#as someone who hates the institution of marriage I literally need someone who’s first thought when meeting me is to marry me
Note
Hi! i’d like to request a Zuko x Reader oneshot please and it takes place a few years after he’s crowned as the Fire Lord: Zuko is entering suitable age for marriage and yet he has no one that he likes enough to take as his queen, what if Uncle Iroh hired the reader whom is a famous matchmaker that usually arranges the courting & marriage between nobles, but instead of all these ladies that she threw at him he ended up falling for her instead but he’s just so awkward and inexperienced Thank u
INAMORATA | ZUKO X READER
SUMMARY: after a few years of being Fire Lord, Zuko still hasn’t found a companion. so naturally, when Iroh comes upon a matchmaker, he does what he does best and helps Zuko out by hiring her to help him find someone. and inadvertently... iroh ends up playing matchmaker himself.
WORD COUNT: 12.6k
WARNINGS: mentions of death, death threats, kissing, pining, very mild innuendos, blood, injuries, crying
A/N: this is literally art omg i feel kinda honored to be seeing this ngl and i ended up researching matchmaking and they’re basically therapists that help you find love?? kinda. the profile thing is something that some matchmakers do and idk i have fun analyzing zuko so
in·am·o·ra·ta/iˌnaməˈrädə/
noun
a woman with whom one is in love or has intimate relations.
ATTEMPT ZERO
After years of being the Fire Lord, Zuko had come to realize the job was pretty basic if you thought about it long enough. There were just a few major things to deal with. First, there’s the internal relations, like the civil wars and uprising he deal with at the start of his reign because people disliked his ways. Then there’s the external relations, Zuko worked alongside Aang to repair those, helping the Southern Water Tribe rebuild itself from the ground up, and hosting meetings between the nations, friendly and work related. Those are the more diplomatic aspects of the job, and sadly, even as a ruler who sought to end a war, there was still violence in the world.
When Aang and the rest of Team Avatar ended the One Hundred Year War, that only exposed a variety of other problems within the world, problems that the team seeked to end. There were people out there who disliked this line of thinking, and similarly wanted it to end, but ending the lives of Team Avatar.
Zuko was used to the death threats, and the assassination attempts. He’d had a security detail in place to ensure he lived to rule his nation, this was especially necessary since he lacked an heir and the only other people eligible for the throne were an old man who ran a tea shop and a psychopathic teenage girl in a mental institution. This is where the social aspect of the job came in, the part that Zuko had never been good at. The Galas and the girls who threw themselves at him, the nobility of all nations that approached him offering their children’s hand in marriage. Zuko was an enigma, a young and powerful bachelor, and now all the nobles with children were lining up for a minute alone with him to try and sell their own kids.
It disgusted him. The way they treated their children like cattle reminded Zuko of his own father, how willing he was to get rid of Zuko since he had a replacement on standby. Though, Zuko sincerely doubted he ever would’ve gotten the throne if Ozai had a choice, even if he hadn’t been banished.
Alas, even Zuko could recognize the urgency of it, the death threats weren’t letting up, and the assassination attempts were only getting more and more elaborate, leaving Zuko wondering when they’d no longer be attempts. He needed and heir, or at least a wife who could rule alongside him and take over entirely in the event of his death.
The problem was, he didn’t want this.
He was in a unique position, where the person he married would have an immense effect on society, on politics. If it was an Earth Kingdom girl, then maybe the years of violence against their people could be mended sooner, and they could begin working together to combat a variety of issues. If he ends up with a Fire Nation girl, it could be viewed as strengthening the traditional ideals of Fire Nation independence and sovereignty because the Fire Nation is “supreme.”
Dating was political now and he hated it. It wasn’t like Zuko wanted to be alone, it’s just that now everything mattered far more than it used to. Of course, even as a prince it had been the same, but now that he was the Fire Lord, things seemed to be ten times worse. Perhaps it was excessive but Zuko couldn’t help but feel paranoid whenever a new person entered his life, he couldn’t help but assume that they were just using him for some other agenda.
Of course, his friends had tried to assure him this wasn’t always the case, and they’d even made attempts to set him up with girls. All of which had failed. Zuko knew he wasn’t an easy person, much less an easy person to date. As Fire Lord, a lot of his time was taken up by meetings, and diplomatic missions, and not-so-diplomatic missions alongside Team Avatar. That and he was rather awkward when it came down to most social interactions, though he’d improved over time, especially as the ruler of a nation, his speeches were elegant and so was the way he negotiated with other kingdoms.
And yet he struggled to talk to strangers.
Iroh seemed to be tired of this as well, he’d sent Zuko several letters in regards to his lack of romance, insisting that he was a “handsome young man” that had “lots of potential” and he was “wasting” his prime with so much work. Zuko didn’t consider managing a country as a waste, though he understood where Iroh was coming from, Zuko probably should’ve been spending time with friends, going to clubs. Not saving the world.
Regardless, there wasn’t much he could do about, he didn’t have time for dating, and Zuko wasn’t willing to compromise his morals and beliefs just for an heir in the event that he got brutally murdered. He refused to raise a child just for that purpose. He learnt the hard way that you should only have kids if you intend to cherish them. And the idea of marrying someone just to strengthen his nation felt wrong, though he could see the benefits.
God, he hated being Fire Lord sometimes.
On the other hand, Y/N L/N liked her job. Amongst the nobility of the Earth Kingdom, she was a rather famous woman, Y/N had brought together some of the most powerful couples in the country. A lot of people owed her favors, and the money that came with the job was more than satisfactory. If Y/N had to guess, she was one of the richest people in the kingdom, considering how much people were willing to pay to fine “the one.” Her business had been rather successful since she’d gotten renowned in the inner ring of the city, and now, Y/N was considering expansion, to the Fire Nation. The borders had long since reopened, when the new Fire Lord came into power.
A whole new set of nobles for her to profit from.
She’d decided to head to a high end tea shop in celebration of her choice to expand her business. Y/N had heard it was only for the best, since the tea shop served the best. One of her clients had insisted that someone of her esteem try the tea there, given that she was the best in her own profession.
So, here she was. It was a nice place, she wouldn’t deny, and Y/N had heard of the shop before. The Jasmine Dragon, run by some old guy who’d appeared in Ba Sing Se just before the war ended with some major talent when it came to brewing tea. The interior was fancy, but not excessive, several people were already seated within. Y/N even recognized one of the couples there, who waved at her enthusiastically, “hello! Lady L/N, how lovely to see you!” One of them called out.
Y/N smiled at them, “how are you two?”
The other beamed at her as she responded, “oh we’re just lovely! Preparing our wedding invitations and one of them has your name on it.” This wasn’t abnormal, most of the couples she’d brought together attributed their love to her. In actuality, Y/N found that if you found two people with compatible personalities, then they’d work things out on their own. All she did was introduce them.
“I’m excited!” Y/N assured, moving past their table, “now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to try this famous tea. But, I’m looking forward to the invite.”
The pair nodded, before returning their attention the friends seated across from them, and Y/N made her way to the front of the shop, bag of coins in hand. An older man stood behind the counter, a smile on his face as he brought his attention to her, “what can I get you today Miss...”
“Y/N. Y/N L/N.” She replied, small smile on her face as she looked at the menu, “what’s your name?” Y/N asked, meeting his eyes to see the flicker of recognition within them before returning her gaze to the menu.
He nods slowly, “I’m Iroh, and you’re a matchmaker, no?” He’d recognized the name, her business had begun gaining traction amongst the nobility of the Earth Kingdom shortly after the war, and she was one of the most sought after matchmakers in the nation. Iroh himself had looked into her business, seeing as his nephew was yet to find love in his chaotic lifetstyle.
Y/N smiled at him as she nodded, “indeed.” She placed the menu down, “any suggestions?”
“Perhaps, Jasmine tea?” He suggested.
Y/N nodded, “sounds good.” She places extends a hand with coins, dropping them into his palm, “so are you looking for love?” Though she was certainly famous for her skills, Y/N tended to work behind the scenes, and she was surprised to find this man recognized her.
A small laughed escaped him at her words as he shook his head, “no. I believe it is a little too late for that.” He was working on her tea beyond the counter, and Y/N began to wonder how he was steaming the tea pot when she noticed there was no stove beside him.
“Don’t say that! You seem like a fine man that anyone woman would want.” Y/N assured, though she now wondered why exactly this man knew who she was in the first place. It was rare for those outside of nobility to know who she was.
Turning around, his hand pressed to the pot that Y/N was positive had to have been burning his hand in some way, “oh, you’re too kind.” He replies, a small smile on his face as he poured a bit into a cup, “I was looking to help my nephew find love actually.”
“Really, now?” Firebending, that was the only explanation for the way this man was handling the tea. “I was looking to expand my business to the Fire Nation, perhaps I could help him out.” He didn’t hold himself the way most Earth Kingdom citizens did, and coupled with the possible Firebending, he was likely from the Fire Nation.
Iroh raises a brow at this, “what gave me away?” He stirs the tea a few times, before placing it on the counter for her to take.
Y/N shrugs, “it’s my job to know people well enough that I can find them a match.” Taking a sip of her tea, she smiles, “so this nephew of yours. He wouldn’t happen to nobility, would he?”
He laughs at this, pouring himself a cup of tea as well as he sighs, “actually, he is nobility. In a way.”
Now Y/N did not expect the nobility Iroh spoke of the be the nobility. As in the Fire Lord, the actual ruler of the entire nation, though this would certainly be great for business. Once the world hears of how Y/N found the Fire Lord, someone who had been notably difficult to woo apparently, a match, her business will be set.
“Isn’t this exciting, guys?” Y/N exclaimed, looking to her assistants, they were both on the younger side, Marcella and Evelyn. She’d brought them along since this would definitely be a valuable learning experience, and Y/N figured she’d need a lot of help if the Fire Lord was as difficult as they made him out to be. That and Y/N didn’t want to leave them alone in the Earth Kingdom, both of them had been orphaned at a young age. Y/N couldn’t help but relate to them, so when she’d come upon her newfound wealth, brought about by her job as a matchmaker, she’d taken the pair under her wing.
With a bag thrown over her shoulder, Evelyn simply nodded while Marcella exclaimed, “yes! I’ve always wanted to see the Fire Nation. Do you think we could find a client in one of the Water Tribes next?”
Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the young girl’s excitement, “if this goes well? We’ll be able to find clients anywhere.” She wasn’t wrong, Y/N had never had the opportunity to work with the actual Earth King, the true ruler of the nation. Now she was working with the ruler of a nation she’d never stepped foot in, entirely new customs and traditions to research, a new social structure, new everything.
What a fun challenge.
With a smile on her face, Y/N followed closely behind Iroh, the palace was stunning, she couldn’t deny it. And compared to the crumbling infrastructure of the lower rings of cities like Ba Sing Se, Fire Nation cities were prospering Fire Lord Zuko’s rule. From what she’d heard, things weren’t always this way.
“Y/N and I are going to wait here,” he gestured to the open space before them, dozens of paintings within it, “these two will take you to your rooms.” He explained to the pair of young girls, nodding to the servants beside them, who began to guide the young girls away.
Y/N’s eyes found their way to the paintings, the newest one being of the current Fire Lord, Zuko himself. She wondered how accurate the painting was, and seeing as she would be meeting him soon, Y/N figured she’d find out as she sighed, turning to Iroh, “so how does the original heir to the throne become the owner of an infamous tea shop?”
Iroh smiles to himself at her words, “age brings wisdom. And tea is a nice substitute for alcohol.” He jokes, though Y/N can see the pain in his eyes, along with admiration as he stares at Zuko’s portrait alongside her.
“Uncle!” A voice exclaimed, joy clear in his voice as he called out. Y/N watched as Iroh spun around, a broad smile on his face as he moved forwards to embrace the person.
He looked better in person, Y/N quickly decided, though the portrait did its job just as well. She wouldn’t deny he was attractive, but she already knew looks weren’t the issue. Iroh had informed her of the situation, Zuko’s constant rejection of any and every single person that approached him, and the stress he experienced because of the politics of it all.
“Nephew, it is good to see you,” Iroh said, releasing him from the hug, “how are you?” Initially he seemed fairly comfortable at the sight of just his Uncle, but as the Fire Lord’s body seemed to stiffen, Y/N realized she’d been spotted.
So, he wasn’t comfortable with strangers, “I’m alright Uncle... who is this?” He asked. There was an edge to his voice as he spoke, sizing Y/N up, not in the way you did for someone you were attracted to, but for an enemy.
Uncomfortable with new people, clear trust issues, and his mind was always alert. She’d have to write these things down and take them into consideration prior to finding him a potential partner. Though it was starting to look like he was completely unaware of her purpose there as she extended her hand out to him, “Y/N L/N. Professional matchmaker.” She explained with a bright smile, though, based off his personality, that would likely ward him off more.
He was polite though, shaking her hand despite his clear suspicions of her, “Zuko.” Y/N couldn’t help but raise a brow at this, he hadn’t mentioned his title in his introduction. Zuko turned to his Uncle, brows furrowing as he said, “you hired a professional matchmaker?”
With a shrug Iroh responded, “we met by chance! So, it must be destiny.”
Zuko gives him a tight lipped smile, nodding slowly before returning his attention to Y/N who stood away from the pair, examining the decor of the palace. It was minimalistic, truly basic if she was honest, despite the clear amount of riches they possessed, it lacked evidence of them. Bringing her eyes back to him, he spoke, “you don’t need to be here. You can receive your pay, but I personally see no purpose for a matchmaker.”
Iroh frowned at his words, “Zuko, you need to give it a chance! Unlike all those ladies who keep throwing themselves at you. Besides, she seems rather good at her job.” His gaze was on his nephew as he sighed, giving Y/N an apologetic look that she simply waved off.
“Oh, it’s fine. It just won’t be for long.” Zuko raised a brow at her words, and Y/N watched his feet shifted, “no need to prepare for a fight, your majesty.” She hummed, rolling her neck, in the corner of her eye she could see shock flash in his own. “You see, as a matchmaker I do several things, including developing a little... profile of my clients. Now we just met but I can already tell you a variety of things about you that’s making your love life rather trivial.” Even before she had to develop the profiles professionally, in the lower rings of Ba Sing Se, being capable of reading others was a necessary skill.
Zuko’s eyes narrowed at her, “and what have you determined, in the very short time we’ve known each other.”
A small laugh escaped her as she extended her arms and cracked her knuckles, “well. You have major trust issues, which is why you are desperately trying to keep me at arms length. That’s one reason why you have yet to find someone.” Turning her attention to the decor of the large room, Y/N closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Given the lack of interior design, I would say you’re struggling with social aspects of your job, and you need a partner. One that I can help you find.”
“See! I told you she’s good at what she does.” Iroh exclaimed, moving forward to clap a hand onto Y/N’s shoulder, much to Zuko’s dismay.
Y/N gave the older man a small smile before looking back to Zuko, who eyed her wearily, “you keep avoiding the portrait of your father. But you can’t bring yourself to take it down.” She said, and Y/N could practically feel the tension building with each word. “He’s one of the reasons you’ve yet to find a lover-”
“Because he gave me the scar?”
Y/N paused, brows furrowing at his words, her eyes found his, “I’m sorry, was that a joke?” She asked, and Iroh stared between the two, amused. “You’re actually rather attractive, which is why I know this is a personality thing. Probably tired of the whole fancy court thing they have going on here, which I’m going to need to research...” Y/N pursed her lips, failing to notice the clear shock on Zuko’s face at her comment, and red flushing his cheeks. Waving off her thoughts, she looked back to him, “anyways. My assistants should’ve already cleared out about an hour in your schedule each day for our sessions. I’m going to be asking you some very personal questions. So, be ready!”
And with that, Y/N waved to the two, bowing rather questionably shortly after, before heading off in the direction she’d seen Marcella and Evelyn go in. Effectively leaving behind a baffled Zuko, and a rather satisfied Iroh, who began to laugh at Zuko’s reaction. “I really like her, quite the character she has.”
“Yeah, quite the character.” He brought a hand to his temple, “is this really necessary, Uncle?”
Iroh simply sighed, looking to his nephew, “whether you want to admit it or not, she was right. Ruling a nation is difficult, and ruling it alone is even harder.” A small huff of laughter escaped Iroh, “and she figured that out by your lack of interior design!”
Exhaling deeply, Zuko reminded himself that this was all part of the job, the job that consumed his entire life. The life that this girl had analyzed in a matter of moments.
Yeah, he wasn’t looking forward to their meetings.
Though his morals and his disagreement with practically selling your own child were a major factor in his lack of a love life. There was also the simple fact that there was no love in many of the interactions he had with potential suitors, much less genuine interest. They all wanted the power he could give them should they get married.
There was also the fact that Zuko had very little relationship experience, a fact he was trying to ignore. At the end of the day, he couldn’t bring himself to approach anyone, and if he did, he wouldn’t know what to do. Zuko also doubted that people would act... genuine around him, especially if they knew who he was. And all he really wanted was something real, considering his entire day was surrounded by fake smiles that belonged to both him and others.
It seemed that Y/N wasn’t prepared to ignore this piece of information though, since the following morning she’d seated him down and begun to speak of it, “so. You’ve been in two relationships.”
His brows furrowed, “one actually.” He and Mai had broken up about six months into his work as Fire Lord, “Mai.”
Raising a brow at him, she leaned back in the seat. Zuko couldn’t help but wonder how she managed to decorate the place in such a short period of time, as he could’ve sworn there hadn’t been a desk here the previous day. Then again, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d toured his own palace. “Well, I’ve heard rumors of you and a Southern Water Tribe member, but I’m not sure which one so I just-”
“Okay! That’s enough.” His cheeks were flushed red as he looked away.
Y/N grinned at him, leaning forwards, “then let’s discuss Mai. You two were pretty on and off, right?”
Zuko grimaced at the thought, they were. He wouldn’t deny that he’d gone back to her a few times during his time as Fire Lord, “yeah.”
Y/N began to write into her notebook, “tell me about her.”
“I don’t see why that’s important.” Came his response, looking at her quizzically as he frowned.
Tilting her head at him, Y/N gave Zuko a look, “come on. Let me do my job, I need to know about her to gauge what types of personalities you like while also determining why the two of you broke it off entirely.” She placed the book down, and Zuko could very clearly see the words ‘commitment issues’ underlined. “The goal isn’t just to find you a suitable wife that can help you rule, but someone you can be happy with.”
He’s silent for a moment, eyes on Y/N, her words seem honest. And this was her job, “she was blunt. Honest. Kind of mean at times, but she could be sweet as well. Pretty stoic, expressing her emotions was always... difficult for her.”
Y/N nodded slowly, scribbling a few more things down, “okay. And what’s your favorite color?”
“What type of question is that?” Zuko asked, brows furrowing in confusion.
Crossing her arms, Y/N shrugged, “well. Favorite colors can tell you a lot about a person.” Came her response, “mine is green. Maybe that’s because I associate green with the Earth Kingdom, where I lived. Or maybe it’s because I happen to like nature quite a bit.” Looking around, Zuko could see that she’d already gotten a variety of plants native to the Fire Nation, most were succulents due to the almost year round heat.
At the mention of colors, his mind immediately went back to his first experience with the dragons, when their fire encircled him and Aang. “I.. don’t know how to describe the color- colors?” Zuko’s brows drew together in thought, and Y/N looked at him.
“How would I not understand a color?” The confusion is clear in her voice as she looks at him. Y/N can practically see the nostalgia in his eyes as he looks to the balcony.
Sighing, Zuko shifted in his seat, “these dragons I met ended up making a circle of fire around me and there were just... so many colors. But together it was just,” he paused, searching for the right word, “beautiful.”
Y/N’s mouth gaped open for a moment, “you met dragons?” She exclaimed, nearly throwing her notebook aside. Y/N had never seen such creatures, in fact, the general consensus was that they were still extinct
Zuko seemed to forget about this fact as he straightened himself, eyes meeting hers, “you can’t tell anyone about them!” He exclaimed, “they were hunted to extinction, though I intend to outlaw such things it’s just...”
She nodded in understanding, “people break laws.” Y/N leaned back into her seat once more, “you owe me a dragon story.” She said, before crossing her legs in her seat and continuing, “favorite food?”
“Well, Aang took me to Avatar Day, and they had these weird Avatar shaped dough things.” He explained, recalling the time he’d gone with Aang and the others. Apparently they used to burn his statue, but now they worship him for some reason.
Y/N brought a hand under her chin, “I have no idea what that is.” She began to scribble something down on her notepad, “but okay.”
“What about you?”
Y/N hummed in response, “what do you mean?”
Zuko felt his cheeks warm, “this just feels like an interview.”
“Probably because it is an interview.” Y/N said, gesturing for him to elaborate.
Looking away, Zuko frowned, “it’s weird.” Sighing, he spoke once more, “so, what’s your favorite food?”
Y/N was silent for a moment, staring at Zuko, who was trying his hardest to avoid her gaze. This was a rare occurrence, seeing as most nobles were rather self-centered and liked talking about themselves. She’d never had a client who felt uncomfortable with this portion because it was basically a one-sided conversation. “Jennamite is a good rock candy.”
Zuko turns back to her, a small laugh escaping him, “my friends were nearly killed in Jennamite by the King of Omashu once.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
ATTEMPT ONE
Y/N wouldn’t deny how odd it was, to be sharing as much information as she was learning about Zuko. She’d never really considered just how personal some of the questions were until she found herself answering them. But, after about a month, she had assembled a pretty good array of potential suitors for Zuko. Along with a few of her own clients, Y/N had found some girls that from the Fire Nation that seemed pretty acceptable.
That’s what she had thought at least.
“What do you mean, you already rejected her?”
Turns out, Zuko had met half the women, and rejected them. The other half were either from the Earth Kingdom, or yet to attend one of few Galas that Zuko hosted. Seeing as he handed off most of that work to his advisors, it was rare for him to remain at Galas for an extended period of time.
He grimaced at Y/N’s words nonetheless, his Uncle had informed her of his situation, but clearly not the extent of it. “She was more interested in her guard than me. It was a power grab her parents likely forced her into.” He remembered the girl, she’d been kind to him, but she clearly didn’t want him as much as her parents did.
His words brought about a new level of understanding for Y/N, who nodded slowly, of course it was the parents that Zuko had a problem with. It wasn’t uncommon for nobles to practically throw their children at potential suitors as though they’re a bag of coins. It was something that disgusted her as well, her job found people companions that they liked while these people simply wished for an addition to their power.
Zuko was the ultimate power grab. Y/N could only imagine how many times this had happened to him, random people he’d never met approaching him, offering their child’s hand in marriage.
Bringing a hand to her temple, Y/N sighed, “but the rest are fine?”
He nodded slowly, flipping through the pages he had yet to remove, Zuko skimmed what Y/N had written. Taking note of her handwriting, he wondered if she’d written his profile like this. “Yeah...” Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, and Zuko sighed, removing a few more pages from the binder she’d presented him with.
Exhaling deeply, Y/N brought a hand to Zuko’s shoulder, “be honest with me. I’m not gonna yell at you for removing them Zuko, this is for you.”
Sometimes he forgot it was her job to be nice to him.
“Right.” He mumbled, trying to shake off the feeling he got as she removed her hand. “That’s still... a lot of people. Some of which aren’t even in this nation.” Zuko pointed out, a queasy feeling within him as he looked at her.
Y/N plopped down onto the couch in the common room they’d met in, sprawling her body across it, “you’re right, there is a lot. But,” She twisted her body so that she could see him, wiggling her brows suggestively, “it’s been a while since you hosted a Gala.”
Zuko’s face dropped at her words, in his years of being Fire Lord, he’d had about three total, and hated every single one. But given how rare the Galas were, people got pretty excited when he threw them. “I hate planning those, it’s a waste of time and-”
A small smile was on her face as she interrupted him, “and you suck at planning them? I can tell by the decor of your palace.” Glaring at her, Zuko watched as she shifted so that her head hung off the couch upside down, “well. This will be the best Gala yet, you’ll impress all the ladies that you can’t meet in the immediate future in about...” Y/N looked to the watch on her wrist, brows furrowing, “eight months. And I’ll help you plan it, since you desperately need help-”
“Alright, I get it, I’m horrible.” He grumbled, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his seat across from her after placing the binder on the coffee table between them. “Eight months isn’t a lot of time,” traditionally, Gala’s took at least a year’s worth of planning and preparation, especially since Zuko was so busy he barely had the time to assist in the process. Eight months was no where near enough.
Y/N was still frowning at his words, “no self-deprecation.” She ordered, taking Zuko by surprise, before continuing, “regardless. I’ve planned Gala in less time with less resources. It’ll be fine.” Pursing her lips Y/N sighed, “now we need to discuss your inability to talk to people in general due to your immense trust issues and constant battle field mentality.”
Zuko’s mouth gaped open at her words, “excuse me?”
Bringing her hands to rest on her stomach as she laid upside down, Y/N spoke, “when we first met you looked like you contemplated attacking me. And when you met Marcella and Evelyn, I’ve never seen someone so awkward.” Zuko is silent and looks away, only proving her point as Y/N continued, “so we need to practice your people skills, and flirting for future reference, seeing as your first date is in about a week-”
Almost immediately, Zuko straightened his posture, sitting up and looking to her as though she’d thrown a bucket of ice cold water onto him. “A week?” He winced at the way his voice cracked.
“Yeah, I spoke with one of the girls, not her parents, and asked her to meet with you later in the week.” Y/N explained, “her name is Elara, she’s in there.”
Frowning, Zuko reached for the binder and began to flip through the pages, “how’d you know I wasn’t going to get rid of her page?” Only to find the girl’s page, details on her personality, skills, hobbies and more on them.
A smirk spread across Y/N’s face, “she was one of few I was sure you’d keep.” With a sigh, Zuko looked back to Y/N, who still sat upside down, “now. You need to practice your romance skills, so come on.” She twisted her body, her legs falling to the side of the couch, and then moving onto the floor, Y/N stood. As the blood rushed to her head, a wave of dizziness came over her, and Y/N found herself stumbling slightly.
A hand came to her back and forearm, steadying her, “you need to practice walking.” Zuko laughed slightly, a nervous edge in his voice as he eyed her.
Y/N brought a hand to her head as she laughed as well, “oh my...” Y/N blinked several times as the wave of dizziness passed, her hand gripping Zuko’s arm as she grounded herself. Looking up to him, she quickly realized how close they were and cleared her throat, releasing his arm.
He followed suit, removing his hands from her, “sorry-”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Zuko.”
The look her gives her almost hurts. Because Y/N can see the shock within his eyes as he nods slowly in response. She wonders what he’s thinking of as he she gives him a tight lipped smile, clapping her hands together as she turns back to him, “practice.” She repeated, mostly for herself.
And maybe offering to be the person he practiced on was her first mistake.
ATTEMPT FIVE
Y/N had learnt a lot about Zuko in the past four dates he’d been on. One of these things being the fact that Zuko was a wild card when it came to dates, and they seemed to either go very well with the girls contacting Y/N to let her know they wished for a second date, only for Zuko to reject the possibility. Or, they went very bad. And Zuko returned with some sort of drink splattered onto his clothing.
So, Y/N decided that the best course of action was to discover what exactly Zuko wasn’t mentioning, and to follow him with a disguise. Evelyn had suggested it, Iroh supported the idea full-heartedly, though Marcella had believed it would be a huge invasion of privacy, Y/N didn’t really care, seeing as it was her job to be involved in Zuko’s love life. She was getting paid to ensure he found love.
And she was curious.
That’s how Y/N ended up dressed in some very suspicious Fire Nation clothing alongside her assistants and the apparent Dragon of the West, famous tea shop owner, and member of the royal family.
What a wonderful assortment of people.
Marcella and Evelyn had separated from Iroh and Y/N, sitting in another booth across from them, it was a feeble attempt to keep them from sticking out. The girl had chosen a rather upscale restaurant, so dressing appropriately while also maintaining a look that prevented Zuko from recognizing them.
Y/N pulled her hat further down on her face as she looked to Iroh, who was browsing the menu. She wouldn’t be shocked if he entered the kitchen just to make himself a ‘decent’ cup of tea. He’d been rather helpful during the whole process, anything she didn’t find out from Zuko, Y/N had learnt from Iroh. “See anything you like, Iroh?”
He smiled at her, nodding slowly, “I think I’ll just take some tea.”
Looking to Marcella and Evelyn, Y/N smiles, the two are speaking with one another like they aren’t supposed to be spying on the Fire Lord. But Y/N doesn’t mind, this was more of a recreational activity anyways, and she was glad they were having fun. Since they’d gotten to the Fire Nation two months ago there had been an... adjustment period to put it simply.
Y/N nodded at Iroh’s statement, and her eyes fell back onto Zuko and his newest date, Amaya, she was a simple girl. She’d possessed organizational skills that Zuko lacked, planned dozens of events, had the expressive qualities that Zuko yearned for in a partner. Amaya was one of few that Y/N was sure Zuko would take a liking to. Especially since she also had training in a variety of fighting styles, and was quite the Firebender. She’d been a little skeptical when she first contacted Amaya, the girl seemed hesitant, but she agreed.
And from the looks of it, he had. The pair was laughing along with each other, but Y/N could see the way Zuko stiffened at any physical contact, in general he’d yet to relax. If Y/N was honest, it was basically like any first date, awkward.
Zuko didn’t really know how to feel about Amaya, she was what he should be looking for in a girl, everything he needed if he was honest. She had an interest in the art, something Zuko had never taken to and the main reason his palace looked, ‘dull’ as Y/N had put it. And she was expressive, the main issue he’d had with Mai was her lack of expression. But, for some reason, Zuko just couldn’t see her as anything more than a good friend. There was something... off about her.
“When that Earth Kingdom girl approached me, I was skeptical.” Amaya explained, taking a sip from her glass, “you know how most Earth Kingdom folk are...” She gave him a look as Zuko listened in confusion. “The Fire Nation citizens simply have more class.” Amaya settled for with a shrug.
