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irrevocableloves · 3 months

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CAUGHT IN A CROSSFIRE

BETRAYAL — ; PART 8 / 9

PAIRING: Theseus Scamander x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 2.7k SUMMARY: Awakening in an unfamiliar setting with restored memories, you encounter someone familiar. However, a lingering sense of betrayal clouds the reunion. Meanwhile, Theseus uncovers a concealed message in your letters, hinting at the potential discovery of your location. A/N: Hi everyone! I know I said I was going to put this on permanent hiatus until I was ready to pick it up again, but your girl finished her degree (kinda did badly, but glad it's over!), and now I have ample time to put all my energy of my one brain cell into finishing this series before I fall into depression again lol. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this and thank you for all the love for this series and my baby, Theseus <3 I'm also sorry for ending it with another cliffhanger haha WARNINGS: Angst. Kinda scary shit (I literally scared myself while writing this lol) no beta we die like men. MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Your environment is an enigma through the lenses of tunnel vision—hues of darkness circle in textures, contrasts of colour that dance along with your darting eyes. Your slow mind tries to keep up with your sight, unravelling the mysteries of your surroundings.

You first notice wood. Brown, battered, dim–a wooden beam trailing along the expanse of plastered white walls, grimed with dirt and age. Through blinkered sight, you catch a glimpse of light, dim orange hues casting fluttering shadows on the wall. You see it now, a flame dancing upon melting wax perched on a rustic candlestick.

Flame. Fire. Heat.

You remember it all now.

Inferno swept through the foundations of your tiny household, leaving you and the fragility of your lungs gasping for air as you stumbled around for an exit. Yet, things were dense, billowing colours of deep grey and red, blinding your vision. You still feel the parchedness scratching down your throat.

You remember how your hands clambered to grasp something before falling to your knees. You remember how your environment began to twist and spurn before your very eyes, vivid colours of the blaze swirling.

Then, everything went black.

…

…You…

You remember emerald cobblestones—a mesmerising golden statue.

You remember the warmth of the colour red – the trees in fall, the crackling of a fireplace, a desk with scattered papers across its surface.

You remember.

Theseus.

Dim blue eyes. Sad. Freckled cheeks. Flushed. Brown hair curled and tumbled in autumnal hues. Trees. Barcham trees that line the sidewalk are carpeted in autumn gold. The tenement. His home. Warm, petite, charming. Gardenias. Tea. Your suitcase. Magic.

Little glimpses of returning memories flood your whirling mind like gushing water. It’s overwhelming. For weeks, you sat with a sense of longing, a missing piece, settled within the depths of your mind. And now, it all traces back to the odd familiarity of the man you met on the bus. Perhaps you recognised the glint in his eye when his eyes met yours or the patterned freckles along his cheeks, tinted in blotches of red from embarrassment.

You remember.

Your elbows immediately shift under you, perched as you rose midway, wondering yet blurry eyes moving along your surroundings. You’re in a room, and it’s not your own. Small, humble, solid walls encircle your surroundings. You have seen places like these during the war. You push yourself up, weight now on your splayed-out palms on what you realise to be a settee. It creaks at your very touch, and every little shift echoes throughout the room.

Its walls are far from pristine, with petite flowers scattered across the yellowed wallpaper with tears at its curling edges, perfectly still yet timeworn.

Your eyes trace the trails of sunlight that glow through the room, diluted by a translucent curtain that hangs before a window, shadows of a tree swaying in the gentle wind.

There’s a bed on the far left of the room, narrow and meticulously made with a quilt reminiscent of autumn hues. You can barely distinguish its patchwork from where you are, and it itches a part of your brain – a sense of familiarity.

Before you can make sense of that feeling, you are overcome with searing pain. Tearing through your head and coursing through the very confinements of your skull as if something was begging to break free from the back of your mind.

Eyes squeezed shut, you cannot help but bring your palms to the sides of your head, the heels of your hands harshly pinned to your temples, yet all you see are flashing lights dancing around in the darkness.

Then, a flash. White. Blinding.

At that moment, you found yourself transported to an apartment. Yellow-bricked, warm honey-coloured hues of Autumn. Golden, falling leaves. Bright eyes, cheeks tinged with a touch of red. Theseus looks at you like you’re the sun. Like you hold a weight of significance, a tapestry to his existence.

“I know I’ve said this a thousand time before, but I’m sorry. Truly. You don’t deserve to be involved in this.”

You feel yourself smile; tears threaten to slip from your saddened eyes.

“I would usually say it’s alright, but I don’t think I can say it for everything that has happened. But, thank you.”

A hand reaches for his, gentle and soft to the touch. You feel his fingers twitch under your hold.

“Truly.”

Theseus looks at you like you’re the sun.

Theseus looks at you…

Theseus…

Suddenly, you find yourself in a narrow bus. You see him blinking wide-eyed at you, his expression paled. You had said – no, asked something.

“No. I don’t think we do.”

You see it, the pain in his eyes, the sadness in his tone. It clenches your heart, but you don’t know why.

That was the first time he had lied to you.

…

You hear your name.

Distant but frantic. It repeats again and again and again.

A grip on the curve of your shoulders, and you find yourself back in the narrow, unknown room you awoke in moments ago.

But then you see his eyes, his tousled hair. It’s him who calls you.

“Theseus?” you breathed, disbelief flickering in your wide eyes. Without a second thought, your hands reach out to grasp his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his dress shirt as if to ground yourself in the reality of his presence. A counterpoint to the disarray within your mind.

But as Theseus meets your gaze, a furrow forms on his brow, and a shadow eclipses the warmth in his eyes. The frown, subtle yet profound, settles an uneasiness in you. Your grip weakens.

“We need to go. Now.” His tone is cut-throat, laden with urgency, and you cannot help but jolt at his words. You find your fingers slowly releasing their hold as the weight of his statement settles in the room.

He pulls away and reaches for your elbow, swift and deliberately, that reflects the gravity of the situation. His touch is so firm that it prompts you to stand. Questions hang heavy in the air, but you know you’re in some kind of trouble. Yet, you catch your eyes lingering on the dark look in his own, and you can't help but think he's changed since you last saw him. Since you last remembered him.

Something feels…wrong, but you don’t give yourself a chance to even think about it before you’re being led out the door.

The narrow corridor stretches ahead, dimly lit, bricked walls with a single lamp casting a glow across the space, revealing its worn walls and your flickering shadows. The air is cool, carrying a faint scent of dampness that permeates the space. All you hear is footsteps reverberating along the narrow passage, echoing against the walls. You realise you are underground and feel your stomach lurch at that thought, making your skin crawl.

