constitute. If I meant business, I'm not sure that those doors could stop me."

He'd probably been analyzing the exits. It was instinct for a hunter like him. He was trapped and he knew it. But he was trapped by his own code as much or more so than the actual doors.

"Jaune you have to tell us everything. What happened to you?" I asked. "What happened at Haven?"

"I killed Ren and Nora. Salem made me do it but I still killed them," he confessed. "She then called me to bring the relic to her. I… I know where she is. At all times. It's like an instinct. I can feel her."

"Are they giving you medication for that?" Weiss asked.

"They're trying to bring my psychosis under control. They have no idea how to deal with the Salem stuff."

"But they're related. Salem's causing it," Blake said.

"That's right. I'm skeptical about any treatment they give me. They're giving me all kinds of sedatives to relax me and they've got me on antipsychotics." He leaned back in his seat and kept one arm around me. "Propanalol and Clonazepam to help relax and then something called Asenapine for the delusions and hallucinations."

"Is it working?" Yang asked.

He shook his head. "It's too early to tell."

"But you don't think it will." Blake murmured. "You think what Salem's doing to you can't be cured."

"Right. I'm being mind raped." He had a lazy half smile. He looked consigned.

I flinched a little. And Weiss shuffled slightly in her blue and silver outfit. She rubbed one arm with the other.

"You're not being mind raped." I said. "Right?"

"She sends me nightmares and I have to deal with her hallucinations. She's attacking me all the time. She wants the relic and Ozpin dead again. She’s my head all the time like ‘do it. Kill them. Bring it to me.’ That sort of ominous bullshit. You can only say ‘no’ so many times and so many ways. It's… it's a lot to deal with."

"But you're fighting. You can resist her," Yang said.

"I'm not sure. If I hear her voice again for real I'm afraid I'll have to obey her. That's what happened last time."

"But so long as you don't hear her real voice you're alright. You're safe." I tried to confirm.

"Maybe. It's a struggle to not give in to her whispers. I hear it all the time."

"You said that you were using Marijuana to help with that. Are you still?" Weiss asked.

"They took that away from me. I'm lucky I'm in a hospital and not behind bars."

"You attacked Atlas. Set some prisoners lose when you were Cloud Strife." Yang murmured. "Burned down a building and did worse besides."

"I was working for an information broker in the city. I was looking for the maiden here. I found out that your sister, Weiss, visits the same bunker every day. Ever since Beacon fell. I'm betting the maiden is there, Tyrian brought her up before I killed him."

"She is," Weiss breathed. Blake nudged her. "What? He already knew."

"These are the kinds of secrets we can't share with him just yet. He's a liability," Blake hissed.

"You said Cloud Strife. Is that your alter ego?" I asked. "Would you rather we call you that? It's a pretty name."

"Maybe. Jaune Arc was given to me by Salem or Merlot. I'm really not attached to it. Kind of disgusted by it to be honest."

"We'll support you. Whatever you decide."

"Thank you. And Cloud does have a nice ring to it, let's roll with that," he smiled.

"You were also working with Neapolitan. She attacked me. She tried to kill me," Yang said.

"She wanted revenge against Cinder and I happened to run into her. Our agendas aligned and her powers are useful," Cloud shrugged. "I won't lie, she's a bit of a monster. But then so am I."

"You're not a monster," Weiss murmured.

"No?" He asked. "I've killed people. I've tortured people."

"I've tortured people, well a person," Weiss said. "You're not alone in that."

"And I've killed people. Lots of them." Blake muttered.

"I was made in a laboratory out of Salem's cells by a mad man. Pretty sure I qualify. You should have seen my father's other experiments. I found where I was born, this incubator. Did you know that I'm only four years old? Because I didn't. He grew me until I was almost an adult and then sold me back to Salem then she had me sneak into Beacon. All of my dreams, all of it was fake."

"But you had memories. Remember Shion? Remember your sisters?" I asked.

"Fake," he sighed. "Or wrong. Incomplete. My sisters though are somewhere out there. I couldn't find any notes on them in Merlot's laboratory but Salem mentioned them in Haven. She has my sisters, whoever they really are. I ran into their creator at this other laboratory, this man with a mustache."

"We ran into a group of girls. They were younger than you but their powers were like yours a little," Blake said. "They all had blue eyes and blonde hair. They were after the relic and attacked us in Argus. Could they have been your sisters?"

"Maybe. It's possible. I might recognize them if I saw them. Mother gave me a lot of memories, not all of them were outright wrong, some were merely half-true."

"Mother?" Yang asked.

"Salem. I meant Salem. Damnit." He hit the table with a fist. I flinched back a little from the loud noise. He seemed oblivious to it. Running a palm through his spiky hair.

"How long are they keeping you here?" I asked.

"Well they did call it a three day hold. And mental patient or not it's nice to be held," he smiled a little. He rubbed his face with his hands. Hard. "Ah. They've got my weapon somewhere. I'd rather you all had it."

"We've got Ren and Nora's weapons, do you want them?" Weiss asked.

"No. Gods no. I don't. I don't deserve them. What did you do with their bodies, if I can ask?"

"We had them cremated." Weiss reached out and took his hand with one of hers. She rubbed gently over the back of his fingers.

He nodded. He was crying a little. "Thanks. For the best, that." He wiped his face again. His cheeks were turning red from it. He wasn't a handsome crier.

I looked over at Yang. She bit her lip and looked away from me. I don't think she felt any anger towards Jaune, or Cloud, rather. I don't think she felt anything other than sorry for him. Blake was rubbing the back of her neck and was gazing at the ground. Her stare had a thousand yards to it.

I reached over and grabbed Weiss's other hand and she gave me a measured glance. She wasn't sure now was the time. I'd respect that if that was what she wanted. I just didn't want her to regret it.

"Blake, we should go…" Yang was watching us. "Unless you have any more questions for-um Cloud." She fumbled slightly towards the end.

"You don't have magic, do you?" Blake asked.

"Not past my semblance and a bit of dust I've been practicing with. Not that I know of, I should say."

"Then I think I'm out," Blake said. Yang nodded at her. Blake and Yang departed through the double locked doors of the hospital. That left Cloud and the two of us. "See you later, Cloud."

He nodded to them and looked between us. He inhaled a shaking breath.

"We have something we need to tell you…" I said. "Cloud, Weiss and I are together."

He breathed and nodded along. "I see. You like girls, then."

"Not quite. Neither of us do completely," Weiss murmured.

"I don't understand. I'm a dumbass so whatever it is you'd better spell it out for me," he gave me a brave smile. It was weak underneath. He was scared.

"Cloud…" I mumbled. I rather liked it. It was a good name. It was his own and not Salem's. I thought it was an encouraging sign of his independence. A rose by any other name smells just as sweet anyways. "I love Weiss. And I also love you."

"You dumb blonde, you're not stupid." Weiss said to him fondly. "I'm well- I love you too." Weiss finished. "And I love Ruby. I'm not sure if you're poly or open to that…"

"I don't want to lose you," I told him while I held his hand. I let some tears flow. " But I need Weiss as well. I can't do it without her behind me. So will you give the three of us a try? When you left we kissed and I realized how much I wanted her. I... I need you too though. I told you that at the Golden Saucer. I meant it. I can't choose. Please don't make me choose. "

Cloud leaned back and exhaled. "My heart… from what you started with I thought it was going to be bad news…" he still looked almost scared.

"I take it that this isn't bad news?" Weiss asked. "Don't tell me you're afraid of our wants." She laughed a little but she was desperately watching his face. She wanted to know. She wanted to know what he felt. I did too, but I was less scared.

"No. Its-its fine. I'm open. I'm willing to try, just wait for me to get out of here. Alright? We'll be able to talk more."

"You think they'll let you out and not put you in prison?" I wondered.

"No way. They'll want me out in the field. The things I can do... They'd be foolish to put me away. And no prison could hold me anyways." He smiled weakly at us.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

8 notes · View notes

lastxviolet · 4 years ago

Text

The Assistant - CH. 2

Description: Summary - Her sixth year at Hogwarts was supposed to be relatively peaceful but after an incident on the Hogwarts express, Violet Wilkes finds herself the newest target of the Weasley twins. This, combined with a dark family secret, and the Triwizard tournament, makes her first few months back more exciting and stressful than every year before.

pairing: George Weasley x Original Female Character

warnings: pg-13. slow burn, eventual smut hehe

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218804/chapters/69148695

Cool air stung her face as she followed Sadie off the train. They'd left London completely under the thumb of summer so the autumnal chill was entirely welcome. She sucked in the familiar earthy, forest air, relishing in the arrival at their destination, and shook the image of her family having dinner tonight without her while pushing through the crowd of students chatting loudly. The small Hogsmeade platform was hardly big enough to house them all so she quickened her pace, desperate to emerge from the pack before the crowd was shoulder to shoulder.

As she walked, she eyed the students around her hopefully. There was still one dear friend that she owned a greeting to but she hadn't seen her on the train. She searched the crowd making its way to the enchanted carriages at the beginning of the forest and spotted sporadic curls walking quickly behind a group of Gryffindors, a few feet in front of her.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Hermione Granger outside of their evenings in the library. Her almost two-year-long friendship with the witch wasn't necessarily a secret but it was certainly unexpected and not very well known.

It had been annoying at first, sharing her late-night library refuge with the young bushy-haired witch, until one night they talked so long that Madam Pince had found them asleep at the desks around sunrise. They'd crossed paths almost every night in the library since, spewing factoids, and quizzing each other but also sitting in comfortable silence. She would never admit it to her fellow Slytherin's but studying with Hermione always made her miss her younger sister a little less.

"Alright, Granger?" She called loudly enough to cut through the bleating crowd, accidentally making her friend jump a little. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley's necks snapped back towards her, ready to defend their friend, but relaxed and kept walking at the sight of her.

She scowled. If she had to see any more red hair today, she would vomit. She didn't mind Harry or Ron too much, not that she'd ever spoken more than a few sentences with them. But, by the way, they spoke to Hermione when they came to occasionally tear her away from the library, they didn't appreciate the brilliant witch nearly enough, which rubbed her the wrong way.

Hermione abandoned her red and gold crowd briefly to awkwardly hug her shoulders. "Violet!"

She had grown a bit taller over the summer and Violet no longer had to look down on her, now they stood face to face. Her tawny eyes were bright against her freckled skin. A summer of unwinding had done her some good.

"How was your summer," Hermione continued, smiling broadly.

"Excellent, and you," she asked into Hermione's signature curls, as the witch held her tight.

"Quite busy really, I have loads to tell you," she exclaimed. "I'll find you in the library, I've made some astounding discoveries in Arithmancy that I think you'll find interesting."

Hermione let go of her shoulder as Harry and Ron pulled her onto the enchanted carriage, landing next to Neville Longbottom, a particularly tragic Gryffindor.

"I can't wait to hear about advanced potions this year," she half shouted from her seat, waving as they rolled away towards the castle.

That's right, it was her sixth year so she finally got to be in the N.E.W.T level potions class, the most advanced potions course that Hogwarts offered. How had she forgotten? She silently thanked Hermione for the much needed happy thought.

"You'll be sick of hearing about it before Christmas!"

She smiled. Leave it to the Gryffindor to make her look on the bright side of things.

Sadie pulled her up to their carriage and nuzzled into her as they glided through the trees, cold air whipping any exposed skin.

If it weren't so cold, it would've been a nice walk. The Hogsmeade train station was close to the spot she occasionally wandered to in her free time. There were a few feet, closer to the lake where the various protection spells and other charms were weakest and her cassette tape player worked. She stared at it longingly as they passed by. It, and a few books, would be the closest she'd be to the muggle world for another year.

The Great Hall was already hustling and bustling with students scurrying to say hello to friends from other houses before the feast commenced, by the time they got there. The ceiling glowed ominous blue and black, mirroring the storm that was brewing outside. Below it, thousands of candles hovered, glittering the ornate gold accents and casting bright reflections around the room.

One more important hello left, she thought, as Sadie dragged them to their table.

She passed the Bloody Baron, shooting their house ghost a nod, and craned her neck to inspect the head table at the front of the room before sitting down.

Professor Snape was already glowering at the Slytherin table, inspecting them for appropriate behavior no doubt, so all she needed to do was raise her arm in a small wave to get his attention. It took only a second for his eyes to find her. She greeted him with a curt smile, to which he responded with a polite nod. His somber eyes lit up for just a moment at their interaction but it ultimately made no dent in his stoic expression, not that she expected much more than that. He was incredibly guarded, strict, and stoic but she respected him immensely.

"Did you see him?"

Sadie pulled her down to their seats.

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "See who?"

Sadie huffed slightly, aware that she hadn't been listening to her since they walked into the room.

"Graham Montague!"

She'd heard that name too many times come from Sadies mouth to be curious about what was on about. Their tumultuous fling for the past few years had been exhausting to hear about.

"Oh yes, sorry I see him, but I wish I couldn't," she rested her head in her hands and tried to look interested.

"He wrote me over the summer you know," Sadie continued, ignoring the dig. "I told him that he owed me five galleons for making me read his stupid ramblings."

The sound of thunder made the room jump as the clouds on the ceiling broke, signaling a night of rain. Impatience had never been a flaw of hers but silly, elongated ordeals like the first feast of the year brought out the feeling in full force. It was a huge fiasco that took forever. She tried to calm her anxiously bouncing knee but it was torture to be away from the library when it was raining. No one would be there to witness the water droplets ricocheting off the stained glass that contorted the sprawling green grounds outside, transforming the world into a Monet painting.

The front doors opened with a bang and she turned to watch the soaking wet first years scurry down the center aisle. Enchanted music swelled to greet them, much to the surprise of the muggle-born students. They looked like they'd stumbled into a dream as they registered the amount of magic swirling around them.

Her first year, she'd pinched herself the entire boat ride across the lake, waiting for the majestic castle to disappear and be replaced by her bedroom ceiling. Her father's descriptions of the castle and campus hadn't done it justice and she still found new things to marvel at from time to time. She wished there was a way to sneak a camera in next year so that she could capture her sisters reaction.

The festivities crawled at a snail's pace. She politely clapped along for every sorting, ignoring the pang of nerves in her gut when a few of the newly sorted Slytherins scampered over to greet Malfoy with a handshake, clearly aware of the pure-blood supremacy they were joining, and it's leader.

The others nervously stared at their plates, occasionally looking up to search for a friendly face, which she and Sadie were always happy to provide. It was tough, especially for those who were aware of Slytherin's reputation but had expected to be sorted into a different house. Tougher though, for those who had to learn the hard way. She pitied them, as she'd pitied herself. Her father didn't talk about the wizarding world much so she was left to piece together the dos and don'ts through old photos and whispers between her parents. It was a learning curve, especially coming from a muggle school but it took almost no time to realize that a simple green tie could be interpreted in terrible ways.

She glared at the sorting hat as a professor whisked it away.

The shrill noise of echoing metal against glass signaled the room to be quiet. Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat, effectively hushing the students. He extended his arms, the silver of his robes shimmered in the candlelight, as his soft eyes took in the room.

"I have only two words to say to you," he said, pausing pervasively. "Tuck in."

Dinner flooded onto the tables, appearing out of thin air. She craned her neck to watch the first years again, the shock on their faces was hilarious and would probably take a few more meals to disappear. The rest of the room was completely distracted by the lavish meal.

Finally.

"That's my cue," she whispered low enough for only Sadie to hear, turning to swing a leg over the bench.

"I don't think you can escape so easily."

She shot her friend a puzzled look before following her gaze towards the closed main doors, being guarded diligently by the caretaker, Filch.

"Bloody hell," she huffed, glancing around the buzzing room for an explanation. Sadie spotted the Bloody Baron again, making his way down the table and beckoned him to join them.

"Tell me, Baron," she mewed, smiling sweetly. "Why does Filch look like he'd tackle anyone who tried to leave?"

Even in his wispy white form, the Baron's eyes twinkled at the opportunity for gossip. You wouldn't expect it from his name but he had two soft spots; Slytherins and the chance to spread rumors.

"You didn't hear it from me Miss Baldock but the Headmaster wants everyone here for a special announcement at the end of dinner," he answered in nothing more than a whisper. "However, I would be willing to assist you, should you need to make a quick escape." He bared his teeth and shot a devilish glare at the caretaker.