Oh.
Zuko laughed nervously, “I’m not sure I understand. I find Earth Kingdom citizens pretty pleasant actually, and Y/N, the one you met, she’s actually very resourceful and kind.” His mind went to Toph as well, who had invented an entirely new type of bending. She was an impressive young woman from the Earth Kingdom, and Y/N was as well, she’d started her own business at a young age and turned it into something incredible.
“Really? She didn’t seem too smart when I met her, but who can say no to a meeting with the Fire Lord?”
Zuko was pretty sure her words were meant to be taken as a joke. But Amaya wasn’t the first person Zuko had encountered with this mindset, she was just more subtle about it. The supremacy of the Fire Nation was still an idea that ran rampant in some people’s minds, though Zuko had dealt with most disputes regarding his peaceful relations with other nations. Many still missed the time when the Fire Nation practically owned the world, where Fire Nation citizens could treat the people who had their homes taken from them however they pleased.
It was a dark time in his nation’s history, nonetheless, several people missed it. This was something rather prevalent amongst Nobles though, they were the ones who lost an immense amount of land when the war had ended. Many of them were bitter about what had happened.
If Zuko was honest, she’d probably had these ideas drilled into her since birth, and simply hadn’t grown out of them, which was a shame. But as the ruler of a nation, he couldn’t rule beside someone who looked down on others simply because they weren’t from the Fire Nation.
Zuko shook his head, “Y/N built her business from the ground up. And now she’s helping the Fire Lord get dates.” He knows he sounds defensive, as though he’s prepared to fight her, something his Uncle would likely scold him for, but he doesn’t care at the moment.
“All she does is set you up with people.”
Zuko’s brows furrowed at this comment, and he raised a hand to get the attention of the waiter, “excuse me, could I get the check please?” The young man nodded, heading off to get the check, and Amaya looked at him incredulously.
Y/N had done far more than set him up with people, she’d helped him begin planning a Gala, she’d tried her best to find a good assortment of people that would fit both Zuko’s needs and the Fire Nation’s, and that list was probably very difficult to narrow down. Zuko had seen the work she put in for formulating profiles of the potential suitors, and throughout all of it she had done nothing but support him.
“What are you doing?” Amaya asked, shifting in her seat as she stared at Zuko quizzically.
The waiter came over and handed Zuko the check, and Zuko placed a pouch of money on the table, “thanks. Keep the change.” He explained, nodding to the boy, who’s mouth gaped open in surprise as he took the pouch of money, bowing to Zuko repetitively, though Zuko wasn’t paying much attention to him as he spoke to Amaya. “I don’t think this is going to work out, I’m sorry.”
Amaya is still seated in shock as Zuko rises from his table, and Y/N can’t help it when her mouth gapes open at the sight of him simply abandoning his date. She makes eye contact with Iroh, who raises a brow, and they both sit up. She moves to follow Zuko, only to bump into someone.
“I’m so sorry!” Y/N exclaims, moving down to help them pick up their hat, that had fallen when they collided.
“No, that was my fault entirely!” He responds, shaking his head as they both leaned town to pick it up.
“Aang, come on! He’s leaving.” The woman behind him exclaims.
Y/N’s brows furrow in recognition as she looks up to see a blue arrow tattooed on the man’s head, and her eyes widen in realization. Zuko had described Aang several times during their conversations, he and the rest of his friends came up often. But Y/N did not expect the first time she met the Avatar and his friends to be when they were both following Zuko on his date.
ATTEMPT FOURTEEN
Y/N simply sighs as she opens her door to see Zuko, in the outfit she’d helped him pick out. “What was it this time?” He’d been on thirteen dates thus far, and Y/N was slowly realizing that Zuko was likely one of her most difficult clients. This was purely because he’d yet to get a second date, though there had been offers, Zuko had declined all of them.
“She was just-” His hands gestured rather broadly, he was practically throwing them into the air, “she was so rude to the waiter.” This had always been a dealbreaker for him, since he’d worked as a waiter in two different tea shops, Zuko had come to understand the importance of treating a waiter with kindness and how difficult the work could be.
His eyes dart between Y/N and her door, she’s rubbing her eyes due to the exhaustion and Zuko can’t help the guilt that floods him. Nonetheless, she opens the door wider, heading inside her room and signaling for him to close it as she falls back onto her bed. “You were a waiter once, yeah?” He’d told her a fair share about his life in the Earth Kingdom, she’d inquired quite a bit about that part of his life.
He asked about her life in the Earth Kingdom too, and she’d told him how poor life could be the in the outer rings, something he’d experienced for himself. Zuko listened as she describe living after her parents had died, working for a matchmaker only to discover she was actually good at the job, making a name for herself in the outer rings and then making her way inwards until she was one of the most sought after matchmakers in the kingdom. Y/N spoke of how she’d met Marcella and Evelyn, and how she’d taken them in when she’d discovered they were both orphans, living on the streets as pickpockets.
Zuko wouldn’t help but laugh at this, he could imagine Evelyn as a pickpocket, but Marcella? She was a sweet girl, he couldn’t imagine her in a life of crime. Of course, desperation made people do questionable things. Zuko knew that much from experience.
“Yeah, I was.” Came his response, taking a seat in the chair by her desk.
Y/N sat up in her bed, bracing herself with her elbows as she raised a brow at him, “what are you doing?”
Zuko frowned, shifting in the chair, “sitting...?” He moved to get up but Y/N waved him off.
“Just lay with me, idiot.” She allowed her head to fall back onto the bed, patting the spot beside her. Clearly, her suggestion wasn’t bothering her, but Zuko felt his face flush at the possibility.
If he’s honest, he’s not even trying anymore when it comes to dates and women and love. There were three reasons for this, one of which was the fact that he simply wasn’t connecting with any of the women he had met thus far. Sure they were nice, and they probably would be his type has it not been for reason two. The fact that Zuko had realized he had feelings for Y/N, what feelings? He wasn’t sure, but they sure as hell weren’t platonic, if they were he would not be blushing this much. He wouldn’t get that weird feeling in his stomach whenever he spoke to her.
Then there was was reason three, if Zuko succeeded in finding love, then Y/N would leave. It was selfish, but he already knew he wouldn’t find anyone considering he pretty sure he loved someone else already. So now, Zuko was basically procrastinating letting Y/N know that this just wasn’t going to work out, mostly because he didn’t have a plan.
He was debating just firing her, but that likely wouldn’t go over well, and he wanted to see her business succeed. If you get fired by the Fire Lord, that just looks bad. Now Zuko wondered what the best way to go about this was, since there was no point in working for him, even if she was getting paid. He was a waste of time.
He couldn’t help the smile graced his lips as his own thoughts reminded him of the time she’d scolded him, telling him to quit being self-deprecating.
Zuko sat up from the chair, making his way over to her bed, Zuko found himself simply plopping down onto it face first, earning a laugh from Y/N.
He rolled over onto his back, turning to look at Y/N, only to find her eyes were already on him, bringing a blush to his cheeks as he mumbled, “what?”
“I’m just trying to figure out why you haven’t gotten a second date yet.” Came her response, propping herself up on her forearm. “You have a nice personality, you’re attractive, I’m sure at least one of the girls caught your eye.” Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair as she began to wonder if she’d incidentally allowed her own feelings to get in the way of her work. Maybe that’s why this was going so badly.
This was a problem.
Zuko simply shook his head, his face on fire as he listened to her words, though he couldn’t help the hand he brought to the scar on his face. Y/N had pointed out before that he was allowing his Father to control his actions even now that he was imprisoned, and Zuko was beginning to see what she meant.
Removing his hand from his face, Zuko sighed. Though he didn’t have much time to dwell on his thoughts as her hand hesitantly came to his face, placing a hand on his cheek and allowing her thumb to brush against the scar. Zuko jumped at the sudden contact, and Y/N moved to withdraw her hand almost instantly, but Zuko’s hand came to hers and held it there. Looking to her, he couldn’t read the look in her eyes as she gazed at him, and suddenly he wished he was as good at reading people as she was.
“No self-deprecating thoughts.” Y/N mumbled, “bad Zuko.” She removed her hand from his to flick his head, causing his brows to furrow.
He pouted, and Y/N let out a laugh as he spoke, “how come you haven’t found someone?” Zuko looked to her, “you’re beautiful, and smart, and just... perfect.” He didn’t notice when her cheeks warmed, “you’re a literal matchmaker, surely you’ve considered who your perfect person is.”
Y/N fell onto her back, running her hands over her face as she shook her head, “how have you not gotten a second date?” A sigh escaped her, “I haven’t had time for love before, and I just haven’t found that,” looking to him, she pursed her lips, “perfect person.” Growing up in the lower rings, she didn’t have time for an actual relationship, and her business as a matchmaker grew incredibly quickly. At the end of the day, long term just didn’t work out, Y/N barely had for herself, much less another person.
“I guess we both suck at love.” Zuko said, his tone was serious and Y/N couldn’t help but burst out into laughter as she swatted at his chest.
Too bad they couldn’t suck at love together.
ATTEMPT SEVENTEEN THROUGH TWENTY EIGHT
Smoothing over her green dress, a sign of her citizenship in the Earth Kingdom, Y/N moved to answer the knock on her bedroom door. Given how long she’d been in the Fire Nation, Y/N wondered if the Earth Kingdom would still feel like home when she returned. The idea of going back felt odd, and though that time likely wasn’t soon unless Zuko met the love of his life tonight, it was inevitable.
And it horrified her.
Holding the edge of the dress slightly to make it easier to walk, Y/N sighed and opened the door, seeing Zuko. A small smile on her face as she eyed his Fire Nation robes, “you look nice.” She complimented, tilting her head at him as she allowed her eyes to travel over his figure.
Zuko nodded, a blush coming over her cheeks, his mouth gaping open as he looked at Y/N. “You look beautiful.” She did, the dress looked amazing on her, her hair styled just right, and bracelets adorning her wrists.
“Thank you, Fire Lord Zuko.” His nose crinkled at the use of his title, coming from her it felt even weirder, wrong almost. But she continued, “mind helping me out?” She asked, moving back to her desk and taking a necklace in hand. Y/N had been struggling to put it on for the past few minutes, and now she had someone to do it for her.
He nodded, closing the door behind him, he took the necklace from her hand, and when Y/N ensured her hair was out of his way, Zuko brought the necklace around her neck. He secured the clasp, hands lingering as he adjusted it to the center of her neck. Zuko couldn’t help but notice a small scar on her shoulder, hand brushing over it.
Y/N looked over her shoulder and to him, brow raised, “how’d you get this?” He asked, brows drawn together. His hand traced the raised skin gently, Y/n could feel her cheeks warming at his touch, inhaling deeply.
She grimaced, “a knife fight I almost lost my life to.” Was her explanation. Y/N didn’t like to think back to the days when she’d resorted to several... questionable actions to stay alive. But she pushed those thoughts away as she turned to face him. “You ready?” Y/N asked, they had to get to the Gala soon, considering the fact that Zuko was the host, Y/N was shocked he’d even stopped by her room in the first place.
Zuko was silent, simply nodding as he extended his arm for her to take. And Y/N did, looping her arm around his as she smiled, “you are gonna woo so many Earth Kingdom women tonight!” Y/N exclaimed, more confidence in her voice than Zuko had.
Shame the only Earth Kingdom girl he wanted to ‘woo’ was her.
When they’d arrived at the Gala, descending the stairs together, they were greeted with the claps of the other guests. Zuko would feel the anxiety flood him, but he paid it no mind. Though Y/N could feel the way he stiffened as he ended his speech to the diplomats of all nations, “let this be a peaceful, and joyous night!”
They all burst out into cheers before the party continued, the music starting once more, and everyone returning to feasting upon the buffet, dancing along the ballroom floor or speaking with one another. All while Y/N led Zuko down the stairs, dragging him by the hand, “come on. Enjoy your own party, meet some girls.” She winked, and Zuko swore his face heated up even more than it already had.
Y/N wasn’t a fool, she knew that if she’d stuck by his side the entire night, she would serve as a repellant of any potential suitors. So naturally, much to Zuko and Y/N’s dismay, she removed herself from him, playfully shoving him towards a group of Earth Kingdom girls she’d mentioned earlier. Though there were several other clusters in the ballroom.
Zuko simply sighed, giving Y/N a small smile before making his way to the group of girls. If he was honest, he would rather be spending the Gala by her side, but he had to put in some effort. He owed Y/N that much. Besides, this was an entirely new group of girls, maybe he would find someone tonight.
“Hi there.” Zuko greeted, waving awkwardly at the girls.
This action earned him a few laughs, and he was unsure if they actually found it funny or felt the need to laugh since he was the Fire Lord. Shortly after they began introducing themselves, speaking like there was no tomorrow.
If Zuko was honest, the number of women here was overwhelming. So, as he excused himself from the conversation, much to their chagrin, he placed his cup down on the platter of one of many waiters. Making his way outside, Zuko couldn’t help but feel relieved at the fresh air that hit him on the balcony. Though he contemplated heading back inside when he noticed another girl was already there, eyes shut as she faced the sky, she turned to see him, eyes widening a fraction. “I’m sorry, I can go-”
“No!” She exclaimed, cheeks flushing in embarrassment due to her outburst, “no... it’s fine.” She turned back to look at the sky, hand clasped together, fidgeting.
Zuko stepped forward, finding himself situated across from her, leaning against the railing, “so why are you out here?”
A small laugh escaped the girl, and she ran a hand through her hair, “it’s rather stress relieving. You have a lovely view in your palace.”
He couldn’t help but feel disappointed when he realized she recognized him, though Zuko nodded along, “what’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking?” It was a stupid question, and Zuko nearly facepalmed as he pursed his lips.
“Aileen.” Came her response, and Zuko realized he recognized her name as well. She was the child of one of the more well known members of Fire Nation nobility, her parents had approached him in the past in hopes of arranging a marriage between the two of them. He had declined almost immediately. And now that Aileen turned to him, he had a feeling he made the right decision, “you’re Zuko, right?”
He exhaled deeply, nodding, “that’s me.” Sometimes, Zuko wondered what his life would’ve been like if he wasn’t Zuko, perhaps things would’ve been simpler. No, things definitely would’ve been simpler. There would be no diplomatic meetings, no wars, no idiots trying to hurt other people, no more assassination attempts, no more fake smiles and no more Galas. Of course, if he wasn’t Zuko, he never would’ve met Y/N.
“I heard you’re looking for a partner in crime.” Aileen prompted, “why aren’t you in there finding that future love of your life?”
Shrugging, Zuko looked up at the sky, “I found her. She just doesn’t want me.”
He can feel Aileen stare at him, she’s silent for a moment, and Zuko wonders what she’s thinking. Though he doesn’t need to wait long to find out as she responds, “I understand.” Aileen focuses her gaze on the glass she’d placed on the thick railing of the balcony, “the person I love probably doesn’t love me back. And even if they did, my parents disapprove.”
“Did you ask?” He felt hypocritical, Zuko himself had never spoken with Y/N in regards to his feelings, and he likely never would, but he wanted to know. “If they love you?”
Aileen laughs slightly, shaking her head, “I couldn’t bring myself to. I’m scared.” She replied, looking back to him curiously, “did you?”
“No.” He responded lamely, tapping his fingers against the railing with a sigh.
Aileen laughed at this, “I guess we are both cowards then.” She pursed her lips, “I didn’t ask because I was scared, why didn’t you?”
And then the words come spilling out, “whoever I end up with will greatly impact the whole world, whether I want to acknowledge it or not. And she doesn’t deserve that burden, nobody does.” He laughs bitterly as he continues, “she’s also the person that was hired to help me find love in the first place.” Zuko pauses, looking away from Aileen, “and I guess I’m scared too.”
“Ironic.” Aileen mumbles, bringing her eyes back to the sky, “let’s make a deal, Your Majesty.”
Zuko cringes at the use of that title, almost asking her to simply refer to him by his name, though he simply responds, “what deal?”
“We both confess. And if it goes horribly wrong, we can get married.”
Y/N can’t see the shock on Zuko’s face, but she can see how comfortable he feels with this girl, Y/N hadn’t seen her before, but she was just happy Zuko was connecting with someone. Except she also wasn’t, a bitter feeling enveloping her as she turned away, looking for something else to focus her attention on, something that didn’t hurt.
She turned to see Marcella and Evelyn in the distance, speaking with each other. Y/N supposed if she wouldn’t be finding love tonight, then at least they would. She was no fool, she saw the way they looked at each other, the glances when the other wasn’t looking. Maybe it was dumb, but Y/N found herself feeling jealous as she moved over to the buffet with a sigh. Food solved everything in her experience, after a client had a particularly bad day, food made things better.
“Perhaps some tea?” Iroh stood beside her, a kettle in his hand, he had insisted he serve tea at the Gala, though Zuko had assured him it would be just as easy to find someone else to do the job.
Y/N smiled at him, nodding as she took a cup from the array of them within the buffet, allowing Iroh to pour her some tea. “Thank you, Iroh.” Her voice is quieter than normal, and it’s clear that Iroh can tell something is wrong.
“You know, you deserve to be happy to Y/N.” His words catch her by surprise, though she doesn’t have much time to consider their meaning before flames lighting the room begin to move erratically, causing her brows to furrow.
Something was wrong.
Iroh nods to her, placing the tea kettle down as his brow furrow and she nods back, Iroh disappearing into the crowd of people. Y/N’s eyes fall back to Marcella and Evelyn, and she quickly moves to their side of the room, ignoring the hush that had fallen over the room, panicked gasps amongst them. Her hands fall onto both girl’s arms as she nods to them, “Y/N, whats going-”
Y/N is already dragging them in the direction of the exit, “get out of here, find the guards. I’m going to find Zuko.” The girls didn’t have much time to argue, as Y/N was already working her way through the panicked crowd, back to the balcony where she’d last seen Zuko. But, people were already pushing against her movements, making it difficult. Raising her head above the crowd in an attempt to see what’s going on, Y/N realizes whats happening.
Firebenders were trying to force them together, and Y/N couldn’t help but panic as she wondered if Marcella and Evelyn managed to escape and find the guards.
This was an ambush.
No, this was an assassination attempt. Zuko already knew as he watched the atmosphere of the party begin to shift, that and the person who stood before him in all black, brandishing several weapons. Alongside four others who stood by her side.
“You know, it wasn’t until I met you that I realized how bad it had gotten.” Aileen stood beside Zuko, eyes meeting his in horror as they exchanged looks. Zuko simply hoped the nod he gave her provided some semblance of comfort as he returned his attention to the person before him. “I mean, defending some lowly Earth Kingdom matchmaker? What type of career even is that?”
Her voice is almost maniacal, and Zuko can’t help but wince as he feels reminded of his sister. But he recognizes it nonetheless, Amaya. It had been months since he’d seen her, but he could still remember her voice. Her face was covered by a mask, and she wielded a sword, and if Zuko remembered correctly, she had been trained in dozens of fighting styles and was a talented bender herself. Alongside the four other men, Zuko couldn’t help but panic internally as he spoke, “Amaya, why don’t you put the swords down, and we talk about this.”
She laughs in response, ripping the mask that covered her face off and throwing it aside, “people have tried to talk to you about this. Your-” She grappled for the word, a hand yanking at her hair as she gestured to him with a sword, “your radical ideas!”
Zuko didn’t find having morals radical, but he wasn’t going to say that, not while Aileen’s life was on the line. Zuko suddenly realized why having an heir was important as he shook his head, “Amaya, look. Why don’t you let Aileen here leave, and then you and I can talk.”
Aileen looks like she’s going to protest, but Amaya glances at her red robes, a sign of her Fire Nation citizenship, and gestures for her to leave. “Get out. My problem isn’t with you.”
When Aileen doesn’t move, Amaya quickly grows frustrated, calling out to one of the guards she’d brought along that lied inside, “take this fool away.”
There’s no response, and Zuko can see panic flood Amaya’s face. And looking behind her, he quickly realizes that most of the guards have been subdued, Y/N holding one of them in her arms as she knocks them to the ground. Moving towards the balcony stealthily as Amaya’s hands begin to shake, fire sparking in her palms as she focused her attention onto Zuko. “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done to our nation.”
But Zuko wasn’t looking at her as he shook his head, hoping Y/N would understand. There was no way she could overpower Amaya, not with her bending. Y/N didn’t even have a weapon.
Now, Y/N knew for a fact that no matter how talented Zuko was, he wouldn’t put the girl beside him in danger. His priority would be keeping her alive, and given the training Amaya had as a noble, in both Firebending and fighting, she might even be as good as Zuko in a fight.
Meaning she had to be taken out of the fight.
Everything happened pretty fast after that. Zuko was shielding body coming forward to shield Aileens as he extended his freehand to Firebend at the people who’d surrounded them, only for Amaya to move out of the way. The girl was practically screaming bloody murder as she lunged at him, now wielding her sword.
Zuko didn’t have to figure out what to do next because Y/N moved faster than Amaya did, tackling the girl over the railing and down below as he began to scream.
THE FINAL ATTEMPT
Zuko’s knee is bouncing rapidly as he sits beside Iroh, who knits a scarf of some sort despite the blistering heat of the Fire Nation. He’s insisted that when Y/N returned to the Earth Kingdom she’d need it, and Zuko didn’t have the heart to disagree. Iroh had started stress-knitting about four hours ago, when Y/N had entered the room they all sat before, anxiously awaiting news of her condition.
Marcella and Evelyn are to Zuko’s left, Marcella’s sobs had quieted down, but Zuko wouldn’t be shocked if he looked over and saw tears silently streaming down her face. The girl hadn’t taken it well. Evelyn remained composed, doing her best to comfort Marcella, but the wait was clearly getting to her as well as she fidgeted with Marcella’s hands.
Seeing as Y/N had fallen from several stories up off the balcony and into the water below, Zuko didn’t really think it was possible to take the news well. But he was trying.
A pang sounded from inside the room, and Zuko practically shot up onto his feet, moving to knock on the door to discover was was wrong, only for Iroh to grab his wrist, shaking his head. Zuko exhaled deeply, beginning to pace across the hall. He found himself wishing that Katara hadn’t been busy with Water Tribe business, she was an excellent healer. Alas, Katara wasn’t there, and Zuko had to settle for one of the skilled Water Tribe diplomats instead, alongside a few others skilled in medicine.
As he paced, Zuko could feel Evelyn’s eyes on him, and it became clear she was itching to speak and he sighed, “what’s wrong?” There were dozens of answers to this question, the main one being the fact that Y/N could die today, so he hoped she understood what he meant.
The girl is glaring at him, and Zuko can’t help but feel uneasy. Because maybe she blames him for this as much as he blames himself, and maybe she’s going to tell him off, blame him for everything. Because if Y/N dies, she and Marcella will have no one again.
Not that Zuko would allow that. He’d grown attached to the girls as well, they were kind, and helpful. They’d help improve the interior decor of the palace, and if he was honest, it looked better than anything he ever could’ve done.
“You better tell her how you feel after this.”
Zuko’s mouth gapes open at the girl’s words, and he swears the breath leaves his longs, and its as though everything hits him then.
He would never get to tell Y/N how he felt if she died. He’d never get to listen to her try and tell a story just to go off on dozens of tangents, he’d never get to watch as she attempted to cook again, and he’d never get to hold her in his arms once more. There would be no more late night talks, and he wouldn’t hear her laugh, she wouldn’t tease him anymore and they wouldn’t walk through the courtyard feeding turtleducks again.
She’d never know he loved her.
Zuko finds himself nodding to Evelyn’s words, frozen in place as he looks to her and asks, “was I that obvious?” His voice is hoarse, and its probably because he didn’t stop screaming, even when Y/N’s body hit the water.
Marcella is laughing at his words, blowing her nose into a tissue that Evelyn hands her before she speaks, “painfully obvious.”
“For someone who’s job revolves around love, Y/N is one of the most oblivious people I’ve ever met.” Evelyn grumbles out, rubbing her eyes as she yawns.
It was late, Zuko knew that much, the guests of the party had gone to the infirmary in the palace, being tended to by doctors and any other available healers if injured. Otherwise, they’d all returned to their rooms to sleep, or more likely stay up in fear of another attack. Zuko surely would.
“Go to bed guys, it’s getting late.”
Evelyn looks at him like he’s one of the dumbest people she’s met, and if Zuko was honest, he probably was. But he simply nodded to Marcella, who had started leaning her head against Evelyn’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. “Uncle, why don’t you take them back to their rooms?”
Considering the fact that Zuko’s guards were around the corner, he wasn’t scared for his safety, but their presence just made him want to remain awake.
“Nephew, you should sleep as well.” His Uncle replied, though he rose from his seat, bringing the yarn and the start of the scarf under his arm.
Zuko gave his Uncle a smile, “I will. But if anything happens before then, I’ll be sure to alert you all.” He assured, nodding to Evelyn, who eyed him wearily. But she relented, shaking Marcella gently before standing up alongside her and Iroh.
When they were out of sight, Zuko plopped back down in the seat, his elbows resting on his knees as he brought his hands to his face.
And for the first time in the night he cried, his body racked with sobs as tears streamed down his face and he struggled to breathe. The pain of all that had happened felt almost unbearable. She had to live. Y/N had to live. Because Zuko was going to confess.
His fear of losing her outweighed his fear of rejection.
Wiping his tears away, Zuko suddenly felt grateful that Evelyn had left the box of tissues as he blew his nose. He sighed, his eyes piercing the door, hoping that something would happen.
As though his stare had willed her to exit the room, the healer came out, a grimace on her face as she looked to Zuko, likely because of his bloodshot eyes. The woman simply sighed, the grimace becoming a more sympathetic look. “Miss L/N lost a lot of blood... several of her bones were broken when she hit the water, especially her ribs. Her internal organs were damaged as well and... well it wasn’t very likely for her to survive.”
She’s dead.
Y/N is dead.
Oh.
“Wow, you look like a mess.”
Zuko’s head whips up, his eyes meeting Y/N’s, she’s leaning against a wooden crutch, grinning lazily at him. The healer beside her looks rather apologetic as she frantically explains, “she woke up far quicker than we anticipated and only agreed to rest if we participated in her rather cruel prank.”
So, she wasn’t a ghost.
Zuko launches himself up from the chair, nearly tackling Y/N, but the wooden crutch she uses for support serves as a reminder of her fragile state as he asks, “can I hug you?”
Her smile falters at the sound of his voice, hoarse and jagged, so she simply extends are free arm outward. Zuko takes this as an invitation for a hug, gently wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his head in her neck, Y/N wrapped her free arm around his neck, hand finding its way to the hair at the nape of his neck. “Im s-”
“It’s not your fault Zuko. I swear if you say its your fault I will throw myself over the balcony again.” She threatened, hand tightening in his hair.
Zuko laughs quietly, inhaling deeply before he speaks again, “please never do that again.”
“I make no promises.”
Sighing, Zuko releases her, “I hate you so much.”
Y/N scoffed, “you love me.” She was limping over to the bed in the middle of the room, blood coating the surrounding area. Though the doctors in the room were moving across the room that they’d placed Y/N on, and dealt with her injuries on, Zuko couldn’t help but feel sick at the sight.
She could’ve died.
“Yeah, I do.”
Y/N pauses, turning to look back at him, her mouth gapes open. Zuko’s looking away, eyes on anything but her as he inhales deeply.
The healer simply sighs, “before we do this, I should inform the two of you that Miss Y/N cannot do any... strenuous activities for at least one month.”
Zuko’s cheeks are flushing red as he shakes his head rapidly, “ma’am-”
“We’ll be taking our leave. Have fun, but not too much fun. Please.” The woman closes the door behind her once the other doctors are out of the room, and Y/N can’t stop laughing at the mortified expression on Zuko’s face, despite the sharp pain she feels in her ribs.
Taking a seat on the fresh sheets of the bed, Y/N sighs, “so you love me?” She’s picking at the sheets, “as a friend?”
Zuko suddenly realizes just how right Evelyn was as he slowly shakes his head, “no. More than a friend. I think I inadvertently sabotaged half of the dates you sent me on because of it.”
Y/N laughs quietly, eyes falling on Zuko only to see he’s looking anywhere but her, she calls out to him quietly, “Zuko. Look at me.”
He doesn’t hesitate to bring his gaze to her, eyes meeting hers as he begins to fidget with his hand. Y/N simply reaches her hand out, and he takes it. “I love you too, idiot.” She mumbles, pulling him closer and wrapping her arms around his waist. “I just wish you had told me sooner so I didn’t waste so much time trying to set you up with other women.”
A small laugh escapes him as he brings his hand to her hair, “how do I know you weren’t purposely giving me bad matches because you were in love with me?”
Y/N removes her head from his stomach, looking up at him, her nose crinkles, “unlike you, I am a professional.” Zuko flicks her forehead, and Y/N pouts at him, hand coming up to his face, “can I kiss you?”
She can feel his face warm, but he nods rather enthusiastically nonetheless, and Y/N finds herself smiling at his as she uses her hands to pull his face downward towards her. His lips meet hers, and Zuko finds himself feeling complete, hands coming to Y/N’s face in an attempt to pull her closer while hers move to his ball up his robes that he’d yet to change.
Zuko pulls away first, forehead resting on hers, “you need to sleep.”
Y/N scoffed, eyes narrowing at him, “you need to sleep.” Looking to the bed, she raises a brow at him, “wanna lay with me?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, I could accidentally injure you or-”
Rolling her eyes, Y/N yanks him onto the bed, making her way to the other side and getting comfortable, “I’ll be fine.”
Yeah, everything would be fine. Maybe not for the Fire Nation, seeing as Y/N would potentially help rule a nation but...
Everything would be fine.
in·am·o·ra·ta/iˌnaməˈrädə/
noun
a woman with whom one is in love or has intimate relations.