“Come on.” Theseus pulls you along, the grip on your elbow never weakening. You can feel the tension emanating from him, the stiffness in his movements, the rigidity of his jaw.

You find yourself staring at the back of Theseus' head, studying how the dim light catches on his hair. He seems so different.

“Where are we going?” You finally ask.

He doesn’t respond.

Theseus continues to pull you down the corridor, and you take the time to scan your surroundings despite the quickened pace. You see the occasional rusty pipes that snake along the ceiling, contributing to a low mechanical hum and the flickering of overhead lights that seem to swing periodically at a light rumble that makes the ground shake for a second or two.

Then, he eventually comes to an abrupt halt, revealing a dead end. Your feet stagger back, trying to stop yourself from bumping into him. You see Theseus' brows furrowed in thought, eyes darting between the walls, searching. His fingers trace the rugged surface and abruptly pause as you catch sight of a carving on a specific brick, nearly invisible.

Theseus taps it, and a warm glow emanates from the wall. The carving becomes illuminated, and the wall seems to dissolve into seemingly ethereal dust. It shines golden under the dim buzzing lights. What once was a wall reveals an entrance to an alleyway; it greets you with a rush of cool air and the sounds of the city.

You step through the entrance after Theseus as he beckons for you to follow hurriedly. Yet, your focus is elsewhere as you close in on the intricate symbol carved into the brick. As you inch nearer, the features sharpen, and a sudden recognition sparks within you.

It's a Gardenia, delicately depicted.

Gardenias always had a particular significance in your life, and it’s all because of your mother. That same Gardenia on your mother’s necklace is an heirloom that spanned many generations. It was important and personal to her, and you don’t know how or why it is doing here.

Flowers for your mother – a bouquet of Gardenias.

The bigger picture materialises as if the puzzle pieces are beginning to click.

Your place in the unfolding mess remains unclear, but it hints that you've anticipated the arrival of this revelation for a long time.

Theseus is calling for you, a slight note of panic in his voice, but you ignore his calls, remaining rooted in place. As you watch the glow that details the symbol disappear, you wonder if Theseus knows everything, even though you swore you never told a soul.

Unless…

You still don’t know how you got your memories back.

As you finally turn to Theseus, there’s a gripping sense of uncertainty. His approach, marked by a frustrated expression, erodes the strong familiarity you once held for this man, a trust built in such a short time. With each step towards you, that trust begins to dissipate.

That vulnerability quickly turns to anger – betrayal.

“What the hell is happening, Theseus?” you question fiercely, pressing him for an explanation.

Again, Theseus dismisses your insistence and attempts to reach for your arm, but you instinctively step back, maintaining a wary distance.

“Answer me.” you insist, voice growing louder, eyes boring into his.

His gaze lingers on your face, and you watch his expression harden, jaw tense.

“Look, you’re in deep trouble right now and it’s best we leave right now he’ll come looking for you.”

He.

Not they. Not she.

Not The Restoration Movement. Not Morrigan.

Something is very wrong.

And his eyes. You can’t quite place it, but something about the look in his eyes has shifted. They look so different.

In moments like these, you aren’t sure what to do, but you know to trust your gut. Your mind races at the possibilities of how this could all end, and the only thing you can think is to run.

And so, you run.

—

Theseus believes he has only survived through self-deceit – the deception of his ability to stay grounded and keep his emotions at bay. His heart was never to be trusted, never to give in or give up. Yet, how does one cope when a situation relies on promised perseverance but is tangled amid his emotions he suddenly lacks control of in your presence?

Theseus knows there was something between the two of you, but he will never admit it despite his now aching heart caused by your sudden disappearance, even though you might as well be considered dead to the muggle world. The thought of your death pulls his thoughts to the night he first met you, how an unforgivable curse nearly struck you, how you looked at him, knowing you couldn’t have survived if he hadn’t been there in time.

Merlin, he hopes you aren’t dead.

No, you’re not. He knows it. You’re relentless. So relentless that death would never want to claim you without a fight. So relentless that you manage to squeeze yourself into his thoughts at every waking hour. Every fibre in him wishes he hadn’t let you slip away that day, wishing he hadn’t abandoned you, betrayed your trust.

He wishes you hadn’t agreed to leave.

To leave him.

Now all alone.

Alone.

Theseus was never certain of his feelings for you when you were ambling within the expanse of the four walls he calls home. Whether affections were simply out of pity or was it his admiration for your entire being, your perfections, blemishes, and everything in between. Yet, at this very moment, he couldn’t be more unequivocally sure that his affections are true because presently, you have consumed all his waking days and nights, leaving a hollowed space perhaps once filled by your presence. The constant worry in his brow made his eyes tired but sleepless due to his fear of the worst for you.

Dread fills his senses, and tears threaten to seep through the cracks of a carefully sculpted, hard-headed man he had spent years practising, performing as a so-called war hero. Theseus never let himself cry, especially over you, not even when you parted with a touch to his cheek. Not even when he set his eyes on you again and you were completely unaware of him.

Yet, it’s the possibility he has lost you forever that he’ll never see you again. Never.

Theseus breathes a shaky breath, fingers clamped in his trembling hand as he tries to remember what he’s been told to do. To find you. To stop Morrigan. To stop whatever mess he has landed you in.

No, you’re not. You’re not dead. He reminds himself again.

The sun had set moments ago, darkness creeping between the cracks of light, shimmering from the candle alight by his tableside and the flames of the fireplace. Its crackling grounds his very notion of stirring into panic. Theseus finds himself tucked in the same corner of his living room, and his couch now houses a collection of books and particular pieces of evidence of your whereabouts.

He merely fears this has everything to do with Morrigan, the Restoration Movement, your supposed living brother and perhaps your mother – also dead. Theseus gains a strong premonition, a gut feeling that your disappearance is all a part of a larger plan than he had initially expected. Your disappearance may have caused a flurry of commotion amongst the Aurors. Still, the ministry has its sights on the movement rather than your supposed connection as more than just your brother, which Theseus feels strongly about. Yet, with Travers breathing down his neck to arrest Morrigan and her acolytes, Theseus needs solid evidence rather than vague instances and misdirected clues that all seem to lead to spiralling trails.

Frankly, his career is at stake, but he couldn’t care less.

He just wants to see you again.