So, she was stuck.

"Thank you Baron but that's alright, I'd hate to miss anything important," Violet insisted, resettling herself back on the bench.

"Suit yourself, Miss Wilkes, I might just go and do it anyway. Excuse me," the ghost floated back through the hall, giving them a mischievous wink.

She glanced back up to the head table. Other than a few more empty seats than normal, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Maybe he had some new professors to introduce? Or perhaps some new school rules to brief them on? Either way, the thought of being trapped was making her restless.

She pursed her lips in thought and begrudgingly returned to the one-sided conversation Sadie was having with her.

"As I was saying, if we don't have Care of Magical Creatures together I will have a fit."

She held her fork and picked at the food in front of her; trying and failing to enjoy herself.

"Oh Sadie, please tell me you're not still on about your obsession with Hagrid," she regarded her friend with a knowing glance.

"I am not ashamed of my lust for a big, daft man," Sadie said, pointing her chin towards the rest of the Slytherin table. "Lord knows none of these twigs could do the job — daft yes —but twigs none the less."

She laughed, easing the nerves in her torso. Sadie's pessimistic view of their house wasn't entirely wrong, the only exceptions were Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, two particularly porky fourth years who followed Malfoy around like puppies. Definitely not the big and dumb that Sadie was looking for.

She'd never really looked at anyone from her house as a romantic possibility. Very few gave her the time of day and the ones that did usually regretted it. Her short fuse and hot temper didn't mesh well with the haughty nature and overconfidence of most Slytherin boys.

She participated in bits of conversation here and there during dinner but was at her wit's end by the time dessert finished. The air shifted from excitement to agitation as the rest of the room finally noticed their inability to leave. Dumbledore must have sensed the unrest because not a moment later, he was situated at his podium in front of the head table.

"Now that we are all settled in a sorted, I'd like to make an announcement," his voice echoed through the hall and drowned out the inquisitive chatter. "This castle will not only be your home this year but home to some very special guests as well. See, Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event, the Triwizard Tournament."

The conversation was instantaneous and ricocheted off of every surface. Students, mostly from wizarding families, picked their jaws up off the floor and tried to explain the exhilarating news to their less-informed peers, like herself.

The noise was enough to make her miss the train.

Over the twittering, Fred Weasley yelled, "You're JOKING," from the Gryffindor table and the room burst into a fit of laughter. Even Dumbledore struggled to stifle his giggle of delight.

"No, Mr. Weasley, I am not joking. Now for those of you who don't know, the Triwizard Tournament brings together three schools for a magical contest."

Their headmaster paused dramatically, and then continued, seemingly satisfied with the awe-struck look on nearly everyone's faces.

"From each school, a single student is selected, and let me be clear, if chosen, you stand alone. Trust me when I say, these contests are not for the faint-hearted." His voice turned eerily serious and a shudder rattled down her back.

So not a fun, light-hearted tournament then, she thought. It had been a shock to learn that most things in the wizarding world came with a good amount of danger, even some of the most common forms of travel were riddled with risk. She was an idiot to think that a school event would be any different. Just look at Quidditch.

"More of that later," he said, snapping out of the somber trance. "Now please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies from the Bauxbatons Academy of Magic and their Head Mistress, Madame Maxine."

The doors finally opened and a group of girls clad in light blue silk strutted through, nearly appearing out of midair. She rose out of her seat slightly to watch them flit down the aisle between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, releasing blue butterflies with every step. Male voices erupted into cheers. Not surprisingly, the lewdest and loudest comments came from the Slytherin table.

Disgusting pricks had no respect. Not even for themselves.

"Blimey, I'd crack skulls if I were that big," Sadie gasped.

The giant Headmistress waltzed in behind her students, lead by Dumbledore.

"What a woman," she echoed, trying to tune out the embarrassing howls from her male peers as the French witches finished their show. She'd heard of other wizarding schools around the world but never expected to see their students in person.

She clapped along and admired the flattering Bauxbaton's school uniform. Who on earth had designed the grey and black Hogwarts uniform when other schools got that?

Maybe an all-girls school wouldn't have been such a bad idea.

"And now, our friends from the north," Dumbledore bellowed from the podium once more. "Please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang and their headmaster, Igor Karkaroff."

With a bang, a group of large, tall, men strode into the hall sporting dark turtlenecks and fur coats. This time it was Sadie shouting lewd comments over the crowd.

"Bloody hell I think I'm going to slide off my seat," Sadie said breathlessly, pretending to grip her arm for support. "Guess I won't have to settle for Hagrid this year!"

She couldn't help but smile and laugh at the unconventional, scandalous humor of her friend.

The Durmstrang boy's faces were stoic and brooding, clearly, the cold northern winters were less kind to soft adolescent features. She wondered how they could be the same age as anyone at Hogwarts.

Sparks poured from the ends of their walking sticks, each strike leaving scorch marks on the stone floor. Gasps echoed through the hall as their quick pace eventually turned into a run, with some bounding forward to show off incredible acrobatics before joining the Bauxbaton girls at the front of the hall. Cheers turned into low murmurs as a man, who she guessed was their headmaster, walked into the room with a very stoic and large boy at his side.

"Fuck me," Sadie muttered. "That's Victor Krum. I can't believe my eyes. He's even better looking in person."

Violet tore her eyes from the pair strutting down the main aisle. "In person? What do you mean?"

"Quidditch of course," she snapped. "He almost won Bulgaria the Quidditch World Cup just last week. It's a wonder how he even has time for school."

Figured. Her father didn't even follow muggle sports, let alone wizarding ones. She'd successfully avoided the Quidditch pitch for a majority of games and could barely name a single ball.

The three headmasters met at Dumbledores podium, but the room was still abuzz, eyeing the celebrity excitedly.

This was her chance.

"Fill me in later," she said, swinging her legs over the bench, once more, to hop up from the table. She crouched and ran, hoping to go unnoticed.

"You're a real bore you know that," was all she heard before a rogue lighting bolt from the enchanted ceiling above helped her slip out the door without interruption.

Filch didn't notice her disappearance and she heard the doors slam closed when she was a few feet away. The noise was canceled immediately. The silence was a relief after nearly an entire day of chaos.

She marched towards the library, trying to stick to the shadows as much as possible, as she didn't normally go out of her way to break the rules like this. The halls were empty except for a few raging fireplaces, lighting her way and the occasional preoccupied ghost.

The isolation was heavenly.

She pressed a hand to the library door and pushed. Locked. Of course. Madam Pince was still at the feast, she thought, pressing her wand to the door.

Alohomora

The unlocked doors opened with a loud groan signaling that no one had been there all summer. The long room with mazes of books, desks, couches, and chairs was stale and less inviting in its dark state, than it normally was, fully lit and busy.

Incendio

She smiled. The familiar flickering orange glow illuminated the room and extinguished the final bit of nerves left from the train ride and annoyingly long feast.

One,

Two,

Three…

She counted the bookcases diligently. It took 40 to get to the hidden alcove at the end of the hall but even if she lost count, she'd know her plush, velvet chair anywhere.

No one except for Hermione ever wandered that deep into the library so the long walk was well worth the refuge and privacy that it allowed.

The sound of rain echoed through the shelves and high ceilings, creating a loud repetitive sound, only interrupted by her thudding footsteps on the rug. She dodged a few self-sorting books, enchanted to move on their own, but other than that, there was no movement.

Thirty-eight,

Thirty-nine,

Forty.

Relief.

The large wingback velvet chair in the corner welcomed her back with a familiar creak and groan as she nestled into her favorite spot. Nothing about the sanctuary had changed. Her chair, the oversized couch, and Hermione's long wooden desk with a few matching chairs sat exactly where they had been when she'd left in June. Satisfied with the familiar surroundings, she turned her attention to the large window. The colors outside were much less vibrant as darkness cascaded over the campus but at least she could still make out the last of a purple and pink sunset reflecting off of the lake.

Accio

A copy of Advanced Potions came barreling out of a bookcase too far away for her to see and landed in her outstretched hand. The familiar purple cover reminded her of all the ways that the castle felt like home.

The first time Snape had given her a copy of this textbook was during her fourth year. She'd worked through it late into the night for almost the entire term, only being befuddled by a few of the more time-consuming recipes. The look on Snape's face as she'd presented him with a box of vials containing the completed potions just before Christmas break, was the closest she'd ever seen him smile.

The pages were crisp as she flipped idly through the instructions, much different than her worn copy, and decided on the chapter about love potions.

After a few hours of leisurely reading, she battled the heaviness of her eyelids in vain. She nodded awake, surrendering to her need for sleep, and muttered a spell to return the book to its place. The library was still entirely undisturbed as she made her way to the door sleepily.

The sound of heels clicking over the whirling wind and rain against the windows signaled Madam Pince's return at the entrance of the library.

"I just cannot keep you away," the librarian said, letting her pass. "Is Granger back there as well or can I lock up for the night?"

Violet grinned. "Nope, just me, and I'll be out of your hair until tomorrow."

The generally stern woman shot her a wink and closed the door behind her. Madam Pince had probably seen enough of her to last an entire lifetime but she always made it seem like she was pleased to see her every time. Violet wondered if it was genuine.

Her exhaustion escaped her as she stepped out into the hallway, finding it in a state of disarray with her peers abuzz, running from one group to another, all gossiping about the Triwizard tournament.

Darting back down the main hall, she dodged running Prefects, and giggling underclassmen, sticking to the wall to avoid any familiar faces. Even on a normal day, it was quite easy to disappear in the vast castle and busy hallways. Steering clear of wandering eyes only took a step into a shadow here, or a quiet shuffle behind a babbling group, there. Which is just what she did as she made her way through the corridor. Only a few more paces of being invisible and she'd be back in the dungeon.

The energy in the hall practically rattled the stone walls. She couldn't fight the feeling that she'd missed something else important. She wondered if she was correct, and if leaving early had been worth it. The answer came as soon as the thought passed her mind, as a familiar voice boomed through the hall.

"They can't do that!" George Weasley yelled. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"

Her heart race quickened as the redhead and nearly half of Gryffindor house came into view only a few feet away.

"They're not stopping me from entering," Fred waved his arms wildly next to his brother. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"

Of course, they wanted to enter. There was no doubt in her mind that a Gryffindor would be chosen as the school's champion. They had a tendency for danger, and for proving bravery. She stayed in the shadows but watched the pack's trajectory closely, fearing that it might intersect with hers.

Hermione trailed behind the group, ushering them towards the moving staircase, and pestering them about being the last ones to make it to the common room. The young witch always looked at her whits end around her friends. How she had the energy to herd cats, was a mystery.

Violet accidentally caught her eye and picked up her pace, hoping to escape the group of extroverts with a smile and a nod.

"Violet," Hermione called as they crossed paths. "Can you believe the news about the tournament? Are you thinking about entering? You're seventeen aren't you?"

It would have been easy to lose them in the crowd but she couldn't be rude to her friend. Even if she was accompanied by a pack of lions. Begrudgingly, she peeled herself out of the shadows and met them in the middle of the hall.

"Not until October," she admitted to the group, all of which had their eyes on her. They were significantly less intimidating than her own house, but annoying all the same. The Weasley twins appeared to her left but she refused to meet their eyes.

How was it possible to avoid their hi-jinx for nearly five years, and now, she'd seen them three times on their very first day back, twice before they'd even made it to the castle. Well, she thought, bad things always come in threes so this would surely be the last time having to speak with them.

"The tournament doesn't start until after Halloween so you'll be just in time," Hermione said in an awkward tone, clearly sensing her apprehension. The encounter was uncomfortable but she appreciated the interesting revelation about an age limit. It certainly explained the prominent maturity of the students from the other schools.

The twins pushed between her and Hermione before she could answer.

Her heart rate spiked slightly. The devilish look in their eyes from when they'd entered her train car had returned. Were they going to confront her about the incident? Make her do something worse and in front of everyone?

"An older woman then," George sneered, still looking rather burnt about their previous encounter.

"Whaddya say, Wilkes? Do us a favor and put our names in the Goblet?" Fred echoed.

He loomed over her, his eyebrows arched in question and mouth stretched from ear to ear. She doubted he'd ever held his tongue in a conversation this long, and appreciated the show of restraint.

Regardless, she rolled her eyes. "And watch you get yourself killed?" She took a step around the boisterous twin and squeezed Hermione's hand in a silent goodbye. "I'd be happy to."

The Gryffindors laughed at Fred's protests but she ignored them, pushing through the group, regretting leaving the announcement too early.

She practically flew down the dungeon stairs, happy to have escaped from the interaction with minimal worlds. Freezing air and the smell of stone and musk welcomed her underground. It was good to be back.

The Slytherin common room door came into view and her excitement fizzled. A long summer away had made the putrid password, slip from her mind.

This was, perhaps, when she envied other houses the most. They all changed their common room passwords with the seasons, or just for fun; ad-libbing silly meaningless phrases to make homesick first years laugh as they entered their home away from home.

Not theirs though.

It stayed the same, year after year. She kept it hidden in her subconscious, only acknowledging it for the split second it took to open the common room door. Even then, she tried to regard it as meaningless, simply an old-fashioned tradition that refused to die, but deep down she knew what it was.

Submission.

A forced admission of blood superiority so that everyone knew, regardless of house, who was meant to submit to who. The sour taste lessened the more times she said it throughout the years but the first time back was always the worst.

Her lips curled and teeth bared in order to force her tongue to spit it out.

Pureblood

The stone slab slid away, revealing the elegant stone, leather, and green velvet common room within. She shook off the cloud of disgust and wove through a sea of familiar faces chatting and hanging off of couches and chairs. A group of seventh-year boys boasted loudly to the room about how they would bring Slytherin glory by winning the tournament.

She sucked her lips to her teeth and swallowed a smile. These purebred, pampered, prats wouldn't last a day in the muggle world, let alone with actual beasts, she thought.

Sadie practically pounced on her as soon as she pushed open the door marked Wilkes & Baldock. Despite her roommate's animated pestering, their new two-person suite, a perk for upperclassmen, was quite peaceful. Emerald sheets, curtains, and pillows, accented by dark wood furniture and adorned with silver knick-knacks, memorabilia from alumni past, made the room quite cozy.

She looked around the room once more before submitting to Sadie's chatter.

"Alright, what did I miss?"

"Could you have taken any longer? I've been back for ages," she scolded, pacing back and forth while trying to hold a straight face. "Sometimes I wonder what you would do if I wasn't always waiting around to fill you in on stuff."

She smiled at Sadies attempt to be withholding, especially with such clearly juicy information. Keeping secrets was not her specialty, not that Violet minded. Her lack of scandalous behavior ensured that she only ever got to reap the rewards of her friend's knack for gossip and weakness for babbling.

"But you are," she reminded her.

Sadies half-hearted scowl cracked. "Good point Vi," she said with a bemused grin. "Okay, where do I even begin to begin?"

Violet made herself comfortable in a pile of throws and cushions on the floor and listened attentively in order to correctly adorn Sadies dramatic retelling with appropriate gasps of shock, and bursts of laughter.

It wasn't that Violet didn't like to talk, because she did, but Sadies ramblings were somewhat comforting to her. It relieved her of the pressure to be entertaining, or the center of attention. She liked how relaxed she could be, as her friend had no expectations for her to fill the silence.

She'd missed the arrival of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who had quelled the stray lighting that had covered her escape. Sadie hadn't caught his name but he was apparently very strange looking, not an unusual trait for the rather cursed position in recent years.

Sadie's face lit up as she recounted the looks of shock from everyone in the room when the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation from the Ministry of Magic had stepped forward to warn them about the real dangers of the tournament, and deliver the bad news of the age limit.

Real dangers, she thought. What had they been dealing with beforehand?

Their school definitely seemed more pampered than the Durmstrang's. Surely no one at Hogwarts stood a chance against these men somehow passing for teenagers, who looked like they'd seen worse things on their walk to class than they had in Defense Against the Dark Arts. She didn't even want to fathom the skill hidden behind the pleasant French faces from Beauxbatons.

She couldn't think of a single person at Hogwarts who might fare favorably against the dangerous tasks that had been alluded to. She wouldn't stand a chance unless she could bring a potions kit and be allotted weeks on end to brew. Maybe Hermione, but she was much too busy. If the twins did indeed find a way to enter, they wouldn't stand a chance at surviving, unless the monsters they faced liked pranks and bad jokes.