A/N: i hope this was good enough!!! i tried!!! and idk how it ended up over 12k... that’s crazy man um kjhdsajfhjkah omg i really liked this concept though i hope i did it justice
TAGLISTS [lmk if you want to be added or removed via askbox or replies]
ATLA: @bubblebars @jada-cleo @Art-flirt @the-deli-meat @wemissyou3000 @ajediherowitchrunner
ZUKO: @outerxorbit @shawkneecaps @lil-lex1 @boxofteenageideas @izzieserra @eridanuswave @bigbuckyenergy @celamoon @savemesteeb @shephard17895 @ijustwannabecanadian @duh-dobrik @anime-simp @lammello
#prince zuko x reader#zuko x reader#zuko x you#prince zuko x you#zuko x y/n#prince zuko x y/n#zuko atla x y/n#atla zuko x y/n#atla zuko x reade#zuko atla x reader#atla zuko x reader#prince zuko atla x reader#atla prince zuko x reader#atla x reader#x reader#atla#avatar the last airbender#lok#legend of korra
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Spencer Reid first official Valentine's day (Spencer Reid/ Reader)
Requested: Nop
Summary: Spencer has no idea what to do for Valentine's Day. After all, he has never had a girlfriend before.
Category: Hardcore fluff
Warnings: Nope
Word count: 3,8K
Masterlist
A/N: Happy Valentine's day, everybody! Treat yourselves! Love yourselves and enjoy this fluff!! Love you all!!
February 7th. Quantico.
There are many things you can say about Spencer Reid. He is a genius. Has an IQ of 187, can read over 20 thousand words per minute. He has one of the most demanding and dangerous jobs in the world. He saves lives for a living.
And he has no idea what to do for Valentine's.
In his defense, he has never celebrated Valentine's day before, ever. In his entire life. And he is excited to share that special date with his girlfriend, (Y/N). But he has been pressuring himself so much in the last days, trying to find the most romantic plan humankind had ever seen. He is, in fact, going insane.
- "Hey lover boy,"- Morgan found Reid all alone in the bullpen, sipping his second cup of coffee of the day.
- "Are you ready for Valentine's?"- and the only answer Spencer could give his friend was a frustrated groan.
- "I'm taking that as a no"- Derek raised an eyebrow and sat on his friend's desk- "What is it?"
- "I just don't know what to do to make that day special for (Y/N),"- Spencer whispered- "We've been dating for a month, three days and..."- he took a look at his wristwatch- "Eleven hours. And I want our first Valentine's day together the most romantic day of her life."
Morgan widened his eyes and looked at his friend. He had always seen Reid as his kid brother, and he felt it was his duty to help him in life. Whether it was to help him overcome his fear of talking to girls, catching unsubs, questioning suspects, or getting drunk. Whatever Spencer needed him for, he was there. This wasn't going to be the exception.
- "What do you have in mind that might be special for her?"- Morgan whispered and took a look around. Prentiss and (Y/N) were just stepping out of the elevator with Garcia. The three of them stayed talking in the hall for a few minutes, giving Spencer time to answer.
- "Nothing I can think of seems good enough"- he whispered- "I need to find something that shows her how much she means. Movies and chocolates just won't do it."
Morgan nodded and looked at Reid. He was about to chuckle and tease him a little, just playing, when (Y/N) showed up next to them, with a huge grin.
- "Good morning, guys!"- she smiled at Derek and handed Spencer a small paper bag- "For your coffee, doctor."
- "Thank you."
Reid blushed and opened the bag. Inside there was a red velvet cupcake with little heart-shaped sprinkles on top. He stared at it, not knowing what to say. (Y/N) just giggled and walked to her desk.
Spencer and (Y/N) had been acting like teenagers since they started dating. It wasn't just the fact they were young, 'cos they were, both of them 27 and 25 years old respectively. It was how the two of them had been crazy in love with each other for the last two years, and neither of them had acted on it until Spencer nearly died of anthrax.
It's crazy how one of them had almost to die to realize it was time to face their feelings.
And now, they were finally dating.
Spencer had never been happier. No one who knew him could deny it. He would laugh all the time and make jokes with his friends. He never stayed at the BAU working extra hours anymore, 'cos now he and (Y/N) had a date almost every day when they weren't on a case.
Spencer had never felt this way. He had never thought he deserved to be this happy. That is why he was having such a hard time finding the perfect Valentine's gift for (Y/N).
He didn't just want to. His whole body felt he needed to show (Y/N) how much she meant for him in every way possible.
But he had never had a girlfriend before, and he had never celebrated Valentine's day. Needless to say, he felt he was clueless.
February 12th.
- "Hey, Pretty Ricky"- Morgan sat with Reid on the jet back home after a case and handed him a handwritten paper.
- "What's this?"- Spencer furrowed his eyes and took a look around. (Y/N) had fallen asleep talking with Prentiss at the other side of the jet.
- "I've been thinking about what we talked about the other day, about Valentine's day. And I think I've got the answer."- Reid took a look at the paper and frowned. An address and an hour.
- "Be there tomorrow at that time, and you'll get all the help you need"- Spencer stared at Morgan, confused.
- "At Rossi's? Why?"
- "Trust me, kid. The man is an institution of romance. If there's someone who can help you surprise (Y/N), that's him".
Reid wasn't comfortable thinking Morgan had been talking about this love life with someone else. Then again, he was pretty excited he had a love life after all those years. And, if Rossi could help him, Spencer couldn't really say no. After all, he needed all the help he could use.
- "Are you ok?"- (Y/N) asked Spencer and cut him a short nervous smile as she drove him to his apartment after landing. He had been acting a little off for the last couple of days, and she still couldn't figure out what was going on.
- "Yes. Just tired"- he answered, almost under breath.
- "Do you wanna hang out? Maybe pizza, beer... any movie or documentary you might like to see?- but Spencer just shook his head and kept looking outside.
- "I'm sorry, I'm tired after the case."
- "Sure, that's ok."- (Y/N) sighed and kept her eyes on the road.
- "I'm"- Spencer tried to explain- "I am really just tired, there's nothing wrong or weird going on."
- "Yeah, of course"- (Y/N) smiled again and continued driving- "You'd tell me if there was anything wrong."
- "Yeah! definitely."
As a profiler, (Y/N) knew Spencer was hiding something. As his girlfriend, she had to pretend she didn't know she was lying. She trusted Reid, so she wanted to think he was honestly affected after the case. They hadn't slept well those days, either of them. It had been a hard couple of days. Maybe Spencer just needed to rest. Perhaps in the morning, he was going to be his regular adorable self again.
- "Call me when you get home, ok?"- Spencer leaned in and kissed (Y/N) lips goodbye as soon as she parked outside his building. (Y/N) nodded and kissed him again. His hands cupped her face in a second, holding her close to him for a moment longer.
- "Are you sure you don't wanna eat something?"- (Y/N) murmured against his lips.
- "Yeah... about that... I don't know if it's too obvious or if I have to ask, but... would you like to go out with me on Valentine's day?"
Spencer was nervous to ask his girl out. He couldn't be more adorable even if he tried. And (Y/N) knew it.
- "I already had plans for that day"- (Y/N) shrugged and shook her head
- "Really? What? Why, I mean, I understand...?"- Spencer wasn't even sure what he was saying. He wasn't waiting for that answer.
- "Yeah, I saved the date over a month ago, to spend it with my boyfriend, Reid"- and she stuck out her tongue to him, giggling- "You should've seen your face. Are you ok?"
- "I hate you"- Reid bit his lips and chuckled
- "No, you don't,"- (Y/N) joked and kissed his lips for a second- "So, see you tomorrow?"
- "Yes"- Spencer kissed her one more time, and this time, he bit her lips as he slowly moved apart.
- "So next date is our Valentine's date?"- she pouted- "No cuddles until then?"- and Spencer shook his head- "You are no fun."
- "You are gonna have to wait"- he kissed her again, this time a little slower, feeling how she kept trying to move closer to him from the driver's seat.
- "I don't wanna wait."
- "It will be worth the wait. I promise"- Spencer looked at her with such love, (Y/N) held her breath, unable to talk. She just nodded- "Call me when you get home, ok?"
- "Yes"- Spencer kissed her one last time and got off the car, whispering to himself.
- "Ok, now I really need a good plan."
Remember Spencer had been pressuring himself, trying to find the most romantic plan humankind had ever seen?
Now the pressure was massive, 'cos he had actually told (Y/N) he had an incredible plan.
- "Why did I have to open my mouth?!"
February 13th. At Rossi's.
- "Kid, here is the best advice you've ever heard for love"- Rossi poured a glass of red wine for himself and Spencer as the two of them stood in his kitchen. David was about to start a cooking lesson, and Reid was prepared to take notes. Literally. He was holding a pen and a notebook.
- "You will always know nothing"- Reid stopped writing after the second word and looked at Rossi, already annoyed.
- "What?"
- "Sorry, kid. I know you love to learn, and that's a good thing 'cos you will always learn something new when it comes to love. You will never fully understand it. Look at me, three marriages in, and I still have no idea what I'm doing."
- "I was promised a talk with a master of romance. I feel disappointed."- Spencer complained, and David chuckled- "No offense, Rossi, but I was sure you were going to know a lot more than you are telling me right now."
- "The things I know, I can not teach you. You don't learn things about love. You learn about the people you love. That's why you will never know it all. Sure. I can tell you the basics: flowers, restaurants, presents. But the key for romance is knowing the woman you love."
Reid just nodded in silence and tried to make a mental list of everything he knew about (Y/N). That was a lot of information.
Rossi smiled, thinking when he returned to the BAU, he never imagined he was ever going to end up having a kid. Because that's how he felt about Spencer sometimes. Like he was his kid, and he loved to teach him things he wished someone had told him. For example, how to surprise your girlfriend on Valentine's day.
- "The second most important advice I am going to give you today is this: you always cook with the same wine you drink"- Rossi raised his glass and sipped it- "Perfecto! Now let's make risotto!
After that evening with Rossi, Spencer felt a lot more confident about his Valentine's plans. He would cook dinner for his girlfriend, which was (according to what he had talked with David) one of the most romantic things anyone could do for their partner. And considering (Y/N) had always cooked for Spencer, even when they were just friends, he wanted to make her feel as loved as he felt each time she cooked his favorite dish for him.
But also, after cooking and having dinner with Rossi, Spencer was feeling a little drunk. That wine tasting had been a little.... excessive, maybe? Four bottles of wine didn't seem disproportionate at the moment, but Spencer realized it might have been too much on the cab back home.
- "Hello, gorgeous"- because suddenly, Spencer was doing his first drunk dial- "What are you doing up so late?"
- "Spencer, are you ok? It's two in the morning. Where are you?"
- "I'm on my way back home, and I was thinking about you and all the fun we are going to have tomorrow. But tomorrow is now"
(Y/N) sat on her bed and scratched her head confused, and still half asleep.
- "What are you talking about, honey?"
- "Tomorrow is Valentine's day, but tomorrow is right now!"
- "Spencer Walter Reid, are you drunk?"
- "No! no way! Why are you middle naming me for?"- his voice was a pitch higher as he tried to deny the truth.
- "Where were you?"
- "At Rossi's"- Reid couldn't lie. Not only because he was drunk and there was no way he could come up with any weird story, but also because he couldn't lie to (Y/N).
- "We had a wine tasting and a long conversation about what went south with each one of his relationships. Statistically, that man should be studied. I wanted to offer myself to do a little research until I remembered you said sometimes people don't share their feelings to be analyzed, but because they need to take them off their chest. So I just nodded and told him he is an amazing person. Which he is! Did you know he is friends with Ringo Star?
- "No way!"- (Y/N) tried not to laugh, but drunk Spencer was too amusing- "What else did you talk about?"
- "You"- Spencer confessed and sighed- "We talked about you, and how wonderful you are"
(Y/N) nearly choked when she heard Spencer saying those words so easily. Like it wasn't something it had taken years for him to confess. Like she hadn't waited years for him to tell her how he felt for her.
- "Are you in a cab?"- she asked and changed the subject.
- "No, I just got off the cab... hold it"- Spencer thanked the driver and paid for the ride- "And I am about to walk into my building."
- "Good! so, tomorrow, what's the plan?"
- "Dinner"- Spencer chuckled- "Here, with me."
- "Are you going to cook for me, Spencer Reid?"
- "I don't know. Maybe I'll cover myself in Nutella and give myself to you for dessert."
(Y/N) didn't know what to answer at that. Not only Spencer had never said anything as bold as that, but... they hadn't even had sex yet. And now (Y/N) couldn't stop thinking about licking Nutella off Spencer's body. Hopefully, that was indeed their Valentine's plan.
- "You should go to bed"- that was all (Y/N) could answer- "And I'll see you tomorrow... at what time?"
- "Six, princess. I'll be waiting for you at six"- Princess. That was new too.
- "Ok, honey. Drink lots of water when you get home."
- "I'm home!"- Spencer announced, and (Y/N) heard his keys falling on what she hoped was a table.
- "Great, now drink water, brush your teeth and sleep well. Ok, honey?"
- "Yes, sunshine!"- (Y/N) giggled and shook her head.
- "Goodnight, Spencer. I'll see you tomorrow."
- "At six, bub"- he repeated.
- "Yes. I'll be there at six. Goodnight"
- "Sleep tight, love of my life"- (Y/N) giggled and sighed. She really didn't know how to answer those words. (Y/N) knew Spencer was drunk, which was the only explanation for his cheesy nicknames... cheesy nicknames she loved.
- "Sleep tight, my sweet prince,"- she whispered and hung down the phone.
That had been interesting. Now, how was (Y/N) going to shake off the image of Spencer covered in Nutella, asking her to lick him?
Seriously, how?
February 14th
Spencer Reid was slightly hungover, and the conversation he had had with (Y/N) on the phone the night before was a blur in his mind.
None of that stopped him from getting up early to clean the house and going to the grocery store to get everything he needed to cook dinner for his girlfriend.
But not only that, but he also sent her flowers to her house early morning and breakfast from her favorite coffee shop.
Reid had never had a girlfriend for Valentine's day, and he finally had someone to share everything he always dreamt of doing on February 14th.
Spencer Reid was a hopeless romantic. No one could ever doubt that. No one actually knew that either. It was a well-kept secret between him and (Y/N).
- "Thank you for the flowers"- (Y/N) texted and stared at the gigantic bouquet on her table- "And breakfast."
- "Dinner is going to be way better,"- Spencer answered and smiled, pleased with his romantic techniques. Rossi would be proud. He took a mental note to write Rossi a thank you note if things went well that night.
Of course, things were going to be ok. Why wouldn't they? All Spencer had to do was keep calm, cook, and have a great time with his girlfriend.
Around four, Spencer started getting ready. First, he set the table for two, in the most romantic way he could, after googling "romantic table setting for two at home." The fact he had actually googled something would have been enough for (Y/N) to feel the most special woman on earth for Spencer. But she wasn't going to find out about that yet.
Spencer cooked dessert and made sure the champagne was cold. Then, he set some appetizers: Strawberries covered in chocolate to help the brain produce serotonin. And watermelon and prosciutto skewers. Spencer knew watermelon contains citrulline, which increases nitric oxide levels in the body, relaxing blood vessels and speeding up circulation to produce arousal. Basically, he was making sure blood was getting to all the right places, just in case.
After that, Reid took a long shower. He wasn't waiting to get laid that night. But a part of him needed to be prepared. He was getting his house ready for romance, after all.
Once he was dressed, combed (sort of), and ready, Reid started cooking. First, he chopped all the veggies, settled everything he would need, and read (again) the notes he had taken from Rossi's cooking class.
- "First, heat the extra virgin olive oil in a medium heavy-based saucepan."- he commanded himself.
- "Add the onion and celery and sweat until softened"- he did as told and steered the veggies in the pan
- "Why would they call it "sweat"? Are the vegetables actually sweating? who would come up with that concept?"
Spencer kept rambling for a few minutes until he noticed his pan looked exactly like Rossi's had. Reid was pleased.
- "Stir in the rice with a wooden spoon and coat each grain with the oil. Then, add the wine and allow it to evaporate."
The wine. Why did he drink so much wine the night before? It was a miracle he didn't do anything stupid, like dialing (Y/N)'s number just to call her "princess..."
- "Fuck!!"- Reid nearly yelled.
It was all Rossi's fault. What was that stupid thing he said? "Wine prepares the heart for love." Well, clearly, after all the wine they drank the night before, Spencer had been ready for love. So prepared, in fact, he had called (Y/N) "Love of my life," "Bub," and "Princess."
That shouldn't be so embarrassing, considering they were already dating, right? Right.
- "She is your girlfriend! You can call her cute names!"- he repeated himself- "Get your shit together, Reid!"
Yes. He had already called her "gorgeous" a few times before. For Christ's sakes, he had kissed her, and he had touched her (a little, and just upon her clothes). But there was no way he could or should be embarrassed to call her cute names!
Spencer was embarrassed anyway, and he couldn't shake the thought off his mind for the next half hour. Not until he heard a knock on the door.
(Y/N) was there.
It was on. Spencer's first official Valentine's celebration was about to start. And there was no way he felt ready for it.
- "Hello!"- (Y/N) said and smiled when her boyfriend opened the door for her.
- "Hi"- he whispered and held his breath for a few seconds- "You look so pretty."
- "Thank you... so do you"- and neither of them was moving. They just stared and smiled until (Y/N) asked.
- "Can I come in?"
- "Sorry!"
Spencer mentally slapped himself and invited (Y/N) in as she giggled and took off her coat. She was wearing the most flattering velvet dress. According to Reid, she looked so good, he forgot how to breathe for a second.
- "Are you ok?"- (Y/N) asked him, and he just nodded- "What are you cooking? it smells amazing."
- "It's a surprise,"- Reid answered flirtatiously and held (Y/N)'s hand- "Can I get you something to drink?"
- "Yes, please,"- she answered and bit her lips for a moment, staring at the man in front of her. Spencer caressed her cheek softly for a moment before leaning in and kissing her sweetly.
- "Happy Valentine's day, Spencer,"- she murmured
- "Happy Valentine's day, (Y/N),"- he answered, resting his forehead against hers, closing his eyes, enjoying that moment of love. Reid wasn't used to feeling like that too often, and he decided to hold it.
Dinner was a success. (Y/N) was in awe with everything Spencer had prepared for her. It wasn't just the fact dinner was delicious, but also the cooking class with Rossi and how thoughtful he had been with everything he had done for her.
That man deserved the best Valentine's ever, and the present and card she had gotten for him didn't feel like enough.
- "I hope you don't mind, but I got dessert,"- (Y/N) said and giggled, staring at her boyfriend, who was just walking to the dining room holding two cups of tiramisu.
- "What? Why? you didn't need to bring anything, I just..."
- "Well, after last night's call, I couldn't stop thinking about this...."
(Y/N) opened her purse, took out a big Nutella jar, and placed it on Spencer's table. He stared at it, not getting what it meant for a moment.
- "Why are you...."- until it hit him- "Oh... ooh!!"- and Spencer's cheeks were burning red in less than a second.
- "I didn't know if you meant it, but it sounded like a good dessert"- (Y/N) smiled and poked out her tongue as she finished talking.
- "I actually..."- Spencer's brain shut down for a few seconds as he realized what he had actually imagined doing with (Y/N) might even be real that night.
- "I like your idea way better than the tiramisu"- that was all he managed to say and looked at (Y/N) standing up, walking towards him slowly. She dipped her finger in the Nutella and spread a little on his lips, to then lick it, very gently.
- "Technically, it was your idea. You suggested it. I just brought the Nutella"- she whispered and looked at Spencer, who was utterly paralyzed.
Reid needed a few seconds to gather his thoughts again, but it was totally worthy when he did.
He held (Y/N) close and deepened the kiss, feeling her moan against his lips.
- "You don't mind the germs that might..."- but she was cut off immediately by Spencer's rushed words.
- "I give a shit about all the germs in the world right now."- and all (Y/N) could do was giggle, staring into his eyes.
- "Happy Valentine's Reid."
*****
Taglist
@all-tings-diego @calm-and-doctor
#Spencer Reid#Matthew Gray Gubler#Criminal Minds#Spencer Reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#fluff#criminal minds fanfic#mgg#spencer reid x reader#doctor spencer reid#babymetaldoll writes
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Mess We Made - first (m)
Pairing: Baekhyun x reader
Genre: arranged marriage au (not bbh), doctor AU, highschool AU (first chapter only), university AU, fluff, ANGST
Words: 9.4K
WARNINGS: mature content, unprotected sex, cheating (not bbh), terrible family relations
Quick A/N: Finally, the anticipated full story for this drabble is coming! This will have more chapters! I am a bit self-conscious about this one. But I think it is a good challenge to grow as a writer. Hopefully it worked. Please let me know what you thought? ^^
Plot: You were willing to put the both of you through suffering without realizing you might hurt Baekhyun's feelings in the process. Even though he was yours, you were never his. And he would not stand in the way anymore.
tags: @byunfirstlady (hope you dont mind the tag; you were interest and since its been ages I tagged you to let you know 🥺 if you want to be tagged/untagged please reply to this post)
parts: first -- second -- third -- fourth (final)
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Mess We Made, part 1
“Psst,” you heard from your right side as you walked through the corridors of your high school. Before you even managed to look in the direction of where the sound came from, a hand grabbed you, swiftly bringing you into the darkness of the corner, the cold wall pressing into your back. Baekhyun came into view with his breath-taking smile as his lips hovered over yours, stretched out in a mischievous smile. “It's me.”
Instantly, you grinned, mimicking his wide smile. “I was looking for you.”
“Well, I found you first,” he whispered, and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle manner.
He had been your boyfriend since the second half of the first year in high school. You were now both seniors, ready to graduate and enter your chosen universities. You both chose the same one, the idea of not being able to see each other too ugly to risk going to different schools.
You felt Baekhyun's hands slide down your sides, reaching the hem of your short uniform skirt and his feather-like touch made you squirm and laugh right into his mouth. He followed suit with giggles. “It tickles,” you said, and looked into his smiley eyes.
He hummed, though didn't stop his wandering hand as he massaged the upper part of your thigh, the touch sending trembles down your legs, your heartbeat growing frantic. “But you like it. When I touch you there.”
Your breath hitched in your throat, growing red. “Yeah. But only when it's you.”
These final months in high school were those moments when boys were becoming very horny, the skirts of the uniforms girls had to wear driving some of them crazy. Baekhyun, thankfully, wasn't as affected, though you were thinking if it was because he already had access to you. You would tear his head off if he tried to touch another girl, but he just wasn't that type of a guy.
Same went for you, too. Baekhyun had a sharp gaze and if he saw a guy trying to lift your skirt up, he would just deal with them in his hapkido language, and nobody wanted that. Baekhyun was a literal martial arts superstar of the school. And also a terrible nerd. He was cool and nerdy. What a combo.
While that was him, the smiling, mischievous boy many girls grew a humongous crush on, you were the more unfortunate one, though many would immediately disagree. A daughter to a huge business company, money was something that was never an issue, to put it lightly. Having your own personal driver, needing to attend pilates classes to keep your form, visiting a dermatologist at least twice per month, eating small portions… everything that would scream rich, was basically you, as much as you hated it.
The reason for your hatred was simple: you didn't belong to Baekhyun's world. Likewise, he didn't belong to yours. But how would that define anything, when both of you were literally all over each other at any given opportunity, feelings too strong to fight them? Did social status really mean something? Baekhyun was studying hard to become a doctor, wanting to bring children to this world, and he had one of the best grade averages in the entire institution. Meanwhile, you, of whom it was highly expected of, didn't have it like him. Studying was not exactly your forte, and you ended up following your parents requirements of applying for business school, so that you would study something that was running in the family. As long as they did not intervene in your relationship with Baekhyun, you would accept and agree to anything. But Baekhyun was untouchable. No matter what would happen, it couldn't, by any means, include him and you always made sure about it.
“'Cause you are mine,” he murmured in your ear seductively, and you melted in his arms.
“That, I am. Always,” you replied breathily, standing on your tiptoes to crash your lips on his before anyone could catch you not spending the break outside of the building.
You just wanted to spend time with him before your family would whisk you away from him, like they always did. Rarely have you had the power to decide your free time, sitting at your father's meetings, mothers cocktails, boredly listening to conversations about money transactions that made you feel uneasy.
“Plans for tonight?” he asked as he gave your thigh a final squeeze before letting go, patting your skirt back down to its normal form.
You hummed, leaning back on the wall lazily, your chest pushed out. “Grandparents are coming over. From mother’s side,” you said, already tired at the idea of the dreadful encounter.
Baekhyun nodded, though you could sense he was a bit disappointed. He never said anything, though. It was safe to say he was used to the way things were working with your family. After all, it had been two years by now. Two years of your relationship. And with each passing moment, the both of you seemed to grow even fonder of each other. He never complained. He loved you.
“Sorry,” you sighed again, closing your eyes for a moment when you felt his palm on your cheek that forced you to open them again, his gaze gentle. He leaned in, nudging you with his nose.
“There is nothing to be sorry about, love.”
“Of course there is,” you replied passionately. “I really want to spend more time with you, Baekhyun.”
“You will. We will be together. Once university starts-”
“Can you understand that you consume my thoughts every second? And when I am not with you, the time just drags and it's like a small hell because I cannot see your face-”
Baekhyun kissed you, interrupting your small outburst. You moaned quietly, shyly, bringing him closer by his tie. He played with your lips, teasing you with his tongue, but he wouldn't go further than that. You were in school and as much as he was mischievous, he wouldn't go that far. “I love you,” he whispered.
You smiled brightly. “I love you, too.”
“And I will wait for you no matter how long it takes, okay? Don't feel sorry. I should study anyway,” he shrugged nonchalantly as if it really weren’t a big deal.
You smiled proudly while massaging his ear with your hand. “Always responsible, my prince.”
Just like you knew he would be, your driver was waiting for you, his face typically devoid of any emotions as you trudged to the school gates, ignoring the snickering gazes of students scattered around the entrance. Baekhyun was with you, hand in hand and just before you would reach the car, you stopped to kiss him goodbye.
“Text me,” you demanded, looking into his eyes.
He nodded, and his long hair fell into his eyes. “I will.”
Not wanting to let go just yet, you took the opportunity and brushed his soft hair out of his eyes while he gently gazed into yours.
“Promise me you won’t go against your parents,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet and hushed.
You focused on him, slowly retreating your hand from his hair. “What do you mean?” you asked, despite having a very good hunch. He knew your family very well, if not from what you have told him already, then from the experiences of when you would bring him home to study together and his parents would be cold and heartless, especially to you, not accepting your relationship with Baekhyun at all.
He sighed and looked somewhere else for a moment, letting the surroundings absorb in his mind before facing you. “I don’t want something happening to you. It just seems to me that the more you go against them, the more they will push you, mentally or physically. And I don’t want that.”
His worries made you feel warm. Someone actually cared for your well-being, unlike other people you were blood-related to. “I will be a good girl, hm?” you murmured, hearing your driver opening his door to get out, obviously impatient. “I will obey. For you.”
Baekhyun nodded and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “That’s the talk. Now go, before Mr Lee loses his cool,” he said, stepping away from you and nudging his head towards your driver who already opened your car door, obviously urging you to hurry.
You pressed your lips together and waved at your boyfriend one more time before turning and sliding inside the car, the door shutting loudly behind you, voicing the driver's dissatisfaction with your attitude.
Even if you wanted to wave at Baekhyun, you knew he wouldn’t see you. The windows were completely black.
You were dressing up for the dreaded dinner when your mother entered your room. Without knocking, of course. She looked at your dress of dark-red colour combined with a cute black bow on your back. The A skirt was hugging your curves just the right way and the hem stopped in the middle of your thighs that were covered in black stockings. Stylish, you thought.
“Slutty,” was what she said, frowning, her forehead wrinkled into three layers of skin. “Change it.”
You looked at her from behind your shoulder, sending her a poker face before facing your mirror again. “I like it. I won’t change it.”
Your mother sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re ridiculous. Who are you dressing up for? Your lover boy isn’t coming tonight.”
“And whose fault is that?” you fired back, hating whenever they as much as mentioned him. He was too good to be pronounced in their mouths. “It ain’t mine, mother. So stop irking me!”
“Watch your tone,” she said in a low voice before sighing deeply and shaking her head. “Listen. Your grandfather and grandmother will be here soon, so change. You know they are very conservative.”
“I’m not even showing skin,” you muttered, frustrated.
“You’re still a high school student. You aren’t supposed to be looking like this.”
Swiftly turning around, you walked to her slowly. “I’m not supposed to be having a chest? A butt? I am still growing, you know. Out of all people, you should know.”
“You have those because you eat more than you should and thanks to your boyfriend you are more horny than it’s okay for someone your age which leads you to have a big appetite,” she deadpanned. “So cover yourself up. This is not a strip club.”
Your mouth fell open, complete disbelief widening your eyes. She must have not been serious. But you knew she was, so what was more annoying was the fact that you still got angry and you still fought back, despite knowing their preferences for years. You tried to ignore the sting in your chest when she talked about food and about the way your body naturally worked. You were a hormonal teenager. Why couldn’t she understand?
Quickly remembering the promise you made to Baekhyun, you collected yourself and, although in pain, you nodded. But before you could answer, your mother continued: “Besides. Given the nature of our get-together today, you do need to look more responsible.”
That made you frown in confusion. “What does that mean?”
She smiled, though it was rather smug than anything else. “You will find out soon enough.”
“Mum!”
“Change,” she commanded, something dark flashing in her eyes before she walked out of the room.
Annoying tears burned in your eyes, and you quickly grabbed your phone, wanting to complain to Baekhyun, but he beat you to it and you found messages from him sent only a couple of minutes ago that immediately pacified your wild emotions.
i’m thinking of you ❤️ always
even now
and even now
and now too
gorgeous 😘🥰
You smiled through your tears, the need of wanting to be with him growing by tenfold. He melted all the negative emotions you had in yourself and you sat down on your bed, your eyes scanning the texts, the emoticons, and then the picture you had for him. He was being silly on it, wearing your sunglasses and pretending to be a girl group member looking seductive.