Theseus heaves, fingers carding through his deep brown locks when his eye catches sight of the only two letters that he found to be related to you in one way or another. He finds himself drawn to it, finding the letter from your brother within his grasp for what seems like the millionth time this month. The same words, again and again, were already engraved in his mind.

When he shifts his elbow, the letter catches the candlelight from behind, and something immediately seizes his attention. Something he hadn’t recognised before now.

Inscribed in the very material of the parchment – the symbol of a Gardenia, its intricate lines glowing against the candlelight, seemingly burning. Theseus props up in his seat, back straightened, shoulders tensed, and eyes wide.

Bloody hell…

He scrambles for the other letter, holding it up against the light, eyes settling on the darkened edges of the page only to discover the very same symbol.

A Gardenia.

How could he have been so blind?

It must have been instinct when he decided that the two letters were puzzle pieces meant to be joined. Theseus would try anything at this point.

Seemingly, luck was finally on his side when he pressed the letters together, above one another – new words formed before his eyes, written with burning lines, every curve of each letter appeared between the gaps of the original text to only form a new paragraph.

Sister,

If you're reading this, I'm likely gone, and you're in trouble. Morrigan and The Restoration Movement hide a darker truth. Their agenda involves our mother and a woman named Miriam Monet. I'm unsure of the details, but Miriam plays a crucial role. Stay safe.

As his eyes shift down the page, his heart nearly stops when his name comes into view.

To Theseus,

If you see this, my sister is in danger. You know more than you think.

TAGLIST (tagging everyone who commented in my last post just because it's been awhile <3):

@crumpets-are-better-with-jam

@inlovewithfictionalcharacters27

@aterriblelangblr

@yournewmommy

@mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@never-let-them-change-your-self

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irrevocableloves · 3 months

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yeah I got a problem

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irrevocableloves · 3 months

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obsessed, quite frankly, with how katniss resents love, resents how deeply she loves. she was completely traumatized by her mom’s emotional withdrawal after the death of her father, and made the decision pretty much thereafter to never love someone else that way. and the fact that she goes through the trilogy absolutely refusing to call what she feels for peeta love, even when it absolutely, 1000% is, because she refuses to acknowledge that vulnerability within herself… oh it’s so good. it’s so good. the fact that recognizing love within herself is equivalent to shoving a knife in her eye is so good. i love this character

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irrevocableloves · 3 months

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Thinking again about how Suzanne esentially subverted the "beloved famous man that is actually a horrible person in real life" with Finnick, who is the complete opposite of that.

Finnick has this whole image costructed around him by the people that abused him for years: the Capitol's darling, their golden boy, the sex symbol of Panem, the man that has countless lovers but leaves them constantly and doesn't look back etc. And you would expect, initially, to meet a man that retains at least a part of that persona in his day to day life. But Finnick doesn't, not even one bit.

You see instead a man that is deeply in love and completely devoted to the one woman he quite literally adores, a man that protects Mags, his old mentor and his mother figure, as much as he can, a man that wouldn't leave Johanna behind, a man that gathers whatever strenght he has left to speak publicly about the abuse inflicted upon him at the government's hands; the opposite of what the Capitol's media and reputation made him out to be.

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irrevocableloves · 3 months

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This also reminded me of how she said that Katniss wasn’t quite ready to harvest yet. Saying like “Katniss will take some time but eventually it’ll have you dealt with.” and it did! Fate sent him a Karma in the form of Katniss Everdeen.

Katniss who was a reminder of Lucy Gray, of his loved ones, of everything Sejanus stood for. Katniss who was a reminder of his PAST SELF- of a time where he could’ve done the right choices (with Lucy Gray, Tigris, correcting his father's sins with Highbottom etc.) of a time where everything could’ve been different.

Snow mentioned Lucy Gray strongly believed in fate when she said “You’re mine and Im yours. It’s written in the stars.” Of course he didn’t believe it. So when she was gone and Coriolanus Snow chose to cross that line of evil never turning back, the stars made sure that he will be haunted of it to his death.

A masterclass of storytelling right there. Suzanne you icon, you legend.

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irrevocableloves · 3 months

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live footage of me seeing Nelson Murdock & Page together again

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irrevocableloves · 3 months

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In Mockingjay Part 2 when Peeta has lost his mind and is dropped off with Katniss and the rebel party who are about to kill Snow. The others treat Peeta as a threat, but Finnick steps in when they raise their weapons against Peeta and is shown the entire time as being patient with him and has Peeta repeat phrases that help his mind and that he would need to repeat to Panem, and he also advises him to just ask when Peeta tells Katniss he doesn’t know the difference between what’s real or not real.

Finnick is the only one in the party that has the patience for Peeta (outside of Katniss’s love for Peeta that is) when his mind is shattered because he's used to helping and being so patient over the years with Annie that he immediately does it with Peeta.

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irrevocableloves · 3 months

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To Be Loved By You // Cedric Diggory

Request: Salut!!!! I really love your writing!!!! I love your writing soooooo much!!! Please could you do a Cedric X Hufflepuff reader one where they have been best friends for a very long time and after the third Triwizard tournament task she thinks he's dead but Madame Pomfrey heals him and he admits his feelings by accident. - anon

A/N: Anyone who knows my writing process, knows that I absolutely cannot stand writing flashbacks. However, for you nonnie, I have. The flashbacks begin with a date and a location - they're in italics. I hope you all like!!

Warnings: FEMALE READER - she/her pronouns, injuries, angst, flashbacks, swearing, pining, mutual pining, happy ending.

Word Count: 2.7k

The stone floor of the corridor had never felt so cold against her skin; she didn’t know how long she had been sat there – long enough for the cold to seep into her bones and become part of her, but not long enough to give in to the urge to move about and warm up.

The evening comes back to her in flashes; a glimpse of a handsome smile, a wave of a hand… the sickening thump of a lifeless body as it landed in the arena.

It had all been planned. Every last moment of the trial had been planned; Cedric knew of the maze, knew of the statistics before going in… No-one expected the portkey.

She closes her eyes; letting her head fall back onto the cold, stone wall with a similar thump made by Cedric’s body as he fell back into the arena, cradled by Harry Potter. Taking a deep breath, she covers her eyes with her hands, resolutely refusing to let any of her tears fall. There would be plenty of time for that later if things didn’t work out.

It had all been so fast. Cedric and Harry landing in front of the schools; the screams from Harry, the anguished cries of Amos Diggory; the rush of teachers swarming around the two students – one breathing, one not.