"Obviously I am going to enter," Sadie said. "I mean I've basically fought half the school already. And I'll take any chance I can get for those Drum — whatever, boys to fawn over me."

Strangely enough, it wasn't Sadie's worst idea.

"I'll happily and safely cheer you on from the stands," she assured her friend. "And help you cheat of course."

Sadie squealed in delight and continued her lecture, only stopping when she noticed how difficult it was for Violet to keep her eyes open.

They changed for bed, and Violet whispered an incantation to turn off the lights, ignoring Sadies not so silent departure from the room shortly after. Probably sneaking off somewhere to argue and then subsequently make out with Graham Montague for the millionth time.

Sleep came for her quickly, and she gladly joined it, despite the ominous impending images of Death Eaters and Dark Marks.

#george weasley x original female character #george weasley #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley smut #dating george weasley #george weasley fic

14 notes · View notes

underatedcharactersunite · 4 years ago

Text

Driving Home For Christmas!

Summary; You work for Baratheon Jewellers, Jon Snow is apart of the Stark family company who creates many beautiful pieces that are sold in your store. However, Jon is a notorious flirt and arrogant git, but what happens when you see Jon walking down the street after an horrible encounter with Catelyn. Modern AU. Pairing; Jon Snow x Female Reader WordCount;1,730 Warnings; Strong Language

***************************************************************************

Jon Snow was a man who antagonised you to no end. Every day he can into your jewellery store delivering a new pieces of jewellery that he crafted. Jon Snow appeared every bit arrogant as he was rude. Jon entered every room believing he owned it To top it off Jon continuously threw flirtatious comments in your direction.

Stark jewellers were one of your largest clients, so you couldn't afford to anger your bosses by being rude to Jon Snow the illegitimate son of CEO Ned Stark. You needed this job, you couldn't afford to lose your job on top of Christmas.

Besides, apart from your negative interactions with Jon, you truly loved your job. Your boss Robert Baratheon was the best boss you'd ever had. He was kind, understanding and extremely funny. If you needed anything you knew you could turn to your boss As well s your interactions with the other members of the Stark family were never negative. You would go as far to consider, Sansa Arya and Robb as friends of yours.

As Christmas drew closer, busier you became. Customers came in there hundreds if not thousands trying to locate their perfect gift for their love one. You lost count of the number of customers you'd wrapped gifts for after their consultations. You were definitely on your way to achieve best seller for that extra Christmas bonus.

"Love, Jon will be coming in today to drop some more stock. Would you be able to handle it for me? I'm up to my eyes in paperwork and Joffery's decided to ditch once again. Honestly, you try to teach your son a trade. At least Gendry and Tommen want to learn the family business."

"Yeah of course I will. Don't worry about anything, I've got it covered" You continued to wipe down one of the many glass cabinets. Robert approached you carefully as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Thank you, Love. Remember if you need anything all you need to do is ask. I see you as one of my daughters. Alright, I'll see you later, call me if you need anything."

"See you later, Robert." As he left, you suddenly felt a sinking feeling. Another day would soon be destroyed by the presence of Jon Snow. You could only hope your interaction would be short.

A couple of hours later, you were attending to an elderly gentlemen who was currently searching for his wife. Thy had been together for nearly thirty years.

"I don't know what I'm doing. There are so many options." Smiling, you hadn't be relieved to interact with such a sweet customer.

"It's okay Sir, feel free to take all the time you need. I can make you something to drink if you like. Picking the right present for a loved one ne can be difficult."

"Thank you for being so patient with me. Do you have someone special to buy a gift for this holiday season?

"No Sir, not this yearr" A frail hand rested ontop of yours, as you were met with a kind smile.

"You will meet your person, you mustn't give up hope"

"You could always buy me a special present." You fought the sudden urge to roll your eyes, Jon finally decided to make an appearance. Two hours late.

"Hello, Jon. I'll just hope this gentleman, and then I'll be over to you" Jon quickly took a seat in one of the leather chairs located in the centre of the room.

"I don't mind waiting, not for you Sweetheart." Jon sent you an overzealous wink. Shrugging him off, you returned your full attention to the elderly gentleman.

Never before had you been grateful for an indecisive customer. Throughout, you felt Jon's eyes running all over you. You friend from snapping at him. Although Jon's passive-aggressive antagonization couldn't halt your alation when the elderly gentleman chose a beautiful matching set of ruby earrings and necklace. The gentleman was ecstatic he managed to combat his indecisiveness.

Although the moment he left the store, you were forced to place your full attention onto Jon. As he strode up to the counter, you quickly forced a smile onto your lips.

"The way you engaged with that old man just now was pretty sexy"

"Thank you Jon. It's called being a personable human, perhaps you should try it sometime."

"I'll try it, if you let me take you out on a date"

"ell it looks like your staying as the arrogant, childish rude man child that you are. Robert mentioned you were here to deliver more stock"

"Straight to business, there I thought we were getting somewhere"

"Jon we are never going to et somewhere. Now can we just get on with it, so I can go home."

"Have a long day, if you let me I could make it longer."

"You're disgusting" You pulled the keys out of your trouser pockets as you open the door to the backroom.

As you marked off all the brand new stock from Stark Jewellers, Jon continued to stare at you. Honestly, did he need a picture?

"You can leave now. I'm closing now so I can go home."

"I thought we were having a good time" Walking directly past jon, holding the door wide open.

"Now get out!" Reluctantly, jon left leaving you alone to close, you knew it was only a matter of time before your next interaction.

*****

"I can't wait to go. The Bahamas is the most beautiful place" Sandy beaches, crystal blue oceans, amazing cultures. I wish you cold to come with us, you'd have a great time." Sansa's excitement could light up a whole room. The Stark's worked extremely hard, so the trip would act as a well deserved break.

"Maybe, I'll be able to go one day." Wiping down the glass cabinets you try desired to go the Bahamas one day, unfortunately,y this year is not it.

"Are you doing anything for Christmas? I don't want you to be alone. You're the last person who deserves to be alone on Christmas."

"i'll be fine, beside's you'll have a great time. Enjoy your vacation you deserve it. I'm just having a quiet Christmas this year. Everyone's off doing their own thing and my sister will be around for Boxing Day."

"As long as you wont be alone"

"I won't I promise."

It's Christmas Eve, after a grueling shift all you wanted to do was get home and relax. To make matters worse, it had started snowing. With the roads slipery and traffic choatic, everything appeared to be a snail's pace.

As you were driving home, you saw familiar silhouette waling in the distance. Rolling down your window, you confirmed your suspicion. Jon Snow was indeed sulking down the street with a suitcase in tow. Sansa had informed you there plane would take off at six that evening. So why was Jon walking down the street?

You had no idea what conspired in you to do what you did next. Perhaps it was the Christmas spirit, but you pulled over. Stepping out of the car , you quickly ran cautiously to catch up to Jon.

“Jon, why are you not on the plane?” You called out, Jon immediately stopped upon hearing the unusually soft tone of your voice.

“Why do you care? Just go home! It’s Christmas Eve, be with your family”

“I don’t have anywhere to be. Get in the car, it’s cold out and the paths are beginning to get dangerous”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Call it the Christmas spirit. Now get in the car your coming home with me.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Jon just get in the car!”

*****

The drive home was slow and cantankerous. Everyone trying to get somewhere and they were impatient about it. Now with Jon in the car, you were even more anxious.

“This is not the way to my house” Jon mentioned as you turned the heating on higher. Was there no end to this drive home?

“We’re not going to your house. We’re going to mine. No-one, not even you is going to spend Christmas alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I’ll go stay with Sam or Tormund”

“Bullshit! Sam is taking little Sam and Gilly to Lapland and Tormund is gone home this Christmas. So are you gonig to meraciously get a flight on Christmas Eve”

“How do you know what they’re up to?”

“There is this wonderful thing called social media. I also attend most Stark parties and I think your friends are pretty nice. You know between the Stark’s, the Baratheon’s and my sister, they are all the family I have.”

“They treat you more like family then they do me. I must be something truly pathetic when the woman that hates me is the only one who has bothered to be nice to me.”

“Jon, I don’t hate you. I never have. So what happened at the airport?”

“At least that’s one of you. Catelyn still sees me as nothing more than the result of my Father’s mistake.

“Jon, you’re way more than that. You are creative and talented, kind to everyone else. So in this instance, Catelyn is very wrong.

“I was looking forward to go to the Bahamas, but I guess I’m stuck here now.”

“Hey! I don’t think I’m not that bad of company”

“No your not.” The silence in the car echoed loudly, the atmosphere was thick and tense unlike any emotion ever conveyed between you both. Suddenly, you found yourself questioning, why you despised him in the first place. Here you were stuck in a car driving home on Christmas Eve. How more of a Hallmark movie could you get?

Being stuck in traffic wasn’t helping. Suddenly, Jon’s arms wrapped around the back of the chair.

“Looks like we’re going stuck in this traffic for a while”

“Yeah it does” The tension between was beginning to get overwhelmed your hands resting tightly on the steering wheel.

“Fuck it!” As if the two of you were thinking the something both of you leaned over the counsel as your lips clashed with one another. Jon’s hand gripped the back of your head as you pulled on his shirt. An eruption of a car horn broke your embrace apart.

Moving your car forward, you struggled to catch your breath.

“Was that my Christmas present” Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help the smile that it caused.

“You can have more when we get to mine”

“I’ve never been more glad that Catelyn let me of family plans.”

#jon snow imagines #game of thrones imagine #jon snow imagine #game of thrones imagines #jon snow oneshot #jon snow one shot #game of thrones one shot #game of thrones oneshot #Got imagines #got imagine #got one shot #Got oneshot #Ficmas2020 #Day 4 #Christmas posts

76 notes · View notes

oikawas-bae · 5 years ago

Note

uwu can I request an Oikawa x reader where he’s dating reader but she goes to shiratorizawa and he doesn’t know she’s Wakatoshi’s younger sister until he sees them hug and he took it the wrong way

Oikawa x Reader

Alright but this is literally an awesome prompt😦 I had so much fun writing it and I hope you have as much of a good time reading it. Also sorry it’s SUPER LATE

Word Count: 1.4k

“I hate how Shiratorizawa is so far, couldn’t you just move to Seijoh?” A whiny voice came through the phone as you held it eagerly close to your ear. Despite dating for six months, every time Oikawa called you couldn’t help but feel a jolt of energy in every muscle of your body. The sheer sound of his voice was enough to have you fawning and you did. Trust me, your brother Ushijima saw enough to know you were smitten with that Oikawa. But he couldn’t help but crack a smile when he heard you singing love songs with an ear-to-ear grin knowing you were thinking of Oikawa or the way you playfully pranced to the dinner table after ending a phone call with your boyfriend.

“I’ve got business here, it’s not all about you Tooru!”

“Okay okay. I’ll pick you up in a few, where do I meet you again?” Oikawa sounded tired. It really would have been much easier for both of you to go to the same school but you hadn’t met until last year when you’d entered high school and caught the setter’s attention as the cute girl in the third row of the stands on Shiratorizawa’s side. By the time you got together he’d been a third year and you saw it as a waste to give up all of your friends and familiarity with Shiratorizawa just so you could go to school with Oikawa and only see him during lunch break.

“The gym. Thanks, hun. See you in a bit.” And you tapped the end button on the call. You looked to your brother who towered above you and he was only looking back at you with that stone face he wore around but you knew exactly what he was thinking. “Don’t look at me like that, you know he’s got me wrapped around his stupid little finger. No need to rub it in.”

Ushijima hummed lowly and ruffled your hair, pushing you lightly in front of him in the direction of the gym. He’d always been soft for his baby sister. Only a year younger than him but you were the most precious person to him. It surprised pretty much everyone how aggressive he could be on the court but how gentle he was with you. Tendou always used you as a bargaining chip to get Ushiwaka to do him favors, “I think (y/n) would think you’re a really cool brother if you did this for me you know?...” and boy did it get him every time. He just liked seeing you at your happiest and he’d never seen you more radiant than since you started dating Oikawa. He wasn’t too fond of his little sister having a romantic relationship with anyone but he trusted you and liked seeing you so giddy all the time. It was almost like he shared your emotions and whatever you felt, he felt.

____

It was a while before Oikawa arrived at Shiratorizawa so you’d sat down to chat with Tendou and Ushijima; Ushijima to keep you company and Tendou because he didn’t feel like practicing with the rest of the guys.

“You guys think I should pay for his bus ride or something? I feel bad for making him come all the way here…” you bunched your skirt in anticipation.

Tendou scoffed, his intertwined hands catching his head falling back, “it’s not even that far. You should use that money to buy us a victory dinner next game.”

Ushiwaka shot Tendou a strict glare, “I told you not to talk to (y/n) so rudely.”

You shook your head insistently, “no no, it’s fine, Waka-kun. Tendou is right, I have to stop thinking of this relationship like he’s doing me favors. It’s a mutual give and take thing, Oikawa picks me up everyday because he cares and I don’t need to pay him if he cares.”

Tendou nodded, his head bobbing as if that’s what he was implying when it wasn’t, “exactly! It’s like how birds clean crocodiles’ teeth and prevent the crocodiles from getting infections while the bird gets a meal of their own from eating the food stuck between their teeth! They don’t pay each other, it just works!”

“Please don’t ever compare my relationship with Oikawa to a bird and a crocodile…” You blinked at his awful analogy, looking up and catching a glimpse of a wandering Oikawa outside.

Your stomach bunched into a thousand knots at the sight of him, “Tooru! In here!” You sprinted up from the bench where you sat and rammed into his disoriented figure. He returned the hug so that his arms were completely wrapped around you, “I’ve been coming here to pick you up for six months but everytime, this school seems to get bigger and I just keep getting lost.”

“You just have a bad sense of direction,” you pulled away and dragged him into the gym, “I’m just gonna say bye to my boys, wait a sec will you?”

You didn’t give him a second to acknowledge your rhetorical question before you jogged in Ushiwaka and Tendou’s direction. He found it remarkably bizarre that you were friends with those two. He’d never imagine that you’d associate with someone as weird as Tendou and Ushiwaka wasn’t a very sociable person to begin with but somehow you’d managed to become very close with the two of them. He’d assumed it was just your irresistible charm and innate kindness that allowed you to befriend them.

“Bye bye Waka-kun!” That was the first signal that had him beginning to worry. You’d called Ushijima by his first name, you couldn’t be that close…Not even Tendou, Ushijima’s closest friend called him by that name.

The second was Ushijima smiling at you. Hold up, rewind, back up. Ushijima never smiled at anyone except when he got really excited. Oikawa was tapping his foot in worry and impatience, no one but he was allowed to be that excited around you.

The third cause for alarm was Ushijima pulling you into a bear hug that practically enveloped your entire body into his broad chest for a good three seconds.

Oikawa would’ve maybe tolerated it if Tendou had done that but Ushijima? No. He’d already had an uncomfortable connection with him with all his pestering for him to go to Shiratorizawa.

Oikawa stomped forward, pointing an accusing finger at the tall and formidable Ushiwaka, “What do you think you’re doing, Ushiwaka?”

Tendou and you stood there, ears perked and interested to see what was about to happen.

“I’m saying bye to (y/n).” He answered simply.

“You and your bland answers. They work to your advantage in situations like this huh? I didn’t know you were interested in flirting with girls. But hey, you do what you want but leave my (y/n) out of it. She’s my girlfriend and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t swallow her whole with those giant hugs of yours.” The air between the four of you was silent after Oikawa’s bitter rant.

That was until Tendou snickered to you, “He’s just jealous of Ushijima’s broad shoulders.”

The redhead’s comment in combination with the awkward silence following Oikawa’s absurd condemnation had you doubling over in laughter. To make it even more comedic, Ushijima didn’t even speak against it, he didn’t even look like he understood, he was always blind to the subject of affection.

“You really are not a genius, Oikawa Toru.” You wiped a fake tear from the bottom lid of your eyes, fighting back another fit of laughter. The shorter brunette arched a brow, “Ushiwaka is my brother, you doofus.”