With a final look, you nodded to yourself, determined to follow what you had promised.
Changing into a white shirt politely tucked into a black pencil skirt with your hair strictly tied into a knot, you looked like any worker in your father's company; not standing out, conservative and a little bit numb.
Only one thing was eating you away as you made your way downstairs to the huge dining hall, your parents already welcoming your grandparents whose eyes gave you a strict look over.
The nature of this dinner.
What could that be?
All of the dinners had something into it. Your parents never did anything just for the sake of doing it. If there wasn’t something profitable in the action, they would never bother. But what did they want from your grandparents?
“Oh, finally you decided to show up. What are these manners, letting your old folks wait for you, hm?” Your grandmother’s words sounded like crow’s wailing. Annoying, terribly annoying.
“Excuse me. Had to dress up properly for your company,” you replied in a calm tone, not paying attention to her nagging. You walked up to them and bowed politely, respecting them.
Your grandma scoffed, frowning at you while your grandfather’s eyes crinkled up a bit in a small smile, though he didn’t say anything besides nodding once to acknowledge your polite greeting.
“Let’s just sit, shall we?” your father voiced, motioning to the prepared dining table adorned in a cream table cloth. “Before the food gets cold.”
“Yes, yes, we have things to discuss anyway,” rasped your grandmother as she sat down.
Your father was at the head of the table while your mother and you sat on his right, your grandparents on the opposite site. You ended up facing your grandfather for which you were thankful. He was one of the less evil. In fact, he barely ever showed any interest in the happenings around the dirty business your family was involved in.
Now that you thought about it, you didn’t know about him and your evil grandma. You had been secluded from any warm interaction since young age, so you never even bothered asking how they met and how they fell in love. How did grandfather even deal with someone like her was beyond your understanding.
Once your mother started talking in her superior tone, you concluded that your grandfather still managed to raise up someone like your mother. He probably wasn’t any better than the rest of the family.
“We have been in close contact with the rival company,” she started and you suppressed the need to roll your eyes.
Servants put all the food in front of you; seaweed soup, lots of side dishes, meat, fish, rice, rice cakes and corn tea. You usually liked the food but given you had to listen to another business talk, you lost your appetite.
“Their son is already in his thirties, so they requested the marriage as soon as our daughter is out of high school.”
You jumped in your seat, knocking your knee in the table rather painfully. You didn’t have time to curse and look at your mother, who continued talking as if nothing was happening: “Obviously we need to finish this deal before any more losses could happen to our business. Their company is overflowing with profit-“
“What are you talking about?” you snapped, not watching your tone that came out rude.
Your father frowned. “Your attitude is honestly disappointing. How can you talk to your mother in that to-“
“I am not getting married to anyone!” you shouted, growing hot-headed, your knee throbbing in pain. “I-I have a university to attend soon! How can I marry before getting a degree?! And I have a boyfriend-“
Your mother laughed drily. “How on earth can you even consider that boy?” she said, looking at you with utmost calmness. “He is just a middle-class boy.”
Your grandmother and father joined her in chuckles. “Don’t be silly,” said your grandmother. “It’s just a high school crush. It’s always about experimenting and not understanding what love is. Silly teenager stuff.”
“What do you know about love?” you asked doubtfully, turning to your grandmother with a death glare to which she returned it back.
“How dare you question your elders?! Calm down this instant and listen!”
If it were possible, fumes would be coming out of your nose and ears. You couldn’t believe what you just heard was true. It couldn’t be. You wouldn’t allow it.
“Besides,” started your father in a scolding manner, “you are not good at studies. We agreed to let you attend the university you chose, but your studies will be fruitless since you didn’t study as you were told to. You aren’t a man either,” he scoffed and gave a side eye to your mother who now froze. “But that isn’t your fault that you weren’t born a man. That’s someone else’s.”
Completely at loss for words, you fell back in your chair, devastated at what you just heard. Not only he degraded you, but he now attacked your mother.
In a sudden need to defend your mother as a woman rather than as your parent, you snapped: “It’s the amount of sperm that a man manages to put into a woman that decides the gender. If it’s anyone’s fault that I am a girl, it’s yours!”
Everyone went silent at what you just said, your father so shocked his mouth hung open. He blinked a few times, regaining his posture but you were already standing up. “I am not marrying anyone! I already have a boy-“
“So you do all the dirty stuff with this boyfriend of yours and that’s why your mouth is so nasty!” came your father’s voice like a thunder.
“She needs to break up with him. He is no good influence on her,” butted in your grandmother nonchalantly as she slurped her seaweed soup.
You snapped your eyes to her, and to your grandfather who was frowning down at his empty plate.
“I won’t break up with Baekhyun.”
“Then keep your delusions up. But once you're out of high school, the ceremony will take place,” said your mother resolutely, sending daggers your way.
“I don’t want to do anything with your business,” you now said in despair. “I don’t want to own your company!”
Your father snickered drily in disgust. “You won’t own our company, daughter. You’re useless as it is, so we are going to merge the companies. That’s the only way we can save our hard work.”
You shook your hair. “No, I refuse!”
“You don’t have a choice,” shrugged your mother now turning back to her plate. “You can do whatever you want, but your fate is in our hands. That’s why,” she emphasized and looked at you, “for your own good, break up with your boyfriend. He is no good news. Save yourself the heartbreak. He is with you for the money anyway.”
You stood frozen, keeping the gasp in. Tears were spilling out of your eyes and you turned around, running back to your room, sobs leaving your mouth.
You always knew your family was a nightmare - cold, scary, emotionless. But this was too much for your young self.
All you wanted was warmth, safety and honest emotions.
All of those were what Baekhyun offered you.
He was more than just a boyfriend.
He was love.
That night, you didn't call Baekhyun, instead deciding to text him back to let him know that everything went fine. He was studying anyway, and if you wanted something, it was for him to become successful in a field that he was passionate about. Unlike you, who barely had any hobbies, let alone passions.
Finally crying yourself to sleep around 3am, your alarm went off too early in the morning, a strong headache first thing you felt as you turned off the blaring thing.
Sighing, you fell back on the comfortable pillows, their lavender smell engulfing your senses and momentarily offering a calming pat on your headache. Closing your eyes, you felt your eyes well up again, the idea of having to break up with Baekhyun just not adding up in your mind. How could you do that? Why would you deprive yourself of the only source of light you had in your life? For someone you never even met. Someone who seemed to be much, much older than you.
“I'm not doing it,” you whispered into the stillness of your room, your voice hoarse. Tears slid out of your eyes and down your sides until they tickled your ears. “I'm not.”
And with that, you faced your day; you washed up, put on your uniform, packed the necessary books and headed out, not saying your morning greetings, nor eating breakfast. Ignoring your surroundings, you went out not even waiting for your driver. You decided you will take the mundane route to school that day: bus and metro like Baekhyun did everyday.
“Hey, are you okay?” Someone’s fingers appeared in the line of your vision. Fingers all too familiar.
You looked up to see a worried Baekhyun, his shirt untucked and his tie loosen-up around his neck giving him the typical goofy, laid-back look that lived up very well to his personality. You managed to smile. “Yeah, just tired. Didn’t get to sleep much.”
“And why is that?” he asked, taking the closest seat to yours, looking around to check if the owner of the seat wasn’t there. When you pursed your lips, debating what to say, he added gently: “What is bothering you, hm? You know you can tell me.”
Releasing probably the nth sigh of that day, you closed your eyes for a moment before looking at him. “Let’s talk after school maybe. It’s not something to discuss here.”
Baekhyun nodded but you saw the rapid thinking his mind drifted off to. He could sense trouble, especially with your family. “Alright, let’s do that. But your driver-“
“He didn’t drive me to school, so he won’t be driving me from school,” you said in a monotone and Baekhyun raised an eyebrow at that.
“How did you come to school?”
You shrugged. “Like you do everyday. Public transport.”
Slowly, his mouth stretched to a soft, lopsided smile, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Enjoyed it?”
You mimicked his smile, his touch easing up the tension you couldn’t get rid of since last night. “Yeah, thoroughly. Only you were missing. Then it would be perfect.”
His smile only grew and you turned your head slightly, kissing his hand before he retracted it, keeping the eye contact while he kissed the same spot your lips touched on his hand.
You watched in small awe and you giggled when he added a louder smooch. “You’re unbelievable.”
He let out a laugh, standing up when the bell rang. “But you love me.” He squeezed your shoulder.
“That I do.”
After that, you couldn’t focus any more in any of the classes. Once again it was proved that you wouldn’t be able to even imagine your life without Baekhyun next to you. Yes, the idea of marriage was scary but you’d marry him. In an instant.
Finally coming up with a way to make something out for yourself and of that damn deal your parents made, you slipped out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang announcing the end of your last class of that day. Quickly pulling out your phone, you hid in the toilets and dialed your mother's phone who lazily picked up after countless attempts.
“What.”
So you were still in a war zone. “If I am to get married,” you started without further ado, “he can not touch me. And I won’t be breaking up with Baekhyun.”
It was silent for a moment before your mother let out a laugh. “Oh, honey. We do want you to finish university first before anything else will happen.”
She didn’t add anything more which confused you. “Okay, either way, I won’t be breaking up with Baekhyun.”
“Do whatever you deem correct. Though I bet he won’t like you getting married to someone else? Didn’t you always say how loyal he was?”
You grit your teeth. “Why do you suddenly care about his loyalty?” you hissed, pacing in the small toilet space. “That isn’t your business. You will always get what you want and I already said I will comply but on my terms.”
“Your terms are cheating on your husband? Or on your boyfriend? I really don’t know where this attitude comes from in you. Neither me nor your father are like that-“
Before she could finish, you burst out laughing. “What? You aren’t like that? Don’t be delusional, mother. You’re trying to marry me off for your own profit!” you exclaimed, raising your voice. “The only thing I am asking - no, I am going to do it whether you like it or not. I will be with Baekhyun. I’ll be with him until he breaks up with me.” Because there was no way you would do it.
Your mother was silent for a moment and then she sighed. “Do as you want. As long as you sign the papers…” she trailed off. “I have a meeting now. Let’s discuss once we are home.” And she ended the call.
You realized you were trembling only when you finally let your hand dangle next to your body, already tired from the fights.
At least she didn’t say anything against the idea.
You took it as a positive sign.
You didn’t go home that night. Baekhyun suggested to sleep over at his house and you gladly agreed. It wouldn't be the first and certainly not the last time. His parents knew you well and you always felt their warm welcome whenever Baekhyun brought you home with him. His mother was a great cook and whenever you saw her, you were reminded of Baekhyun's kind smile.
“Are you staying for the night?” asked his mother with a laugh when you greeted her with a polite bow.
You smiled shyly, nodding and looking up at Baekhyun who was gazing down at you encouragingly. “Yes, if that is okay, auntie.”
“Of course! It's Friday night anyway. My son just keeps studying and not living his young life properly so please, be our guest.”
“Thank you,” you smiled and she said she would prepare a late dinner for you while you and Baehyun went to his room to change into something more comfortable.
“Could you borrow me some of your clothes?” you asked once in his room as you were working on unbuttoning your uniform's shirt and watched shirtless Baekhyun roam in his drawer for your favourite shirt of his.
“Here you go,” he said, coming up to you with the shirt and joggers, but instead of handing them to you, he just put them on the bed and mumbled a soft: “Let me.”
His fingers took over the unbuttoning process, and you closed your eyes at the feathery touch of his hands as he uncovered more skin. When he was reaching your stomach, he paused and you cracked your eyes open, finding him gazing at you intently before his eyes fell to the middle of your breasts that were exposed. He unbuttoned the last two buttons swiftly and then pushed his hands inside the shirt, dragging his fingertips over your hips and waist, tapping each bone of your ribcage until he slid his hands up to your shoulders, sliding the material off. “You want to keep your bra?” he asked, almost as if he wasn't breathing loudly, mimicking your rapidly rising and falling chest.
Shaking your head gently, you mumbled a soft no before he nodded in acknowledgement and with one hand unclasped the bra. He stepped even closer, your nose almost touching his broad and very naked chest. You felt his breath on your cheek as he whispered, pulling on the straps of your bra: “May I?”
Swallowing harshly, you nodded and looked up at him to find his fiery gaze intently set on you. When he pushed the straps off your shoulders and your bra fell to the floor, you shivered at the cool air hitting the hot skin as Baekhyun's fingers were back again, dragging them from your back through your underarms until he reached the sides of your breasts. His breathing was irregular, hot puffs hitting your face while you whimpered softly, egging him on to finally grab you.
“You're so beautiful,” he whispered shakily and you let out a loud sigh when he finally took a hold of your mounds, squeezing them gently in his palms.
You brought your arms around his neck, stretching the skin on your chest and you kissed him hungrily, the heat in your core growing almost painful for not being satisfied as you so badly wished you would be.
Baekhyun pushed his tongue into your mouth, going for a dirty kiss right away as he gave a final, stronger squeeze to your breasts before letting them go, bringing his hands down to your backside, bunching up your skirt in lust. He let out a satisfied moan when he grabbed the meat, his finger momentarily sliding inside and between your thighs. You were fast to break the kiss, needing air and also needing to whine because you needed him so badly.
His naked torso pressed now to yours, his hands cheekily teasing you and grabbing you, he was all about games.
“Baekhyun, the food is ready! Come quickly before it gets cold!” shouted his mother down the hallway, thankfully not coming to Baekhyun's room. You froze in his arms nonetheless to which he chuckled.
“Relax,” he murmured, pressing his face into your neck. “She knows not to disturb when my door is closed and you are with me.”
Letting out a breathy laugh, you let go of him just when he did.
“Once we are back,” he said, helping you put on his big t-shirt. “I will take care of that wetness down there. Seems pretty severe.”
You quirked an eyebrow, looking at the tent that was asking for attention over his joggers. “You sound so unaffected.”
He looked down just where your eyes were set and chuckled as if it was nothing. “Oh, sweetie, it's always like this when I'm with you. I just can't help it,” he said and leaned in, biting your earlobe. “You bring out the man in me.”
Everything was a long lost dream and you should have known it. Things you imagined and desired were not what the reality had in store for you, and it just made it more difficult for you to face Baekhyun. Even when you went on the last high school trip where you had the biggest fun, made the most exciting memories, sneaking behind the group to steal a small kiss, even all of that was not able to lighten up your damp mood. Somehow, it was possible for you to fake it, but you would have been dumb if you ever thought Baekhyun believed your words or smiles. He could sense trouble from miles and given the nature of your family, he was always well-aware of how many troubles could grow overnight in your household. He just wouldn't know the severity of the problem. And you weren't planning to tell him, just like you promised yourself and your mother, not until Baekhyun would break up with you.
And right now, it was your graduation day.
The D-day had come when you would have to say goodbye to all your friends, even the fake ones, and you would be a little closer to losing Baekhyun. Except you wouldn't know it would happen that fast.
“Congratulations!” squealed Baekhyun's mother who was fast to hug Baekhyun and you both at the same time, squeezing you to her chest. Your face was pushed into the colourful bouquet of flowers that smelled wonderfully - but from a distance. You tried to squeeze your eyes shut but you just looked down, catching Baekhyun's worn-out converse sneakers.
Baekhyun snorted a laugh when he saw your face in the freezias, and gently pushed you away from his mother to protect you. As you straightened up, you managed to scrunch your face just in time to sneeze.
“Oh dear, I'm so sorry,” giggled Baekhyun's mother and even his father chuckled from behind her which made your heart warm up.
“It's alright, auntie,” you waved your hand, feeling your eyes watering up but you laughed nonetheless because - how could you ever be mad at such a sweet woman who was the only person on Earth to have the right to call Baekhyun hers? As much as you wished, you were nowhere near close to have the right for him to be yours. And maybe you would never be. “Looking at you, I wonder how was my son able to sweep you off of your feet! You're so beautiful!”
You smiled shyly and felt Baekhyun's soft gaze on you, ready to reach out for your hand before his mother pushed the bouquet into his arms. “This is for you, son, and this is for you, my dear,” she said, giving you one as well.
Just when you were about to thank her politely and bow, your mother's cold voice interrupted the merry atmosphere, your happy smile dying down as you turned to face her, your father and a- stranger? A man, to be exact.
“Here you are,” she said, sending a cold smile towards Baekhyun's parents, ignoring your boyfriend altogether. She stepped closer so she wouldn't be overheard, and muttered: “I guess your wishes will come true soon.” She leaned back and you followed her with your eyes as she stepped aside. “Mr Kwon, please meet my daughter,” she introduced you before continuing, “and this is Mr Kwon Minheob, your fiancée. Greet him properly!” she ordered but you didn't even process what she said.
Standing frozen, your arms were about to let go of the bouquet you just received were it not for Baekhyun who was fast enough to get the flowers out of your grasp. “Oh, that's great news! I'll take these for you!” he exclaimed with a smile and you looked at him with pure horror in your eyes. “Congrats by the way! I will miss you as my classmate!” he added and quickly bowed to your parents. “I'll see you around someday!” And with that, he turned and left.
In that instance, many things were swirling around in your brain - complete, utter shock, overwhelm, fear, heartbreak. What did Baekhyun just do? Why did he say that? And where was he going-
“Nice to meet you,” said the older male with a deep voice. You turned your stare back at him, hearing your heart beating in your ears. “What a pleasure to finally meet you. I have heard a lot about you and your studies. It is so nice of you to lower yourself and your status and attend a regular high school with ordinary people. I believe we will have a lot in common.” He finally uncrossed his hands from behind his back and you found a pastel pink bag dangling off of his somewhat thick fingers. “And this is my congratulatory present for you. Congratulations on graduating high school.”
Once again, you just stared at the bag, unable to make your own hand move and accept the gift with a polite bow like you were expected to. The only thing ringing in your mind was Baekhyun and him only. He found out much sooner than he was supposed to and you hated yourself because he was most probably hating you right now. What was worse - his parents were there, too. They all saw it when it all seemed like you were just about to stay with their son forever. Yet, your family, as always, ruined it all and you weren't sure if you would recover.
Looking up to the tall, grown man, it didn't take you a lot to know he was far from anyone you could have feelings for, ever. The words he just spoke, the malice he said them with, was everything you were standing for. Obviously, he was no one you could have things in common with.
Your father stepped next to you and, painfully, pinched your side, making you gasp and automatically reach out for the gift with a low bow. His fingers were squeezing your skin through your dress and it rushed tears in your eyes, but you blinked them away while accepting the gift and staring at the polished shoes of Kwon Minheob.
“Nice to meet you,” you mumbled, straightening up. The gift bag felt heavy in your hand but you tried not to pay too much attention to it. Eventually, your father also removed his hand from your back and he gave you a pressed smile, though you didn't look at him. “Congratulations, our daughter. Now we can go all to our house and have a good di-”
“I'm sorry, but I still have, eh, friends to greet and meet,” you said, “we also all agreed to have our last meal together as a class,” you added, looking up to meet your father's eyes. You weren't lying; the entire class wanted to meet and have chicken and beer. Preferably spend the time loudly somewhere in a good restaurant.
He shot you a dissatisfied scowl, but you held his gaze. “Until when? You won't be meeting them anyway, why waste time?”
“Exactly,” pressed your mother and smiled brightly at Mr Kwon, who kept observing you with quite an unreadable expression. “And we have Mr Kwon to entertain.”
Quite literally you thought you would start wailing right then and there; everyone was going against you, nobody seeming to listen to your words. Just when you felt tears prickle your eyes, Mr Kwon spoke up and surprised all of you.
“That is not necessary,” he declared, giving a curt smile towards your parents, “she is still young and should enjoy her classmates one last time. I suppose it will be difficult to do it once they all go their own way,” he said in a diplomatic voice, looking at you the entire time. It took a lot in you not to flinch and shudder under his gaze. “So go and enjoy, miss, and I will meet you soon to have a more private conversation with you.” You nodded quickly, though blood was already draining from your face at the idea of what he suggested. Mr Kwon turned to your parents. “I will leave you to entertain your daughter and I will reach out soon.”
Before anyone else could say another word, he gave a short bow and disappeared in the mass of people.
“You do realize-” your mother started, but you were fast to push the bag into her chest, not caring whether she caught it or not, and dashing for the direction that Baekhyun disappeared into.
Of course you were aware how much you would get scolded once you actually faced your parents, but right now you couldn't care less. It was better to get scolded, but losing Baekhyun or even making him hurt just the tiniest of bits made you resent yourself.
And so you pushed past crowds, stopping to say hi, keeping an eye out for any coconut head out there with a family that shone brighter than yours would ever shine. Just when you were about to lose it and start straight up crying in the middle of the crowd, you felt a hand intertwining with yours and you just knew. He didn't turn you around, but you felt his body behind yours and it was you who turned, facing him with a scared expression.
“Baekhyun,” you whimpered. Seeing his kind smile made you want to slap him because why was he like that after what he heard?
“Hm? Want to tell me about it now?” he asked gently and combed your hair out of your face, his smile growing by an inch. “Pretty.”
You took a deep breath, shakiness overtaking your legs from unwanted pressure. “It isn't what you think it is.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don't want to marry him,” you said and this time, your tears rapidly grew in your eyes and were rolling down your cheeks. “I-I-I never… I mean, not yet. I did-didn't know he would come, I never saw him before and-”
“Shhh, calm down,” he hushed, bringing your face to his chest, hugging you to himself. “Let's talk about it another time.”
“No,” you said, hiccuping, “I am not losing you, Baekhyun.”
“You aren't.”
“I'm not losing you,” you repeated, closing your eyes and pressing your face more into him, taking a deep breath of his scent, feeling up his warmth and presence. “I'm not losing you.”
He called your name gently. “It's fine. Don't cry, hm? You know I can't stand seeing you cry. I am not mad and I'm not going anywhere,” he whispered urgently into your ear.
“I just hate my family so much,” you mumbled into his chest. Baekhyun's shirt must have been stained by make-up by then, but neither of you cared. “And I don't want their terrible attitude to damage you.”
“It won't damage me. You are important to me, you. Look at me, hm? Look at me, darling.”
You sniffed and stepped away a little, tilting your head so you could see his kind eyes. He cooed, reaching up to run his thumbs under your eyes. “My little raccoon. Let's enjoy today, alright? Just us. And our classmates,” he added with a little laugh.
You smiled weakly, nodding. Anything Baekhyun wanted, he would get from you.
Your entire class hoarded into a chicken restaurant in Hongdae, the loud cheers and chatterings making many people turn in interest to look at you. You sat down around your girlfriends while you let, though reluctantly, Baekhyun join his pals. Even though you would exchange reassuring looks here and there, you still felt incredibly anxious about the incident earlier. In fact, you were so swallowed up by the idea of losing Baekhyun that you didn't even think about the actual fiancée, Mr Kwon.
But instead of focusing on that, you decided to enjoy tonight, for you knew events like these won't be coming up for you anytime soon. If anything, your freedom was close to gone.
“I am going to start my own clothing brand,” started one of your classmates that was sitting next to you, munching on her piece of chicken meat. She went on spilling many details that didn't add up in your brain, though you listened carefully to every word she said.
“You don't have your degree yet,” you replied eventually and took a gulp of your coke.
“Funny, coming from someone like you,” she snickered, “you can decide you want to own an island and you will.”
You sighed, rolling your eyes but your classmate just shrugged.
“I can assure you she won't,” came in Baekhyun's voice. “I know it pretty well, since I'm her boyfriend.”
The girls exchanged looks. They all had a secret crush on him, so his words made them a little embarrassed. “Would you even marry her?” they teased.
“I would. In a heartbeat,” was his answer and you looked at him with huge eyes, your mouth that was slightly oily from the chicken hanging open, your heart frantically beating in your chest.
The entire table hollored and whistled, and you caught your boyfriend smiling proudly at you, eventually sending a confident wink. He tapped his mouth with his index finger and then pointed at you. You felt your lips stretch instantly, because you knew he meant “close your mouth”.
“Whew, you really are lucky,” muttered the girl next to you, changing the topic completely.
His hand was intertwined with yours once again as you were slowly walking along the Han river. Ttukseom Han river park was, as always, busy with young people. It gave a great view on Gangnam and Cheongdam that were lying on the opposite side, the city lights of the tall buildings reminding you how life revolved around money and basically anything that smelled even the slightest of capitalism. You found yourself despising all of it.
“Cat stole your tongue?” muttered Baekhyun playfully into the chilly air as he swayed your connected hands.
“Just… thinking,” you replied and made sure your sides were brushing.
He didn't reply, instead letting silence overtake again, but you knew he was curious. He wanted to, and deserved, to know.
“Did you mean it?” you asked, looking at the dark water.
“Did I mean what?”
“That you would marry me in a heartbeat,” you said softly, scared to actually pronounce those words. They sounded so unnatural, for some reason, despite them mirroring everything you ever wanted in life. “What you said during dinner.”
“Yes, I meant it and you know it, too, sweetheart,” he said, shaking your hand.
You smiled to yourself. If you wouldn't spill the beans now, you would probably never find the guts to talk about the main issue that was simmering like the water in a pressure cooker. “My parents want me to marry that man for business. Something along merging their companies or whatever,” you started. “I found out a while ago but I was fighting them. And then you made me promise to obey,” you sighed, feeling the well-known dread eating up your insides, “and I had to agree. But I don't want to.”
“So that's why you weren't yourself,” he muttered more to himself than to you, and he stopped walking so he could look at you properly. When you wouldn't meet his eye, too ashamed, he put his index finger under your chin and made you tilt your head up. “Why didn't you just tell me from the beginning?”
“Baekhyun,” you whispered in disbelief, “how could I? It isn't some news about apples growing backwards.”
He chuckled. “Well, you have to admit, that would make the headlines.”
You giggled, rolling your eyes. “You know what I mean.”
He let out another chuckle through his nose and slid his hand up so he could cup your cheek lovingly while thinking over his next words. “When are you supposed to marry him?”
You swallowed. “Maybe after uni? I … I never wanted to talk to them, so I don't know exactly… I insisted after university graduation.”
He hummed, running his thumb over your lower lip, his gaze focused on the way he parted your lips. “So, we have four more years?”
You pursed your lips, not liking the idea of having limited time with Baekhyun. “Of course not. I will always be with you.”
He sighed, and eventually dropped his hand on your shoulder; you tried not to feel disappointed. “I think this is more complicated than you think, love.”
“How is it complicated, Baekhyun?” you asked stubbornly. “I love you. I saw that man today for the first time in my life. How can I marry someone I don't know and barely ever saw? He is almost twice my age, Baekhyun. You know this is not okay and you also know it doesn't make any sense.”
“And you know business is anything but emotions,” was his fast reply.
“I don't care about their business.”
“And they don't care that you don't care.”
“Bu-but I just don't care! I will be with you behind his back and-”
“And how would that make me feel?” he fired back, now both of you slowly getting heated up from the small exchange of opinions. Baekhyun just asked something you never wanted him to utter. If you were to talk about him, of course, he was the victim. He'd become a secret lover; the forbidden fruit.
When you didn't reply, he nodded, his hand falling off your shoulder. “I understand.”
“Baekhyun, let's talk about this step by step,” you tried, reaching for his hand which he, thankfully, didn't retreat. “We still have a long time until any of those things could even happen. Maybe it won't happen - and I will try my best not to let it happen. But let it not affect our present. Please,” you added with urgency, looking into his warm eyes.
When Baekhyun was troubled or sad, his eyes seemed to become even more down-ward than they already were. This time, it was no exception and you wanted to reach out and make the wrinkles go away but you didn't. “Let me just think this matter through, alright?” he murmured eventually.
You pressed your lips together and nodded while you stepped close to him, snaking your arms around his waist. He gladly took you in, letting out a deep sigh as he hugged you to him and kissed the top of your head. “It will be okay.”
“May I sleep at yours tonight?” you mumbled into his shoulder after a moment of silence. “I just cannot imagine going back to that hell.”
He rubbed your back gently. “Of course. My mum is already expecting us. We shouldn't disappoint her.”
You leaned back a bit and stood on your toes to press your lips to his. “You're the best.”
And so, after walking a little bit longer and enjoying the faraway noise of the busy roads and nightlife Seoul, you slowly made your way back to the metro station, heading for Baekhyun's house, and your safety.
The both of you were lying on his bed, his parents long asleep, the quietness of the apartment giving you a sense of safeness. Baekhyun had a book open on his lap while you were doodling something you weren’t sure what was yet. Manual work seemed to preoccupy your mind enough and sadly, even with Baekhyun next to you, you couldn’t find your peace of mind.
“Aren’t you tired yet?” whispered Baekhyun and looked at you, and on the paper to see what you were so focused on. “It’s already 1am. Your parents will want you home early-“
Your sigh interrupted him and you put down the pencil rather harshly as you sat up properly to face him. “Since when do you care about them? You know I will go home whenever I want to. I don’t care, so you shouldn’t either.”
“I don’t want you to get into trouble, okay?” he said back, his voice quiet but low. “There has been enough drama.”
“What worse can happen? They want me to let go of you. That is the worst punishment for me.”
Baekhyun’s gaze softened and he also sat up properly to face you. “I know. I can’t lose you either. And I wasn’t intending on that. I meant that they might lock you up and then I won’t be able to see you so soon, hm?” he murmured gently, his lips puckering with each word as he reached out with his hand to caress your cheek. You leaned into his touch right away. “I want to enjoy what we have now.”
You smiled gently when you recognized your previously uttered words and grabbed his hand that was cradling your cheek. “You know I would sneak out just to meet you if I were to be locked up.”
He rewarded you with a lopsided, handsome smile. “You shouldn’t, you little devil.”
You sighed and shimmied yourself closer until your knees were touching his. “Kiss me,” you whispered breathily, already eyeing his lips.
