Will/Tessa Fan Fiction - Unfit 

Tessa assuaged her mounting dread by reminding herself that this was only a dress rehearsal – a measure to ensure everything fitted as it should. That was all. The actual day, where this hideously beautiful dress would adorn itself with a much more permanent and grandiose meaning, was a week away.

she told herself firmly. Sophie put her hands atop Tessa’s shoulders, steadying her, as she swivelled her around to face the floor-length mirror behind her. 

Tessa made a quiet gasp, though it escaped Sophie’s notice – she had stepped back, a satisfied grin stretching across her half-scarred, half-lovely face, admiring her handiwork. “Miss Tessa….” She looked as though she was searching for words. “You look beautiful. Beautiful.”

Seeing herself in the mirror, the reality of what she was going to embark upon shattered Tessa’s remaining equilibrium. Her heart beat weakly in her chest. “Thank you, Sophie.”

The dress itself was dazzlingly colourful. The skirt was not puffed, but elegant – buttery cream, threaded with bright copper and burnished gold lace.  The intricate, runed gold of the bodice was so beauteously and delicately worked around the shape of her chest and waist; Tessa blushed for herself. She had never seen such stunning colour, illuminating the dimness of room with honeyed brilliance – at least, not on decent, respectable ladies.

But it seemed to Tessa as if its resplendence was not suggestive of indignity or immodesty; rather the contrary. It became obvious why this was a Shadowhunter’s wedding dress: it was designed for warriors, for the daughters of Raziel. The exquisite gold almost resembled armour, something Bellona or Boadicea would have worn when raging into battle, glorified in the exhilarated elation of victory. 

Tessa felt tears surge in her eyes, blurring her reflection as swimming despair encased her mind. She thought about her not truly belonging anywhere – she no more belonged with Shadowhunters than she did Downworlders – so what was she doing marrying one? She was alone in the world, no matter what anyone said. There was not a single soul who would fully understand her.

“Do not you think so, too, miss?” Sophie asked, a light frown pressing into her brow as she stared at Tessa in the mirror, her smile slipping. “You look upset. What’s wrong?”

“No, no it’s nothing. It’s lovely. I’m just….so happy,” Tessa forced a smile, exhaling.

Sophie grinned. “I’m sure Mr Carstairs will also be,”

Tessa managed to sustain her smile, concentrating on the rigid muscles around her mouth, until Sophie had all but galloped out of the room, leaving Tessa to her thoughts.

Immediately, Tessa dropped her facade and stumbled towards the chair at the dressing table. She collapsed into it, like a felled tree, her head crashing on the desk and wept.

Tessa felt the cold, salty wetness puddle around her face as she thought, over and over,

I can’t do this. I can’t do this. Please, God, don’t let me have to do this. I can’t marry him. I can’t.

marry him. I can’t hurt Jem like that.

Tessa gasped, leaping wildly out of the chair, her heart walloping painfully against her chest as she saw who was standing at the door.

He had been pushing open the door that Sophie had left ajar, but his arm fell to his side as his eyes slid over what Tessa was wearing.

He looked exhausted and dishevelled. No jacket, as usual. He was wearing worn trousers and a loose, untucked shirt wide open at the neck, revealing the black scars of whorling runes and the white ones of old wounds, embedded in muscle. The lachrymose, purplish hue discolouring the skin beneath his dark eyes, coupled with the murky yellow light emanating from her room, cast a gloomy look over him. He looked like a man condemned, shackled to his doom.

A man who had just been dealt a fatal blow. Stupefied, his jaw slack, he teetered on the threshold of Tessa’s bedroom, unable to look away from her.

Suddenly, Tessa felt herself regressing into the past, to the last time she was with Will when he had looked at her so dejectedly: she was in the drawing room again. She was saying the words, but she couldn’t hear herself say them. She saw only his face. The fierce flame of hope and joy dying in his eyes as she repeated she would never have him. Her heart belonged to another.

Will cleared his throat, flinging her back into the present. He had stepped into her room and shut the door, swallowing nervously.

He was looking around the room, at the walls, at the floor, anything apart from her. “You look…” He glanced sneakily at her, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. Tessa could tell he was grinding his teeth. He couldn’t seem to find the words.

Another time, Tessa might have teased him about it. Instead, she wiped away the lingering tears on her cheeks. “Why are you crying, Tess?”

Tessa knew why he was in here. Because he felt obligated – it was the polite, gentlemanly thing to do. No doubt he hated her. Who in their right mind wouldn’t, after what she had done to him?

“I…” Tessa tried to frame an excuse, but her mouth wouldn’t allow her. Without her permission, she abruptly burst out, “I can’t do this!”

Will looked at her sharply, and strode over to her. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, I can’t….” Tessa looked steadfastly at the floor. “I can’t marry him.”

“Tessa, of course you can marry him. You’re nervous, that’s all. It’s natural.” His voice was cold, reproachful.

Tessa continued to stare at the floor. She felt Will take her chin and forcibly lift her head to meet his eyes. She hadn’t realised how close he was until now. “No, Will, you don’t understand…” Her voice trailed off.

He tilted his head, cocking his eyebrow. “Then help me to.”

She warred with herself, with words, with what she knew was right; but in the end, selfishness won.

She grabbed Will’s face, and crushed her lips to his.

Tessa squeezed her eyes shut, expecting him to push her away at any moment, but instead, Tessa felt his stiffness soften into eagerness. She could hardly contain her shock when she felt his lips begin to move with hers.

The smell of him, the feel of him, the taste of him, his lips mingling with hers. Tears sailed down her face, but not from sadness – from joy, relief. She felt his hands cradle her face, his thumbs smudging the wetness of her tears as he stroked her cheeks.

Her mouth opened wider, and as he began to deepen their kiss, he moved his hands to her shoulders, tugging and hard. Tessa no longer cared about whether he damaged the lace. He moaned into her mouth, desperation and woe and pleasure intertwined in one bitter, addictive potion.

Suddenly, she felt his hands on her shoulders, wrenching her from him, shoving her away brutally. “No.” He growled. “No!” His fingers dug into her. Pain spiked through her arms.

He shook his head, looking imploringly at the ceiling, as if calling on the angels themselves for command of himself. After he had regained his composure, he said flatly, “You will marry Jem. You will make him happy. No more of this. No more…”

He shook her, not gently. “You are going to marry Jem, do you understand me?” His expression was frenzied with anger, the aquamarine radiance of his eyes boring into hers, demanding her obedience. “Do you

His words hollowed Tessa out of all hope that she had clung onto. “Yes. Yes, I understand.”

#a bit pointless specifiying what series  #unfit  #willxtessa  #i reached my next hundred so 

richardegansey reblogged this from heartofaherondale and added:

Have I told you I love you? I think it needs reiterating :)