She hadn’t felt the hand at her elbow; hadn’t heard the pleas of Professor Sprout urging her to stay back, to not look. She had ignored them all; wrenching free of the Herbologist’s grip and rushing to where Cedric was laid out for all to see. She had stopped short, pushed down the cry that tried to force its way out. Instead, she began to violently shake, her trembling hand reaching out for the boy who had promised to be her friend forever.

She had followed the rush of teachers to the hospital wing; Dumbledore hadn’t been with them, having followed Harry Potter and Mad-Eye Moody. Sprout refused to let her inside; fixing her with a look that practically begged her to try and enter the room to see what would happen. (Y/N) relented. She sat herself on the floor across from the door and refused to move.

There she sat, and there she stays. Her head beginning to ache from the pressure of fear, worry and upset boiling up. No-one had updated her; no-one had left the hospital wing.

Removing her hands from her face, (Y/N) stares at the old, wooden doors of the hospital wing. Never in her life had she felt so far away from the boy who had promised her an eternity of friendship. Never in her life had she felt such undiluted fear.

She had to remain strong. Madame Pomfrey is the best there is at healing any and all injuries; if anyone could heal Cedric, it would be her.

Silence. Silence from the corridor; silence from her lips; silence from the hospital doors.

With no noise coming from behind the doors, she lets herself fall into her memories.

-------

June 1982, Devon.

The summer months of the year always brought with it an increase in the amount of social events. Families brimming with magical powers gathering in their masses to catch up, to spend money, to have fun. The summer months of the year were always the most entertaining.

(Y/N) sits at one of the many tables in the large garden, arms crossed with an unimpressed look on her face. At five years old, the last thing she wanted to be doing was spending the day with her parent’s friends. She would much rather be with her own toys, creating her own stories.

Her legs swing underneath her chair as she reaches for the napkins arranged in the shape of swans. It seems that she would have to make up her own stories to pass the time.

(Y/N) is on the third act of her swan drama when someone, a boy, sits down next to her. Refusing to acknowledge him, (Y/N) continues with her story. The papa swan had returned from his quest with news of how to solve the mystery plaguing the two; the mama swan was rejoicing at the news.

“Who are you?” She asks eventually as the swan town is saved, her curiosity getting the better of her as she continues to gaze at the strange boy now sitting at her table.

“I’m Cedric Diggory,” The brown haired boy introduces, holding his hand out for the pigtailed girl to take.

She hesitates for a second before taking the outstretched hand. “Hello Cedric, I’m (Y/N).”

“Do you want to be friends, (Y/N)?” Cedric asks, grey eyes wide with childish innocence.

“Will you be my friend forever?” She asks; her voice small as she begins to worry over not having a friend like Cedric.

“Pinkie promise,” Cedric states seriously, holding out his pinkie finger for her to take.

Pinkies hooked together, (Y/N) seals the promise with Cedric. When Cedric smiles at her, (Y/N)’s day becomes much brighter.

-------

September 1989, Kings Cross Station, London.

“I’m nervous,” (Y/N) admits, falling into a seat beside Cedric in an otherwise empty train compartment. She keeps the smile on her face as finds her parents tear-filled eyes on the platform. They blow kiss after kiss; (Y/N) returns each and every one of them.

“I am too,” Cedric confesses, reaching for her hand. He squeezes it once in a reassuring manner before letting it drop.

Final waves are exchanged just as the train whistles for the last time before departing the station. The two youngsters remain silent as the train begins its long journey to the school for witchcraft and wizardry; their minds caught up in their own hopes and fears.

“Cedric,” (Y/N) whispers, fiddling with her fingers as she wonders how best to approach the subject that has been plaguing her mind since the acceptance letters had first arrived on their doorsteps all those weeks ago.

“(Y/N),” Cedric prompts, “What is it?”

She sighs, pushing her hair out of her face in frustration. “You aren’t going to leave me, are you?”

“Why would you think that?”

(Y/N) shrugs. “You’re destined to become popular. I just don’t want you to forget me.”

Cedric frowns; eyebrows furrowing as he thinks over the impossibility brought up. “I could never forget you. We made a pinkie promise, remember.”

The knot in her chest loosens at his words; (Y/N) breathes a relieved sigh. She had been nervous about school; about leaving her parents, about leaving her routine of the day. Most of all, she had been nervous about losing Cedric. As she looked at him now, (Y/N) could see a glimpse of the man he is destined to become peek out from under the boyish charm. It would be impossible for Cedric to go through Hogwarts unnoticed; she could only hope she would be with him for every step of the way.

---------

December 1994, Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The Triwizard Tournament and its organising body could all go to hell, (Y/N) thinks to herself as she overhears a group of Fifth Years discuss the upcoming second challenge and Yule Ball.

Her heart had fallen through to her feet when Cedric’s name was pulled out of the Goblet of Fire. He had turned to her with such glee written on his face that the fear didn’t have time to lodge itself in her throat before he had been up and away, making his way to the Victor’s Lounge without her.

The first challenge had her close to collapsing. The size of the dragon compared to Cedric; the size of the burn on his arm as he had grabbed the Golden Egg. (Y/N) had all but duelled Dumbledore himself when she had entered the medical tent just in time to see the salve being spread across Cedric’s arm. Cedric had calmed her down, only just, however.

They would need to do better for the second challenge. Cedric had to win.

“You need to stop thinking so hard,” Cedric teases, sitting down beside her, his finger smoothing away the lines that had gathered on her forehead.

“That’s easy for you to say,” (Y/N) snorts, “You got by the first challenge with minimal injuries. We need to think of something better for the second challenge.”

“Already on it,” Cedric states proudly, puffing out his chest.

“Let’s hear it,” (Y/N) challenges, crossing her arms.

“The Bubble-Head Charm.”

(Y/N) purses her lips. “That could actually work.”

Cedric reels back as if insulted. “I did get an O in my Charms OWL, I’ll have you know.”

“Now you have to find a date to the Yule Ball and your to-do list is essentially complete.”

“Go with me,” Cedric urges; his grey eyes bright with hope and happiness. “Go with me to the Yule Ball.”

“Don’t you want to ask someone else?” She asks to make sure. “I heard Cho Chang talking about you just the other day; you would make a cute couple.”

Cedric frowns; the usual line forming between his eyebrows as he thinks over her words. He shakes his head, “I don’t want to go with Cho. I want to go with you.”

With such stark honesty reflecting in his voice, how could she say no? “Alright then,” (Y/N) smiles, “I’ll be your date to the Yule Ball, but I won’t apologise for standing on your toes when we dance.”