He observed you a little longer before his eyes dropped on yours. Softly smiling, he leaned in, now both of his hands on your neck to angle your face. The softest of touches was what you felt first before he pressed his lips harsher, moving his mouth against yours. Your hands snaked around his neck to urge him on while he opened your mouth and invited himself in. Without meaning to, you let out a satisfied hum that seemed to ignite Baekhyun because he pressed harder, slowly making you fall back on your back, head on the pillows.
He grunted as you spread your legs so he could settle himself there as your kiss grew dirtier, all tongues and teeth, battling for dominance. Your fingers were messing up his hair while his hands were touching you over the fabric of his pyjamas.
It was your whines and a couple of pulls on the hem of his shirt that made Baekhyun lean back so that you could undress in haste, both of you eager and very much horny. Finally feeling the hot skin of his chest press up against yours he was too eager and he already lined himself up at your center, needing the release without any foreplay.
“Just keep quiet, alright?” he reminded softly into your ear under which he placed the softest kiss before he started pushing in, your mouth falling open, but your juices doing a good enough job for his easy access.
You gasped rather loudly and he silenced you with a messy kiss, interrupting it with harsh pants on your mouth as his eyes were closed in focus, his forehead pressed against yours. You panted and tilted your head to chase his parted lips while he pushed himself in all the way, reaching the stillness that you very much needed.
Unable to take the pain, your eyes were squeezed shut, scratching Baekhyun’s back while the other hand fisted his blanket.
“Just a little longer,” Baekhyun whispered urgently, lips against your forehead, repeatedly puckering them in tiny butterfly kisses. “The pain will be all gone, I promise. I’ll make you feel like no one on this planet.” He moved the slightest bit, the friction making him hide his face in your neck and mouth at the skin.
Your heaving chest was pressing up against his and with his next movement, you felt the tingles of pleasure that he promised you just heartbeats ago. Giving Baekhyun the sign to move, he started rocking, already setting up a faster pace for he couldn’t wait any longer. Your influence on him was too strong, his emotions for you too overwhelming. In his eyes, you were so sexy, beautiful, sensitive, and absolutely alluring. It would be brutal if he had to hold back while having you underneath him.
Who did he try to lie to? He went absolutely crazy at the idea of him having to leave you for another man; some old dude who didn’t even know you. It might have been the reason why he grew relentless, pushing you into his mattress and snapping his hips, your face of pure ecstasy only fueling his passionate drive. He hated the entire situation. He didn’t want to share you. He never wanted to have a secret relationship with you. If he imagined a future, besides him becoming a doctor, it was your presence next to his the entire time.
Baekhyun was never one to be aggressive and stubbornly go against every rule, unlike you. In your relationship, he was the cold-headed one, the peace-maker, always fighting for what the brain said instead of the heart.
But right now, his heart was in despair, already feeling the beginning of a heart break. He thrusted into you with such passion you really couldn't contain your moans and he wasn’t sure he wanted you to keep quiet anymore. Let everyone know that you belonged to him.
He bit your skin just under your collarbones, tasting the sweat, and you gasped, fisting his hair which prompted him to grunt and reach your g-spot.
“Cum for me,” he whispered harshly, biting you again and then moving his face to push his tongue into your open mouth. “Cum for me and say my name.”
He didn’t have to tell you as you were already panting his name like a mantra that would bring you to heaven. Your walls were pleasurably stretched out, the throaty sounds he made bringing you over the edge. He followed soon after your breathy moans and your arching back that caused your breasts to press to his sweaty chest made him lose it.
His arms snaked in the space between your back and the mattress and he squeezed your body to him, hiding his face in your breasts that he mouthed and licked at sensually while feeling himself release.
With one last bite to your sensitive nipple, he moved to kiss you, your tired smile welcoming him. “I love you.”
You combed his hair away from his damp forehead. “I love you more.” But please don't leave me.
--
CuriousCat
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Fic Recs (cause it's always nice to give a shout out and get people into things I'm into rn)
[The Magnus Archives] (I recently finished the podcast and I fell into a hole for a while so here you go)
Sing a Song of Sixpence by Kaiel
Ship: Jon/Martin
In which Jonathan Sims is a Siren, and he fails to notice any new abilities granted to him by the position of Archivist. Or really anything about the Entities at all.
Takes place in season 1 featuring Jonah Magnus’s slow decent into madness
(The new mythology interwoven with tma's worldbuilding is so freaking good and I love how all the characters change and develop because of these changes. Also, f you Elias)
Along Came a Spider by Dribbledscribbles
Ship: implied Jon/Martin
Sasha James is the Archivist, as expected. Martin Blackwood is menaced by Jane Prentiss, as expected. Elias Bouchard weaves his web, as expected.
All goes as it should.
At least until something calling itself Jonathan Sims steps in.
(Web!Jon in this makes me want to weep, it's so freaking good. A pretty long, very excellent oneshot on what could've happened if Jon got taken by the web when he was a kid. And Sasha as the Archivist is ALWAYS so cool, we love her in this house.)
A Break in the Clouds by Ash_Rabbit
“I’m eight.” the kid sniffs as if eight was any different from four, maybe not an unspeakable horror then, just a regular horror. “And I heard that the Magnus Institute deals with-” his little nose scrunches, cute. “-spooky things.”
“Do you have a-” he cracks a grin, and then rethinks it as small hands tighten against their burden.”-spooky thing to deliver?” gods he hopes not, it’s bad enough when adults walk in and lay out all of their baggage, but for a child-
“There’s a spider in this book.” the kid says solemnly, raising his textbook sized parcel. “It ate Evan Pritchard.” a bloody fucking Leitner. Of course an eight year old would find a murder spider book. “This seemed like the best place to bring it.”
(I never thought about what the Original Elias could've been like AND NOW I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE OF THIS FIC. I LOVE HIM, HE'S COMPLEX AND HE CARES AND JON CARES AND THEY BOTH CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. THIS IS THE CONTENT I WANT, OMG. Also, Jon being even smaller than usual is adorable, so cute. No wonder Elias wants to hug him, a LOT.)
See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea by The_Floating_World
Ship: Jon/Martin, Jon/Oliver Banks
When Jon is a child he looks into the infinite abyss of space. The Vast looks back into him.
(One of my all time fave fics in this fandom, no questions asked. I have reread this three times and am open to doing it again, god. Vast!Jon, such a concept. It's written so beautifully and the relationships Jon develops, so good. ugh. My heart. Please please read.)
Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing
Ship: Jon/Martin
“Come in, Martin,” he says, not looking up from his notes.
“Hi, Jon,” he says, and Jon stops writing at the sound of his voice. “We’re out of the green tea, but we’ve got lemon?”
Jon looks at him. Martin smiles at him in his usual tentative way as he sets the mug of tea down on Jon’s desk. Heat spikes so sharply in his gut that he twitches with it.
“Thank you, Martin,” he says, mouth dry, and he stands up.
“Oh,” he says, sounding almost surprised. He smiles again. “No-- no problem-- um, what are you--”
Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.
(You have no idea how much I howled through this fic, my god. *buries face in hands* The number of times I wanted to cry from sheer hilarity and horror reading this good lord.)
Things Could Always Be Worse by theOestofOCs
Ship: Jon/Martin, Georgie/Melanie
Sometimes, the most horrifying thing of all is what might have been.
Somewhere, Jon could swear he heard a crowd laughing.
Or: in which Jonathan Sims is forced to swap places with his alternate self—a tall, chivalrous hero extraordinaire, who knows neither fear nor nuance—and is sent to the aggressively straight alternate universe the Magnus Archives was never meant to be.
“Whatever place this is,” Jon announced, “I just want to be sure it knows I hate it.”
(I will say this once, THIS IS THE MOST CURSED THING IVE EVER READ EVER. Like holy hell. I can't believe this thing exists. please read it oh please please please)
-
[Supernatural]
heard from your mother (she don't recognize you) by Schmuzz
Ship: Dean/Cas, Jessica/Sam
A man named Cas wakes up in 2003 with no memories, but he's able to piece together a few things:
1. Supernatural creatures exist, and most of them will hurt innocent civilians if he doesn't stop them;
2. He has abilities that no human hunter should have, but he knows enough about human hunters to keep that to himself, and finally;
3. He keeps running into another hunter named Dean Winchester, who seems to be about as lonely as he is if he's willing to put up with those former facts long enough to help Cas unravel the mystery of who (or what) he really is.
For his part, Dean's still (not) dealing with Sam's departure to Stanford, and figures distracting himself with a bit of mystery and intrigue is as harmless as it gets, right? Right.
(THE fic I'm most into right now, been following this from the very start and it's AMAZING. Cas has agency and is making friends and S1 Dean is growing out of John's influence and is becoming a Person and the both of them first being friends then more. The slow burn as their relationship develops, SO GOOD. SO SO DAMN GOOD. *screams* Seriously one of the best spn fics I've read in a long, long time.)
anamnesis by cenotaphy
Ships: Castiel/Dean, Sam/Eileen
Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be.
*
Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19.
(THIS IS THE FIC THAT GOT ME THROUGH THE FINALE OKAY. WHY COULDN'T THIS HAVE BEEN CANON. It's Disturbing and honestly plot-wise this makes more sense. Why couldn't we have had this. *screams*)
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[Avatar: The Last Airbender]
where the stars do not take sides by WitchofEndor
Ship: Sokka/Zuko
When Azula is nine, she becomes an only child. She hears the Fire Lord call for Zuko's life, and in the morning, her mother and brother are gone. Azula may be young, but she isn't naive. She knows what happened to them.
Which makes it all the more surprising when Azula tracks the Avatar down and fights his group of peasant friends, only to find herself staring into an eerily familiar face.
(The fact one of the tags in this fic is, "Sibling Dynamic: Fucked Up But Wholesome" should give you an idea what this fic is like. Chaotic as HELL and I just love Azula here, she loves Zuko so much in her messed up way and Zuko loves her back in the exact same way lol. It's batshit and I am Here For This.)
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[Naruto]
Eclipse by AislingRoisin (JayBird345) for HybrisAnaideia
Ship: Nara Shikaku/OFC
"In life, it's easier to remain stagnant and wallow in your troubles. But life isn't merely about continued existence, nor is it meant to be gone through alone."
(This is a fic that's slept on and I NEED people to read this. A self-insert fic that I find really interesting in its approach and the worldbuilding for the post-third war shinobi world is fantastic. I feel like there's a certain pattern with self-insert fics, not that is a detriment in any way to how much I enjoy them, so this fic feels fresh to me in a way I haven't read in a while. I am waiting eagerly for this to get updated! Please read!)
On Freedom and Other Formalities by iaso
Ship: Kakashi/Genma/OFC
When push comes to shove, Hiwa Inuzuka doesn't go down easy. Reborn into a new, dangerous world? She puts her past life as a spy to work. Thrown into a war? Hiwa does her duty, for Konoha. And when she's forced into an arranged marriage? All there is to do is beat them to the punch and get married first. Thankfully, Genma Shiranui is willing to lend a hand. Literally. SI/OC
(Listen, LISTEN, it's about the slow burn, the longing, the communication (it both has and hasn't and isn't THAT great??), the messy way you fit three very different people together, it's so freaking good! Also, Kakashi is so Chaotic here this is my fave characterization of him, you can't change my mind. And Genma is a Good Boi who is Doing His Best, along with the Self-insert character who I LOVE SO MUCH, SHE'S FANTASTIC FNEIWOPAF. Sped past this fic in the speed of light, I could not stop reading!)(Honestly, read all of the author's fics, they're all really REALLY good!)
Building a Castle by WhisperingDarkness
Without needing anyone to tell her, Sakura knew that talking to someone no-one else could see or hear would make her weird. It would draw the bad kind of attention to her, something people could make fun of her for.
She didn’t like being weird, but she did like the voice. Her inner voice was helpful and it was a part of her that had always been there. The idea of it not being there would have been so much weirder than anything else.
It was during her first year at the Academy that Sakura realised the voice was not in her head at all, but that it came from a cloudy shape floating next to her.
(Basically a short-ish retelling of Hikaru no Go. Only with more Shogi and Nara and Ninja's)
(Sakura can see ghosts (I'm noticing this is a popular trope for her) and it's really cute haha! Her relationship with Tobirama is sweet and I just enjoyed reading this so much.)
-
[The Magicians]
So Long (And Thanks For All The Books) by IncompleteSentanc (Erava)
Ships: Quentin/Eliot, James/Julia, Quentin/Margo/Eliot
When Quentin is told Julia wasn't admitted to Brakebills, he realizes he has a drastic decision in front of him. If he tells Julia about magic, he'll have his mind wiped as well as hers. But he can't just leave her behind, either. He can't lose his best friend, and he can't let her life a life with her magical potential stolen away from her.
So he makes a third choice.
(Really, and I mean REALLY well-done canon divergent fic, this is the Quentin & Julia friendship fic I have been looking for forever. It explores so much of what could've happened and I just love Quentin here, I really really do. Characterization done so right. I also recommend the author's other works too. Been a follower of them for a long time, they're great.)
-
[Game of Thrones]
The Road to Victory by writing_as_tracey
Too late in preparing for the Night King and the Long Night, the last stand at Winterfell is close to falling. Bran takes desperate measures to ensure victory, and Jon, Sansa, and Arya pay the price for it in a time unfamiliar to them, on the cusp of another war. [GoT, time-travel fix it]
(I swear, this fic made me laugh so many times, all the Stark are BAMF and fantastic, and Rhaegar gets Wrecked lol. It's crack btw, and the plot goes in directions you'll never guess and it's amazing hahaha!)
-
[Haikyuu!!] (I am very very late to the fandom but here I am)
Ballare (To Dance) by MidnightSparks
Ship: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, and platonic Kageyama & Kentarou (really love their friendship)
Kageyama’s first love is volleyball. His second, however, is ballet.
In one world, Kageyama Tobio is left behind by his parents. In this world, the existence of soulbonds keeps Kageyama’s parents in Miyagi and leaves Kageyama in the care of his grandma and grandpa.
(In which soulmates exist and that changes everything and nothing at the same time.)
(*buries face in hands* I have fallen for this ship so hard and I can't get out fudge me. I understand now. Their DYNAMICS FIEWONPAF)
Kings of Tomorrow by bokubroya (liarielle)
Ship: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru
On the eve of Tobio’s 16th birthday, he counts down the seconds to midnight, and emerges with Oikawa Tooru’s name on his wrist.
It’s been two years since then, and Tobio thought they had an understanding. A silent, never spoken about understanding that this thing between them is nothing, and they’re going to pretend it doesn’t exist.
Of course, it’s just like Oikawa to change the game and leave Tobio wondering what comes next.
(I am WEAK for soulmate fics between these two, I don't even really like soulmate fics half the times what is WRONG WITH ME-)(Please suffer with me, I'm begging you. Its a good fic, thumbs up.)
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[Crossover]
Honey and Magic by JustARatherVerySillyWriter, White_Squirrel for Super Carlin Brothers
Fandoms: Matilda (yeah you read that right), Harry Potter
Everyone knew Matilda was a rather extraordinary child, but even she didn't know she was a witch. Matilda Honey receives her Hogwarts letter in the year of the Triwizard Tournament, and soon, she will leave her unique mark on the magical world.
(Do I even need to explain how amazing it is to have Matilda in the wizarding world? And Matilda is a HUFFLEPUFF AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL THIS FIC IS GREAT PLEASE READ!!!)
An Eye for an Eye by DpsMercy
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives, Welcome to Night Vale
In which Jonathan Sims is not from the UK but instead, if you took his origins and turned them sideways twice then flipped them over, he technically would be from the US, the town of Night Vale specifically.
Elias can’t do shit about it and gets a headache and slowly creeping madness instead.
(Look, I know probably everyone has read this because if they haven't, what have you been DOING with your lives??? Jon interning at Night Vale is Incredible, nothing phases this man, it's Delightful. I laughed so many times reading this, I'm not even kidding right now. Read or perish.)
The Favour by R_Cookie
Fandoms: Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Ship: Original Percival Graves/Harry Potter
Percival is ten years old when his grandfather tries to tell him that he's ensured the greatness of the Graves legacy for him, that he ought to be eternally grateful - but the explanation is hijacked by a stranger who manages to intimidate Chester Graves with an ease never seen before.
or: Hadrian (Harry) Potter is the Master of Death, who grants Graves a boon. Nobody could have known that the Deathly Hallows didn't turn you so much into the 'Master of Death' as into the anthropomorphic personification of Death. And so, Death becomes Percival's guardian angel, and Percival does not spit out his cereal.
(Look, I don't know how I stumbled back into the FBAWTFT fandom either, it just happened and I'm grateful for that. Otherwise, I wouldn't have found this amazing fic. Their relationship is slow and strange and I just love how Percival is characterized here. Also, one of the tag promises that it deviates from canon so I am really, really excited for that! XD)
baby that's what i do by natanije
Fandoms: Naruto, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
"Are you telling me," Hidan exclaims, incredulous, "that you collect money all this time to give to orphans?!"
Kakuzu pauses. He blinks a few times.
"Huh. I guess I do."
(Tsuna reincarnates as Kakuzu and it's HILARIOUS. HE'S SUCH A MOM HAHAHA)
#Fanfiction#AO3#Fic Rec#Fic Rec List#Podcasts#The Magnus Archives#Supernatural#Avatar The Last Airbender#Naruto#The Magicians#Game of Thrones#Haikyuu!!#Crossover#Matilda#Welcome to Night Vale#Harry Potter#Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them#Katekyou Hitman Reborn
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The Second Mrs Cullano
As we all know, Esme Platt is not Carlisle Cullano’s first wife, nor is she his second - she is actually his third. But she is the love of his life, the reason for his breathing, and so when he marries for the second time, it’s clear that wives are nothing to soulmates.
Esme Platt enjoys the wedding of Carlisle Cullano and the Second Mrs Cullano.
Dedicated to my literal partner in this crime, @notquitetwilight, and to our collective projection onto cringe New Jersey mob show stereotypes. Special shoutout to @stregoni-benefici and @carlislesscarf.
Esme felt a soft kiss on her shoulder and smiled. Sun was pouring through the open windows of her bedroom and there was a soft breeze that lifted her hair. He was still here. He shouldn’t have been.
“Good morning,” he whispered against her skin. “You smell so good.”
Esme rolled onto her stomach and curled around her pillow with her smile broadening. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“You kicking me out?”
“No. But I’ve got things to do, too, you know?”
Carlisle lay next to her and stroked her caramel hair, his face close to hers on her pillow. She cracked open an eye and watched him watch her. “Can I stay with you?” he whispered.
She shook her head. “Not for long. For breakfast, though, if you make it.”
“I don’t wanna leave this bed.”
“You’re gonna have to at some point, baby. You’ve got responsibilities today.”
“Tell me to stay, Esme. Tell me not to do it.” He ran a strong hand over her neck and gently wrapped it around her throat, fingers tilting her jaw to the side.
She laughed quietly, sleep making her mind hazy. “No. I want you to have a wife and a family. You’ve always wanted that, but I haven’t. I still want to be me for a while yet.”
“You wouldn’t stop being you just for being my wife.”
Esme took the hand around her throat and brought it up to kiss. Carlisle closed her eyes at the touch of her lips. “We’ve talked about this, for years. Decades. I can be your person, but I can’t be your wife. I won’t be anyone’s wife again.”
“I’m not anyone. Please, Esme. Marry me.”
She stretched her arms up and laughed. “Not today!” But she rolled over and wrapped her legs around him and pulled him against her, loving him as best she could in the soft sunrise.
After, they followed their usual routine of showering together and dressing. Since their days of teenage love they enjoyed the quiet of domesticity. Outside the walls of their homes wars raged on their streets but in her old house, in his sprawling estates, it was just them, and today was no different. He zipped her skirt and she buttoned his shirt and they walked arm in arm down the street for coffee and bagels. They took a booth at the back of the cafe, although it didn’t matter if anyone saw them - they had never been a secret. Besides, they both kept guns strapped to them and knives hidden in their jackets and coats.
Esme leaned back in her chair, blowing steam off the top of her coffee. “You’re sure about this one?”
Carlisle regarded her over his phone and considered the question. “Yeah. It’s gotta be someone, why not her?”
“It doesn’t have to be someone,” she reminded him gently. “You could go it alone. Well, as alone as you will ever be. You’ve always got me.”
“Yeah. But I want someone. I want a wife. And the wife I want doesn’t want me, so I gotta choose the next best thing. Besides, you know her family’s reputation, that’s nothing to turn my nose up at.”
“Ever the pragmatist.”
He gave her one of the smiles he saved just for her. “Aw, you hurt me, Es. I do like her. She’s got spirit, and she’s smart as hell. She likes the high life and she wants kids sooner rather than later, and… and she makes me laugh. She makes me feel wanted.”
“I think most of the east coast wants you,” Esme said quietly, avoiding his gaze. It wasn’t that she was jealous - how could she be, when he made her feel so adored all the time? - but it irritated her that this woman was able to give him what he wanted, and she couldn’t. One marriage to the wrong man had ruined the institution for her and now not even Carlisle could heal that wound. Yes, her first husband had died violently at her hand for his transgression, but that wasn’t the point. The transgression had occured in the first place. That was frightening.
“Don’t be angry, darling. You know it’s still you.” Carlisle reached over the table and stroked her hand and Esme felt safe again. She held his gaze and nodded slightly. “It’ll always be you. You’re mine, before anyone and everyone else.”
She smiled, her mood improved. He had always been happy to declare his feelings with her, and even now, on the morning of his wedding to another woman, in a nondescript coffee shop, he made her feel like the most adored woman. On the middle finger of her right hand she still wore the first expensive ring he had ever bought her, and it cost as much as her parents’ house. It was a gaudy thing, a thick diamond set on a band of smaller cut gems that they had chosen together the day after she killed Charles. It was Carlisle’s promise to her - that no matter who else came along, no matter what the world threw at them, they would love each other before anyone and anything else. He wore a similar ring she bought him on his little finger of his right hand. They never took their rings off. His first wife had hated it - understandably - but she had got her share in the divorce when Carlisle had refused to forsake Esme. She looked down at the ring and it sparkled. She’d had it cleaned for the wedding today especially.
“Are you sure me coming today is a good idea?” she asked after a long moment.
He squeezed the hand he held. “Yeah. I need you there.”
“She’ll be mad.”
“She’s always got something to be mad about. Besides, she knows the deal and you’re non-negotiable.”
“I don’t want to upset anyone on their wedding day, Carlisle.”
He shifted his chair around the table and leaned closer to her. “What about me? You wanna upset me on my wedding day?”
She bit her lip and grinned. “I never want to upset you.”
“Then be a good girl. Come for me.” He rested his hand on her thigh under the table and Esme glanced around the cafe. No one paid them any mind. “Look at me.”
She met her lover’s piercing gaze and bit her lip.
“You gonna come for me?”
She nodded and gasped quietly when he rewarded her with a kiss. Esme could taste the coffee on Carlisle’s lips. He wanted her, he needed her, and she would never let him down.
Esme’s cousin begrudgingly helped her get ready for the wedding. She said it was indecent for the mistress to turn up, let alone in a red silk dress barely held together by strands of diamonds across the back, but Esme smugly told her the groom had bought it for her especially, and who was she to refuse him? As a precaution she strapped her Colt Python to her thigh - it was an old machine, temperamental, but it made her feel powerful and she had a more reliable weapon in her clutch, as well as blades hidden in her shoes - and touched up her hair. Curls pinned to her head, diamonds dripping from her ears, and Carlisle’s dress draped across her, Esme felt more sensual than ever. When she sat in the pew at the wedding mass and thought of how the groom had sighed between her thighs mere hours before, she felt holy. She sat with his cousins a few rows back and even when the blushing bride strutted down the aisle, he couldn’t keep his eyes from Esme for long.
They were lucky to be able to have a Roman Catholic service as everyone knew that Carlisle’s first marriage had been valid, but enough money had been slipped to the dioceses to push through an annulment, and so in the eyes of the Church this was his first marriage. There was some humour in that. The familiar words were spoken, hymns and prayers recited, and after what felt like a lifetime, and no time at all, Carlisle was walking down the aisle with the new Mrs Cullano on his arm. Sadness twinged at Esme’s stomach. That could have been me. It should have been. He’s mine.
The reception was tolerable, enjoyable in its tackiness and extravagance. Everything was white and puffy and the hundreds of guests stuffed into the grand ballroom of the coastal hotel were drunk within the first course. It was how a Jersey wedding should have been, though, and Esme appreciated it for what it was. By the time the first dance came, she was lightly buzzed and enjoying catching up with the biggest names in east coast crime, many of whom were old family friends. Business people and politicians, state senators and property moguls joined them too, tying together the legitimate and illegitimate powers that kept the region affluent and fun, and most didn’t know where the legality ended and illegality started. By the time Esme snorted a line of cocaine from the chest of a mayor’s daughter she didn’t much care and the pair fell about laughing in the bathroom. As if called by the sound of Esme’s happiness, the moment was cut short by the sound of the bride herself outside.
“Lisa, can you fucking help me? This dress is a fucking nightmare, you gotta hold it up, okay?”
“You better go,” Esme advised the girl, no older than twenty-two by the looks of it, “before you meet Bridezilla up close and personal.”
The girl giggled and darted from the bathroom just as the bride scrambled her way through the door. The dress she had chosen was appropriately enormous, tight on top and blooming into an extravagant ball gown from the waist down, and Esme wasn’t surprised that she needed three bridesmaids to help her through the door.
“God, I’m dying to sit down properly-” she moaned over her shoulder before her eyes fell on Esme. Esme patted around her nose, watching her own pretty reflection in the mirror. “Oh. I didn’t know you were here.”
“I responded to your invitation,” Esme replied mildly. “Lovely dress.” She turned her attention to her lipstick and dotted a fresh coat on, pointedly ignoring the bride.
The second Mrs Cullano turned back to her bridesmaids and then looked at Esme, dithering between the two. There was a long pause before she turned to her entourage. “Stay outside. Make sure no one comes in, alright?” The bridesmaids made noises of agreement and the door swung shut, and then it was just Esme and Carlisle’s new wife.
After Mrs Cullano said nothing, Esme broke the silence. “You’ve organised a wonderful day. Are you enjoying yourself?”
Mrs Cullano’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not happy you’re here.”
“Oh?”
“I know why you’re here.”
“To see one of my dearest friends marry the woman he loves, of course.”
“Don’t play cute.”
Esme smiled sweetly. “You think I’m cute?”
“Cut the shit.”
She sighed and looked at the bride. “What’s on your mind, Mrs Cullano?”
“It’s real tacky you’re here, you know?”
“He wants me here. I came because he asked me to be here. I wouldn’t be here without an invitation.”
“I didn’t invite you.”
Esme pulled her invitation from her clutch and handed it to her. “Yes, you did.”
The bride threw it aside, angry. “Give up! I won! He doesn’t want you!”
Esme smiled at her sadly. There was nothing to say that could bring the bride any comfort. The truth was, Carlisle did want her. He wanted her more than anyone and anything, but that didn’t matter to this woman. This woman knew she had just pledged her life to a man who couldn’t love her completely. She was angry for it. “He’s my friend,” was all she could say.
“Get new friends.”
“I won’t stand in the way of your happiness, Mrs Cullano, or his. Above anything else, I love him and I want him to have the most wonderful life. I can’t give him the life he wants, but you can. Why would I jeopardize that?”
It was the wrong thing to say in hindsight. Esme knew that the moment the bride launched at her with murder in her eyes. Her clawing fingers reached out and she managed to get in one good scratch before Esme had her arms locked behind her and ready to pop from their joints. “Easy,” she whispered against Mrs Cullano’s ear. The acrylics on her fingers made her face sting, but the skin hadn’t been broken. “Calm down. Like you said, you won, you’re his wife. Don’t fight me for anything more, because you will lose, do you understand me?”
“Are you threatening me?” Mrs Cullano gasped.
Esme tightened her grip and the bride hissed. “Yes. Raise a hand to me again and Carlisle’s love for you will not save you. You want to see who he will really choose if it comes down to it? Because I do not have my doubts. Do you?”
Just as the bride’s whines rose in volume along with her pain, Esme let her go. She gripped under her elbow and held her upright to stop her from falling. “You got in a good scratch, I’ll give you that. But work on your attack and maybe you’ll take out an eye next time, alright? You’ll need protection if you’re going to love him.”
“Are you threatening me?” Mrs Cullano asked again.
There was no kindness left in Esme’s eyes. “Yes.”
The two women stared at each other for a long moment. The new bride broke first. Esme sniffed and checked her reflection before stalking out of the bathroom, not a hair out of place. She pulled on the diamond strap of her dress and was close to the ballroom door when Carlisle stepped out. His smile was so bright when he saw her and he reached for her hands. When he noticed the scratches across her face his forehead creased.
“What happened?” he asked, tender fingers touching the marks. Across the corridor there was a set of glass doors open to the terrace, and it was dark out there. There were a few wedding guests milling around but quick steps had the pair hidden in the gloom. Overhead, stars popped across the inky sky. With her arm in Carlisle’s, they found their way down garden paths and to the beach. No one saw them.
“Your wife doesn’t like me,” Esme told him, smiling. His face was barely visible in the darkness but his bright hair caught the light of the stars. Their walk eventually slowed as their shoes crunched on the sand.
“She did this?”
Esme nodded. “It’s alright, she deserved to get in a good swipe. It won’t happen again, though.”
“No, it won’t,” Carlisle replied angrily. “Who does she think she is?”
“The new Mrs Cullano, protecting the honour of her marriage,” Esme pointed out with a light laugh. “I’d do the same. I don’t mind, really. I understand her anger.”
“Esme,” he said, his voice softening. “How can I love someone who hurt you?”
“You’re the only one who can hurt me, Carlisle.” She wound an arm around the back of his shoulders and closed her eyes when he rested his forehead against hers.
“I’ll never hurt you.”
“I know.” And he never had. Not with a hand, not with a word. No one had ever loved anyone like Carlisle loved Esme, and she knew it. “You’re so good to me. What did I do to deserve you?”