His angry teeth grit fell and his face instantly felt like it was about to blow up in embarrassment. He’d just falsely called out Ushijima, your respectable older brother and exposed himself as a jealous boyfriend.

“I-Sorry- Wait, your last names? This doesn’t add up? You’re not a Ushijima.” Oikawa sputtered.

“I took my Dad’s last name.” You crossed your arms, letting go of the final urge to laugh. Ushijima still looked confused, “let’s go, Tendou I leave it to you to clear this up to my brother. We’ve got stuff to do.”

Tendou dramatically saluted in your direction before you turned around and gave a final wave.

“Wow, I can't believe I just found out that he was your brother....”

“You would’ve known earlier if you came to Shiratorizawa...”

Oikawa shuddered, “Uggh not you too.”

“I couldn’t resist.” You chuckled cutely and he couldn’t suppress the growing blush on his cheeks and the warmth in his chest from looking at you. He really wished he knew you earlier. Maybe then he would’ve taken up Ushijima’s offer and gone to Shiratorizawa.

#haikyuu!! x reader #my writing #oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #haikyuu #reader insert #haikyuu imagines #my writes #haikyu!!#haikyuu!!#ushijima wakatoshi #oikawa x ushijima!reader

497 notes · View notes

fanfictionaries · 4 years ago

Text

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 19 - Shoot The Moon

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

Summer has ended and students return to King’s Cross to begin another year at Hogwarts.

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note:

For some reason Tumblr wouldn’t take my formatting like it has with previous chapters. I swear it’s a freaking crap shoot whether it will EVERY time I poster on here. It would be nice to know how that works...

Anyways, please enjoy :)

Masterlist

<<<Chapter 18

Summer days are gone too soon

You shoot the moon

And miss completely

And now you’re left to face the gloom

The empty room that once smelled sweetly

Of all the flowers you plucked if only

You knew the reason

Why you had to each be lonely

Was it just the season?

Hermione Granger was nothing if not a punctual person. At the best of times she was fifteen minutes early and at the worst she was on time. However, she should have known that the Weasley family would want to stick true to their tradition of arriving at King’s Cross by the skin of their teeth. Tapping her foot impatiently as she stood in the busy kitchen, Hermione worked very hard at fighting off a headache. Mrs. Weasley was screaming at the twins for charming their trunks and accidentally knocking Ginny down two flights of stairs and Walburga was screaming because Mrs. Weasley was screaming. She checked her watch for the umpteenth time that morning and ran a hand over her hair. They may not even make it on time at all if they carried on this way, she thought irksomely. Especially if they waited any longer on Sturgis Podmore to show up like Moody wanted them to. The last thing she needed was to miss the train on her first day as a Prefect. Smirking to herself, Hermione stared down at the silver pin fitted snuggly to the front of her jumper and admired it. Prefect. She had done it. Just one step closer to Head Girl.

A tap at the kitchen window brought Hermione out of her musings. Looking up she saw the brilliant, snowy visage of Hedwig. Hermione sighed, striding towards the window, and throwing it open. Hedwig flew in, looking quite flustered for a bird. Perhaps she also knew they were running late. Cursing in her head, Hermione wondered if perhaps her parents had forgotten that today was the day she left for Hogwarts. Why else would they have chosen to send Hedwig back so late in the morning? She took the letter from her parents out of Hedwig’s clutch and then allowed the bird to climb onto her shoulder. The owl’s long talons dug sharply into her skin, holding on for dear life as Hermione sprinted out of the kitchen and up the stairs. On the second floor landing she spotted Crookshanks stalking a stray mouse and scooped him up as well. The giant orange beast squirmed in her arms, putting up a fight but possessing enough respect to keep his claws put away.

“Oh stop, Crooks. Honestly, you’ve spent all summer doing whatever you please. Just cooperate with me for one second,” Hermione groaned, holding onto her cat even tighter and bounding up the last flight of stairs to Harry and Ron’s room.

“Sorry Harry! Mum and dad only just sent Hedwig back,” she apologized, walking across her friends’ messy room to place Hedwig in her cage. “Are you just now getting dressed?”

“Uh yeah, I slept late,” Harry mumbled, buttoning the last button on his shirt, and moving to pull on his socks and shoes.

Hermione sighed, placing Crookshanks down on the bed and taking a moment to stare critically at her best friend. Harry had mentioned the resurgence of his nightmares earlier in the summer when she found him wandering the halls late at night. She had been on her way back to her room from another late-night library session with Fred, but of course she didn’t tell Harry that. While what her and Fred were doing wasn’t necessarily wrong, there was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that they should keep it to themselves. People just wouldn’t understand.

However, looking at Harry now, Hermione didn’t need her former knowledge of Harry’s nightmares to know that he wasn’t sleeping well. He had circles under his eyes, and despite Mrs. Weasley’s cooking the past month he still looked too thin.

“How’s Ginny?” Harry asked, tying his laces.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “She’s fine. Mrs. Weasley is patching her up in the kitchen. I wouldn’t go down there right now though if I were you. It’s a zoo. Mrs. Weasley and Walburga are still yelling and now Mad-Eye’s complaining that we can’t leave until Sturgis Podmore shows up. Otherwise the guard will be one short,” said Hermione, leaning against the end of the bed and petting Crookshanks idly.

“Guard?” Harry asked, looking up from his shoes. “We have to go to King’s Cross with a guard?”

“You have to go to King’s Cross with a guard,” corrected Hermione.

“Why?” questioned Harry, standing up in an irritated fashion.

Hermione scoffed, “Why do you think, oh Boy Who Lived?”

“I thought Voldemort was supposed to be lying low. What, do they think he’ll be waiting behind a dustbin at the train station, waiting to do me in?”

“I don’t know. It’s just what Mad-Eye says,” said Hermione, fighting to stay calm and sympathetic. She was getting a bit tired of Harry’s moody demeanour.

Her assumption about Harry’s arrival at the beginning of the month had been correct. Harry had been irate. At everyone, but especially at her and Ron. Luckily, Fred and George swooped in at the right time, just like Fred had said they would. Bless the both of them. Hermione didn’t know how much more chastising she could take, she already felt guilty for not writing to him. She’d apologized at least a thousand times over in the last month, but Harry still had a sour mood and while Hermione had been prone to tears at the beginning, now she was just frustrated.

“Look, I’m not too happy about it either. Do you think I want to be late today?” Hermione asked snippily, looking at her watch once again.

“Will you lot get down here now?!” Mrs. Weasley’s bolstering voice boomed up through the stairwell and Hermione pushed off the bed with a sigh. She grabbed Crookshanks in her arms once again and headed towards the door. “Are you coming?” she asked once she got to the doorway.

“Yeah, right behind you,” nodded Harry, looking a bit pink in the face. Perhaps her comment had embarrassed him. Hermione smiled at the thought. It would do him good to remember he wasn’t the only one with problems in the world.

Hermione hurried down the stairs, running into the twins halfway down.

“Well if it isn’t our favourite little Prefect,” said George, reaching out and ruffling the top of Hermione’s head. Hermione batted his hand away before reaching the bottom of the stairs and placing Crookshanks in his carrier.

“I’m not speaking with you two,” she sniffed, looking away from them and instead focusing her attention on getting the finicky latch closed tightly on her cat’s wicker carrier.

“Oh? Why’s that Hermione?” the two asked in unison.

“I’m annoyed with you both,” responded Hermione in an off-handed manner.

“Annoyed?” asked Fred with a shocked tone.

“With us?” asked George, sounding equally as surprised.

“That can’t be right—” Fred leaned against the wall beside her and took the strap from Hermione’s hands, latching the carrier closed with ease “—we’re angels, we are.”

“You knocked your sister down two flights of stairs!”

“By accident!” cried Fred and George.

“Yes, well still. I hope you know that I will not tolerate that kind of behaviour once we get to Hogwarts.”

“I knew this would happen Freddie,” said George, shaking his head solemnly.

“We really should have prepared ourselves more for this inevitable betrayal,” added Fred woefully.

“Our little Hermione, a swotty Prefect.”

“No more fun.”

“No more laughs.”

“Oh the laughs we’ve had,” bemoaned George wistfully, throwing himself dramatically onto Fred’s shoulder.

“You two are ridiculous—” Hermione shook her head, unable to stop the smile from forming on her face “—I told you before. Just because I’m a Prefect doesn’t mean I’m going to stop being fun—”

“You were fun before?” asked Ron cheekily, entering the hallway with a cauldron cake in hand.

Hermione scowled at him. “Ha, ha, very funny Ron. You know, you’re a Prefect too now. You should start practicing a bit more civility.”

Ron smirked, ignoring her comment, and instead taking a bite of the cauldron cake before going over to stand near Tonks and Ginny.

Hermione turned back to the twins who stared down at her expectantly, waiting to hear the rest of the speech she’d given at least three times over since she’d received the letter with her silver Prefect pin. “Now, as I was saying. I’m not going to turn into a monster. Just realize that I have an obligation to the school first and I won’t hesitate to reprimand you if need be.”

“Reprimand, you hear that Freddie?” asked George with an impish expression.

“Sure did Georgie,” answered Fred, looking equally as puckish.

“What are you going to do, Hermione?”

“Give us a bit of a spanking?”

Hermione blushed, furiously and against her better judgement. But she was more well-versed in the ways of the Weasley twins and so her embarrassment did not stop her from responding like it might have in previous years. Instead, she looked up confidently at the two and tried to put on what she could only imagine was a semblance of seduction. “Only if you’ve been bad boys.”

The twins balked at her comment, mouths hanging open and ears tinging pink in a fashion very similar to Ron but very unfamiliar to them. Fred and George Weasley did not get embarrassed easily. If they had any kind of response, there was no time for it. A moment later, Mrs. Weasley came into the hallway from the kitchen and Harry came down the stairs. Walburga was still screaming insults from the wall, but all ears were trained on Mrs. Weasley’s instructions on who was going with who to King’s Cross and what to do with their trunks.

A whirlwind of people, crosswalks, and magical barriers and Hermione was finally on Platform 9 ¾. In a way, Hermione was glad they had walked to the train station. It had given her a sense of control on how quickly they reached the train and she had practically run the entire way, Mr. Weasley and Ron on her heel. Once the stress of getting on the train was gone, Hermione was faced with a whole slew of new worries. Sirius had insisted on coming to the station with them and had done his absolute most to stand out like a sore thumb in his Animagus form.

“He shouldn’t have come with us,” she said, watching the black dog chase the train exuberantly, as they took off from King’s Cross. The students in the train watched it laughing, and even some of the parents left on the platform smiled at the rambunctious dog. They wouldn’t be so cheerful if they knew it was Sirius Black, escaped Azkaban prisoner, thought Hermione cynically.

“Oh give him a break. He hasn’t seen daylight in ages. Just blowing off a bit of steam he is,” said Ron, continuing to smile out the window at the dog quickly dwindling in size as the train travelled further from the station.

“Well, as much as we’ve enjoyed your company these past few months, Georgie and I have some important business with people who well…”

“—aren’t you lot,” George finished for Fred, giving them a short wave before the pair of them turned and disappeared into the next carriage.

Hermione sighed, not even wanting to begin to think of the trouble they were sure to get up to. Over the remaining month they’d managed to nearly perfect their line of Skiving Snacks and have an admirable inventory at their dispense. As a Prefect, Hermione tried not to think about it. The less she knew, the better.

“Should we find a compartment then?” asked Harry, turning to her and Ron looking the most cheerful he had all summer. It made what Hermione had to say next even harder. She chanced a look at Ron who was looking equally as guilty.

“Oh…Harry. I thought you knew. Ron and I have to go to the Prefect’s carriage,” she said, watching the smile fall from Harry’s face. She looked back to Ron, hoping for some support but he was looking anywhere but Harry, focusing intently on one of the wall-mounted light fixtures as if he were seeing it for the first time.

“Oh—” Harry nodded “—right. Fine.

“I don’t think we’ll have to be there the whole time. Just long enough to get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then we have to patrol the corridors from time to time. We can still—”

“It’s fine,” said Harry, cutting her off. He was using the clipped, overtly chipper tone he used when he was trying too hard to sound casual. “I might see you later then.”

“Yeah, definitely!” Ron finally chimed in. “It’s a shame we have to go down there. I’d rather we didn’t, but…we have to. I guess…I mean I’m not enjoying it. I’m not bloody Percy.”

Harry smiled again, this time in amusement at Ron’s rambling. “I know you’re not,” he said before waving them off to the Prefect compartment.

Despite his reassurances that he was fine, Hermione felt guilty for leaving Harry there on his own.

“He’ll be alright,” said Ron, leading her down the corridor towards the front of the train where the Prefect carriage waited for them. “I’m sure he’ll find Seamus or Dean or Neville or someone.”

“Oh right…”

It was easy to forget that they all had other friends outside of their small inner circle. Especially since for the longest time, Ron and Harry were her only friends. At least, her only close friends. Neville was her friend, she supposed. As were Fay and Emmy. She might even stretch as far as to say Lavender and Pavarti were her friends as well. Well…maybe more like close acquaintances.

“Who do you think they chose for Slytherin Prefects?” Ron asked as they neared the front of the train.

“With our luck it’ll be Malfoy and Parkinson,” grumbled Hermione, reaching the door to the Prefect’s compartment and sliding it open. It was almost poetic the way the moment the words left her mouth, the opening compartment door revealed none other than the two Slytherins in question. They sat in the corner, side-by-side, looking bored and smug. Their expressions only seemed to lighten when they spotted Ron and Hermione entering the compartment.

“And I thought being a Prefect was supposed to be a place of honour—” Malfoy sneered, looking her and Ron up and down in a condescending manner “—now that I know they’ll give the job to just anyone, it takes away a bit of the prestige.”

Pansy snickered.

“Funny, I was just thinking the exact same thing,” Hermione spat back, staring Malfoy in the eye as she tried to telepathically burn him alive. If ever there was a time for emotion-fuelled accidental magic, thought Hermione, now would be it.

“How dare you, you—”

“Now, now—” cut in Roger Davies, a seventh year Ravenclaw and the newly appointed Head Boy “—leave the house rivalry for the classroom and the quidditch pitch.” Davies laughed, but Hermione could see the nervous glint in his eye as he gripped his wand tightly.

“Bloody git,” Ron mumbled under his breath. Hermione didn’t know whether he was referring to Malfoy or Davies, but either way Hermione felt like it was fitting. The rest of the compartment seemed to feel the same as her, as both the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Prefects were giving Davies wary looks while trying to create as much space as possible between themselves and the Slytherins. Hermione was grateful to see that the other Prefects were familiar faces. Padma Patil, Pavarti’s sister, was the spitting image of her twin and gave Hermione a small wave as she sat down. Hermione, while having limited interaction with the Ravenclaw, found that she liked her much more than Pavarti as they had a shared interest for learning. Anthony Goldstein, the other Ravenclaw Prefect, she recognized from Transfiguration classes years prior. He also gave them a brief greeting. Ernie MacMillan was there too, and while Hermione still didn’t care for him since his spread of lies about Harry their second year, his presence was soothed by the kind and quiet Hannah Abbott who sat next to him.

“Now!” exclaimed Helen Monroe, the Head Girl, some time later. They were coming near to the end of their meeting, or at least that’s what Hermione assumed based on the agenda they had been given. Their meeting had taken much longer than either Hermione or Ron had anticipated. Ashamedly she thought of Harry sitting on his own in a compartment waiting for them. Merlin she hoped he had found someone to sit with instead of choosing to mope by himself. Maybe Fred and George had found him at the very least.

“The last thing on our agenda we’d like to address before handing out patrol and meeting schedules is an issue of favouritism,” said Monroe with a smiling face.

“Favouritism? What do ya mean?” asked Ernie, sounding affronted as if he’d just been personally accused of the offense.

“Well, in the past we’ve had issues with Prefects showing house favouritism—”

“—giving points where they’re undeserved and taking points away to give their house a leg up on winning the House Cup,” chimed in Davies.

“And we just wanted to remind you that your responsibility is to the school and it’s students first and foremost. So please try and show some sense of neutrality, no matter who is involved, whether it’s those in your house or…family members…” Monroe shot a nervous look in Ron’s direction that Ron missed but Hermione did not.