Cedric laughs; the very sound music to her ears as a large smile breaks across his face. “My toes shall survive.”

She shakes her head in exasperated fondness though she cannot ignore the eruption of butterflies in her stomach. (Y/N) would be a fool if she didn’t see the looks Cedric gathered from fellow students; she would be a fool to ignore the countless times he had been asked to the ball. Instead, (Y/N) notes with giddiness, he had asked her.

It takes a fair while to find the perfect gown, but eventually, (Y/N) settles on a navy blue number that would stand out from the ice blue and white decoration of the Great Hall. Her mind had been racing for the whole day; images of what could happen flashing through her mind like a poorly executed rom-com.

Cedric meets her outside of the Great Hall and all her worries wash away. She meets his eyes, takes his hand and it feels as if everything clicks into place for her. He leads her onto the dancefloor; the four champions opening the ball for every school in attendance.

The music washes over her; her only focus being Cedric. It’s then, she realises, that she could spend a lifetime wrapped in Cedric’s arms and she would never tire of the feel of him against her. She would always find something new to love, something new to admire. She could live a thousand lifetimes with the teenager in front of her, and she would love him in each and every one of them.

-----

It’s hours before the doors to the hospital wing open again. She only knows this as she had tracked the movement of the moon across the sky until the sun begins to rise, its rays brightening the corridors.

(Y/N) stands as the hinges creak and Professor Sprout walks through. Her face is grim, but there is relief in her eyes as she pauses at the sight of (Y/N).

“Please,” (Y/N) whispers, her voice hoarse from hours of silence, “Please can I see him?”

Professor Sprout sighs. “He needs to rest, my dear. He’s been through a lot.”

“He’s alive?” (Y/N) croaks; tears springing to her eyes, a sob lodging itself in her throat.

“He’s alive,” Sprout confirms, the first smile in hours growing on her face.

“I have to see him,” (Y/N) insists. “Please. I have to tell him something important.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait until Cedric has had some sleep.”

(Y/N) shakes her head; disregarding the words of her beloved house leader, pushing her way through to the hospital wing. There is no fight from Professor Spout; she had tried her hardest at the arena, and again just now, but she would not stand in the way any longer.

The hospital wing is silent; the occasional bustle of skirts from Madame Pomfrey as she tidies up what looks to be countless bottles of potions and remedies. She doesn’t smile as (Y/N) steps further into the wing; she tries her best but cannot summon the strength to do so as the last reserves of her energy go towards cleaning up the mess made earlier.

“Where is he?” (Y/N) asks quietly, not wanting to disturb the matron from her work.

Madame Pomfrey remains silent, pointing to a bed half obscured by a pale curtain. “Thank you,” (Y/N) whispers; both women aware that the words stand for much more than a point in the right direction.

She slows her steps as she nears the hospital bed; she doesn’t know what to expect. Cedric hadn’t been moving; hadn’t been breathing the last time she saw him. She couldn’t think of what to expect now that she was mere metres away from him.

Her hands shakes, but she tightens them into fists as she makes her way around the curtain.

It’s there that she lets herself heave the first relieved sigh of the night. Cedric sits up in the hospital bed; propped up by countless fluffy pillows courtesy of Madame Pomfrey. His face is bruised and battered; the dark purple and black a stark contrast to his pale skin. His torso is bandaged, no doubt offering limited support to the numerous broken ribs suffered at the hands of the Dark Lord.

He looks like hell personified, but at the sight of (Y/N) standing at the end of his bed, Cedric smiles as if granted access through the gates of Heaven. “I wondered when you’d be getting here,” He drawls though his voice is somewhat breathless. He shifts in the bed, grimacing as he clearly brings on a new wave of pain.

“You scared me, you arse,” She whispers, barely in control of her own emotions as she stares at the scores of bandages covering Cedric’s body.

Cedric tries to laugh, but it comes out as a wheeze. “Not my intention, promise.”

“Nevertheless.”

Meeting his eyes, it’s hard to keep the relieved smile off her face. (Y/N) feels the familiar stretch of her cheeks and does nothing to stop the smile from growing. The last hours of her life are not ones she would ever choose to repeat. If she wanted to smile now – after seeing Cedric alive – she would damn well smile.

“Have you forgiven me?” Cedric asks; his own smile growing.

(Y/N) crosses her arms, fixing her fellow Hufflepuff with an unimpressed look. “You’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“I do?”

She nods; her expression turning solemn as she thinks of his lifeless body in the arena. “You almost left me behind,” She whispers, her voice close to breaking.

Cedric shifts in his hospital bed; shuffling to the side where he pats the empty space. “Come on,” He urges softly.

(Y/N) hesitates for a moment, but when she sees the steely determination in the set of his jaw and the grey of his eyes, she has no choice but to slide onto the bed with him. Their arms brush as (Y/N) settles next to Cedric; the very touch and the heat of his skin reminding her that Cedric is here, he’s alive and he’ll be okay. The very thought is powerful enough to bring fresh tears to her eyes.

“You can’t do that again,” She states confidently.

“Do what? Enter a deadly competition?” Cedric snorts, “I think my danger days are long behind me.”

“I love that you can joke about this, Ced, but you scared the life out of me.”

Cedric reaches for her hand; tangling their fingers together and letting them rest on his covered thigh. “I could never leave you,” He whispers, “I love you too much to leave you behind.”

She lets her head fall onto his shoulder; careful of causing him any further pain. “I’ve wanted to hear those words for so long,” She murmurs, her thumb brushing over the back of his hand.

“Well, they’re out there. I love you, (Y/N). I have since you were creating stories with swan napkins, and I’ll love you for forever after.”

(Y/N) remains silent for a moment; squeezing Cedric’s hand with hers before turning her face, pressing a kiss to his jawline. “I love you too,” She replies. It’s all that’s needed in the end.

******

Harry Potter taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @big-galaxy-chaos @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @awritingtree @haphazardhufflepuff @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95 @oopskashish @remmyswritings @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here @superbturtlemakerathlete @inglourious-imagines @ithilwen-lionheart @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @ilovejjmaybank @theweasleysredhair @theonly1outof-a-billion @phuvioqhile @moatsnow @storyisnotover @joyfullymulti @himooonlight @potters-heart @amourtentiaa @pandaxnienke @angelxnaa @iamninaanna @nuttytani @propinquify

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irrevocableloves · 3 months

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girl are you okay? you’ve been consuming so much media lately that you haven’t allowed yourself to feel one single human emotion for months

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irrevocableloves · 4 months

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Me trying to explain how 'Cigarette Daydream' is literally Cedric Diggory's song, how he was only 17, how everyone just saw him for his face and forgets that he was literally chosen to compete in the triwizard games, how happy he must have been to have his name finally seperated from his looks only for people to remember him not for his quidditch skills or his grades or the fact that he was Hufflepuff prefect but only for his good looks.