Carlisle rested one hand at the small of her back and ran the fingers of his other hand up her spine. “Thank you for wearing this dress. You look beautiful.”
She smiled in the night. “Thank you for choosing it for me.”
“Gotta let the whole world see how wonderful my girl is.”
“Call me that again.”
“My girl?”
She hummed and began gently swaying, moving him to dance with her to the sound of the ocean. “You’re my person, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. And you’re my person. Always have been. Always will be.”
Carlisle’s soft kiss touched Esme’s cheek and she sighed in bliss. “I love you, Carlisle.”
“I love you, too, Esme. More than anything. Always.”
#the cullanos#ellie writes#notquitetwilight#remember how this started as shitposting#and now theres lore and emotions#anyway guys new blog coming soon who's pumped LMFAOOOO#carlesme#the literal MOST ooc carlesme you'll ever read#BUT ITS FUN AND KINDA SEXY SO#esme fucks carlisle on the morning of his wedding to someone else
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snickers feverishly at myself for bringing in a 5th... who do i think i am? unstoppable? invincible? suddenly ripples my titanium plated pecs. maybe so. u can find her pinterest here n her playlist here.
* margaret qualley, cis female + she/her | you know bradley milligan, right? they’re twenty-four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, all of their life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to looking for knives by dyan like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole snow angels trampled through by your father’s footprints, casually reading a newspaper that’s catching flame & stubbing a cigarette against the wing mirror of a parked cop car thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is november 11th, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt she/her )
HISTORY:
bradley has this memory of meeting her grandmother for the first time n everything in the room was frozen still. even the air. she didn’t feel like she cld move n she got the impression this is how it’d always been in the milligan lineage. the only thing that was allowed to act of it’s own accord was her grandmother’s eyes as she tracked every slightest flinch of muscle. when her father left the room her grandmother reached out and took bradley’s hand n bradley looked at this like it was smthn she’d never seen before until her grandmother leaned close and all she could stare at was a nicotine stain on one of her front teeth. “he’s cold, isn’t he? he’s always been cold. i don’t think he’s mine.” bradley could tell from how tight she held her hand that he was. she could tell by the way she smiled as she said it, too. the way she felt obliged to smile back.
growing up in a huge white house in aquila drive w pruned hedges sounds idyllic n looks it too. swanky cars w tinted windows in the long driveway. always men filing in and out under the cloak of night wearing expensive suits n smiles worthy of a politician’s billboard. bradley’s mum alyssa thought so too n that’s hw she got into this whole mess tbh. tony milligan is very good at advertising. he cld package a jarred human heart as strawberry jam and convince u to spread it on ur toast if he wanted to. he could make u smile politely as u ate ur own.
alyssa ws this very pretty blonde kind of mysterious presence in a room. everyone wanted to kno her story or fk her but noone rly treated her like a person more just like a puzzle to solve. john green syndrome alert..... literally manic pixie dream girled bt on turbo charge. there were vague whispers she’d run away from home when she appeared in town out of nowhere bt nothing concrete. tony decided he wanted to crack the case n once he set his mind to something there was no changing it. they wound up embroiled in a whirlwind romance. head over heels. he came at romance hard and fast as a freight train. alyssa knew he was into shady things but not quite the full extent of it n honestly she didn’t care bc she wanted security n a family to call her own n tony promised that. they were married within a year.
tony came frm money bt he wanted to carve his own path n make his own legacy. destined fr greatness he’d tell her. we’re destined for greatness. it sounds nice doesn’t it! alyssa thought so too.
(drugs mention tw) slowly over the yrs he essentially forged his own crime organisation tht only grew. he opened a strip club down the seedier side of irving called ‘no angels’ n this became the front thru which his gang ran drugs in the back (predominantly coke n they pride themselves fr having a Superior Blend apparently) as well as laundering cash n this also was kind of their home base to hang
(abuse tw) their marriage increasingly lost it’s shine n alyssa came to realise she’d been sold a lie n she didn’t rly know this person or what he was capable of right around the time bradley was born. by then it was kind of like Wow i am rly in this n there is not an exit door huh. i won’t go into details bt things were not good at all. bradley witnessed n experienced a lot of things she shouldn’t have growing up. she didn’t understand why other kids drew home in all these different coloured crayons like they were bright places to be. she didn’t understand why everyone got so excited when the bell rang at the end of the day bc she just felt sick. she rationalised tht this was normal when she was younger bc sometimes kids talked abt the monsters under their beds giving them nightmares n she thought mayb they were talking abt their dads too. as she got older she realised tht actually her world wasn’t the same as anyone else’s n she also realised no-one wld ever be able to tell her why. she started becoming friends with the angry feeling in her chest tht she used to try and swallow around this time. often she’d wander the mall for a while to put off going home. smoke on random park benches. watch trains rattle thru town from the vantage point of a random rooftop.
(abuse, missing person implied, murder implied & grief tw) when bradley was 12 she woke up and all of her mum’s clothes were gone frm their drawers. no shoes anywhere. a framed photo of them at the beach holding bradley as a baby vanished from over the mantelpiece. when bradley asked her dad what was going on, tony essentially said “it was exhausting her. being here. being your mother. she didn’t want to do it any more, so now she’s gone” n then he hugged her. little details leaked into the mix over the yrs. at one point tony dismissed her as having flown overseas to a foreign country to drink in the sun like she’d always wanted even tho alyssa always told bradley she liked the snow best (once she even walked outside as it fell in a thin lace nightgown when tony was out n when bradley said “mom you’re gonna get cold” she only tugged her down and made her do snow angels until her lips looked blue). the most significant memory bradley can never shake from her head is her mother cupping a yellow tulip at the park n saying she hated them. when bradley asked why she only turned and smiled at her as she stroked the hair from her face n then said “because they look so happy”. after bradley’s mum vanished a long flower bed at the bottom of the garden was suddenly overrun with dozens of freshly planted yellow tulips. whenever bradley looked at them out of her window she got this sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach like she was visiting a cemetery. she suspected what had happened to her mum (especially as rumours circulated within tony’s organisation abt alyssa being unfaithful with someone tht used to work fr him) bt she cld never bring herself to truly accept it. thus she ws stuck in this strange purgatory state of not-quite-anger at her mum for “leaving” and not-quite-grief.
bradley rly started to transgress in school after her mum was gone. alyssa was always kind of a character when she’d pick bradley up (wasn’t doing well n acted kind of ‘eccentric’ i suppose u cld say) so tony managed to spin it all as a child acting out in the wake of an unfit mother uprooting n abandoning. bradley became........ interesting. JKHGFSSKJGHFSGHSKFGHFG. she’d snap n resort to violence very easily. very desensitised to it. students were kind of scared of her tbh. as this progressed into proper high school she got in w the more rowdy popular crowd solely bc she was so fking.... wild for lack of a better word. rly would just do anything fr the thrill. had no sense of ‘i shouldn’t do this bc it’s dangerous’. partied harder than anyone. bit back harder than anyone. no filter. hung w a lot of guys honestly bc they had less morals n either found her scariness cool or wanted to fk <3
(hospitalisation, depression & drugs tw) she’s had. a few stints in psychiatric institutions fr various reasons tbh. missed a small chunk of her senior yr fr this but it wasn’t widely known just kind of rumoured. she showcases a lot of similar symptoms to her mum who struggled w severe depression (which was difficult to cope w when ur husband was often pouring ur prescription down the drain fr kicks) n in order to compensate fr the lows she takes a lot of things to kick them into highs. drinks n snorts too much. bradley i love u bt i’m begging u to seek healthier coping mechanisms......
as the yrs went on (especially once alyssa had gone) tony rly started trying to integrate bradley into the business side of things...... she literally. is named bradley bc he was expecting a boy n he was like well let’s still call her bradley. n had in mind she’d still fulfil the role he wanted her to of being his little protege so to speak.... both sexist n ugly all in one fell swoop...... an example of this is he literally. bought her a mint green switchblade for her 14th birthday n named it tinkerbell bc it would “die without attention” aka using it. tht sounds like a healthy gift to give a child tony congratulations sis <3
in an ideal world bradley wld have gone to uni to study psychology bc she jst wants to know how the fk her dad is literally like that bt she probably stuck around n is now managing no angels along with billy n marco (billy’s in her dad’s gang n is, u guessed it, a cunt, n marco is his sort of right hand man so to speak) bc tony’s in the closest neighbouring city overseeing a second ‘no angels’ opening up there to expand into a franchise n widen their income margins. bradley wld also be sort of used as a honey trap type deal once she got older if they needed to lure ppl places n sometimes still is bt it depends. the guys in the club all know not to mess w bradley bc she’s tony’s daughter n literally kind of scary herself sometimes bt there’s also this certain allure tht comes with being the boss’ daughter n it kind of comes across in how they act or talk abt her. yes i will kill them all n no i won’t feel bad abt it <3
think that’s kind of all u need to kno history wise... blinks one eye out of sync w the other..... runs to personality
PERSONALITY:
a phrase i wld always use to describe bradley in old intros is “like a cup of black coffee with one grain of sugar that u don’t taste until the last sip”. also dark chocolate. lime. liquorice. she’s an acquired taste n i feel like u either love her or u hate her.
cannot express how unpredictably chaotic she is..... frequently throws a drink in a stranger’s face jst to start something bc she’s bored. loves to hurl cheese slices across the room so they slap onto someone’s face out of nowhere. likes smashing things. stubbing cigarettes out on faces in framed family photographs. will literally pick a lock n then smash the window besides it to defeat the whole purpose just bc she found how neat it was boring. does anything fr the adrenaline n thrill. gets into far too many fights n fights dirty. probably been thrown out of every bar in town at least three times. banned from a bunch too.
she’s witty bt she has a dark sense of humour..... can be quite mean.......... loves to roast ppl for no reason........ honestly has some nathan young frm misfits aspects in that sense like jst seems untouchable emotionally n like she doesn’t take anything seriously n is fking outrageous about it.....
has this quality abt her tht kind of scares herself sometimes. it’s like she recognises parts of her dad in her. she’s very perceptive (bc she’s had to be over the yrs trying to read every micro-expression of her dad’s to predict what’s next) n like emotionally intelligent in a way which is ironic bc her own emotions r just an absolute minefield.... bt. she can read people quite well. gets this eerily calm look abt her sometimes n it’s jst like god what’s. she thinking. what’s she’s gna do. i’m shaking. a cool n controlled kind of rage can often be scarier than the explosive type n bradley does that well. grits my teeth n tugs on my collar....
very strong on the surface. hates being vulnerable. has this ingrained idea that crying is childish or rly any kind of emotional display within herself. 50% not taking things seriously 50% angry. tht’s how she comes across....... internally? whole different story. bt ppl don’t see that.
very cavalier abt some things. will flash her tits n not even think abt it. jst very out there...... one of her closest friends is a homeless man named joe who wears neon purple fishnets on his head n loves to spit on ppl from over an underpass. finds eccentric ppl like this funny n surrounds herself w them. loves to be kept on her toes.
LOVES driving stolen cars down the wrong side of the highway. it’s a lot.
fiercely loyal to a fault to a select few bt if u wrong her personally this can switch pretty quick. quite a force to b reckoned w n will hold a grudge. bt like. if ur a Chosen One she’d bury a body for u no questions asked.
WANTED CONNECTIONS
deals to u: bradley isn’t like full time into dealing bt she does do it sometimes.... treats it kind of like a hobby bc the lesser ranked can do tht shit as far as she’s concerned bt.. sometimes also jst gets bored n is like. why not. might be chaotic. mayb they’ll try to rob me <3 we love the thrill <3 or like..... if ur friends w her she’ll deal to u n no she will not do a friends discount <3 or if she does there will definitely be some sort of stipulation attached <3
high skl crew: if ur muse is local n ws an absolutely demonic hell spawn in high skl tht went to 1974547254 parties n was outrageously chaotic n rude then. bradley probably was friends w them <3 her friendships tend to be surface level bt they’d definitely go out a bunch bt whether they actually knew a lot abt her life is debatable bt we could explore options fr this
people who work at no angels: no angels is her dad’s strip club in irving that she kind of helps to run now. it’s kind of a shifty environment. the place where ud have an outrageous bachelor party. u go for the first time w a fake id n u get served bt u also get ur wallet stolen n ur convinced someone spat in ur drink n u also kind of think there might b a hit on u now after u made eye contact too long w a broad shouldered man smoking in a back booth. scary environment. testament to her dad as a person. maybe ur muse is a dancer there or works the bar or security or whatever u name it....
ma’am are u ok?: ur muse found bradley passed out across two bus seats one time in smudged dark eyeliner a silver slip dress n the world’s chunkiest combat boots this town hs ever seen. sometimes she winds up in spots like this when she goes too hard n it’s absolutely dangerous n reckless bt that’s jst bradley <3 mayb they forged an unlikely friendship frm this strange meeting or maybe even? dare i say it? a romance? opposite worlds colliding? good influence? let’s go crazy. release ur inhibitions. feel the rain on ur skin.
hook-ups: bradley’s cavalier abt this stuff..... very unemotional typically..... mayb we cld do an unrequited thing that wld be angsty n fun altho i won’t lie i don’t kno if she’d be the one to catch the feelings.... she rarely sleeps over bt once when she woke up in someone’s bed she hiked over to straddle them carefully as possible so they wldn’t wake up n then pressed her knife to their neck as a fun little surprise where she said boo when they opened their eyes.... she’s a lot clearly.
watermelon slugger, hiiii: bradley has this habit where she gets a bunch of watermelons n then goes to a rooftop n throws them over the edge to watch them explode when they hit the pavement.... maybe ur muse almost got hit by one once n were like WTF???????? another quirky meet cute moment like the bus one <3 can’t stop w them <3 maybe she randomly invited ur muse to do it w her when they were like. a stranger of f the street. she was bored. decided to adopt them as a science experiment. we cn elaborate on this probably....
ouch charlie: similar territory bt she also sometimes shoots pedestrians w a bb gun from rooftops. mayb ur muse wld always get hit by one on a certain route they walked n finally one day they saw her head ducking down behind a ledge n then they see her in the street one day n are like HEY IT’S YOU............. WTF? n bradley’s like ya i’m christ risen again it’s a lot to take in i know...
rly jst anything... mutually destructive friends... exes.... in one rp a character tried to get close to bradley so he cld write an expose all book about her n her family which i found so fking funny so i’ll request that again.... people she’s fought.... ppl whose gf/bf she’s fk’d n it’s caused enemy status.... someone whose place she broke into and shaved their eyebrows off in the night only to draw them on again in crudely thin permanent sharpie lines.... roommates cld be fun n sexy i’d love that actually.... jst anything rly. go wild. kisses everyone tenderly on cheeks.
#irvingintro#abuse tw#missing person tw#implied murder tw#grief tw#hospitalisation tw#depression tw#drugs tw#death tw#i think tht's all of them....... cor blimey......
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LEAVING TWITTER
I wrote this earlier in the fall, before the election, after dissolving my Twitter account. I wasn’t sure where to put it (“try up your ass!” – someone, I’m sure) and then I remembered I have a tumblr I never use. Anyway, here tis.
How do you shame someone who thinks Trumps’ half-baked policies and quarter-baked messaging put him in the pantheon of great Presidents? How do you shame someone so lacking in introspection that they will call Obama arrogant while praising Trump’s decisiveness and yet at the same time vehemently deny that they’re racist? How do you shame someone for whom that racism is endearing and maybe long overdue?
You don’t. It’s silly to think otherwise.
Twitter is an addiction of mine, and true to form, my dependence on it grew more serious after I quit drinking in 2010. At first it was a chance to mouth off, make jokes both stupid and erudite and occasionally stick my foot in my mouth (I owe New Yorker writer Tad Friend an apology. He knows why, or (God willing) he’s forgotten. Either way. Sorry.) I blew off steam, steam that was accumulating without booze to dampen the flames. Not always constructive venting, but I also met new friends, and connected with people whose work I’ve admired for literal decades and ended up seeing plays with Lin-Manuel Miranda and hanging backstage with Jane Wiedlin after a Go-Go’s show and exchanging sober thoughts with Mike Doughty. When my mom passed in 2018, a lot of people reached out to tell me they were thinking of me. This was nice. For a while, Twitter was a huge help when I needed it.
I used to hate going to parties and really hated dancing and mingling, but a couple of drinks would fix that. Point is, for a while, booze was a huge help, too.
But my engagement with Twitter changed, and I started calling people my ‘friends’ even though I’d never once met them or even heard their voices. These weren’t even penpals, these were people whose jokes or stances I enjoyed, so with Arthurian benevolence I clicked on a little heart icon, liked their tweet, and assumed therefore that we had signed some sort of blood oath.
We had not. I got glib, and cheap, and a little lazy. And then to make matters much worse, Trump came along and extended his reach with the medium.
There was a while there where I thought I could be a sort of voice for the voiceless, and I thought I was doing that. I tried very hard to only contribute things that I felt were not being said – It wasn’t accomplishing anything to notice “Haha Trump looks like he’s bullshitting his way through an oral report” – such things were self-evident. I tried to point out very specific inconsistencies in his policies, like the Muslim ban meant to curb terrorism that still favored the country that brought forth 13 of the 9/11 hijackers. Like his full-throated cries against media bias performed while he suckled at Roger Ailes’ wrinkly teat. Like his fondness for evangelical votes that coincided with a scriptural knowledge that lagged far behind mine, even though I’m a lapsed Episcopalian, and there is no one less religiously observant than a lapsed Episcopalian. But that eventually gave way to unleashing ad hominem attacks against his higher profile supporters, who I felt weren’t being questioned enough, who I felt were in turn being fawned over by theirdim supporters. If you’re one of these guys, and you think I’m talking about you, you’re probably right, but don’t mistake this for an apology. You suck, and you support someone who sucks, and your idolatry is hurting our country and its standing in the world. Fuck you entirely, but that’s not the point. The point is that me screaming into the toilet of Twitter helps no one – it doesn’t help a family stuck at the border because they’re trying to secure a better life for their kids. It doesn’t help a poor teenager who can’t get an abortion because the party of ‘small government’ has squeezed their tiny jurisdiction into her uterus. It doesn’t help the coal miner who’s staking all his hopes on a dying industry and a President’s empty promises to resurrect it. I was born in New York City, and I currently live in Los Angeles. Those are the only two places I’ve ever lived, if you don’t count the 4 years I spent in Ithaca[1]. So, yes, I live in a liberal bubble, and while I’ve driven across the country a couple of times and did a few weeks in a touring band and am as crushed as any heartlander about the demise of Waffle House, you have me dead to rights if you call me a coastal elitist. And with that in mind, I offer few surprises. A guy who grew up in the theater district and was vehemently opposed to same-sex marriage or felt you should own an AR-15? THAT would be newsworthy. I am not newsworthy. I can preach to the choir, I can confirm people’s biases, but I will likely not sway anyone who is eager to dismiss a Native New Yorker who lives in Hollywood. I grew up in the New York of the 1970s, and that part of my identity did shape my politics. My mom’s boss was gay and the Son of Sam posed a realistic threat. As such, gays are job creators[2] and guns are used for homicide much more often than they are used for self-defense[3]. I have found this to be generally true over the years, and there’s even data to back it up.
“But Mr. Bowie,” you might say, though I insist you call me John - “those studies are conducted by elitist institutions and those institutions suck!” And again, I am not going to reason with people who will dismiss anything that doesn’t fit their limited world view as elitist or, God Help Us, fake news. But the studies above are peer-reviewed, convincing, and there are more where those came from.
“But John,” you might say, and I am soothed that we’re one a first name basis - “Can’t you just stay on Twitter for the jokes?” Ugh. A) apparently not and B) the jokes are few and far between, and I am 100% part of that problem.
I have stuff to offer, but Twitter is not the place from which to offer it.
After years of academically understanding that Twitter is not the real world, Super Tuesday 2020 made the abstract pretty fucking concrete. If you had looked at my feed on the Monday beforehand – my feed which is admittedly curated towards the left, but not monolithic (Hi, Rich Lowry!) – you’d have felt that a solid Bernie surge was imminent, but also that your candidate was going surprise her more vocal critics. When the Biden sweep swept, when Bernie was diminished and when Warren was defeated, I realized that Twitter is not only not the real world, it’s almost some sort of Phillip K. Dickian alternate timeline, untethered to anything we’re actually experiencing in our day to day life. This is both good news and bad news – one, we’re not heading towards a utopia of single payer health care and the eradication of American medical debt any time soon, but two, we’re also not being increasingly governed by diaper-clad jungen like Charlie Kirk. Clouds and their linings. Leaving Twitter may look like ceding ground to the assclowns but get this – the ground. Is not. There.
It’s just air.
There are tangible things I can do with my time - volunteer with a local organization called Food On Foot, who provide food and job training for people experiencing homelessness here in my adopted Los Angeles. I can give money to candidates and causes I support, and I can occasionally even drop by social media to boost a project or an issue and then vanish, like a sort of Caucasian Zorro who doesn’t read his mentions. I can also model good behavior for my kids (ages 10 and 13) who don’t need to see their father glued to his phone, arguing about Trumps incompetence with Constitutional scholars who have a misspelled Bible verse in their bio (three s’ in Ecclesiastes, folks).
So farewell Twitter. I’ll miss a lot of you. Perhaps not as badly as I miss Simon Maloy and Roger Ebert and Harris Wittels and others whose deaths created an unfillable void on the platform. But I won’t miss the yelling, and the lionization of poor grammar, and anonymous trolls telling my Jewish friends that they were gonna leave the country “via chimney.” I will not miss people who think Trump is a stable genius calling me a “fucktard.” I will not miss transphobia or cancelling but I will miss hashtag games, particularly my stellar work during #mypunkmusical (Probably should have quit after that surge, I was on fire that night, real blaze of glory stuff I mean, Christ, Sunday in the Park with the Germs? Husker Du I Hear A Waltz? Fiddler on the Roof (keeping an eye out for the cops)? These are Pulitzer contenders.). Twitter makes me feel lousy, even when I’m right, and I’m often right. There’s just no point in barking bumperstickers at each other, and there are people who are speaking truth to power and doing a cleaner job of it – Aaron Rupar, Steven Pasquale, Louise Mensch, Imani Gandy and Ijeoma Oluo to name five solid mostly politically based accounts (Yes, Pasquale is a Broadway tenor. He’s also a tenacious lefty with good points and research and a dreamy voice. You think you’re straight and then you hear him sing anything from Bridges of Madison County and you want him to spoon you.). You’re probably already following those mentioned, but on the off chance you’re not, get to it. You’ll thank me, but you won’t be able to unless you actually have my email.
_______
[1] And Jesus, that’s worse – Ithaca is such a lefty enclave that they had an actual socialist mayor FOR WHOM I VOTED while I was there. And not socialist the way some people think all Democrats are socialist – I mean Ben Nichols actually ran on the socialist ticket and was re-elected twice for a total of six years.
[2] The National Gay and Lesbian Chamber of Commerce, “America’s LGBT Economy” Jan 20th, 2017
[3] The Violence Policy Institute, Firearm Justifiable Homicides and Non-Fatal Self Defense Gun Use, July 2019.
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okay so i saw a post ages ago and i suppose people have probably already done this, but i really wanted to because it’s hilarious; this oneshot suggestion:
absolutely ALL credit to this idea goes to you @cloudburst-ink !
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It had been a long day for Alec. Some drama with this Institute and that Institute, and all he wanted was to go home for some cuddles with his husband, and the kids. As he approached the door to the apartment, he could hear Magnus yelling and Max and Rafe laughing their heads off. What the hell was going on?!
Alec opened the door slowly, creeping in. He could hear Magnus yelling commands, and could see the mischievous yet adorable smile on little Max’s face.
Then he heard it.
“Alexander, turn off the lights!”
“Turning off lights.”
“Alexander, make the lights different colours!”
The lights funnily enough became an array of colours, but that was not Alec’s main point of concern right now. He stood in the doorway of their living room and coughed loudly. Magnus turned around immediately, looking more pleased with himself than Alec liked. He briefly bent down to hug Max and Rafe, and then they ran into another room to play.
“Magnus?”
“Yes, darling?”
“Why the hell are you calling the Echo Alexander? And why does it sound alarmingly like me?”
Magnus grinned. “I’m not telling you, because you’re just going to figure out how to change it.”
Alec put his head in his hands. It would’ve been easier if it was say Izzy. Everyone else he knew called him Alec. Magnus was the only person he allowed to call him Alexander, and now there were two.
Except one was a tiny machine thing.
There had been enough confusion when Magnus bought the thing in the first place- Alec had thought it was a spy camera that recorded everything you did and had no idea how it worked. It took him two weeks to get used to it, and those two weeks meant enduring all of Magnus’s torture about how he’d been alive for four centuries and knew how to use it better than a 23 year old. And the fair amount of complaining about Shadowhunters.
“I just want to know why, honey,” he said.
Magnus didn’t reply to this, just smirked and lifted it up. “And by the way I’m hiding this, because I know you’ll try to break it too.”
For not the first time, Alec wondered why he had to fall in love with such an incredibly adorable and annoying idiot.
For the record, only Alec is allowed to call him an idiot. Because Magnus is his idiot. Anyone else can get an arrow through the eye.
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As the week progressed, things got worse. Magnus had somehow managed to get the thing to say ‘I love you.’ Max and Rafe found it the absolute pinnacle of comedy.
“Magnus, please stop. Every time you use this goddamn thing I think you’re talking to me.”
“At least it’s here for me when you aren’t,” he retorted, making a dramatic oh-woe-is-me face. “You spend all day at work, and what about poor me? I get stuck with cleaning up Max every time Rafael convinces him to do something stupid. You know, one day last week he looked less like a blueberry and more like...a rainbow berry. If that exists.”
Alec’s eyes widened. “He WHAT?”
“See I knew you’d freak if I told you. It’s fine, he just got some paint on his clothes. But with my new and extra Alexander, I can have you here even when you’re not, and it actually convinces me to do chores and stuff.”
Alec blushed. “Wait that’s actually-it’s actually kinda sweet to be honest.”
Magnus smiled triumphantly. “Exactly!”
Magnus stopped what he was doing and took Alec’s hands in his. “Look, I promise if you don’t like it I’ll throw it out. I just thought it would be funny. And I have to admit watching your adorable little face of frustration every time I call out to it is fun. But if you don’t want it, I’ll stop.”
“I don’t mind it, although I do prefer it when it’s me you’re calling Alexander, not some tiny thing.”
“But you are tiny too. So tiny. So small. So short.”
“Magnus, I’m six foot one.”
He bent his head slightly and kissed Alec’s soft hair. “That’s still two inches shorter than me so therefore I am legally required to bully you about it.”
Alec moves his head away and their eyes locked together. Magnus’s eyes were so beautiful; it pained Alec to think someone would ever bully him for them. So what if they were like cats’ eyes? They were still gorgeous. The mesmerising swirl of green and gold with the stark black pupils.
“ALEXANDER, MAKE THE-“
Magnus banged his head against the wall. “Goddamit I can’t ONE MINUTE PEACE WITH MY HUSBAND?!” he yelled as he stormed out. Alec rolled his eyes and laughed.
Later, Jace and Izzy came around for a general catch up. Of course, Uncle Jace and Aunt Izzy were in favour of the Alexander Echo Thing. In fact, they were encouraging the boys to use it. “If you and Clary ever have kids Jace, I really hope Clary is the only one allowed near them.”
“Are you accusing my parenting skills of being trash?”
“No, I just know that Clary wouldn’t be the type of mother to encourage her child to do this.”
“Hey! They’re having fun, right little guys?”
“Daddy inside MACHINE! Cool Daddy!” Max exclaimed.
“No, daddy is not inside a machine and daddy is cool enough already thank you very much.”
Rafael snorted.
“Hey! Mean.”
Magnus high-fived Rafael.
“You guys should give me it. It’s Simon’s birthday soon!”
“And he’d want this?”
Izzy looked like she didn’t know why Alec would even doubt that. “Obviously? I need to get back at him from last time.”
Jace sniggered. “Oh, when he scared you with that fake rat?”
“STOP IT!” Izzy said, sniffling. “I still have nightmares.”
Izzy had managed to convince Magnus to part ways with his precious Alexander for the sake of torturing Simon. Alec just thought it was better Simon than him.
“That was literally the most chaotic week of my life. I hate you.”
The two were lying on the couch watching movies, as Max and Rafe were in bed. “No you don’t. You love me.”
“Who says that? Huh?”
Magnus shuffled in closer. “Our marriage certificate, hun.”
Alec hummed with peace and happiness. “You’re right. I lied. I love you.”
Magnus smiled. “And I love you too,” he said.
“More than some stupid piece of technology.”
#shadowhunters#lgbtq#queer#the shadowhunter chronicles#alec lightwood#magnus bane#the dark artifices#the mortal instruments#malec#fanfic#one shot
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AEI & 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13, 15, 17, 19, 21, 23, 25, 27 + lyra!
tysm airika 💕 sorry it’s been half a century but we got there xx
A & 3 answered here | 1 & 17 answered here | E, 13 & 15 answered here | I, 5 & 27 answered here
07. what triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?
sun on her skin, the sound of the ocean, wind in her hair, red painted toes on a car dashboard, revving motorcycles, fleetwood mac on the radio, bare feet dancing on wooden floors, cigarettes burning her fingertips, chanel no. 5, cicadas in the summertime, the jacket she sleeps in every night post-collapse even after the last traces of her husband fade. for most of her life, she loves the feeling nostalgia brings; later, she needs it.
09. do they swear? do they remember their first swear word?
she absolutely does, and does it often; she wouldn’t remember her first because it passed uneventfully. she cursed loudly and wildly in bids for attention from her parents as a girl -- negative reactions were better than none -- but it always proved ineffective; it also, disappointingly, was not a grave enough offense for the boarding schools she attended to expel her and wave away her family’s money, so she turned to more extreme measures.