For a second she wondered if perhaps they were talking about Harry, given he was so prone to getting in trouble and then the truth of the implication hit her square in the face. Maybe she was spending too much time with Fred and George otherwise, she would have caught on immediately that that was exactly who the Heads were referring to. Hermione wanted to laugh. She almost did. Bringing a hand up to cover her mouth, she faked a cough to try and hide the bout of giggles threatening to escape her chest.

They were given their schedules after that. Hermione and Ron had the first set of patrols up and down the train, and so instead of heading straight towards Harry, they meandered down from the head of the train, peaking into compartments, and breaking up little spats between younger students. Ron seemed to take to the position of power quite well. Almost too well in some instances, Hermione having to remind him of the speech they’d just been given about abuse of power in favour of their house. He had been trying to take points from a group of third year Slytherins for being too loud – an offense that Hermione deemed worthy of a simple reminder. They were about halfway down the train, Ron trying to reverse a jelly-legs curse that had been set on a fourth year Ravenclaw by accident, when a compartment slid open and Hermione nearly collided with Angelina Johnson.

“Oh!—” the Gryffindor chaser exclaimed, stopping short “—Hermione. Hi.”

“Hi…” Hermione responded awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Suddenly she was very nervous, which was ridiculous because she had nothing to be nervous about! It’s not like her and Fred had really done anything. Intimate? Sure. But in a friendly sort of way. Nothing that when taken into context could be deemed inappropriate, reasoned Hermione. Although, if that were true then she wouldn’t have anything to be nervous about.

“How was your summer?” the older girl asked.

The question took Hermione by surprise. Why did Angelina Johnson care about her summer? They weren’t friends, and up until that point Hermione was under the impression that Johnson didn’t even like her all that much.

“Fine. I spent most of it with Ron’s family,” Hermione said, trying to push past how odd it felt to be having a conversation with Fred’s girlfriend when she was madly in love with him and had spent most of her summer nights curled up on a couch or in his bed with him. In a totally appropriate way of course.

“I thought you might have. George mentioned one time that you usually visit them during the summer,” said Johnson, nodding and looking nervously around them.

“How was your summer? I heard you spent it at quidditch camp. How was that?” Hermione asked, trying to bridge the uncomfortable silence between them with polite conversation. Why were they still talking?

“It was good. Yeah, really good. I learned a lot of…stuff.”

Hermione nodded, raising her eyebrows in acknowledgement. When Johnson neglected to continue, Hermione glanced back in the compartment where Ron was patting an exhausted looking Ravenclaw student on the back, having just broken the curse. She wished he’d hurry up and save her from whatever was going on right then. Her attention was pulled back to the uncomfortable conversation when Johnson spoke once again.

“Listen, Granger. Now that I’ve got you, I was wondering…” Johnson paused, seeming to contemplate her next words. “I was just wondering whether—”

“There you are!” Ron exclaimed, exiting the compartment behind Hermione, and placing a hand on her shoulder. “You know, I really could have used your help in there. You’re much better at counter-curses than me Hermione. Oh, hi Johnson.”

The older girl seemed to go all rigid and awkward at the appearance of Ron. She shifted from foot to foot and cleared her throat before straightening her position and taking on a completely different demeanour. “Weasley. How was your summer?”

“Good, thanks. Not as good as yours I imagine. Quidditch camp! That must have been amazing!” mooned Ron, getting a sparkly look to his eye at the thought.

“Yeah, it was great. Learned loads of stuff that should be sure to put Gryffindor in the lead this year. We need a new Keeper now that Oli, I mean—” Johnson coughed “—now that Wood’s gone. Will you be following the Weasley legacy and trying out?”

Ron went red around the ears, ducking his head bashfully. “Actually, yeah. I thought I might.”

“Good. I look forward to seeing what you’ve got,” said Johnson with finality before giving them both a small nod and moving past them down the train corridor.

As strange as the interaction had been, only one thing seemed to stick with Hermione in that moment.

“You didn’t tell me you were planning on trying out for the team!”

Fred reckoned he should have known the minute Angelina neglected to show up to their usual compartment that something was up. Alicia had given some offhanded excuse of Angelina going to scout out compartments for potential quidditch recruits and Fred had bought it at face value. In the past he might have questioned it a bit more, gone looking for his long-time friend and currently girlfriend. But in a way it had been a relief for him to not have to deal with the issue of Angelina the moment he got on the train. He was much too excited to show Lee and Alicia their new products and didn’t want to sully it by breaking up with his girlfriend. It had been a long-time coming. He’d wanted to end things weeks ago but had ultimately decided that he couldn’t do it over letter. Him and Angelina had history and she definitely deserved more than a letter saying ‘Hey, this isn’t working. Mind if we just go back to being friends?’. Not to mention the girl got harder and harder to reach as the summer went on. The last letter she’d sent him had been nothing but a picture of her and the beater for the Holyhead Harpies with the words ‘Isn’t this rad? Missing you lots! x Angelina’ written on the back. And while it was cool, Fred couldn’t help but think that in a way it was a finality to their relationship for him. The two of them had never really been gossipy conversationalists, falling back more on their shared physical activities and the comfortable silence that came with old friendships, but this was a bit too sparse for him. He wanted more. He wanted something different. He wanted…Hermione.

Luckily after the reveal of their new products, Lee wasted no time in bringing other students into their compartment to show off their goods. Before Fred knew it, he and George were completely immersed in their salesmen roles and so all thoughts of girls and relationships were quickly replaced with galleons, sickles, and knuts.

By the time he and George had made it to the castle their pockets were significantly heavier and their spirits lighter than ever. They were almost completely out of fake wands, biting teacups, and spitting teapots. They had even been convinced by a group of second year Hufflepuffs to sell some of their Skiving Snack Box products – the sweets not yet fully through trial runs. Fred and George agreed but only if they were willing to report back on the effects. The students were happy to do so as it meant they got the sweets at a discount.

The next clue that went unnoticed by Fred was the fact that Angelina chose to sit at the opposite end of the table as him at the feast. But Fred had been too excited, telling Hermione all about their sales, to notice. Besides, Alicia and Lee were sitting with her and Fred and George usually sat with their family at the start-of-term feast. Still, when Fred caught Angelina’s eye at the end of the table as the last of the first years took their seats, he found himself panicked at the odd look on his girlfriend’s face. Did she know? wondered Fred feeling the all too familiar summersault in his stomach. How could she possibly know? The only person who knew he wanted to break up with her was himself. He hadn’t even told George, although he suspected that George suspected as much.

The churning sensation stuck with him all throughout dinner and resulted in him eating very little, something that did not go unnoticed by neither George nor Hermione.

“You alright, mate? You barely touched your porkchops,” said George, licking the last of his chocolate ice cream from the back of his spoon.

“Yes, and you didn’t even fight Ron for the last of the custard,” added Hermione, her comment touching Fred as she had remembered custard was the only pudding he really cared for.

“I’m fine. My stomach’s just a bit upset,” he lied, chewing on the side of his thumb as he stared down at the table, tracing the grain of the wood with his eyes.

“Maybe you should go and see Madame Pomfrey once the feast is over,” suggested Ginny kindly. Fred shot her an appreciative smile before returning his gaze to the table.

“Well, now that our stomachs are full and our hearts are warm from friendly conversation, I’d like to take a moment of your time to go over the usual start-of-term announcements,” Professor Dumbledore’s gentle yet authoritative voice rang throughout the hall, pulling all attention to himself at the centre of the staff table. He went into his usual diatribe on how the Forbidden Forest was of course, forbidden, how Filch wanted to remind them that magic was off-limits in the corridors between classes, etc. etc. Lastly, he announced that there would be two changes in staffing: Professor Grubbly-Plank was back to take over his position as the teacher for Care of Magical Creatures, and their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was a woman named Professor Umbridge.

At the mention of her name, Fred looked down the staff table for the first time that night to see a new addition. A stout, round woman in a garish-looking pink outfit sat where the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher usually did. Despite her loud outfit she had a very unpleasant look about her, decided Fred. Although, it didn’t really make much of a difference to him. They had a new Defense teacher just about every year now and seeing as it was his last year, it really was inconsequential. They were all the same in the end.

“Hey, I know her,” commented Harry. “She was at my hearing at the ministry.”

Fred found that kind of odd. What was a ministry official doing teaching at Hogwarts?

Dumbledore moved on, beginning to talk about quidditch try-outs when the new DADA teacher did something that made her stick out from all the other defense teachers before her. She stood from her seat. Dumbledore stopped, midsentence and looked at the short woman. Professor Umbridge let out a, “Hem, hem,” and Fred thought for a second that he must be hallucinating. Was this woman really interrupting the headmaster to give some kind of speech? More gracious than Fred could ever imagine to be, Dumbledore allowed her to speak and speak she did.

Her speech was long-winded, full of comments about Hogwarts’s greatness and how the Ministry placed a lot of stake into the education of young minds. It sounded like a lot of hot air in Fred’s opinion and one glance around the room at the other student’s and even some of the teacher’s faces told him that he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. When Professor Umbridge had the audacity to say that she hoped they would all become great friends Fred couldn’t help but utter a sarcastic, “That’s likely” which was mimicked in time by George as well.

Then she spoke of progress and change and how things must be done for the better and Fred felt an all-new unease take over him. An unease that radiated throughout the entirety of the room for once she had finished and taken her seat, the hall was much quieter than before.

“Well that was certainly illuminating,” Hermione whispered from beside him.

“Don’t tell me you enjoyed that shite,” said Ron exasperatedly. “That had to be the most boring thing I’ve ever heard.

“I said it was illuminating, not good,” sniped Hermione. “It certainly put things into perspective.”

“It did?” asked Harry. “Sounded like a load of waffle to me.”

“Yes, well there was a lot of important stuff in all that waffle if you’d been listening,” said Hermione, her mood turning dark. She had Fred’s attention now as well.

“There was?” asked Ron dumbly.

“All that talk of ‘progress for the sake of progress’ and ‘practices that must be prohibited’?”

Ron and Harry shrugged at her, but Fred was beginning to understand what Hermione was getting at. If Umbridge worked for the ministry and believed that changes needed to be made at Hogwarts then—

“It means the Ministry’s interfering at Hogwarts,” said Hermione, surmising Fred’s conclusion perfectly.

The room burst into applause, Dumbledore having finished the last of his announcements and then students began to rise from their seats. Ron and Hermione stood, leaving to escort the first years back to Gryffindor tower. Fred laughed with George when Hermione looked like she was about to lose her head when Ron called the first years ‘midgets’. Turning his head away from the squabbling pair, his eyes fell once again on Angelina.

Fred swallowed thickly.

If ever there was a time, it was now. He should just do it. Get it over with. Break her heart and hope that they could move on. Trying to find the bright side to it, he told himself that the sooner he ended things with Angelina, the sooner he could begin pursuing Hermione. However, that only left him with even sweatier palms. Standing up from the table, he looked between George and Angelina with the full intent to cross the room and ask his girlfriend to speak in private. But instead,

“Alright, Freddie!” he announced loudly, catching George off guard. His twin looked up from the conversation he’d been having with Ginny and looked at him curiously. “I’ll see you in the common room. I have a few things I need to take care of first.”

Before his brother had any time to question what he was doing, Fred flew from the Great Hall and past Angelina, avoiding looking in her direction as he turned the corner and headed towards an unknown direction. He had only gone a little way down the corridor when a voice called after him.

“George! Wait up!”

Fred stopped and turned to see Angelina running after him. What could Angelina possibly want with George, Fred thought for a moment as he watched the pretty witch approach him, her long braids bouncing off her shoulders. She looked nervous when she finally reached him. Her hands twisted together, and her eyes couldn’t quite meet his.

“That’s me, George. What’s up?” Fred asked, wanting to kick himself. Coward. He was a coward.

“Can I…can I talk to you for a second about…Fred?”

“What about Fred?” Fred asked, feeling incredibly stuck in the lie he’d created.

“Um, you know how I was at quidditch camp this summer?” asked Angelina, looking around them and grabbing Fred’s arm, pulling them over to an alcove away from prying ears and eyes. “And you know how Oliver was there?”

“Yeah…” said Fred, feeling the blood drain from his body. His limbs had gone all cold and his fingers all numb and tingly.

“Well, something might have happened.”

“Something? What kind of something?”

“Like I might have, I guess you could say I might have cheated?”

“Might have or did? Those are two very different things Angelina,” said Fred, speaking now more as himself than as himself pretending to be George.

“Okay, I did! I cheated!” admitted Angelina, bringing her hands up to cover her face in shame.

“With Oliver Wood?!”

“I know! I know! It just sort of…happened. Oli and I, we’re—”

“Oh, so it’s Oli now?” asked Fred, feeling his temper bubble.

“Look, I know you’re angry. I mean, Fred’s your brother after all.”

Oh, right. She still thought he was George. Well this certainly threw a wrench in things. “Don’t you think this is something you should be telling him and not…me?” asked Fred, feeling slightly confused as he tried to wrap his head around processing the fact that his girlfriend had cheated on him with Oliver Wood, and that she had no idea she was speaking to him and not his brother.

“Yes, and I want to, but George. We’re friends too right? And you know him better than anyone. I was hoping you might know how to break this to him as easily as possible,” Angelina pleaded, looking imploringly into his eyes.

Before Fred could even begin to figure out how to answer that, both his saving grace and downfall came all at once in the form of the real George Weasley.

“You alright Freddie? What are you two up to then?” asked George, looking innocently between the two of them, tucked into the alcove.

Angelina looked between George, the real George, and Fred who she now was beginning to realize was the one standing before her. Fred watched as the realization took over her and then how fear replaced confusion in her eyes before she muttered, “Well, fuck.”

The conversation at that point had been a bit stale. Fred reckoned he might have gotten more answers out of her if George hadn’t come along and blown his act, but it was probably for the best. The more Fred thought about it, the less he really wanted to know. Still, some things stuck with him. What did Oliver Wood have that he didn’t?

“I mean, it’s Wood!” cried Fred for the tenth time that night, laying face up, wrong way on his bed, head hanging off the end.

“I know mate, I know,” responded George, continuing to unpack his and Fred’s trunk. A nicety Fred figured he was only giving considering his current predicament.

“Maybe she’s bewitched or something,” suggested Lee kindly from across the room.

“Yeah, maybe she’s under some kind of potion or spell. How else could a prat like that land Angelina?” added George.

“I don’t know, Fred managed to land her just fine,” said Kenneth Towler, earning a round of glares from everyone in the room.

“Shut it, Towler,” warned George, but he had gotten Fred’s attention now.

Lifting his head till it was level with his body, Fred looked at the bookish boy with narrowed eyes. “What are you trying to say Kenneth?”

Kenneth laughed, a short and breathy scoff, shaking his head from side to side. “Have you ever considered that maybe Wood’s just better than you?”

The room was silent. Shocked at Towler’s words and more importantly in anticipation for how Fred would respond. Fred too was curious as to how he would react. Digging deep within himself he searched for anger, sadness, envy, but he found none of it. Instead, he laughed. A full body, side aching laugh that sent him toppling out of his bed and wiping at tears at the corner of his eyes. George and Lee joined in, followed shortly by Towler himself. When Fred finally calmed down enough to catch his breath he was on the floor, back leaning against the foot of his bed and one knee bent upwards to support his left arm.

“Yeah, you might be right there Towler,” he sighed, feeling better than he had a few minutes previously.

Despite his ability to laugh at the situation that night, Fred couldn’t help but mope the next day. Sure, he was planning on breaking up with Angelina as well, but it still hurts to get dumped and cheated on. Especially when the other man was your old quidditch captain. Not to mention, in a way he felt like it was slightly expected of him. In true Hogwarts fashion everyone knew the tale of him and Angelina and more importantly his mistaken identity. It had turned into a bit of a joke really and by dinner the next night people were saying things like “Just make sure it’s actually them and not their twin” when someone planned to meet with someone.