He was only 17 and he had everything he ever wanted and yet nothing ever seemed his, how he was so close to the trophy but was stripped away bare, how he was his parents pride and joy,

He was their boy

He was my boy too

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irrevocableloves · 5 months

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I’m sure someone has talked about this before but one thing I absolutely love about tbosas is how Snow’s descent into villainy is never once presented as something that was inevitable

So many villain origin stories portray this idea of a person who tries incredibly hard to be a good person, who takes every opportunity to be kind and to better themselves, but are ultimately doomed to fail by the narrative. Their environment and their circumstances make it impossible for them to be a good person, and while this is effective from a storytelling point of view it’s not exactly accurate to real life

In real life there is always a point where a bad person makes the decision to do something bad, they make the decision to prioritise themselves, their own power, money or desires over someone else. That’s how real life dictators are made, they are presented with every opportunity to be good, and they purposefully choose to not take it

This makes Snow’s storyline so effective because he is given so many opportunities to do the right thing and yet, at every single turn, he chooses to serve himself instead, exactly like how real dictators are made

Snow, unlike most people we see in the capitol, is in a unique position where he could genuinely have the chance to understand and relate to the people from the districts. He, unlike his classmates, is poor and spends most nights going hungry, he witnessed firsthand the cruelty of the capitol when Clemensia was bitten by the snakes for nothing more than lying about doing her homework, when his sister was forced to sell herself on the streets in order to feed the both of them

Throughout his book, the three people he is closest to are Tigris (who dislikes the hunger games, is a rebel, and a victim of the capitol forced to turn to prostitution), Sejanus (who is originally from district 2, dislikes the capitol and knows he will never be accepted there, and also a rebel) and Lucy Gray (who is a victim of the hunger games, from district 12, and is also treated horribly by the capitol). These are all people who gave him an opportunity to realise the cruelty of the system he was in, a chance to directly confront his prejudices and see that people from the districts are just the same as him, and yet he still refuses to take the chance to change

He is given every opportunity, he’s sent away from the capitol to be a peacekeeper in the districts, he forms personal connections with people from the districts, he helps Sejanus perform funeral rites, and yet at every moral crossroads he comes to he makes the wrong decision. He didn’t have to become a villain, and yet he made the choice to do so anyway, despite every chance he was given

I think it’s a really effective portrayal of Snow as a character, and it’s a very effective villain origin story for the type of villain that Snow is. It never once excuses him from his actions because it highlights just how accountable he was for his actions

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irrevocableloves · 5 months

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Dating Cedric Diggory Would Include...

Request: Please PLEASE Cedric Diggory x a fellow hufflepuff fem reader :((

Ahh Cedric I cry thank you for the request, I hope you don’t mind I started with headcanons, just as I’ve never written for Cedric before and want to ease into writing for him!

(I do not own Harry Potter or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @callmeali17.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

He’s just so cute I can’t!!!!! You two would legitimately be like the sweetest, and most perfect couple at Hogwarts - your fellow students just can’t help but ‘awww’ loudly and adore the two of you when you come walking into the Great Hall for breakfast in the mornings with your arms wrapped around each others waists.

The two of you have known each other since your first year - after being put into Hufflepuff House by the Sorting Hat, you two nervous kids end up thumping down on the bench next to each other, all bumping knees and delighted smiles as you shook hands and introduced yourselves to each other. His eyes were so bright, so joyous when he gripped your hand and shook it so fervently you feared your fingers were about to fall off, but he was just so nervous that you wouldn’t want to be his friend.

Well, actually, you’d first caught his eye *technically* on the Hogwarts Express just a few hours before. You had managed to squish your way in to a carriage filled with fellow first years, and in-between the giggling and sharing stories about families and the muggle world and if there really is a giant squid in the lake like ‘Hogwarts: A History’ states, you had been nominated to scoop up everyone’s gallons and go get some treats to share from the trolley. It just so happened, that Cedric had offered to go buy some pasties for his new found friends, and so the two of you managed to converge on the trolley witch from opposite sides of the rickety velvet corridor.

You were the first person to ever make Cedric Diggory stutter, and to be completely honest, the only person who can. When the witch turned her head to the two of you with a soft smile and asked who she should serve first, you grinned at Cedric and told him to go ahead. He stammered his thanks as he fumbled the money out of his robes, but the whole way back to his compartment he was staring down at his feet with a big dopey smile on his face, the normal peach of cheeks turning his freckles a deep red.

Keep reading

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irrevocableloves · 5 months

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irrevocableloves · 5 months

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irrevocableloves · 6 months

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violent delights

twilight rewrite! edward cullen x fem!witch!reader

chapter seven: port angeles

previous chapter ౨ৎ masterlist ౨ৎ chapter eight

summary: a trip to port angeles should ease her mind, right?

warnings: swearing, violence, harassment

words: 2.9k (unedited)

I was back in the meadow. The sun beaming into my eyes, swallowing me in its warmth. The aroma of blue and purple cosmos, lisianthus, sweet peas, and scabiosas wafting through the air.

“Y/N!” I heard a voice yell. Jacob.

He pulled me out of my daze, his arm wrapped tightly around my wrist, leading me away from the sweet meadow. Everything was almost a blur.

“Jake? What’s wrong?”

I was being pulled deeper and deeper towards the dark and menacing forest.

Looking back at the meadow, the light that emerged was almost blinding as it walked even closer. Edward. His skin faintly glowed as he approached, his eyes an intimidating black. He held out a hand towards me, asking me to come with him.

Jake's grip around my wrist had vanished entirely. In his place was a large light brown wolf with dark brown eyes and sharp teeth that snarled.

I froze at the sight.

“Y/N, trust me.” Edward said in almost a whisper.

I walked towards him slowly, cautious of the enormous wolf that was inches away from tearing at my skin. As I reached out for his hand, I heard a low, menacing growl coming from my rear. The wolf launched at us, Edward jumping in front.

“NO!” I cried out, springing upwards from my bed. I was completely drenched in sweat, the vivid image of that vicious wolf with its sharp teeth lunging towards Edward still burning in my mind's eye.