11. how do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?
unless you’re one of the select few she allows to see vulnerability, lyra isn’t going to ask for clarification, at least not directly; she’s going to feign understanding until she either catches on or the situation becomes dire. it isn’t her fault if things go terribly wrong, of course, it’s yours for not explaining correctly. no matter, she’ll do better next time, she won’t bother asking you at all, since clearly you’re unhelpful.
all jests aside, she’ll play it off if she’s confused, and it will mostly pass by unnoticed; she’s good at eliciting information from people without asking for it directly, so she can usually get things clarified without admitting ignorance.
19. what is their favorite number?
thirteen, she’s a brat. cringe.
21. why do they get up in the morning?
darling, souls don’t harvest themselves!
literally speaking, she’s up at dawn every morning because she hasn’t missed a sunrise since she was sixteen; she watched the sun come up over the docks while she waited for the first ferry to the mainland the day that she ran away for good, and at that moment, it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen (she won’t admit this, but she was so overwhelmed by it she fell down on her knees and sobbed. embarrassing). she associates the sunrise with freedom, happiness, new beginnings, & rebirth. she especially hates to miss them now, with the impending collapse and all that; any sunrise could be the last, and we wouldn’t want to miss that, would we? don’t you want to see it one last time? (john does not. john does not want to see it one last fucking time. he wants to get some goddamn sleep.)
existentially, lyra gets out of bed to cause problems on purpose is driven by passions; often, she’s in love with life and motivated by some agenda or purpose, whether it’s fucking over corrupt socialites or setting them sinners free for the project. the devil works hard, but lyra works harder. when she’s emotionally crippled or has run out of reasons, she spirals; she either isn’t getting up, or she’s getting up to go vent her frustrations on whatever poor unfortunate souls are in her path.
23. how does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)?
essentially the same as jealousy, answered here!
25. what are their thoughts on marriage?
marriage isn’t something lyra ever really saw happening for her, and she was alright with that; she’s never going to settle or marry for the sake of it, she’s not going to marry for practicality, not after her parents, but the biggest sticking point is that she wouldn’t want anyone else to settle for anything less than knowing and loving their partner completely with her -- it’s impossible for her to share all of herself with most people, lowkey serial killer that she is, and she wouldn’t be willing to hide parts of herself from a spouse or life partner (she doesn’t like doing it at all -- if she has to do it to the outside world, she would never want to bring it into her own heart and home). even though she craves it, she doesn’t really see herself as someone who deserves love or acceptance or normalcy, so that’s something she’s had to accept about herself; it’s all she’s ever wanted, but it isn’t meant for her. not with who and what she is.
luckily murder cults exist! great dating mixers for sadists and messianic murderers! truthfully, marriage as an institution and a concept isn’t something that holds much weight with her (her parents’ marriage shot any romanticized ideas about it in the foot); she would have been fine never getting officially married -- she’d already been married in every way that mattered to her by the time she put on her white dress. the small part of her that secretly wished for stability and normalcy that she never allowed herself to voice because of her belief it was unattainable for her is (very privately) thrilled, though. she’s married! she’s had her miracle!
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No Competition - a Shadowhunters fanfic
Summary: On her bad days, when she's feeling uncharacteristically insecure, Izzy worries about the feelings Simon used to have for Clary.
When she confides in Alec, he realises that he and Magnus have never really addressed his childhood crush. Or the small fact that Alec still shares part of his soul with that very person.
A/N: There is NO Jalec in this fic. It’s just Malec having a chill conversation about Alec’s past crush, and Magnus feeling so secure in their marriage that it honestly doesn’t faze him. Please enjoy! <3
Read it on AO3, or below!
~oOo~
Alec’s position as Inquisitor doesn’t often bring him back to New York. It’s a little eerie wandering through the familiar halls, noticing the subtle ways they’ve changed in the months since he was last here. The lights seem a little starker, and the air a little warmer – but then again, perhaps he’s just grown too used to the soft glow of Alicante, and the northern winds that chill the streets of Idris.
The most notable difference is also the most intangible, and it takes him a moment to realise what it is. The wards. He and Magnus celebrated their first anniversary not too long ago, and his husband’s magic is a comforting, familiar hum over most places Alec finds himself these days – his office in Alicante. Their loft. Magnus’ arms at night. The same used to be true of the New York Institute, but in Magnus’ absence, Izzy’s obviously had to call in another warlock to maintain the wards. Most probably Lorenzo, Alec’s brain supplies; though whether that realisation is born of his fleeting familiarity with Lorenzo’s magic, having wielded it in Edom, or whether it’s just sensible to assume the High Warlock of Brooklyn is the one maintaining the wards, Alec isn’t sure.
He pauses a moment, clearing his head, and knocks on the door of an office that was his not so long ago.
‘Come in,’ Izzy calls, and Alec steps inside.
Izzy looks up from her desk with a smile, and stands to wrap Alec in a hug. ‘Hey, you. I wasn’t expecting you so early.’
‘I thought we could get lunch before the meeting this afternoon. By some miracle, Lydia’s briefing actually ended ahead of schedule,’ he explains. That’s another weird fact of his life, now – his friendship with Lydia, which is warm and light-hearted despite their complex history. Alec often ribs her about the thoroughness of her briefings; she never goes over the allotted time, of course, but she’s infamous for being one of the only people to consistently use it to completion. I’ve found it’s important to take my time and get all the facts straight, she said once, a trace of amusement in her expression. I remember that once, I was at a particularly important political ceremony – and if I’d rushed it? If I’d reached the end before it could be called off? Well, right now I’d be married to someone who was completely wrong for me. I’m actually pretty sure he was gay.
Alec had glared at her, trying to stop his traitorous mouth from twitching upwards to return her smirk.
(Magnus had made no such effort, chortling in delighted earnest.)
‘How’s Simon?’ Alec remembers to ask, before he can get too lost in his own head again.
Which immediately stops being a problem, because Izzy’s hesitation and hastily-covered unease seize all of his attention. ‘He’s good,’ she says, too brightly. ‘Yeah, he’s good.’
‘Izzy.’ It’s not a question. He raises an eyebrow, in a way that he knows Izzy will correctly interpret as Come on, you’ve gotta know by now that I can see right through you?
Izzy meets his gaze defiantly – Magnus has always insisted that Lightwood stubbornness is genetic, though he admits that wouldn’t explain Jace – but after a few seconds, she sighs in mild defeat. ‘It’s nothing,’ she insists. ‘It’s stupid.’
‘Maybe it is,’ Alec says with a shrug, ‘but if it’s bothering you…’ He trails off, because despite how far he’s come in terms of healthy communication, he’d still rather leave certain things – such as I’m always here if you need to talk – unsaid, as long as they’re understood.
Izzy’s always understood him better than most.
She drops down into a chair, gesturing for Alec to take the one next to it. ‘It’s stupid,’ she says again, ‘and I know it is, because things are going great with Simon. He’s sweet, and kind, and I trust him.’
She’s silent for a moment, and Alec prompts her. ‘But?’
‘But,’ she sighs, ‘I’ve had a long week, and I’ve barely seen him because he’s helping Clary readjust to the Shadow World. Which is great,’ she adds hurriedly. ‘Obviously, I’m so, so happy she’s back.’ Me too, Alec thinks, because his brain doesn’t have nearly as good a poker face as his demeanour. ‘But she and Simon… I don’t know,’ Isabelle continues, seeming a little frustrated now. ‘I’m not usually like this, and I probably wouldn’t be if I wasn’t so swamped here. But I can’t help thinking… it’s Clary, and Simon was crushing on her for years before I was even in the picture. No matter how good we are together, how can I compete with that kind of bond?’
Alec’s not sure what to say to that, so instead he just stands up, and pulls Izzy into another hug, feeling her lean heavily against him. ‘I could always ask Magnus to threaten him,’ he offers. ‘He thinks the world of you, and after eight centuries to perfect it, I bet he gives an incredible shovel talk.’
Izzy laughs, pulling away, and Alec feels himself smile. Mission accomplished. ‘It’s okay,’ she says. ‘Like I say, I’m just tired, or this wouldn’t even bother me. I trust Simon. And Clary, too.’ She wanders over to the coat rack, draping her jacket around her shoulders. ‘Now, you mentioned buying me lunch?’
Alec frowns. ‘Who said I was buying?’ He shakes his head in mock-disapproval. ‘Honestly, this Institute’s hospitality towards official visitors really has slipped, hasn’t it?’
They bicker like that all the way to the diner. Alec keeps an eye on his sister, pleased to see that she rarely stops smiling the whole time.
***
Alec wants to toss and turn, frustrated with this stupid insomnia, but he doesn’t want to wake Magnus. He sighs, his eyes not so much heavy as stubbornly being refused the luxury of opening again. Izzy’s words have been echoing around his head for hours, ever since he portalled back from New York – and now, lying in the dark without any distraction, they threaten to consume him with worry.
Simon was crushing on her for years before I was even in the picture.
No matter how good we are together, how can I compete with that kind of bond?
Alec’s hand shifts down to graze absentmindedly against his parabatai rune, and he sighs again.
He didn’t realise it until Izzy confessed her moment of insecurity, but Alec and Magnus have never really talked about Alec’s old crush on Jace. Magnus obviously knows about it – it’s one of the first things Magnus said to him, and it was maybe the first time Alec had ever been told that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Since then, they’ve been through hell together in every figurative and literal way, and throughout it all they’ve had such a whirlwind romance that there’s barely been time to think beyond I love you and I want you and always.
But now, Alec’s thinking that maybe they should have made time for this particular conversation. Though nowhere near as all-consuming as his almost-immediate feelings for Magnus, Alec’s crush on Jace was long-lasting and pretty damn significant throughout his younger years. And yeah, with the benefit of hindsight, he’s fairly certain it wasn’t even about Jace for the most part, besides the initial attraction; it was Alec needing an outlet for all his repression and shame, directing that side of him towards someone who he knew wouldn’t immediately hate him for it. And, if he’s honest, towards someone who he couldn’t have – so that he could hide behind that, instead of risking developing feelings for a more viable option, and then having to face them head-on.
But even if it wasn’t a typical crush, it wasn’t nothing. And Magnus surely has to know that Alec loves him, there’s no way he could think otherwise – but he’s been hurt before, too many times for any mortal to count. What if on the bad days, the ones when even the spark of Magnus’ magic seems to dim a little and the years seem to weigh heavy in his bones, he’s thinking along the same lines as Izzy after a long week? Remembering how Jace’s image appeared in front of Alec when they summoned the memory demon? How a part of his husband’s soul still belongs to a man he had a crush on for about a decade?
Alec resists the urge to sigh again, but Magnus’ breathing hitches anyway, and Alec rethinks – yet again – his semi-serious theory that his husband is at least a little psychic. He watches as Magnus’ face scrunches, his eyes shifting between gold and brown as he blearily blinks them open. ‘Alexander, what’s wrong?’
Alec huffs out a miniscule laugh. ‘Who says anything’s wrong?’
Magnus frowns, gently swatting at him. ‘Try again. Your thoughts are much too loud for everything to be alright.’
Alec swallows, wondering how he should phrase his concern. ‘Does Jace bother you?’ he blurts out, before wrinkling his nose in self-annoyance. Okay, in terms of tone, they’re apparently going for blunt and graceless.
Magnus’ eyes widen in surprise. ‘What?’ he says, a small, incredulous smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. ‘He’s annoying, sure; but he’s your brother, that’s essentially his job. Plus, since we moved, and he doesn’t just… show up at inopportune moments anymore, I’ve grown to like him a lot better. It seems he’s much more palatable in small doses.’
He laughs quietly – but when Alec doesn’t join in, his expression turns a little more serious. ‘Alexander,’ he says earnestly, ‘I knew your mother when she was still a Circle member. Never in a million years did I think that one day I’d be friends with Maryse Lightwood, but here we are. Trust me when I tell you that of my in-laws, your slightly-irritating parabatai is hardly the tallest hurdle to jump.’
Alec just shakes his head. ‘No, it’s not that. It’s not just that he’s annoying, or the, uh… boundary issues,’ he says, ignoring Magnus’ smirk because this is far too serious a conversation for him to use the term cockblock.
Alec groans, settling back further into his pillow. He wishes he’d never brought it up, but it’s too late now. ‘I was talking to Izzy, and she was feeling down, because Simon was so busy with Clary that she hadn’t seen him much. And she started talking about how – you know, how he used to feel about her, and the… bond that still exists between them. And I just… I just didn’t want…’
Thankfully, Magnus’ face lights up in understanding, and Alec lets the sentence die unfinished. ‘Ah,’ Magnus says. ‘You’re worried that I may feel the same way?’
‘Not worried,’ Alec says tiredly, looking up at the ceiling. ‘Just… I know it’s weird. And I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.’
There’s a few beats of silence, and then a hand is gently guiding Alec’s gaze back to his husband, who’s smiling softly. ‘Alexander,’ he murmurs, ‘it’s alright. I promise.’ He presses a chaste kiss to Alec’s lips.
Alec’s eyes stay fixed on Magnus’ expression as they part. ‘Yeah?’
Magnus nods, still smiling. ‘Yeah. You’ve accepted my past without quarrel – well,’ he amends, when Alec arches an incredulous eyebrow, ‘with far less quarrel than I’m accustomed to. The point is, we moved past all of that. What kind of hypocrite would I be if I couldn’t get over you having a childhood crush?’
‘But it’s different,’ Alec insists, wishing he could just accept Magnus’ answer at face value and hating that he has to protest. ‘Jace is still in our lives. He’s still a part of me. That doesn’t weird you out?’
Magnus looks away for a moment, and even though he knows an instant platitude wouldn’t be enough, Alec’s heart lurches a little. ‘I’ll admit,’ Magnus says slowly, ‘that I don’t fully understand the emotional ramifications of a parabatai bond. I’m not a Shadowhunter, so it’s likely that I never will.’ He meets Alec’s eyes again. ‘But it doesn’t matter, because I trust you.’
Alec holds his gaze for a moment, a little overwhelmed. Magnus smiles again, more brightly now. ‘Besides,’ he says, shifting gracefully until he’s straddling Alec, hands either side of his head, ‘let’s review, shall we? You left Lydia at the altar. You pissed off Clave officials more times than I can count. You asked Stanley to turn you into a vampire so you could get to Edom; and when you managed to get there anyway, despite that brilliant plan falling through, you told me in no uncertain terms that you would stay there with me. Forever.’
He leans closer, his breath ghosting over Alec’s lips as he chuckles softly. ‘Not to mention, there were all those times you reminded me of that old superstition – how did it go? Ah, yes: Nephilim love once,’ he says, in a poor approximation of Alec’s voice that makes him smile helplessly anyway. Magnus’ smile widens in response, his eyes shining bright and golden. ‘Alexander, I hope you didn’t think you were subtle. Why should I worry about anyone else intruding on this side of your life, when any idiot could see how smitten you are?’
Alec leans up, closing the distance between them with a soft kiss, one full of promise. ‘Well, I guess you’ve found me out,’ he murmurs, a little breathless. ‘So I s’pose there’s no point denying it. I love you.’
Magnus gasps in exaggerated shock. ‘What a coincidence,’ he breathes. ‘I happen to love you too.’
It’s a long time before they get up and start their days, and the last thread of doubt in Alec’s mind settles. After all, it’s hard for anyone to be jealous when you feel like the only two people in the world.
~oOo~
#shadowhunters#shadowhunters fanfic#malec#malec fanfic#shtv#shs#alec lightwood-bane#magnus lightwood-bane#isabelle lightwood#mine
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The things that people personify
article written by Patrizio Dalcoro, www.dalcoro.it
source: https://independentwatchers.ru/it/2020/05/05/the-things-that-people-personify/
“The things that people personify” Church of Spychology ©2020 Original Title: Le cose che le persone personificano written by Patrizio Dalcoro on May 05th,2020 in Taranto, Italy
we publish the majority of our contents only on our headquarter: www.independentwatchers.ru There is an automatic translation too: so you can learn from an Italian Master. Write to Patrizio Dalcoro in english too: [email protected] and subscribe to http://www.independentwatchers.ru to receive special gifts for our network of subscribers.
this translation in only a DRAFT. Translated from Italian. The original is in Italian: https://independentwatchers.ru/it/2020/05/05/le-cose-che-le-persone-personificano/
My experiences on the earth star are enough for you to change. Mine are not words of succubus but of saint. Mine are not mere inventions of a man of letters. Mine are words that derive from a saint. Mine is a dynasty. The dynasty to which I belong is Christified. The holy dynasty of which I speak is called holy by those who have the power to assign status. On the Earth star they assign all the titles with satanic recognitions. My words are not anyone’s. My words with discernment of conscience whose work began when someone told me about it. Mine are words of a conscious being. The consciousness that I developed comes from Slabs of Light. My words are holy. My words are separated with holy merits. Dear friends, know that whoever writes, even who writes, is attentive to what he says, narrates it to his animal mind, which looks at it with loud criticisms, so if nevertheless I continue to write it is not because I feel comfortable at the mere presage that someone may blame me for stars that I don’t have. I am not an impostor, I channel messages that I sanctify. Mine are the publication of a Christ Christified on earth alive. Mine are words of one who sanctified his life by separating himself from the world. Holiness is not in sex – in seclusion from sex – and from the world but certainly not having to do damned with sex is a prelude to holiness, to the separation of the holy institutes of marriage from what you are all used to assisting in your lives. Satanic couples marry separated since birth from Slabs of Light and follow the infernal path of beauty and sex. The superficiality of many couples is measured by the choice of the partner who is – you see – the only subject that belongs to their circle deserving to be their saint. Couple holiness is seen at least once. My couple crumbled when I started to follow a Christian path. My couple separated when I started to Christify myself with actions of discernment and awareness. The words of Christ are not the heritage of any religion. The knowledge of Father Jehovah is transversal, it is found everywhere, just find an animal mind that asks about the Eternal Father. Father Jehovah, gentlemen, is speaking to the Eternal Father. Not others but him. I am not in a mystical crisis, I have not gone to church and I have not said rosaries for too long to be passed off as someone satanically possessed by the energy of possession of some eggregore or lesser god. I do not have access to the Christian egregore, to the fantasy of the world according to Catholics, to the mortal following of the Christ who died on the cross. I access the ranks of angels that the words they suggest bring them as messengers directly from the Father, to whom not even I can access only because of the flesh that contaminates me with non-pure thoughts. The meat is not one hundred percent controllable and the purity of plates of light is not accessible as long as one is in sanctified meat. But however beings of light know how to communicate through the holy selection of souls worthy of the mixture of Slabs of Light with the Human Being. The Father becomes flesh, know it, not once did he do it, but a thousand and a thousand times! He did it first with THE CREATION OF TERRESTRIAL PARADISE. God became flesh in Adam first god. His wife Eva greets everyone because – they confirm – that they never came out of the Father, never, because they were the representation of God and the knowledge of Good and Evil had consubstantial. There has never been a separation between Jehovah and the First Holy Man because Jehovah can be represented in your heads as a perfect man and woman. The philosophy that I explain to you is the only battle against saints on the contrary who pretend to be theologians. Mine is a high proof of competence in areas that require saints of years of Christ discernment for the world. The words that will be christified are only the words of saints. Things that happened to Paolo di Stella also happened to me. The Pauline story is only fiction, know it. The star Paul succeeded Peter. The holy church refers to sublime messages from some stars. The things written in the gospels are true but must be studied. They are symbolic, highly symbolic and non-literal. However, bless three times the God of Abraham who allowed me not to remain in the holy inquisitions of my son as a child – says Jehovah – who suggested to me what to do so as not to die in spirit and not to damage me with Catholic theology. Colleagues of priests were not able to sanction me for suggestions of light but only for catechisms of satanic stars. My words are astral. Like Paolo’s, and I never allowed myself to write about these things at this level of study, but already at the age of twenty-five I was writing about researchers of the law of light on earth. Or gods Earth Law Researchers. My adventure on earth in the philosophical and religious field begins with the entrance into the Temple of Light called Saint to many demons. The only temple of light is the Wisdom, my holy wisdom led me to ascend the Holy Throne of Jehovah through the Christic entry into celestial masonry. My stay in the Satanic Lodge of the Saint in Black Slabs called the Italian Masonic Association – Jehovah does not indulge me and does not make me write his own name -: nobody has anything to do with it for my sanctification. I just went to look at the holy explanations given by those who know nothing about Christ about the Holy Slab of Light that I alone represent. So they tell me to write and I do not bring condemnation, because I bend to the will of the Saint of Saints. Christ makes you a saint you want or don’t want. Mine was only an apparent choice, those who were able to teach that saints become saints by choice are not Christ’s. There is no choice in following one’s Father Jehovah. The Mother of Men is called Jeva. Sometimes I am wrong to write and write Jeva, but it is only because they also speak of the Madonna above. His holy generation belongs to me. My magic dynasty can grab thieves of light and destroy them. The Christic images of the imperial following were sanctified to me through alchemical symbols in the animal mind with axioms undetectable by myself until the time when Heavenly Father did not present himself with his name. Jehovah exists and comes with name and surname when you hear it as you are instructed to do it because he has granted it. Nobody listens to our Father without sanctification. Nobody can know my Father unless he sanctifies himself. Jehovah: I heard clearly, the energy named Jehovah resounded in the subconscious. Jehovah. God does not make himself heard only to damned men, the rest of them were confident that the Father is well enjoys excellent health has never died, and not even the Saint of Saints the King of Heaven and Earth named Jesus Christ has never been on the land to die. Its light energy has been here embellishing this world. The name of Christ can be declined as you like but the reference can only be given to one who is the Father. The holy satanic trinity must be examined with the eyes of a Christified believer and it can be said that personal research confirms that my feeling is correct in the eyes of those with a sincere heart who begins to tell themselves everything they already know about the Father. Christ is in the Father proceeds through the work of Man and the Spirit of the Father. Man is only the holy one. Holy man is not the humanoid you all know and whom you meet at home or in the subway or in churches or concerts.
The words of Christ can be heard and transcribed. Jehovah’s Words are always available. The words that interpret today’s scriptures and times can be heard directly from the Father there is no need for others there is no need for Satan to suggest salvation that does not work. People who pretend to be Slabs of Light will be bitten by the dogs of angry angels. The times are exactly these that you are hailing as a new era. Mine are the Words of a Saint and in less troublesome times it was said in a dream, in 2016, that the end of the world had just begun. They referred to me not to the world. The end of my human existence, of my apocalypse, began in 2016. In 2016 I was separated by force from satan, I was torn from the human woman, I was torn from the working positions of ordinary men, I was torn away by force from all those damned ideologies, I was snatched from the man and woman who play the role of Father and Mother on earth by pretending to be parents, everything was kidnapped. My profession of faith is that of a Saint who no longer has a Father and no longer has Mother Neri. Yes now I only have one Mother and she is white, she is the Madonna you know, but you deeply hate, just see how you behave with the madonnas of the children of Jehovah. Women are mistreated not only in everyday life but in everything. Sanctified people hate the human woman more than anything else because not even the woman wants to be more woman. The parent of the satanic world now wants to do something else. The satanic cravings of men who have torn Christ from their mother’s breasts are the malformation of a human species that will end up destroyed if it does not pass to Father Jehovah. To the Father of Light. To the Holy Bread that came down from Heaven. Really holy are those words that describe the infallibility of the Father: How the Rain and Snow Come Down from Heaven and Do Not Return to It Without Leaving the Sign – I Will Always Teach – says Jehovah – of Things That Will Make Everyone Recognize Where the Truth is and Where the Father is Every man.
© 2020 on earth it is I who explain these words therefore the Author is Patrizio Dalcoro
Spychology Church – © 2020
© 2020, Patrizio Dalcoro. All rights reserved.
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Finally finished that awful book.
Go back and look at the rest of it if you want to make yourself hate the fact that anyone is able to publish their terrible, talentless fiction writing.
All right, Chapter 27, extra fun doing this with my parents here.
The faces dad's been making are kind of worth it though; mum just sort of looks up from what she's doing now and again, shakes her head--at the story, not me--and goes back to it.
I'm finishing this horrorshow of a book off tonight so I never have to look at it again unless it's to shove it at someone who hasn't read it but deserves to.
So, we're away from the, "I copied this straight from a newspaper article, look it up!" chapter (which, if you recall, I did look up, and it doesn't exist, he made it up) and on to Obera asking Leigh out of the blue if he'll ever regret having married her.
His answer is less a yes or no and more, "Did I do something to make you mad?"
Her response is even more inexplicable; she tells him he hasn't then adds on, "But you know how a divorced woman is treated by the world."
Not--strictly the right set of priorities here but, all right.
She mentions something about "the money" and I'm not sure if that means we're just skipping the entire part where Mizpra got power of attorney from her addled mother and Leigh--I don't know, physically fought her over or if we're still getting to that and the author forgot and this bit was meant to be closer to the end of the actual story.
Given all of the man's other writing, I think he just forgot.
"You were a child, Obera, when I first met you." Yikes.
And she found that somehow a really romantic way to start things because, "she clung closer to him, and her little body vibrated with thrilling emotions." Is it not possible for this guy to not write like a creep you'd find in the bushes outside a kid's bedroom window?
Obera has a bit of sense at some point and suggest maybe trying to mess with Mizpra, who has already proven herself to be pretty unstable or at least willing to murder a child, might not be the best idea but Leigh is the genius of the story and ignores her.
Sorry, I mean explains why he's right and she's just a silly little girl-woman.
Anyway, Leigh's plan is to have Mizpra shipped off to a mental institution; tells Obera she wouldn't understand that because she wouldn't understand the "diabolical nature of her (Mizpra's) insane passions" and neither would the courts.
So far, we haven't seen much of those though, apart from her getting off on stabbing her sleeping husband with a hat pin and trying to murder a toddler via sending diphtheria tainted toys; the first thing isn't that abnormal, there are whole scenes around--not with hat pins, though, with sharp, single use piercing needles.
The second one is probably a crime, however and I'm still not entirely sure why nobody had her arrested for it since they knew exactly who sent it and how it was tainted.
Whatever.
He then offers to take her to Hawaii, which is where she's from, being a Tahitian princess, after all.
Again, her reaction is described as very child-like. Ew.
He then mentions he heard Mops crying, she says he was because he didn't want to wear shoes, then threw the shoes at her--fairly typical behaviour for a four year old kid but Leigh the Genius Doctor starts telling her that means they need to watch his mental health because he's showing signs of "uncontrolled impulses" and might end up neurotic and insane and probably an alcoholic and a criminal.
Man, he's four.
That's just how four year olds act sometimes.
Even I know that.
They go off for a few pages discussing "training" their four year old and it's all kind of terrible and advocates stopping just short of what you could get arrested for in terms of beating them.
(( Stuff inside gets into--not graphic, but still BDSM which is the ‘shocking’ and ‘perverted’ parts of The Perverts, more casual racism common for the time, and the most disappointing ending to a book I’ve read in ages.))
That somehow goes in to him saying he thinks the states should regulate marriage by law so the "unfit" can't get married; unfit meaning criminals, mental illness, tuberculosis, and "the physically weak and diseased" as well as "the insane".
Then he spins off into how shameful it is the crime rate in the United States is increasing at a "fearful rate".
Obera cuts in saying she think shaving laws regulating marriage sounded terrible to her until her Genius Husband Leigh explained why she was a wrong, silly woman, trying to have thoughts of her own.
That all gets interrupted by a letter from Rev. Bald who brings up some comment he made on the "matter of modern flagellation from a psychologic point of view" on the train, he found a bunch of books on the topic, he's pretty sure you can blame Catholics for it, and that's what makes them insane. Catholics, I mean.
Next is a newspaper article about Mizpra's school for "little half-breeds and Indian girls" which doesn't sound suspicious or weird at all--I mean, in fairness, for the time it was written that was pretty normal language, it just didn't age well at all.
So that article makes Leigh mad, her sister being apparently successful because that's half the problem with Mizpra: She does things women shouldn't be doing, like, not having children, getting an education, not caring if she looks fashionable, not wearing corsets, doing her own legal and financial work--you know, like the horrid witch she is or something.
I mean, honestly by this point in the story I'd team up with Mizpra so one of us could hold Leigh down while the other one just kicked him in the ribs until the noise stopped, he's that insufferable and obnoxiously wrong about everything.
Where was I?
Don't care, the last ten pages were Leigh whining about Catholics.
Chapter 28.
This one starts with a letter, "Los Angeles, -----, 189--" What? Los Angeles is in California, and why are you censoring the year?
Whatever.
It's a letter from Dr. Bell to open this time.
Bunch of stuff about The Spanish, most of it not flattering and about how they make great servants.
Everyone likes Mizpra there, so that's gonig ot make things more difficult.
Lots of paragraphs about how well liked Mizpra is.
No men allowed in the all girls' school, which is framed to be a bad thing but seems pretty reasonable to me.
There's also a little old lady called Penitente that will kill on sight if you're trespassing. She sounds fun.
And, for no reason whatsoever and with no proof, Dr. Bell concludes the whole school is a front for a sex dungeon of Mizpra's that she operates under the guise of "religious ceremony".
I mean obviously, that's where the author is going with it but he really should have spent some time laying down clues that that might be what's happening instead of having no mention or even hint of it then having one main character just randomly know that's what's happening.
So, Leigh decides, this evening, he's going to go and confront Mizpra. I mean, he did some waxing philosophical for a few pages until getting to that point but it was just him thining out loud about how amazing he is; great businessman, great doctor, great author, all around god tier person--we get it, Dr. Howard, Leigh is literally your power fantasy character.
They head off to try and bust Mizpra in the middle of some kind of weird--I don't know what, "active criminal act" prove her insane, or something. And even if they find her in the place doing what everyone thinks she does: Being a decent, regular person, they'll all be fucked because then they'll look like trespassing, stalker weirdos--which is kind of what they are anyway.
They decide it'd be best to "pounce upon her in the height of oe of her deliriums" which, I think, means they want to bust her mid-orgy in the church basement.