It wasn’t particularly clever, Fred thought. Surely he and George could have come up with something much better if it had happened to someone else. But it hadn’t happened to someone else. It had happened to him, and he wasn’t about to throw fire to the flame by making a better joke that would surely stick around much longer. That just wouldn’t be fair to Angelina, who was already looking about as miserable as you could. It was clear she was embarrassed and guilty. Several points throughout the day Fred thought about putting her out of her misery and telling her not to feel bad. Maybe if he had been a better boyfriend she wouldn’t have been seduced away by another man. Maybe she could tell that his heart wasn’t truly in their relationship and therefore it was easier for her to be unfaithful. Still, he had been the one who’s heart wasn’t in it and he hadn’t been shoving his tongue down Hermione’s throat all summer. This was a new fact he had unwillingly learned from a few Gryffindor sixth year girls gossiping too loudly in the corridor before dinner.

Once at dinner and knowing this fact, Fred longed for distraction. Glancing around he noticed that Hermione was noticeably absent. Of course she would be gone on the one day he needed the comfort of her ability to go on and on about whatever subject he asked her about.

“Say, where’s Hermione?” Fred asked Ron and Harry as casually as he could.

Harry shrugged but Ron answered, “Library maybe? That’s where she was last I saw her. You know how she gets.”

“Maybe I should go get her? Make sure she doesn’t accidentally miss dinner,” Fred said, standing from the table.

George gave him a knowing look. “Is that all?”

“Dinner is the most important meal of the day Georgie,” said Fred, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“I thought that was breakfast,” said George back, smiling now.

“Yeah, and I thought you weren’t a huge dickhead. I guess we’re both wrong.” And with that Fred spun on his heel and exited the Great Hall.

Fred made it halfway to the library when he began to notice something very odd. The air had begun to thicken, a layer of fog soon surrounding him. Very shortly after his shoes started to make a wet splashing sound with every step. Looking down the corridor through the hazy fog, he realized that the floor was covered in water. A few steps further in and he realized that it was beginning to deepen. Something brushed his left hand and Fred jumped, spinning quickly, and pulling out his wand only to find a cattail. What was a cattail doing in a Hogwarts corridor?

“Lumos,” he muttered, the tip of his wand glowing brilliantly and illuminating the corridor ahead of him. But he did not see a corridor. Or at least not the corridor he expected to see. No, instead the hall seemed to be transformed into what could only be described as a swamp with an expanse of still water covered by lily pads, cattails, and moss-covered logs. To top it all off, if he focused hard enough and held his breath, Fred could make out the croaks of toads in the distance.

“What?” muttered Fred aloud in confusion.

“Oh no, you weren’t supposed to see it until after dinner with everyone else,” whined a voice from behind him. Fred spun, his wand illuminating the face of Hermione Granger. She stood a few feet away, hands clasped behind her back as she frowned in his direction.

“You did this?” he asked in shock.

Hermione’s frown quickly morphed into a very proud smile and she nodded enthusiastically. “It’s a portable swamp. I’ve been working on it all summer. It was supposed to be yours and George’s Christmas present – you know, for the business.”

“Why?” asked Fred, unable to really form full sentences from shock.

“I heard about what happened with Angelina and I figured you might need some cheering up. I was hoping you’d get to see it for the first time when everyone else found it, but this is nice too. At least this way you won’t accidentally fall into it. A foot further and the water depth drops to about four feet,” she informed him casually, although the smug expression on her face told him she felt very proud of herself.

Fred took a quick step away from the water and towards Hermione, not wanting to chance falling in. He stared at the witch before him, wide-eyed and speechless.

“Do you like it?” Hermione asked, looking a bit nervous now as he had yet to make any real comment on her brilliant invention.

Like it? He loved it! It was probably the nicest gift anyone had ever given him. How could he even begin to express how grateful he was? He was so happy he could kiss her. In fact…

Fred leaned down, wrapping his arms tightly around Hermione and lifting her off of the ground as he claimed her mouth. The kiss was hard and overly enthusiastic at first, but in almost no time they were swept back into the memory of their first kiss all those months ago and they melted into each other like there had been no time between them. A single continuous kiss that went on for seasons. A kiss that Fred never wanted to end as he held Hermione tightly and snogged the living daylights out of her. Unfortunately, the kiss did have to end. A distant murmur of voices sounded from somewhere near by and they broke apart panting. Hermione’s lips were red and swollen and parted in a surprised expression when he carefully placed her down on the ground. They took a moment to just stare at each other, both surprised and delighted in what had just happened. But then the voices grew louder, and they knew they had to go. Fred held out his hand, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Hermione took it firmly, smiling bigger than he’d ever seen. Then they were off, running down the corridors and away from the scene of the crime. Through the halls of stone floors, ancient tapestries, and regal portraits they ran, laughing like school children. Which in a way, Fred supposed they still were.

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

@aoonai

@sjh-07-10

@is-it-madness

@i-d-e-g-a-f

35 notes · View notes

chachkayes · 4 years ago

Text

Double Trouble

So... I wrote a spontaneous sister fic to @herrera-n-hayes ‘s newest fic post “The Four of Us”, where Amelia tells Link that they’re expecting baby number 2 on Christmas eve. Go read it first before this one! Link here. I got SUPER inspired to write a part 2 for it, where Amelia and link reveal to everyone else that they’re expecting, and this fic is that. It is quite possibly one of the fluffiest fics I’ve ever written. Many tears of happiness are shed in it. I love a good Christmas fic, and I have another Merhayes Christmas fic that I’ll be working on throughout the week. Anyways, enjoy!

“Wait, so what time are you guys coming over again?” Meredith asked her sisters in a group phone call. It was the evening of Christmas Day, and the sisters had made it tradition to have Christmas together as one large family ever since Scout was born. “Uh… I think we planned on heading over around 5pm? Right, Link?” Amelia asked her fiancé. “Yep. We’ll see you all soon.” Link’s voice rang through Mer’s phone. “Maggie, what about you?” Meredith asked her younger sister. “Oh, um, sorry! We were just packing some stuff into the car. We’re heading out in a few minutes.” Maggie replied. “Alright, well I’ll let you guys go then. I’ll see you soon!” And with that, Meredith hung up and headed downstairs to her children waiting impatiently for their aunts and uncles to arrive so they could open more presents. Luckily, Austin and Liam were quite content to sit in their rooms and play their new video games until their dad and Meredith called them down. Christmas was always an incredibly hectic time in the Hayes/Grey household, but Meredith and Cormac loved it.

Not long after, Maggie and Winston finally showed up at Meredith and Cormac’s house. Meredith and Maggie hugged once they got inside, as did Cormac and Winston. Everyone settled in and Maggie listened intently to the stories that her nieces and nephew were explaining to her. Their stories were certainly much more coherent now that they were 8, 11, and 14 – but they were still mostly nonsensical. Winston and Cormac brought in all the presents from the couple’s car. The kids got incredibly excited whenever they saw a big box with their name on it.

Just as all the adults had finally sat down and were talking, Amelia, Link, and Scout pulled into the driveway. “Ladies, it’s your turn this time.” Winston said with a chuckle as Meredith and Maggie stood up to meet Amelia and Link at their car. Link helped Scout out of his car seat and lead him inside while Meredith, Amelia, and Maggie gathered up every single present and brought them all in, in one trip. Scout happily greeted his uncles and then moved on to playing with his cousins. Cormac got up and walked over to the bottom of the stairs. “Austin, Liam, everyone is here!” He called for his sons, who quickly came downstairs and sat on the couch with the rest of the adults. Link and Amelia, and Winston and Maggie always got the boys something every year. They were family, after all.

45 minutes later and almost every present had been unwrapped, squealed over by the children, and ripped forcefully out of the boxes if it could be. There were only a few small gifts left to open. Maggie picked up two small boxes and handed them to Meredith and Amelia. “Oh, it’s got both of our names on it!” Amelia said as she smiled at Link. “Same here.” Meredith mentioned as Cormac wrapped his arm around her shoulder. As discreetly as he could, Winston began recording. Mer and Amelia quickly unwrapped the small boxes and opened the lid – each box revealing a positive pregnancy test. “Oh my god.” Cormac said with a laugh. “MAGGIE!” Amelia squealed in delight. “Are you serious?!” Meredith said, her jaw on the floor. “Is… are you guys completely serious?” She repeated, her voice breaking. “Totally serious. I’ve been trying not to cry all day.” Maggie responded as she wiped tears away from her eyes. “Oh my god.” Meredith said, standing up to hug her sister. “Oh my god!” Amelia repeated, doing the same. At this point, all three women were laughing and crying. “Aye, congrats man. I’m happy for you.” Cormac said, hugging Winston. “Same here.” Link said, joining the hug fest.

After what felt like a lifetime, everyone sat back down. Meredith leaned her head on her boyfriend’s chest, still sniffling and wiping away tears. “Wait, so have you told Richard yet?” Amelia asked, snuggling into Link. “No, not yet. I was planning on telling him tomorrow night during dinner.” Meredith smiled as another tear fell down her cheek. “Why are momma and aunties sad?” Scout said to Link, as he looked at his aunts and his mother, who were all tearing up. Everyone laughed at the young boy’s observations. “Oh, sweetie, we’re not crying cause we’re sad. We’re happy, Auntie Maggie is going to have a baby.” Meredith explained to her nephew. “Like my mommy and daddy?” Scout said casually, to which Amelia choked on her drink. “What did you say?” Maggie inquired, Meredith whipping her head around to look at Amelia. “I heard my mommy and daddy say last night that they’re going to have another baby.” Scout said, as if it were common knowledge, and turned back around to playing with his new toys.

“Amelia…” Meredith said, her voice cracking again. “We were, uh, going to wait to tell you guys since it’s still so early, but yeah. We’re having another baby.” Amelia admitted. Maggie and Meredith were both close to sobbing. “I’m so happy for you guys.” Meredith said through tears as she hugged Amelia and Maggie again. “I can’t believe we’re going to have kids so close in age!” Maggie said excitedly. “I’m so excited for more nieces or nephews. Hopefully at least one of you guys has a girl, I have so many clothes from when Zola and El were babies that I’ve had nothing to do with for the longest time.” Meredith said as she sat back down on the couch beside her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around his torso and leaning her head on his chest, feeling wholly content. Liam and Austin came back downstairs, sitting beside their dad on the end of the couch. Zola, Bailey and Ellis cuddled up with Maggie and Amelia, while Scout sat with his dad and his Uncle Winston.

“Oh, Mer, there’s one more present under the tree. It’s for you.” Link said as he smirked and reached over to pick up a small present with Meredith’s name on it. Link began recording again, knowing exactly what was about to happen. “Oh, hey, look who it’s from!” Meredith said happily as she looked up at Cormac, who was smiling widely at her. “I wonder why I missed it this morning.” She added on. The reason she’d ‘missed’ it was because it’d actually never been there in the morning. Link and Amelia had brought it with them in order to help with the surprise, but she didn’t know that. Carefully, she unwrapped the small square box. Everyone watched intensely, as they knew what was happening. Cormac had gotten everyone involved in the planning for this very moment. The only person who didn’t know what was about to happen was Meredith, and maybe Scout, who had the excuse of being 5. The wrapping paper tore away to reveal a small ring box. Now, Cormac had boughten small rings for Meredith before, so she didn’t think too much of it, until she opened the box and found a beautiful, sparkling diamond ring. She looked up at him, her jaw dropped. He started, “I, uh, debated for a really long time how I’d go about this. Truthfully, the kids, and your family helped me out, they all thought it’d make most sense to ask you this on Christmas.” Meredith looked at Cormac, wide-eyed, barely breathing, and still holding the ring box. He continued, “Um, you and I know better than anyone else how precious time is, and how we have to make the most of every moment we have with the people we love. Before Abby died, she told me I had her permission to fall in love again. That she wanted me to be happy. But I didn’t think it was possible. I didn’t think it was possible for me to fall in love with anyone again, that was, until I met you.”

A tear ran down Meredith’s cheek as she continued to look into Cormac’s eyes, and sniffles could be heard that were a result of the hardly contained tears coming from the pregnant women and their fiancés behind her. “You understood me, right from the moment I needed the understanding. I knew I loved you before we began dating. When you did your pro bono surgery day, that was the day that solidified for me, just how magnificent of a person you are, and that you were someone I wanted to love, every day for the rest of my life. And ever since we began dating, I’ve found more things to love you for every day. I love the way you love your kids, your sisters, your nephew, Austin and Liam, and me. And I love that we can always talk about Abby and Derek, when it’s just the two of us, or with the kids, and it’s never an issue. And as scary as this is for the both of us, I know that they’d want us to be happy. And god, Meredith, you make me so happy. You amaze me, every time we work together, or when I see you in the hallways, and every time I come home from work to you. And I feel like Abby would want this more than anyone. She sometimes berates me in my dreams for not asking you yet. So, with all that being said, Meredith Grey, will you marry me?” He finished. He and Meredith continued to keep direct eye contact. Amelia and Maggie had stopped trying to hold in their tear’s eons ago. At this point, they were sobbing. However, aside from the sniffling, the room was completely silent.

“Yes. A hundred thousand times, yes.” Meredith said breathlessly after a few moments, and the room erupted into cheers. Cormac took the ring box from Meredith’s hands and took the ring out, then he placed it on Meredith’s finger. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, then took another look at her ring. She showed off her ring to Maggie and Amelia, who were both complete messes. All 3 of the sisters were marrying the men they loved, and Amelia and Maggie were both ecstatic to be pregnant at the same time. Meredith couldn’t remember a Christmas ever being so filled with tears of joy, but she couldn’t complain. Everything about this Christmas had been perfect – for everyone.

#merhayes #cormac hayes #merwidow #grayes #meredith x hayes #hayes x grey #meredith x cormac #cormac x meredith #hayes x meredith #mcwidows #amelink #amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #scout lincoln #scout shepherd lincoln #maggie pierce #winston ndugu

34 notes · View notes

storysofmyown · 4 years ago

Text

Obey me! Scarred, Chapt. 10

Plot: It’s time for the next step in Diavolo’s plan to unify the realms. But, in order to work, the demons would be subjected to confront their worst fears, and in some cases, who they are.

Trigger Warning: Manipulation, some cussing, pain, mentions of blood.

Word Count: 4988

White room, big mirror, a perfection that made a smile plaster across his lips. Big, white wings, feathers slightly brushing his forearm as he admired the robes his father had just gifted him. He smiled, he passed a hand trough his hair as he looked at himself, it was odd. He looked… different somehow, yet it was his same face. He looked around the room, the bed had been placed there for thousands of years, yet the placement felt…off. The whole room did, but it was the same, it was exactly like it should be.

“Are you done?” The voice made him jump a little, he wasn’t expecting anyone to come in his room, but he probably had missed the knocking sounds. He stared at the person standing right in front of him. An overwhelming sense of happiness took hold of him, a wide smiled that matched the one of the other angels across the room.

“C’mon here.” He spoke softly, they rolled their eyes before stepping closer and hugging them. It felt like a hug someone will give a person they haven’t seen in years, filled with love, emotion, and at some point, even a few tears.

“Asmodeous…”, he smiled and pulled away before, with his hands placed on their shoulders as he. The other person cleaned a few tears from his face before giving them a kiss on the cheek. “We need to go, father awaits.” He nodded and they both left the room. Asmodeous turned slightly to close the door, and as his eyes glanced inside, in the mirror, he saw wings, black wings and black clothes. But as he closed and opened his eyes once again, the sight was gone. He ignored it and closed the door, but it had left a sour taste in his mouth.

He walked the familiar corridors of the place, feeling lost in a place which he should know like thee palm of his hand. He had to stop several times to look at the other angels and at the place. They were chatting and doing their duties, some greeted them by their official titles while others were more friendly. Finally, they reached a room, it had a big door with designs embed with power and innocence. Asmodeous opened the door but instead of the usual room, he found within a type of council room. There were seven thrones like chairs in line, with animals embed on their back, his eyes fell on one with a scorpion, then one of a unicorn. His eyes then fell on the chair where he assumed the chief would sit. The room felt familiar, more so than his own room.

“Asmodeous?” He shifted his focus and saw Lucifer’s face, eyes widening at the lack of 2 wings, instead of his usual six white wings he had four black wings, Lucifer had a gem in his forehead and at the top of his head…horns. “Asmodeus!” He blinked and the image shifted, now the lucifer in front of him was…normal? The six wings and the armor, and the crown…not horns…crown. “What is up with him?” Lucifer asked to a person besides him. Asmodeous looked in that direction to find…no on. There was no one there.

“Lucifer, who are you talking to?”

“What do you mean who am I talking to, I’m obviously addressing Lilith.”