It was only 5PM. I forced my body to move, reaching my computer and closing the numerous tabs still open from the previous day. I didn’t want to make the same mistake. To search for absolute nonsense just to come up with nothing but a recommendation for a psychologist. I couldn’t plainly type in ‘vampires’ and expect an answer. My brain searched for the answers in Jacob’s story. The cold ones.

In my search, I came across all sorts of legends from different cultures. The Danag, a Filipino vampire who’d planted taro on the islands, working with humans until Danag had drained a woman’s body of her blood. The Romanian Varacolaci, a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful pale-skinned human. The Slovak Nelapsi, who was so strong and fast that it could massacre an entire village on its own. Amidst all the bad, the Stregoni benefici was an one of good, a mortal enemy of all evil vampires.

The myths were quite different from one another, only some backing up the ones I’d seen in horror films. The typical myths such as coffins and withering into ash in the sunlight were almost amusing.

With each myth, I compared it with my own observations of Edward. His impossible speed, strength, beauty, the way his eyes shifted colors, and how his skin resembled porcelain. His touch was ice cold. From the many dreams where I’d felt his touch. It was freezing, almost burning, then it would shift to a sweet and calming warmth. In reality, I’d only felt the burn of his touch with layers of clothing separating the two of us, but nonetheless, his touch left a lasting impression on my memories, making it difficult to forget the strange and hauntingly beautiful being that he was. Despite his otherworldly appearance and behavior, there was something about him that made me want to understand him even more, and with each new discovery, I found myself drawn to him in ways I never thought was possible.

What I needed right now more than anything was to shake him off. He had completely invaded my brain without even trying. I got up and out of the house, not even putting a second thought to where my feet were taking me.

My feet had guided me to a thin ribbon of a trail, one that led through the forest. After the incident with the animal attack, my dad insisted that I shouldn’t wander, but I couldn’t help myself. Even after everything, I still found comfort within the trees. One day, Billy had caught me lurking and convinced my dad that there was a spot on the reservation that was open and in his words, “a hell of a lot safer.” His daughter’s Rachel and Rebbeca brought me through the ribbon trail, revealing a tree, one that looked to be much fuller of life than the rest. It was a willow tree. It stood right in the center of the trail, the other trees surrounding from the outside. It had almost felt as if the image in front of me had been ripped out of a fantasy book. Ever since then, I’d catch myself running to this tree whenever life had felt completely out of my control.

Once I reached the tree, I stood to admire the way the trunk had twisted and turned, how the branches stretched out in every direction, the way its lush green leaves draped over the branches. It was almost unreal. As soon as my back had touched the trunk and my bottom had felt the legs of the tree, I instantly felt bliss. Even as the slight trickles of rain fell onto my cheeks, I remained.

Many questions still lingered in my mind. Could the Cullens be vampires?

From what I knew, from all that Edward had warned me about. How he was dangerous… a villain… Could that all be connected to the stories of bloodsucking monsters? They had to be something. Edward Cullen most definitely wasn't human. In Jacob’s stories, the Cullens seemed like saints in comparison to what I’d read, so perhaps all hope wasn’t lost. But hope for what? That somehow Edward was wrong about himself? That he’d graciously allow himself to let me in? To truly see him for what he actually was and not be blinded by the stories written from the outside?

If Edward was a vampire, why was I searching for some sort of way in and not out?

I had two options. The first was to take his advice: be smart and avoid him as much as possible. To tell him to leave me alone and actually mean it this time. To quite literally build a wall around him and pretend he was only just a figment of my imagination. No matter how much I wished that I could succeed, I knew that I wouldn’t. The second option was much more tempting, which was to continue to get to know him even with the knowledge that I know now. He wasn’t a monster, he just couldn’t be.

Once I finally felt that my escape had been fulfilled, I trekked my way back to my house, following the neat trail that stayed intact somehow.

Opening my eyes, I was greeted with an illuminating orange tint in my bedroom. From the window, beyond the pillows of clouds, I was able to see a tint of the blue in the skies.

For the first few classes, I couldn’t help my jittering. It felt as if the sun had completely cleared the clouds in my brain. Was it because I might’ve figured out his secret? That I wasn’t afraid for some terrifying reason? I didn’t fully understand my enthusiasm. Despite my discoveries, the excitement I’d built up to be face-to-face with Edward after our last encounter was almost nauseating. I was hoping he’d once again steal me away from my friends, with only his company at the same empty table. But once I walked into the cafeteria doors, I faced disappointment. The Cullens’ table was empty. Even as my eyes searched the crowded cafeteria, the table we occupied just last Friday was full of freshmans. As I moped throughout the entirety of lunch, I had a small glimmer of hope that he’d be waiting for me in Biology class, with a smirk ridden on his face after he’d seen my glumness quickly turn into pure joy. But, that didn’t happen.

The rest of the school day had gone by in a blur, my utter depression making the day absolutely useless. Even with the rumors that Tyler Crowley spread about taking me to prom had completely gone over my head. What was it about Edward Cullen that made my emotions go untamed? I felt pathetic. I’d hardly known him, yet my life revolved around him. My happiness was dependent on his wavering presence.

I was hoping time with Angela and Jessica would lessen my misery, but as I sifted through the various dresses, my thoughts had only worsened.

I was going to this dance alone, Jessica and Angela wouldn’t let me escape it, insisting multiple times that I should ask the desperate flocks of guys who were just waiting for my question. I couldn’t help but think of Edward, all while the girls mentioned over and over how ‘into me’ he was, but the thought of asking him filled me with a level of humiliation that I couldn't bear.

After a couple minutes through my search, my eyes had finally fallen upon the perfect dress. It was a deep burgundy color, littered with a pattern of beads that looked to be a vine of flowers blooming across the dress.

I pulled the dress from the rack, admiring it from all around before bringing it to the dressing room.

I slid the dress up my body with ease, the soft, silky material easily gliding over my skin. Looking up towards my reflection, I was in complete awe with not only the beauty of the dress itself, but how it had perfectly caressed every curve and contour of my body. I almost shrieked with excitement, forgetting for only mere seconds that I had no date and no Edward.

I stepped out of the dressing room and found Jessica and Angela, who were giving each other opinions on their dresses they had on.

Once they turned around, their jaws had immediately fell, screeching and running towards me to get a better look of the dress.

“Oh my god. That dress is fucking gorgeous!” Jessica squealed. “Where did you even find that?!” She began to rummage through the dresses in a rush.

“You look hot.” Angela said with her jaw still wide open. “You’re buying that right now, I swear.”

“If you don’t, I will!” Jessica yelled, still searching through the dresses.