Fair enough, I guess; that's probably not the best place to have those anyway.
15 pages of explaining the plan where nothing is actually explained beyond describing the building's exterior.
10 more pages complaining about Catholics, particularly Spanish Catholics.
GET BACK TO THE MAIN PLOT. This is pointless filler.
Leigh eventually calls this all an "errand of mercy" like--just--no. It's not. You've been harassing Mizpra for about ten years in story time here, going out of your way to make fun of her looks, her life choices, her career, her education, her clothes, etc...she's not the bad guy here, Leigh.
Also, you named your kid Mops. Why would you do that to a child?
Chapter 24.
Two pages describing irrelvant scenery.
Look, even Tolkein would read this guy's book and tell him he's too long winded with unnecessary description.
Oh of course it's storming, why wouldn't it be storming? Convenient weather to bust the Bad Character.
So Leigh, being the genius at everything he is (including tracking now) hears a false owl call and knows someone is waiting for them.
Oh, it's the poor "Indian boy" from a few chapters back. "Indian boy here. Bad night, climb. Good night corral bad he squaw." I got nothing here--author didn't even bother giving that character a name.
"Indian boy" leads them to the building because he doesn't like Mizpra, I think. I'm pretty sure she's the "bad squaw". Or the "bad he squaw" except I'm not sure what a "he squaw" is.
Leigh, of course, has to describe the kid in a creepy way: "Leigh looked at the sweet-voiced lad who stood under the partial roof. His long black hair shining from the rain drops which trickled from it, fell on his bronze, bare shoulders." Leigh, please calm down.
And finally, after the third time in a couple hundred pages this kid appears, someone addresses him by name, which is Luis, which is definitely not his real name and likely one assigned to him by the church. Still, it's a step above calling him "Indian boy", I guess.
They plan a bit more and sit around smoking while waiting for the right time to go in and get by that Penitente woman who will shoot on sight.
Back to discussing the building layout and occasionally giving Luis many other slightly derogatory nicknames like "brave little Indian boy" and "our little black-haired friend".
He has a sister (re)named Angelia in the school, which is why he's helping them. One of the most reasonable people with a proper reason to want to break in.
He also calls the lady that will shoot on site "old hag squaw".
Chapter 25, finally after two chapters of pointless, repetitive planning, they're going to break into the damn place and of course now it's storming rather a lot.
SO! They get in and all three are immediately horrified by the first glimpse of the chapel. Red is, evidently, a colour they don't like.
Walls and ceiling blood-red, carpet of "funereal" black--just say black, and spell funeral correctly.
Big chandelier with candles that wer elit in a way that made the walls look as though they were on fire. Big ebony cross with a wax woman pawing at it--the sort of thing you see in religious art now and again, and under the chandelier there was pink and white silk for more lighting effects.
Onyx pedestal, golden crucifix, black and gold latticed confessional areas, gold curtains,"many signs of Mizpra's mania" on the walls: Haircloths, wreaths and belts of thorns, steel hooks, rods of iron, leather whips, knotted rope whips, iron and steel instruments of torture that are never described beyond that, a brilliantly coloured and painted altar that was "poisoned, destroyed by the lecherous and realistic painting which hung over it".
The painting is by, "the carnal and lewd Father Gerard", whoever that is.
This honestly sounds like a pretty cool looking room; if I'm meant to be shocked or horrified it's had the opposite effect. Mizpra has an eye for design.
"[...] the whole ch amber swam before his eyes as one flaming pornographic panorama" and that was enough that Leigh was just, "Nope, I've had enough of this, we're leaving," while everyone else went with--I mean they tried to be nice about it but the underlying tone is, "This was YOUR idea, asshole, you're not backing out now."
Noise is heard from the library, that gets drown out by the actual bells of the place going off with the time. Midnight, of course. It's always midnight for these types of scenes.
Nun comes in, they all sort of hide, Nun does regular Nun things and Leigh mutters something about death being marked on her face despite the fact that she's doing nothing out of the ordinary for a Nun but, she's thin, so he thinks she's gross.
Okay, finally something else is happening. Mizpra shows up, the Nun from before--I mean, Leigh, this is just someone's private life you're intruding on here but anyway, this is definitely a BDSM scene with religious overtones and nobody involved is objecting (and definitely didn't consdent to have these three fucking weirdos watch them).
I know this is meant to be shocking but, again, this is not an uncommon thing; Mizpra is being written as a pretty run of the mill Dominatrix, she's not forcing the other girl to do anything she does't want to do, and what's happening is clearly a planned out, scripted scene.
Apart from the three weirdos watching from the shadows.
More descriptions of Mizpra being "manly", of course, and suddenly the Peeping Tom Party decides to burst in and break up the scene.
"Sister, you are not well."
She was fine until you interrupted her, Leigh.
He very politely asks her to accompany him to the asylum which is not really a reasonable thing to ask someone, especially if you already think they're out of their mind and don't realise it.
Her respose was "vulgar voicing with which the vilest curses were mingled". Not an entirely unfair response to, "Please allow me to have you locked up in an insane asylum, thank you."
Luis very neatly bashes the head of the guard lady in with a crucifix, so that wraps up that loose thread but also seems to have angered Mizpra.
You know, because they broke in and murdered someone.
She flips it around and says she lured them all there and now they've all been caught murdering some old lady.
She makes fun of Bald for awhile, so he rushes her and tries to strangle her, and she doesn't appear to care in the slightest. She pulls him out to the cliff edge balcony, pulls a rope that apparently makes the balcony fold down for some reason, and they both fall off of the cliff.
And that's...it.
"A brilliant flash of lightning shot out from the heavens, and the white face of Mizpra, defiant as ever, was lighted up as she and Bald turned over in the emptiness of the abyss----THE END."
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Mainstream news media created the conditions in which a bottom-feeder like Trump could thrive by focusing on celebrity culture to encourage conspicuous consumption
AARP the Magazine is thus a small part of the giant propaganda machine that created the celebrity culture that created Donald Trump. It took from the first stirrings of consumer culture in the 1890’s until the 21st century for the focus on celebrity to pollute our marketplace of ideas enough for a toxic algae boom like Donald Trump to emerge (with apologies to algae blooms worldwide!). But unlike cleaning up the environment, saving our political discourse is conceptually easy—all the news media has to do is dedicate more of its feature coverage to those whose accomplishments can’t be measured by money made or spent, and cease to cover every issue like a reality show featuring celebrities. Not one big action, but a bunch of little actions are needed to stem the tide of celebrity culture. AARP could do its part by working into the mix a healthy share of scientists, historians, civic leaders, activists and literary figures into Big5-Oh and other parts of the magazine.
Those seeking to put the Trump phenomenon in a broader context will usually point out that his rhetoric and actions typically stay within the margins of 21st century Republican thought, especially as it concerns taxes, regulation, healthcare insurance, women’s health issues and white supremacy. Sometimes Trump has extended those margins with more outrageous versions of standard Republican fare. Others label Trumpism as the American version of the movement throughout the West to embrace ultranationalist, anti-immigration autocrats.
As insightful as these analyses are, they miss Trump’s cultural significance. Not only does Trump represent the bitterly racist and classist endgame of Ronald Reagan’s “politics of selfishness,” he also is the apotheosis of our cultural decline into celebrity-fueled consumerism. Remember that in the real world, Trump was a terrible and unethical businessperson who drove companies into bankruptcy six times; had at least a dozen failed business ventures based on his most valuable asset, his brand name; lost money for virtually all his investors; often lied to banks and governmental agencies; and has been sued by literally thousands of people for nonpayment or breach of contract.
But while Trumpty-Dumpty was engaging in a one-man business wrecking crew he managed to get his name in the newspaper for his conspicuous consumption, his attendance at celebrity parties and his various marriage and romances. His television show was a hit, which reaped him even more publicity. But make no mistake about it, before he started his run for political office by promoting the vicious, racially tinged lie that Obama hails from Kenya, the public recognized Trump primarily for the attributes he shared with the British royal family, the Kardashians, Gosselins, Robertsons, the housewives of New Jersey, Atlanta, South Beach and elsewhere, Duane Chapman, Betheny Frankel, Paris Hilton and the rest of the self-centered lot of rich and famous folk known only for being rich and famous and spending obnoxious sums of money.
Trump’s celebrity status always hinted at his master-of-the-universe skills in business and “The Apprentice” never missed an opportunity to reinforce that false myth. Thus, whereas the business world recognized Donald Trump as the ultimate loser, celebrity culture glorified him as one of the greatest business geniuses in human history. It was this public perception of Trump—completely opposite of reality—that gave him the street cred he needed to attract unsophisticated voters. Trump is completely a creation of celebrity culture.
When we consider the general intellectual, moral and cultural climate of an era—the Zeitgeist, which in German means the “spirit of the age”—we often focus on defining events such as presidential assassinations, Woodstock, the moon landing, 9/11, the election of the first non-white president. But a Zeitgeist comprises thousands upon thousands of specific events, trends and personal choices.
Which brings us—finally—to the subject of this article, AARP the Magazine, the semi-monthly slick magazine of the American Association of Retired People (AARP). The magazine usually uses celebrities and celebrity culture to give tips on personal finances, health, careers, relationships, retirement and lifestyle to its members, people over the age of 50. Because AARP membership rolls is so enormous, I have no doubt that AARP is one of the four or five most well-read periodicals in the United States.
Now AARP the organization must have many qualms about Trump and Trumpism. Trump has already rolled back consumer protections that prevent seniors from being taken advantage of by both big businesses and small-time con artists. Trump is vowing to dedicate his second term to cutting Social Security and Medicare, two programs of utmost importance to the well-being of AARP’s members. The leadership of AARP certainly understands that Trump’s cruelly aggressive effort to end immigration from non-European countries is the main cause for the growing shortages of the home care workers so vital to many if not most people in their final years. They must also realize that a tariff war affects people on fixed incomes the most.
What AARP leaders—of the organization and magazine—show no signs of understanding is that they played a role in creating the monster. The focus of AARP the Magazine and the other AARP member publication on promoting celebrity culture helped to create the playing field that Trump dominates—that shadow land of aspirations for attention and materialism in which all emotional values reduce to buying and consumption and our heroes have either done nothing to deserve their renown or have worked in the mass entertainment industries of TV, movies, sports and pop music.
As an example of how celebrity culture permeates and controls the aspirational messages of AARP the Magazine, let’s turn to the feature on the last page of every issue, something called “Big5-Oh”: Big5-Oh always has a paragraph story with photos of a famous person who is turning 50 sometime during the two months covered by the issue. The bottom third of the page consists of one-sentence vignettes with head-and-shoulder photos of famous people turning 50, 60, 70 and 80. The copy typically describes something the famous person is doing that demonstrates she or he is continuing to thrive and do great things despite advancing age.
I’ve seen Big5-Oh in every issue of AARP I have ever read, and I have perused each issue for about 18 years. And in every issue, the famous people mentioned are virtually all celebrities, by which I mean actors, pop musicians, sports stars and those known only for being known like the Kardashians and Snooki. Only quite rarely a film director, popular writer or scientist sneaks in.
The latest issue, covering August and September 2019 exemplifies the celebrity-driven approach that hammers home the idea that only celebrities matter (since it’s only their birthdays and ages that are seemed worth memorializing). The featured person turning 50 is Tyler Perry, an actor and writer-director. The smaller features include four actor, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Jason Alexander, Richard Gere and Lilly Tomlin, plus the athlete Magic Johnson and the rock star Bruce Springsteen.
Not one scientist, not one historian or sociologist. Not one civic leader, politician, physician, novelist, poet or classical or jazz musician. No astronaut, architect or engineer. I did a little cursory research to come up with a reconceived Big5-Oh for August and September 2019: The big feature, always about someone turning 50, could be the chess player Ben Finegold, the best-selling but much scandalized popular writer James Frey or the filmmaker Noah Baumbach. That’s pretty much a wash with Tyler Perry. If I were editor of this feature, I would probably still pick Tyler Perry over this competition.
But when we get to people who turned 60 and 70 during these months, you realize how much celebrity culture guided the editor’s choice of subjects: ignored are the designer Michael Kors, the current governor of Virginia Ralph Northam, the distinguished Spanish filmmaker Pedro Almodovar, the even more distinguished journalist James Fallows, the important literary novelists Jane Smiley, Martin Amis and Jonathan Franzen, the leader of the Irish Green Party, astronaut Scott Altman and Beverly Barnes, the first woman to captain a Boeing 747. All these people are non-celebrities and all have made more significant and lasting contributions to America than the people the column’s editor selected, with the possible exception of Magic Johnson and Bruce Springsteen.
What’s more significant, though, is including some of these people instead of all celebrities would make an important message about what we value in our society. It would say that we honor the intellectual contributions of our writers, scientists, knowledge professionals and civic leaders. The fact that AARP always selects celebrities for Big5-Oh and tends to build other stories and features around celebrities makes the opposite message about value—that all that matters is the gossip surrounding celebrities and the promotion of celebrity culture.
Now AARP shares the blame for our culture’s emphasis on shallow consumerism and superficial celebrities with many of our cultural organizations and educational institutions. For example, the political reporting of the mainstream media reduces all political discourse to celebrity terms—name-calling, who is feuding with whom, who’s winning in the polls, the skeleton-closet scandals of the candidates’ families, which celebrities love and hate them, zingers and misstatements, the candidates’ theme songs and other main themes of celebrity culture. Notice that Trump is as much a master in these endeavors as he is an inexperienced and ignorant buffoon in matters related to governance such as policy, history, the inner workings of the government and the scientific research informing governmental decisions. Note, too, that based on how much ink and space is given to endorsements by the media, in the hierarchy of value, celebrities rate above elected officials who rate above unions, business and scientific organizations and luminaries in fields other than entertainment.
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You Make Me Wanna
Billy Russo x Curvy PoC
Warnings: Just sweet, sweet fluff
A/N: So I wrote this inspired by a few people but I want to dedicate it to my beautiful @xgminigypsy . She writes a blog for women who are curvy and beautiful and we just don’t see enough of that on Tumblr. I generally try to keep things ambiguous for my writing on this blog but for this instance, the reader is going to be of color and curvy and wonderful. I am not doing this to shame anyone but to add to the diversity of female characters that I write about it (I do apologize if my writing feels alienating to someone who doesn’t identify as female or heterosexual – its not that I don’t support it just not what I write)
Special shout out to @binsbonsadoration and @thesandbetweenmytoes for always bringing me back to my first love Ben – they know the Sebastian/Ben/Chris struggle I am have been combatting and they always know how to re-inspire
In this AU, just to remind le folks, he’s not a backstabbing murder douche and he’s still a dick but in the most adorable way you love a man who’d look like Billy and be completely and head over heels for you.
Also this will be in 2 Parts
He would never admit it out loud, let alone to you, but he absolutely loved weddings. He liked the way it felt when he first entered the ceremony part of a wedding, taking in all the care and attention and detail it took from the decorations to the music. Liked the way people seemed to be super excited as they found their seats, chatting along with strangers they normally wouldn’t as they impatiently waited for the activities to begin. Loved watching bridesmaids walk down the aisle, leading up the grand entrance of the bride. He loved that. Loved watching the joy and pride and pure love that filled a room when bride makes eye contact for the first time with her groom and the groom sees his bride.
He loved afterwards leading to the reception, cocktails hour and dancing. Food that tasted a bar above a frozen delicacy and rich, delicious wedding cake. Waving the happy couple off and tipsily heading home, hoping one day to capture the feeling that only a wedding could capture and make you feel.
He just loved weddings.
Of course, he never let you know that. Not because he was ashamed, or held a secret guilt to weddings.
But because you hated them.
You hated everything that he was so curious to explore and know – from the planning all the way down to the end of the night. You were there for the party – sure, anyone in their right mind liked a good party. It was the sense of obligation attached to the partying, the expectation and duties that came along with being in a wedding.
He knew your view of weddings were shaded. While he had attended many of the ceremonies as a guest – you had always been in them. You knew what it was like to deal with tense, stressed out brides and parent in laws and bridesmaids who didn’t feel like they were getting enough attention even though it wasn’t their day. The downfall of being such a social creature and the worse of it was that despite wanting to say no you never could, feeling morally obligated to the friend who had thought of you and asked.
This time had been no different.
As he sat down in his seat, his eyes looking for you desperately, he could feel Frank and Maria moving to sit by his side, Frank chuckling as he asks,
“You know, she’s in the wedding party. So she most likely isn’t going to be around until this thing gets started.”
He chuckles, shaking his head as he directs his attention to Frank, answering swiftly,
“I know that, I was just looking.”
“It’s a bit odd right. Madani getting married. Never took her for the type.”
Billy chuckles as he digs through his phone, double checking to see if you’d responded to his text as he thought back to his ex and ironically your newfound best friend Dinah. Dinah Madani wasn’t the kind of woman that got married in churches. Much like you, he didn’t figure much that she’d get married at all. But when she had met David two years back, something had shifted in her – that wild, cynical fire finally tamed. He was able to get her to relax, to take a breather and now they were having a big uptown wedding, in a big cathedral followed by the reception of the century to be hosted in a swanky, posh venue that was probably way overpriced.
“So now that begs the question - when are you and Y/N going to have one of these? You both have been together forever. I know you love her – would move mountains for her. Know for a fact she loves you just as much. What’s the delay? Out of the group, its just you too. Even Curtis is getting hitched this summer.”
Frank Castle wasn’t much of a sentimentalist. In fact, the ex-marine turned mechanic really opened up to Maria, his wife when it came down to it. Except he loved being a father figure when it came to love. Love made him just as sappy as weddings did for Billy and Billy especially hated it when Frank brought it up. Frank loved you – loved the two of you together and was constantly pushing Billy to push the question. Like now. Billy frowns, shifting in his seat uncomfortably as he debates his next words.
“She doesn’t want to get married.”
He decides on the truth. Never gone that route before.
“Really? Y/N? She’s been in like…a million of these things. I feel like you’re usually stag the few hours to each one because literally every wedding I have gone to she is part of the wedding party. How, how could someone who is in so many weddings hate them?”
Billy shrugs as Maria comments, looking away from her purse quick enough to say,
“Y/N does it because she loves her friends but she doesn’t believe in the institution of marriage. She has this weird belief its what kills most relationships in her family so she’s trying not to curse it for herself.”
She shoots Frank a warning glance that he pointedly ignores before she returns back to digging for whatever she’s looking for in her bag and Frank raises a brow, shaking his head.
“Well….there you go. You ever talk to her about it?”
“No.”
“You ever gonna talk to her about it.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Frank was his best friend. He loved him. He would do anything for him. But he hated when he prodded. Knew he couldn’t help it, especially with the people he cared about. But Billy was trying to process what Maria had just told him, thinking back to every conversation and interaction that he has ever had with you. This was new for him – you never had admitted this to him. It was the one area that you weren’t honest in, ducking out the conversation before addressing it head on. But the more he thought about it, the more it checked out.
You were terrified of commitment. Had broken out in hives for a week after he had asked you to move in with him. He had always thought it was a reflection of him but now as he thought back on it, thinking through your own relationship with your parents, it made sense.
You had a weird superstitious ideology despite the fact you were a neurologist. The few instances where science and believes overlapped.
“Leave him alone Frank. Besides the wedding is about to start.” Maria’s voice interjects and right on cue music plays, and Billy is able to get distracted, thinking back to you.
Wedding’s pulled out your bad habits. And it was because the whole fanfare was one stressor after the other.
The morning had been a smooth transition for Dinah but a fucking hurricane for you. Because you couldn’t even be a bridesmaid for this wedding, no, you had to be best goddamn friends with the bride and thus her Bitch of Honor. Maid of honor. However you wanted to label the slave title. You had to wake up at 5 so you could work out to proactively combat the anxiety, before picking up your dress and Dinah’s at the dry cleaners. You had to rush to her room to wake her up, get her ready for her pre-wedding brunch as bridesmaids all gathered in the room, gossiping and talking to each other happily without a goddamn care in the world.
After brunch and mimosas (really just a lot of mimosas) there was hair for everyone and then a quick reprieve where you had to double check that everyone had their bloody shit together (which they didn’t) and then get started on make-up before making sure everyone was dressed. That was all between making sur the photographer was on time, double checking the decorations for the venue space with the wedding planner, grabbing the flowers for everyone, talking down the father of the bride and the groom and then getting ready all before five. Then sitting in Manhattan traffic on a bloody Saturday afternoon before finally piling into the church.
You had received one text from Billy, the few words etched in your mind,
You will survive today. And at the end of it, we can take a bath and cuddle all you want. I love you
That was all you wanted now. You just wanted Billy, a large glass of Chardonnay and a bathtub. And if he wanted to have mind blowing sex to numb your brain from this day, then that would be even better.
Right now you couldn’t have any of that so instead you’ve dipped away from the loud space, the drunk people getting to you more than you would like to admit as you find safety in the outside garden, the dim lights shielding you from everyone else. You dig in your purse satchel, finding the rolled up joint that you had made two days earlier as Billy teased you about being high at the wedding, and your lighter before walking toward the water fountain that was so hidden off in the shadows no one could find you.
Your anxiety was at its height and you just needed a few hits, something to calm down your nerves so you could make it through the rest of the night. Survive wearing this tight fucking dress that Dinah had sweet talked you into wearing, the corset you had cinched on effectively killing your circulation and your sure a few ribs. Finally find Billy and have a good time with him without feeling guilty about dodging his inquiries about weddings and marriages.
You light up the joint, bringing the thick paper to your lips before you take a long drag, allowing the smoke to fill your lungs and you can already feel yourself relax as you sit on the bench across from the peaceful fountain, watching the water fly into the air and then into darkness in the safety of moonlight.
It’s here you can finally give into your insecurity, the reason why your anxiety has been skyrocketing for the past week. The real reason you hated weddings.
You loved yourself. You truly did. You loved every dimpled curve of your skin, every dip of cellulite, every jiggly perfection that the world thought otherwise. You loved that Billy had things to grab whenever he so desired, that in the winter time you could stay warmer because of the extra weight and that you made v-neck shirts your bitch because of the blessing of cleavage. You loved that your skin wasn’t pale, that it had color and life and fucking glowed in the summer time, like you were an Amazon goddess. It had taken you years to get to where you were and you confidently owned how you had defined yourself.
But despite all this, despite the therapy and love you had in your life, you still couldn’t get the small voice out from the back of your mind.
No one will ever want to marry you – you are unworthy of another man’s love.
Your mom was loving. She was kind and thoughtful and, on the surface, was a good woman. But she had inner demons that were dark and pitiful, and she projected her self-worth onto you. She was curvy like yourself, even bigger, and had never embraced that these were the genetics that were given to her. Instead, she was spiteful, angry – and she took it all out on you.
You took another long drag, shaking your head. You knew Billy wanted to get married. His eyes shone whenever he saw the pretty embossed letters come into the mail, an indicator of another wedding. He tried to hide it, but you knew he secretly loved weddings. You knew he’d probably be an ideal groom if you ever planned one. No – he couldn’t be excited about doing the dishes, or putting the toilet seat down, or cleaning up his beard hairs that he would trim into the scratchy shadow that you lived for – no, he’d have to be good at the one thing you just didn’t want.
“So this is where you went off too.”
You jump, coughing hoarsely as you turn to see Billy slowly prancing down the stairs, his hands in both of his pockets, tie loosened with a large smile on his face.
“Goddamit Billy – you scared me.”
He chuckles as he nears you, easily finding a seat near you, his body pressing against yours.
“That was not my intention luv. What are you doing out here?”
You roll your eyes as you hand him your joint and he smiles, grabbing it easily from your fingers before taking a puff,
“Thought you’d at least share. You know I like Dinah and David but goddamn is she marrying into a pretentious bunch.”
You laugh, your head falling onto his shoulder as you weave your arm within his and give a contented sigh.
“Tell me about it. I’ve been stuck with the lot of them for months.”
He hands you back your joint before placing a small kiss on your forehead, squeezing your hand and you both sit there in silence, content to finally be in the presence of each other. It’s only a few minutes before he asks,
“What’s on your mind luv bug?”
You shrug, taking another long drag as you debate your next words. But your high and relaxed, your senses consumed by the marijuana and Billy and you decide to let down your wall.
“Why do you want to marry me?”
The words take him off guard, unaccustomed with you addressing something you find so important and he pulls away enough before saying,
“Do you really want to know?”
That was the thing you loved the most about Billy. That he wasn’t a bullshiter. That while he understood that the world operated in a place of grey, you could be upfront and honest with him. And he would do the same.
“You know I do. Why else would I ask it?”
“Easy then. Because when I am with you – I am complete. Not in that nostalgic Shakespearian way – no. You know how to challenge me. To make me look at the world with a different perspective. You are the sun in my world, the Venus to my soul. Before I met you all I knew was the lie behind love. But you show me that though love, like everything in this world, can be tainted, there’s always a flicker of hope that makes it pure. You make me pure. You make me want to be a better man despite all my instincts. I want to be a better man because I want to make you proud.”
You hadn’t expected him to have an answer, or the strong conviction behind his words. It takes you off guard, and you feel your chest tighten as you pull away and look at him.
Getting Billy to tell you he loved you like had been trying to get a five year old to give up candy after they had a taste. He was stubborn and had told you plenty of times that he didn’t feel like he needed to voice it in order for you to know.
It wasn’t until you had broken down and cried within one of those fights, admitting you just needed to hear it to be self-assured that he made it a point to tell you every day.
He was just too damn good for you.
That is what you think now as his dark eyes observe you seriously, even with just the moon and the small lights flickering in the intimate space. He’s watching you carefully, his hands tightened around your own and you shake your head as you fall back on his shoulder.
Because Billy was always honest with you and this was the one thing you had hid from him and that compared with the overwhelming feeling of love makes you feel ashamed. He allows you to silently stew in your brain, not saying a thing for a good five minutes. And then you finally whisper out,
“I don’t think I deserve to be loved by you and I’m afraid if I marry you, you’ll realize it too.”
The words hit him hard, like a shot to the chest because of all the reasons why he suspected you hated marriage, this was the last thing he could imagine. Even more so – you were the most confident women he had ever known – it was intimidating sometimes your confidence, so he doesn’t know how to navigate through this. He feels your tears stain his shirt, the way you try to fight back the sobs starting to tear through your body and he pulls away from you long enough to crouch in front of you, his eyes bearing into you.
“Y/N, look at me for a second.”
You shake your head, willing to look away and he sighs as he grabs your hands, watching you.
“Dammit Y/N, please. Look at me.”
You look down at him, big bold eyes staring deep into his own. Of all your features, he had always been fond of your eyes, the bright orbs captivating him – pulling him into the allusion that was your perfection. He loved after a bout of lovemaking to spend hours just staring in your eyes, not needing to say anything but live in the moment that was your love.
“I don’t know who told you that you weren’t worthy of marriage. This is where this is stemming from I’m assuming – some asshole from your past tainting something sacred like marriage – but they don’t dictate what you do and don’t deserve. Only you do. And you are love incarnate. You are happiness and kindness and tenderness and everyone who has you in their life, has a piece of what it’s like to be loved. And it is me, that every day works to prove to you that I am worthy of your love.”
He frowns, his mind debating something before he digs into his pocket and pull out the velvet, powder blue box. You would know it from anywhere, even in this dim light and you feel your heart swell though the small, cynical part of you is screaming to shut up.
A Tiffany blue box that could hold one thing you’ve always dreamed of inside but had buried deep inside.
“I bought this after our 64th date,” he gives a slight chuckle as he opens the box and your heart can’t stop beating faster as you take in the ring. A large princess cut amethyst diamond, powder purple set in a rose gold band, sparking diamonds adorning it. It was exactly the kind of ring you didn’t know you needed until now. “I know its crazy that I even know its our 64th one but ….. the military makes you pick up weird habits and for some reason, mine was tracking how many dates we went on before I was certain you were who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Frank and Dinah thought I was crazy. Buying an engagement ring, especially after it being six months. But I just knew – knew that you were it. I’ve carried this fucking thing for almost two years, waiting to see if maybe…..”
His hands are shaking as he offers it to you and he bites his lip as he states,
“You don’t have to say anything, especially because I am too high and tipsy and emotionally still trying to process how you’ve carried the weight of not thinking you deserve love to actually deal with rejection in the form of no so please say anything but that.”
You laugh, your voice raw and crackly as he smiles at you.
“Just know that this, and me, are here whenever you’re ready. No rush. But I want all of you – always if only you’ll have me.”
The last levy in you breaks as the tears rush down and you feel conflicted as your head shakes yes and Billy grins – all teeth as his eyes are hesitant.
“Wait, really? Shit. Fuck I didn’t ask properly….will you marry me?”
You laugh as you bend down and press your lips against his own and he sighs into the kiss, tears falling from his face as he pulls away and grabs your hand.
“I have to make this official.”
He slides the ring onto your finger and fits perfectly and you laugh as you look at him,
“You are always pushing me to do things.”
“That’s what you’re going to tell your fiancé as he reveals his soul to you?”
You grab his tie, pulling him to you as you kiss him slowly, your tongue coaxing over yours as you murmur,
“I’d rather show you how happy you just made me then tell you.”
He smiles against your lips as he pulls away from you, standing up and offering his hands.
“How about now?” a flicker of mischievousness runs through his face and you already know what he’s thinking. You turn back to the party, which was continuing without and look down at the time. You had a good twenty minutes before you needed to move on to the bouquet toss and cake cutting.
“You got 20 minutes Russo.”
Billy gives a confident smirk as he pulls you to him, his hands already snaking behind the dress and pulling it down.
“More than enough time.”
A/N: I don’t know why I keep defaulting to writing engagement stories with Billy ha ha. Some Freudian desire I’m sure for lots and lots of metaphors….as we discovered in a cruel game of MFK @thesandbeneathmytoes
ANYWAYS TELL ME IF YOU LIKE THIS! gotta put this in caps because the ben fans are really hard to engage and quite frankly its discouraging as a writer so please share the
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