“Lucifer but Lilith is-”

“He has been acting strange since we left his room.” Lilith voice came was heard. And for some reason Asmodeous felt his heart been tugged on.

He looked at his sister…yes. Yeah, she had fetched him from his room. He had taken too long changing and Lilith…Lilith…she had…been instructed to come and get him.

Asmodeous looked at the room again. In it there was his family waiting for them to get placed. There were nine seats. One for each one of them. Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Belphegor, and him. Wait…that left two seats available. He counted again, yeah, there were nine sits and only seven of them. Asmodeous walked to one of the sits, unfamiliar, strange, he placed a hand on top of it.

“Who is the other sit for?” he asked the others, who were already sited.

“That’s for Father.” Said Mammon like it was the most obvious thing.

“No, I mean the other sit-” Asmodeous looked down, to find nothing there. The ninth chair had disappeared, Asmodeous made a double take around the room. There were only eight chairs then why…why had he seen another chair.

“Ah, I’m glad to see everyone is already on their places.” Came a voice from the door, Asmodeous looked back to see his father, an overwhelming sense of fear started to build up inside of him as he felt his heartbeat become faster. Though, something his father had said called his attention he looked upfront, he was at the same level as the others who were sitting down even tough, he did not remember having sat. Lilith shot him a weird look.

His father sat beside Lucifer and Mammon and commenced the meeting, the entire meeting fell onto Asmodeous deaf ears. Nothing registered, his mind was elsewhere. For some reason he could not stop thinking about that room he had seen, the ninth chair, Lucifer in that weird form and the black wings that had been reflected on his mirror. And how Lilith was not there…before he could zone back in, the meeting was already over and his family was leaving the room, Asmodeous was about to do the same but his father called.

“May I have a word with you?” Asmodeous flinched at the sudden weight on his shoulder, but turned around, facing the icy glare of his father.

“Yes, Father?” Asmodeous said, as quietly as possible as not to upset his father.

The man was known to have a short temperament and Asmodeous did not feel like testing his fathers limit. The last time one of them had upset their father it had been Leviathan and the poor older brother was left with a couple bruises around his body. It had hurt all of them, knowing that their Father would hurt someone he claimed o love, but it was understandable, it was to teach him the rules and to make sure he was respectful. His father was a strict man…but he loved them…he would not dare do something that would harm them badly…yet…this thought made Asmodeous stomach turn upside down.

“It came to my attention that you were not paying attention to this meeting.” His father’s tone was low yet commanding. Asmodeous almost looked into God’s eyes, but he remembers the last time that had happened. It had left a bruise on his right cheek, that instance had introduced him to the humans make up…so he had his father to thank for that. Right? “Was it…uninteresting to you?”

Asmodeous flinched at the way his father’s grip tighten on his shoulders. He felt fear run trough his entire body, the air leaving his lungs as he lost control. He felt fire incinerate his body, burning his skin and his wings, the hot air being contracted by the cold air as he fell, fell, fell…fell. It stung like hell and he couldn’t cry, because any tear that tried to leave was immediately vaporized by the fire, his senses were overpowered by the bare stink that was his burning flesh, it hurt, and he couldn’t scream. And no matter how much he wanted to cry or scream or beg the fire would not let him, because any time he opened his mouth it would go into his throat.

“Answer me!” His fathers scream shook him out of his agonizing state. Asmodeous felt dizzy, but he was able to look at his hands and see that nothing had happened at all. There was no fire, he wasn’t burning, he was okay…wait…no…he wasn’t. His father was growing increasingly angry and impatient. “What is with you today?”

His father asked but he didn’t care about whatever answer Asmodeous had to give. Instead, his father walking to the now only chair in he room, which was uncharacteristically darker colored, his father sat down on it, and for a moment, the man who was meant to be the image of caring and love, turned into this figure full of hate and boredom. There were layers of darkness covering his fathers gaze and the shadows that had bathed his father made it look like the man had horns, it made him think back to that image of Lucifer, but this time it wasn’t the only one he saw. He saw all of them with horns, he saw himself in horns, he saw an unfamiliar blond person which he felt like he should know with horns as well…but not Lilith. Asmodeous felt himself start to shake out of fear.

“Do you know why I created you the way I did?” Asmodeous shook his head, still not looking at his father. “The jewel of the Celestial Realm, my, quite a name they have given you.” Chuckles, dangerous, dry chuckles. “I put everything good and at some extent, everything beautiful and pure in you. You are meant to be the embodiment of purity and beauty.” Asmodeous looked up at his father, not meeting his eyes quite yet. “Yet…somehow…you managed to disappoint me. You are meant to be a light that brings peace and calm people, Asmodeous. So bright that they lose all desire to fight and we can take control, yet you…don’t seem to use it as it is intended.

His father got up from the throne, but the shadows seemed to follow him everywhere. His father stood right in front of Asmodeous, with the small angel too afraid to look at his father in the eyes. He felt a sudden contact in his cheek followed by pain. Asmodeous put a hand over his cheek as he accidentally looked at his father eyes. Fear settling even more. His father sighed and hugged Asmodeous. This was his father…so why did he felt like he was being held by a person that had kidnapped him?

“I hate hurting you, any of you. So please…pay attention. And do what you are supposed to.” God waved a hand, before getting back to his throne, Asmodeous was quick to dab a tear that fell.

Asmodeous left the room, feeling everything but safe in the moment, he felt like he was being hunted down, observed by everything and everyone, his heart racing with the words of his father still fresh in his mind. All he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat become increasingly rapid, his chest starting to hurt as he moved along the unfamiliar corridors, at some point he heard footsteps behind him which prompted him to start running. Asmodeous ran like never, what were busy corridors full of angels became empty as he advanced and entered an alley. He was trapped, the footsteps came to a halt. He turned around slowly, not knowing what to expect, but as he did, within him, there was something screaming.

Once he turned around, he was meet by himself…white wings and white robes, but it wasn’t a mirror. Asmodeous stared at the thing in front of him, which looked at him horrified, this made Asmo become aware of the sudden weight shift on his back. He looked down at his clothes own clothes, only to be meet by a sight he was not expecting. His clothes were black…and they weren’t quite his clothes, they weren’t his robes, they were weird clothes that Asmodeous had never seen before and…and that for some reason they felt like they belonged to him. They felt like they were his own, like the robes had been a type of disguise while this was who he really was. He felt the different wings brush slightly against his back, and he smiled. For some reason…this felt right…

He heard a voice. A voice familiar yet he could swear no angel had that voice. There was a door. Behind the door was the voice, Asmodeous wasn’t sure how he knew but he knew. He walked slowly to the door, it was different from those of the Celestial Realm, he placed a hand. It didn’t feel wrong…it felt inviting, like he was meant to open the door. Like whatever it was, it was his, Asmodeous put his hand in the unfamiliar knob, it fit in his palm like something you have touched millions of times does. He entered the room and was immediately met by a familiar yet alarming sight.

It was his room. No…not it wasn’t…but why did it feel so…familiar so…homelike. There some beautiful dark purple curtains that contrasted the pastel blue ones from the room he had been in just before the meeting. There were some flowers and a mirror. A mirror in which Asmodeous hesitated to investigate. But he did, and when he saw himself, he felt warm all over…and somehow happy. He had horns, which he touched slowly, he felt his fingers run trough his horns and a small smile appeared in his lips. His clothes…there was kind of a like a brooch in his shirt. It was big, it was gold and it was a scorpion. The scorpion held a heart and was surrounded by flowers. But he couldn’t get his eyes away from the scorpion, he thought back at that image o the eight thrones like chairs. The one with the scorpion was where his mind first went.

“Asmo, I’m coming in.” Said a familiar yet unplaceable voice, which made Asmo turn around to look at the door.

From it, a taller blond guy walked through. No, not a guy. A demon. Asmodeous immediately knew the person standing in front of him was a demon. He couldn’t understand how he knew that, he just did; Asmodeous had always been thought demons were bad and needed to be eliminated but for some reason…as he looked at the demon…all he could think was about how much pain he was, and how he just wanted to give him a hug, not only him but his whole family…because they were in pain…

How did he know this? Why was he thinking that? His thoughts were spiraling out of control, going back to his father, not the caring father was thought to believe in but that somber and dark creature that sat menacingly in his throne while he ravishes in others pains, he thought of the man that had hurt his family and all of this felt wrong. The white wings, the robes, Lilith…Lilith…she…why did she feel wrong? Why was her presence wrong in this place? The world around him shifted and spun, Asmodeous falling on his knees in less than a second by the way his entire body contorted in pain.

Lilith stood in front of him. Her smile bright as ever, the smell of flowers everywhere, a peace that felt wrong latching into his heart. She stared at him, but within her eyes Asmodeous saw that there was lacking something he had seen the blond guy had. There was a spark, a fire that screamed I exist that Lilith didn’t have. Did she have it before? It didn’t matter, because for some reason, Asmodeous was now standing a couple of feet away on a cliff, looking over one of the most beautiful views he had ever seen. They stood in silence, he feared speaking, scared that his throat would hurt as much as it did when he thought he was on fire.

He watched as Lucifer, in demon form, walking inside his room and told them to get going. He heard Satan, yes, Satan tell him to get going already with a bored expression. Before his very eye’s flashes of his family and their demon forms presented. He stood in silence, aware of Lilith’s presence beside him, but he wasn’t sure where he was. His heart racing, then…it all came into a halt. Asmodeous could feel the tears come down his eyes.

When he fell, the fire had burned him, not only externally but internally, it had taken everything that Asmodeous ever was and had made him start a new with a new face and a new personality. He was no longer the picture-perfect angel his father made him out to be. He was no longer the embodiment of purity and innocence, pure beauty and no other purpose than the rough jewel his father wanted him to be. No, he had suffered, he had cried, and he had changed in every way possible. The only constant…had been his family. They had been there for him trough so much. He looked over at the view, it had changed from the celestial realm to the devildom. Asmodeous smiled.

“We miss you.” He spoke, as softly as he could. He didn’t look at his sister, she stood beside him, taking his hand and making sure he didn’t let go of her.

“I haven’t gone anywhere.” She said, in a playful tone, this shattered Asmodeous heart.

“No, you haven’t.” Asmodeous touched his heart, but slowly let go of his sister hand.

He loved her. They all did, even Satan who had never meet her. But she represented something none of them wanted to go back to. She had died…and no matter how much they loved her they couldn’t change that. They needed to accept it. They had spent so much time dueling on what had happened before they hadn’t even thought on what was happening now. Asmodeous put his hand on his chest, before looking at Lilith briefly, she was beautiful. She was his little sister; he would never forget her. But…perhaps it was time for him…for all of them to let go of the past…and honor their sister by finally being happy on their new home. Lilith looked at him sadly, almost as if she knew the conclusion he had made. But she only nodded.

“I love you.” He said, before taking a few steps back, he found himself standing right beside Satan. If Lilith represented all they had lost in the Celestial Realm, then Satan represented all they had gained in the devildom. Satan wasn’t meant to be treated as a replacement of Lilith, no…he represented new beginnings…new opportunities. He held his nephews’ hand, eyes falling on the brothers on left before looking at the ones in the right, where even Mc was there.

He felt fulfillment and love… but of course those things couldn’t last. God would not allow them to start. Asmodeous fell to his knees, forehead touching the ground as he fought for air to go into his lungs. He felt that same infernal, burning sensation he had felt before, even the wind had come back and even with it he was having a hard time breathing, his memories to that time back in the celestial realm overpowered his mind. He felt such emptiness, sorrow, and hate in his heart. Choking back sobs as he felt himself fall, eyes squeezed shot as screams of pain left his throat burning. His entire body was shaking, and he could see the world around him crumble as he fell. He fell.

The moment he opened his eyes, he was back at the devildom. He identified his surroundings as the Demons Lord Castle. He remembered getting ready that morning, helping his siblings and his nephew get ready because they were too dejected to do anything. He remembers the state his family was in, the way they were all in pain and how sad they all looked. He remembered the powerless stare of Lucifer when he saw their father arrive at the ball. He remembered the way Beelzebub lowered his head, Satan clenched his hands, Belphegor held on to a bracelet, the way Leviathan flinched and how Mammon moved as far away as he could from Mc, who was eying Mammon as he did so. Lucifer instinctively moved and made sure to be the one up front. Asmodeous memories played that moment in which his father made eye contact with him and then…

“My, and here I was thinking that perhaps there was still something of what I gave you left.”

He looked up; eyes barely open as the pain he felt before kept going. His hands grasped the grass as silent tears left his eyes, Asmodeous would be screaming right now. But he couldn’t, he could not open his mouth, he was clenching his teeth with all his might as the pain kept going. Asmodeous had only once felt that pain. The pain of burning flesh and like his wings were getting detached. It had been the worst pain he had ever felt and now…now it was back except twice as bad to the point where Asmodeous thought he might pass out. But he wouldn’t…he knew that no matter in how much pain he was, his father would not let him off that easily.

“Get up.”

His body obeyed, even if he didn’t want to, even if he simply couldn’t, his body did what his father told him. Asmodeous stood, small compared to his father, as straight as he could while his body basically broke under his skin. He looked at his father, his blurry vision barely focusing on anything. He was sure he was going to end up falling to the ground at any moment put his father put a hand on his shoulder. Causing Asmodeous to bite his tongue in pain.

“What a disappointment, I really thought you would want to go back to your former glory”, God sighed. “That perhaps, you would still value the true beauty of who you used to be and not remember. But you have become beyond corrupted, all the others have at least one quality intact that I gave them…but you…you truly became something monstrous.” God laughed, a hand on Asmodeous cheek as the demon tried so hard to fight the pain.

“Le-Leave…ahg, leave me-…aLonE!” Asmodeous voice broke as he tried to say those words.

He thought back at who he used to be in the celestial realm and who he was now, in the devildom. He remembers hating his own skin when they first arrived, he remembered the nastiness and the cruelty of his own skin and how, at night, he wished for death. He had tried so hard to be a fraction of what he used to be. At some point he didn’t see any meaning in it anymore. No matter how much he tried to be that person again, even if his outer appearance reflected it, he could not fill that void that was taken from him the moment he fell. At some point…he forgot who he used to be and became Asmodeous, the Avatar of Lust, and he liked it.

“Leave you…alone?” His father started to laugh as his grip on Asmodeous shoulder tightened. Then, just as his laugh had started, it had died. God locked eyes with Asmodeous, and in that mere second…Asmodeous felt the same fear he had felt so many times in heaven. “You. Pathetic. Weak. Rat.” God kicked Asmodeous which made the demon fall on the gross. He fell on his back, an oh did it hurt. He felt all the air leave his body momentarily as this ringing out deafened him. He tried to get up, but God kicked him again. Asmodeous hated how weak he was…he wishes he could so something…but he was weak…

His father sighed, he once again commanded Asmodeous to get up, which the demon did. He looked at his father, entire body throbbing with pain. He would run away from God if it wasn’t for the fact that he could not move at all. He felt God’s hand cup his face. He sucked in a breath. Asmodeous knew about fear…but being so close to his father after all those years…he was horrified and all he wanted was to open his eyes and find out this was all a nightmare. God sighed, caressing Asmodeous cheek, the same ones he had some many times slapped so hard it had left bruises.

“What a waste. I should have killed you when I had the opportunity. At least that way the memory of your beauty would not have been tainted with the sin you have become…well…its never too late.” Gods eyes glowed golden, and in hat moment Asmodeous fell onto the ground, he could feel his entire body being ripped apart but when he looked at himself nothing was happening. He could swear he was covered in his own blood as screams were choked back by an invisible arm that that covered his mouth. Was his father really going to kill him?

Would that be that surprising? He killed Lilith while she was still an angel, what prevented him from killing Asmodeous when he was a demon? His father never cared for any of them, he didn’t love them. He knew this, they all did. Yet they had stayed by his side because he was their father and what had that brought them? Pain, and death.

“Please! Stop it!” Asmodeous was able to choke out a beg, it hurt. It hurt so bad and he wanted it to stop, his entire body contorted in pain as now screams were audible. He heard his own sobs.

“No one is going to help you, Asmodeous. Just like none of you could help Lilith, they won’t be able to help you.”