“I’m getting it, Jess.” I laughed. “Maybe, I do need a date.”

“Oh my god! Yes! Please!” Jessica squealed.

Once I changed out of the dress and into my normal clothes, I went to the register and paid. In the meantime, I waited for Jessica and Angela to find their dresses, giving them opinions on each, ranking them from best to worst. Even as I was fully occupied, I couldn't help but sneak glances at the bookstore across the street.

“Hey,” I hesitated. “Do you guys mind if I check out the bookstore?”

“Oh, yeah! Did you want us to come with you?”

“No, no, you guys can take your time. I’ll just meet you guys at dinner, yeah?”

“Wait!” Jessica yelled just as I was about to open the door. “Pink dress is number one right?”

“Definitely. Makes your boobs look good.”

“Okay, okay.” She relaxed. “Have fun! Remember, 7:30PM at Bella Italia!”

“Got it!” I gave her a thumbs up and headed out the door.

The walk to the bookstore wasn’t far, but I still managed to take in the sights of Port Angeles. As I approached the storefront, I could already smell the musty aroma of old books and the faint hint of coffee wafting through the air. Once I opened the door, I was greeted with almost endless aisles of books. I eagerly made my way through the aisles, my eyes scanning the spines of every book, my curiosity piqued by each and every one.

I didn't have any idea of what I was searching for, but somehow an array of books had appeared in front of me to dig into. Every book had to do with spiritual powers, energies, and connections.

As I lost myself in the books in front of me, the hour had slipped away without me even realizing. A buzz from my phone had broken me from the trance. It was Jessica, informing me that they’d already secured a table at Bella Italia. I immediately started to panic, shoving all the books I'd purchased into my shoulder bag and rushing out of the bookstore.

I didn’t realize how long the walk to the restaurant from the bookstore was until the sun had completely set. Almost no one was on the sidewalks, except for a group of four men that were towards the corner that I needed to turn into. I considered rerouting, turning entirely back around and taking the longer route to the restaurant, but I decided against it. I rummaged through my bag that slouched on my shoulder, frantically searching from some old mace that I’d stuck in there years ago. When I finally found it, I readied it, clutching my bag for dear life as I made my way towards them. I tried hard to keep a normal stature. I couldn’t look afraid because that’s exactly what they wanted: a frail girl that they could poke at to mug or possibly worse… I shuddered at the thought, but continued on. But as a neared closer, the thoughts were almost unbearable, as if my brain had been altered and spoke in their manner.

“Hey! Watcha doing out here on your own?” One of them nearly shouted, an evil and taunting laugh coming out of their mouth immediately after. Finally, Something to do. I flinched, hearing those words in almost a whisper. Now, I couldn’t help but look afraid, but still, I pretended to ignore them, straightening my back and picking up my pace.

“Oh, c’mon! Not even a ‘hello”?” I didn’t even bother to respond or even look at any of them as I passed by. What I would do for– Wow– Stupid Bitch… I didn’t dare turn around as they spoke, even if it felt as if they were screaming it in my ears, but the voices began to fade as I walked further away from them.

Once I saw that I was alone, I realized the nerves had caused me to miss a turn and walk into a dead-end. I was stuck behind some old storage buildings at the end of Port Angeles. I'd recognized it from the one time I’d come with my dad to put away the many Christmas decorations that he could no longer fit in the garage or attic.

Then suddenly, almost louder than ever: Looks like we got something to play with tonight. I stopped in my tracks. It was completely silent. Not even their boasting laughter from a minute ago could be heard. Just the sound of my wracking breaths.

Just as I turned around to walk back, just ten feet away from me were two of the men from the group from before. I never had a good look at them because of the darkness and also the fact that I refused to look in their direction.

Instead of walking back in their direction, I turned to my right. I even considered running, but at this point, I was outnumbered and the two other men were possibly waiting to cease on my escape. You don’t know that they’re following you. I tried to make myself feel better even though I knew they were. Why wouldn’t they? Why were their thoughts and energy so strong that I could practically pull it from their sick minds? Was that what I had done? Was that the answer as to why their thoughts were screaming into my mind as if they were all surrounding me?

After crossing the street, I found myself behind an old warehouse and just as I was about to turn to go around it, I bumped into someone. Just as I was about to routinely say I was sorry, I smelt the reeking smell of alcohol and two men smirking disgustingly in front of me, inching towards me.

“Hey! Where you going?” I turned around, hoping to make a smooth exit, even considering breaking into a run, but I’d just bumped into another two figures. “Don’t leave, we’re just having fun here.”

They all huddled around me, spatting obscenities in my face to the point where I’d completely forgotten the mace that was in my sweaty and shaky hand. The voices were almost too much. I felt a hand grab my arm and yank it towards them, forcing me to face them, to which I brought myself back to reality, forcing up my knee and hitting the man’s groin and macing him. A scream erupted and as the other three men tried to grab me, I heard a car screech and veer out of the corner.

Headlights suddenly blinded my vision. In the meantime, I’d managed to pull myself away from the group and jump out of the car’s direction, preparing to run in case the car was not for my rescue. Once I saw the car almost ram into the four men and skid to a stop before me, I let out a breath of relief, especially after I’d seen who’d gotten out. Edward. All thoughts, not just the men, but my own had vanished.

“Get in,” Edward said, his voice laced with venom as the four men stared bewildered back at him.

I didn’t even give it a second thought as I practically threw myself into the car, slamming the door behind me and locking it.

next chapter

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long !!! i had such a writer's block (which is weird because this is literally a rewrite????) but i’m gonna try to go back to updating every week or two weeks if i can!! also i’m not sure if i wanna have edward’s confession in the car or have it in the woods like in the movie. i love the drama of the forest, but i also love the intimacy of the car, but idk i think i’ll do a mix of both??? but hehehe it’s my favorite part so i’m super excited to write it!!! i’m leaving the dinner scene in the next chapter too just bc i feel like it fits better imo. please leave some feedback, your thoughts, and reblog if you can!!

tags: @measure-in-pain @brekkers-whore @rejectedbimbo @leilanileila @anothercoffeeblogx @cevans-winchester @trawberry-fire @tiniewife @nephilimsss @itszzmoon @astrovampie @cryingoverfictionalmen @boxofbadsenses @ttnaanj @iheartprettygurls @aoi-targaryen

taglist ₊˚⊹♡

#violent delights #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen fanfiction #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen x you #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight rewrite #edward cullen #violent delights fanfiction #violent delights fanfic

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