“F-ather…Father…p-ple-please!” Asmodeous screamed. Did no one really hear him? His screams were loud enough, someone should be able to hear him…he was in so much pain…his father was only one that was capable of stopping this pain. His mind was blanking out as his desire for all to stop crowded his judgement. “I’ll do anything!” Asmodeous begged. That was one of the few words he had been able to say clearly, yet it had burned his throat so bad.

“Will you, now?” His father mocked, getting to eye level with the demon who once was his kid. God pulled Asmodeous hair, making him look at his father in the eyes.

“YES!” He screamed. “ANythinG!”

“HAHA! Very well…since you asked so kindly.”

Immediate regret filled Asmodeous. His father was planning something. And he had fallen right into his trap, like the weak demon he was. His father’s eyes turned gold once more, starring right into Asmodeous eyes. It sent shivers down his spine. His father’s eyes ceased glowing, and Asmodeous thought the pain would die…he was extremely foolish. The pain came back with the force and hatred and vengeance that his dad wanted to inflict on them. He could not open his eyes, he could not stop screaming, he felt his heartbeat sky rocket as his entire body collapsed in its own.

“Take this…as you…being reborn.” God spoke, and then entered the castle. Leaving Asmodeous wallowing in pain for what felt like an eternity. And then…then silence…silence and calm and…and wings brushing against his forearm and he stood slowly.

Lucifer had finished talking with Diavolo and made his way to where his family had been standing. He saw their state and sighed. ‘Just a couple more hours’, he thought to himself. Mc stood beside him with a strange expression that Lucifer assumed was worry.

“Lucifer…I haven’t seen Asmodeous in a while.”

Those words made Lucifer’s heart stop. He frenetically looked around the room in search for his brother. His eyes couldn’t locate the brother as his heart ached. Where was he? Lucifer looked at the people dancing in hopes of locating his brothers, but as he turned around, the face that he saw was an unwelcomed one. Standing a few feet in front of him, was God. He had a satisfied grin in his face.

“Lucifer, pleasure finally seeing you.” Lucifer eyed his father. Before turning to Mc.

“Go and tell the others. Try and find him. I’ll go help soon.” Mc nodded not before glaring at God. Lucifer found this off, but he didn’t care for that now. “What do you want?” Lucifer asked sharply.

“Not much. I just thought I’d say how…impressed I am.” Lucifer raised an eyebrow. He did not have time for this hit. He turned around to leave but something his father said stopped him. “Really, after what happened with Lilith, I expected you to care for your family. But it seems like you became even more neglectful.” This made Lucifer’s blood boil as he turned around to face his father. “I mean, considering everything that you guys claimed to “have gone through” I would never expect for one of you to want to come back to me.” Lucifer growled, fear starting to make its way into his heart.

“What are you talking about?”

“Just look around you, Lucifer. Not only that but your so called “family”, look at them…you claim to be the head of this family yet one by one…I got into their pathetic little heads…and now…yeah…I wouldn’t call this a family at all.”

Lucifer turned around, he looked over his family. Their expression, their postures, their tired eyes and the way they were so…scared…and sad… Lucifer had allowed this. He had allowed God to get close to his family. He had been foolish and an idiot who thought his family would be save but once again he had not been able to help them. Once again, his family had suffered because he hadn’t protected them like he should. His blood boiled as he thought of what his father had done to his family. He looked at his son and at his brothers, he even looked at mc… Ire fueling him, his mind not thinking at all. Lucifer felt his demon form come out as he turned around and tried to hit God in the face.

His punch was stopped. The room fell silent. He gasped and felt his heart being torn out as tears started to form.

Wings, white wings.

...so...here is the new chapter...finally. This chapter took a while, the reason being that this chapter was a literal hell to write. I was like a thousand words in and then deleted everything because i didn’t like how it was turning. I also had trouble with Asmodeous personality cuz...he kind of doesn't have on in the game so, besides horny. But yeah, here is the new chapter, next one will probably take a while too. But yeah, i hope y’all enjoy this chapter, it is by far the longest one in this fic, and next chapter will probably take like a week to be done since I’m also working on another project. But yeah, holep y’all had enjoyed it and stay safe people.

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

56 notes · View notes

bluejaywriter · 4 years ago

Text

The Sun and the Moon - deleted scene

This scene was supposed to take place after Hippolyta and Martha became engaged, but there was already too much angst about Hippolyta’s old lovers and Jonathan Kent, so I axed it. I found it again and added a bit more to the end as a gift to you all. (It ended up longer than expected, as per usual, haha). Happy pagan tree day! 🎄

______________________________________________________________

The lone figure of Martha Kent is not one that often graces the edge of the training field, but it is a welcome sight, nonetheless. Antiope smiles as she notices her silhouette against the sun, looking lost and uncertain, surrounded by these fierce, half-naked warriors.

“Welcome, My Lady,” Antiope says as she strolls over, offering up what she hopes is an encouraging smile instead of the tell-tale smirk her sister complains about so often. “Are you here to begin your training at last?”

Martha lets out a nervous laugh, managing to look both frightened and amused at the same time.

“I—no, that does not sound like a good idea, for you or for me,” she says, blushing and glancing away as the women marching past on the field greet her with wide smiles and murmurs of, Good morning, My Lady. “I wondered if we might talk… in private.”

Antiope raises an eyebrow, but she gives a short nod toward one of the armored warriors who is standing guard, then leads Martha off the field. They walk a short distance down to one of the lowest buildings of New Themyscira, almost a hut set into the limestone. Martha follows timidly as Antiope swings open the door and waves her forward.

The inside of the building is snug, minimalist, almost cabin-like: a sheer contrast to the open and airy rooms of the palace. A simple bed lies tucked against the wall, and an even smaller kitchen is set beside the door.

“On Themyscira, just as much of our training was done in the city as in the wild. Menalippe and I had no use for elaborate rooms or carved hallways. We made our homes in the places where we laid our heads at night, whether it was upon feather pillows, stinging sand, roots and stones.”

Antiope brings out a chair and gestures for Martha to sit. She does, folding her hands into her lap, then she takes a deep breath and tries to force herself to relax, or to at least keep her knees from shaking.

“Now.” The Amazonian general seats herself and leans forward. “What has my foolish sister done this time?”

And Martha gives a small smile, shaking her head.

“It’s nothing foolish, it… I just don’t know who else to talk to, who else to ask.” Martha glances away, wringing her hands. “The Queen and I are… engaged. We’re going to be married.”

Antiope doesn’t react.

“Well done.”

Martha nods once and goes on.

“Yes, but… before, we had this long discussion about—I don’t even know. She seems so concerned about what I want, about making sure that I’m not unhappy, and it’s almost to the point of, she… she gives me what she thinks I want, instead of what I say I want. It’s not quite that, but it’s something similar. It’s like she’s hyper-worried about me being unhappy.”

“Hmm.” Antiope’s startlingly blue eyes—lighter than her sister’s, sharper, somehow—gaze back at her for a moment, then she turns in her seat and seizes the pitcher of water from the wooden shelf behind her.

“Is that a bad thing?” she says casually, pouring herself a glass and offering one to her guest. Martha shakes her head with a murmured, No, thank you.

“I mean, no, not in theory,” Martha says quickly. “But it’s not realistic, no one is happy all the time. And especially not me.”

Antiope drinks, but her eyes never leave Martha’s face. She doesn’t speak, and Martha stumbles on,

“I mean… I am very happy here. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. And Hippolyta is wonderful, I love her, and I can’t wait to be married to her. But I can’t seem to get her to understand that I’m here by choice, that I want to be with her, that… that her entire world doesn’t have to revolve around me, and making me happy. I’m not that high maintenance, I was on my own for years, I don’t need to be coddled. And it’s not—it’s not that she’s coddling me. That’s not fair. It’s just… I’m afraid of showing some sides of myself to her, because I know she’ll try to fix it. And sometimes I don’t need someone to fix it, I just need someone to listen, and be there. Sometimes that’s enough. Do you…?”

“I understand, Martha Kent,” Antiope sighs, leaning back in her chair, stretching out her legs in a way that almost seems nonchalant. “I’ve heard it before. Why do you think Diana trained with me instead of with her?”

But Antiope waves her hand impatiently before Martha has a chance to form some meaningless answer.

“The Queen… is very protective. She was before the Amazons’ enslavement, but after… it became unbearable to her, the thought of any of those under her protection being in pain. It took centuries for her nightmares to stop, centuries of Mena staying up with her, praying over her, plying her with sleeping draughts. The Amazons know, and they understand, and they love her for it. None of us blame her for what happened, we all welcomed the men with hope and optimism. But she took the weight of what happened upon herself, and for so long, love and pain—romantic love—were one and the same.

“She has loved no one since Heracles, did you know that? In order to truly understand her, you must understand the depths of her rage at his betrayal. If her had wronged her only, perhaps… but he overtook her country, enslaved her people, stripped her of her rule for a hundred years. And she has forgiven him now, of course, it has been thousands upon thousands of years—do not think for a moment that she is still living in the shadow of a man. But it changed her, frightened her. I urged her constantly over the years to move on, to allow a woman to soften her, forgive her, to let go of this damned guilt. We were free. It was time for her to live as a free woman, to enjoy the life that we fought so hard for. And I do believe she tried. She truly tried. But until you, she found no one who could love her and soothe her like you apparently can. So you are the one who must be patient while she deals with all of these issues that she has not faced since Heracles.”

Martha stares down at her knees; they’re trembling now for a different reason.

“I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“It is very likely that she didn’t want to upset you,” Antiope replies, rolling her eyes. But her face is not unkind as she reaches out and grips Martha’s hand.

“She may be a Queen, Martha Kent, but she is still a warrior. Get in her face and tell her, and do not back down when she tries to withdraw. She will listen to reason if you persist, but not a single moment before.”

Antiope rises and tosses aside her empty glass of water, apparently finished with this conversation, but she pauses and glances back down at Martha’s miserable figure.

“But… do it in private. The Queen hates being accosted in public. It is a lesson Diana never learned.”

____________________________________________________________

Martha finds her target in her office that night, sitting at her magnificent desk, reading through a stack of scrolls: reviewing the business of the day, scanning through the business of tomorrow. She looks up when Martha steps in, and gives a small smile of welcome.

“Little one.”

“May I… I’m sorry to bother you, I’ll wait til you’re done, I just wondered if I could speak with you.”

“You can always speak with me,” Queen Hippolyta says, an eyebrow raised, concern seeping into her expression, but Martha reaches over and lays a hand over hers.

“Hippolyta—darling. Finish your work. I’ll just be right here.”

And the Queen studies her for a moment, then she nods slightly and goes back to her scrolls. The engagement ring looks so beautiful on her hand, and for a moment, there’s a lump in Martha’s throat as she seats herself on one of the low benches along the limestone walls, and it’s because she put that ring there, she picked it out, and knelt before her, and put it onto that finger, and they’re doing this, they’re in it for the long run, and sometimes they’ll be running with the wind at their backs, holding hands and laughing as they fly together toward the sunset, but other times…

Hippolyta’s hand is a blur, and the next thing Martha knows, the sound of rustling parchment is startling her, and Hippolyta is facing her, opening her arms.

“Come here.”

And Martha goes to her and sits in her lap, wraps her arms around that long neck, and kisses those red lips.

“Now, my patient one… tell me what it is that has put these lines of worry over your forehead.”

And Martha wants to snuggle closer, to say, Oh, it’s nothing, and enjoy her lover’s touch for just a little while longer, but she knows she must speak, and so she sighs and raises her head to look the Goddess of Death in the eye.

“I… went to see Antiope today.”

“Oh? What did my reckless sister do this time?”

“You know, she said something quite similar about you,” Martha says with a faint smile.

“I’m sure she did,” Hippolyta says, but her face is open, expectant, and Martha stumbles on.

“I… I want to tell you something. And I want you to listen, don’t—just let me finish. Okay?”

Hippolyta looks mildly surprised, but she nods and waits as Martha bites her lip, then begins.

“I’ve been unhappy a lot. For a lot of my life, just… so many deaths, and not being able to live and express this part of myself freely, and... it was a lot. And it got even harder after Clark died, it just felt relentless, one bad thing after another, the farm, and the house. When… when I went to see Lois in Metropolis, I was at the end of my rope. I was ready to give up, I was ready for it to be over. My family was gone, the farm, my husband’s legacy, everything, it was like I was at my wit’s end.

“And maybe if my life had been easier from the beginning, I would be a happier person. And I’m not saying everything was horrible but… it was a struggle, and it took its toll. I’m not a naturally happy person, Hippolyta. Most people aren’t. And sometimes… it feels like you don’t give me permission to be unhappy. Like, it’s natural to not be happy all the time, it’s natural to have bad days. And I feel like you’re afraid of that. And I want you to know there’s nothing to be afraid of, I’m right here. I’m staying right here, in sickness and in health, on good days and bad days. I want to be with you. You could give me a—a magic scepter right now that would let me fly back home, and I wouldn’t go. I’m with you. I want this. And I need you to believe that, or at least try. I just… I can’t have that conversation anymore, that conversation of am I happy, and is this really—I’m happy, and if I’m not, and there’s something you can do to change that, I promise I’ll let you’ll know.”

Hippolyta gazes back at her, and for a moment, Martha thinks that her eyes are beginning to get watery, but the magnificent Queen only pulls her a little closer and presses a soft kiss to her forehead, as if to kiss away her wrinkles of worry.

“Very well.”

Martha waits, but apparently Hippolyta isn’t planning on adding any more.

“‘‘Very well’, that’s it?” she says, her voice a bit too cranky, but Hippolyta just leans back a little so she can tuck a strand of hair behind Martha’s ear.

“All you have said is true, little one. It is your truth, and I have not wished to see it. And perhaps I have been too careful with you—Antiope told me countless times when Diana was a child that I was too protective of her, that my love was suffocating her, stunting her growth, limiting her potential. And with you… you are a human, Martha Kent, and you are fragile as all humans are, and this has not been easy for you: I have seen your discomfort amongst my warriors, your doubts at your place at my side, your longing for your homeland.

“But you are also strong. You are stubborn, and you are determined, and willing to work hard at this, at us, and this… this is something we will do together. We will lead each other, and grow together, and we will speak honestly with one another when things are amiss.”

Martha tucks her head underneath Hippolyta chin, so she can feel the Goddess’ cold collarbones pressing against her skin, and Hippolyta tilts her head just slightly so then her cheek is resting against the top of Martha’s head, and she pulls her a little closer, and it fits, it just fits, they fit, and it’s good, and it’s comfortable, and Martha doesn’t want to be anywhere in the world but right here, just… right here—except, maybe they could move to a soft bed, and they could hold each other even closer, that would also be nice—

“I do have a suggestion, though, little one,” Hippolyta’s voice rumbles against Martha’s fragile human body, and she shivers.

“Uh oh,” she murmurs, but she doesn’t mean it, not really, not half as much as she minds when Hippolyta gently pushes her back a few inches so that she can look her in the eye.

“There is a priestess, an Oracle from the days of the Gods, a healer of the mind. I think it would be beneficial if we spoke with her, both together, but also separately. She is wise in the ways of humans and other sentient beings, and is deeply compassionate; she has helped me and many of my sisters in our healing process, as well as many others in their transition from life to death.”

Martha doesn’t like the idea of telling a stranger all about her private life, but it’s a good one and she knows it.

“Fine, I’ll go see the shrink,” she sighs, but she kisses Hippolyta’s cheek and seizes her hand as she hops off her lap, tugging her away from the desk. “Honestly, I probably should’ve gone a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you?” Hippolyta asks curiously, without a single shred of judgement in her voice, but Martha just tugs harder at her hand.

“We can discuss that with the marriage counselor, Queen Hippolyta,” she says, practically dragging her down the hall toward their bedroom now. “There are other things we can do now to strengthen our future marriage...”

#Marlyta #The Sun and the Moon #fanfic #deleted scene #This is 2.5k #Anyway I think this probably should've still been in the story but it just would've dragged #This was before you guys made me write three (3) chapters of goddess smut and I decided I didn't care about pacing haha #anyway merry christmas and stuff #also there's a lot of monologuing in here #let me know if you want me to post it somewhere on ao3 #I don't really have a ready place to drop oneshots like this but I guess I can make one

11 notes · View notes