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brokebonewritings · 3 months

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All My Battles

Matt Murdock x Reader

Tags: 18+, fluff, slight hurt/comfort, making a home

Summary: A trip back to Bar Harbor creates a summer a new memories as you and Matt renovate your childhood home into a place to spend your future summers. Song: Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley

Word Count: 3K

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“Don’t worry! We will make sure both your apartments are safe and sound!”

“And we promise no major ragers while you’re away!” Foggy quickly said after Karen’s initial reassurance.

“Ha Ha, You’re hilarious.” You say with a deadpan expression.

Both you and Matt were packing for the summer to go up to your childhood home and fill it with your own furniture. Thanks to your wonderful team of attorneys, you were able to expedite the paperwork of signing the house over to your name.

It was a long battle, but your mom was out of the house at the beginning of the summer. Though it didn't come without a fight. She was very slow at moving the process along until you finally sent Foggy up to Maine with eviction papers.

"I just can't believe it's finally over!" You sigh as you close the trunk of your car.

"I'll drink to that, serving your mom that eviction notice was the best theatrics I've seen in a while, and Marci took me to see Phantom of the Opera last week!"

All three of you laugh, as you wait to finish locking up his apartment. You see him step onto the sidewalk and make his way towards the group.

"Okay, ready to go?" He asks.

"Yep, I just closed the trunk so we're all good here."

Karen is the first to step forward and give you both a big hug. Foggy being the last and stepping away with tears in his eyes.

"Don't you forget about us here in the Big Apple." He says tearfully.

"I'll miss you most of all, Scarecrow." You respond playfully.

The man wipes his metaphorical tears, and turns to Karen. "She thinks I'm a Scarecrow."

"Yeah, probably the lack of brains." She snarks.

"Hey!"

This earns another group laugh, as you and Matt get into the car. It was going to be a long summer, but it would be worth it. You get to redecorate your family home, even though you thought the previous decoration was perfect. Your mom took most of the furniture when she moved.

As the car pulls out of the city, leaving behind the familiar hustle and bustle, a sense of sadness fills you. "So, any ideas on what we should do with the place?" you asked, eager to hear his thoughts.

"You're asking the blindman for decoration advice?" He smirks, which pulls a giggle from your chest.

"Well this is gonna be our summer home, so I just want to get an opinion of someone who will be spending every year there."

Matt paused for a moment, his fingers tapping rhythmically on his knee as he contemplated. "Well," he began, "I think we should start by repainting the walls. I know your favorite color is orange."

"You remembered my favorite color?"

"Of course, maybe a soft shade of blue to give it a more serene atmosphere."

You nodded, imagining how the color would transform the space. "And what about the furniture? I know we'll have to buy new pieces, but do you have any specific style in mind?"

"God, just anything without plastic wrap on it." He laughs.

You laugh along with him. "You really hated sitting on that couch."

"It was an overstimulation nightmare."

"Yeah, well, no more plastic-wrapped nightmares," you reply with a grin. "We'll find something comfortable and stylish."

As the two of you continue to discuss ideas for the house, you feel the excitement building up inside you. This summer was going to be a fresh start, not just in terms of your living situation but also in your relationship with Matt. It had been a long journey to get to this point, but now that you were finally together, everything felt right.

The landscape outside transforms from towering skyscrapers to vast green fields and rolling hills. It's as if the world itself is mirroring the sense of calm and new beginnings you feel in your heart.

With the passing hours, you make sure to stop frequently so that you both stretch your legs. Soon enough you enter the Bar Harbor limits and begin to recognize your surroundings.

As you approach your childhood home, memories flood back — running through the fields, chasing fireflies on warm summer nights, and sitting on the front porch with your dad and a big cup of iced tea.

The familiar sight of the white picket fence and the old oak tree in the front yard is a relief to see. It hasn't changed much since you were last here, except for the overgrown grass and faded paint on the house. But that's all about to change.

You and Matt step out of the car, taking a moment to breathe in the crisp sea air. The scent of wildflowers and fresh pine brings a smile to your face. This place holds so many precious memories, and now it's time to make new ones.

"I can't believe we're finally here," you say, your voice filled with wonder.

Matt reaches out to take your hand, his touch grounding you in this moment. "Ready to get to work?" He asks and you reply with a soft 'yes'.

Together, you approach the front door, pulling out the key and inserting it into the lock. The door creaks open as you step inside, dust particles dancing in the sunlight streaming through the large bay windows.

As you make your way from room to room, deciding on furniture layouts and discussing which pieces to buy, the house starts to feel like home. Matt's fingers glide over the surfaces as he senses the textures and dimensions, his uncanny ability to visualize the space turning into an invaluable asset.

The next day you and Matt set to work immediately, armed with paintbrushes and a vision for transforming the old house into your dream summer retreat. The walls soon shed their faded colors and come alive with the soft shade of orange you chose. The air is filled with the scent of fresh paint, invigorating and promising.

Days turn into weeks as you tackle each room with determination. The living room is filled with cozy furniture, perfect for curling up together with a book or watching movies on lazy afternoons. The kitchen becomes a vibrant space, adorned with colorful tiles and filled with the aroma of delicious meals being cooked. And the bedrooms become sanctuaries, personalized with photographs and cherished little touches.

As the final touches are being made, you and Matt stand back to admire your handiwork. The transformation is remarkable, a testament to the love and care you poured into this project. The summer home now radiates warmth and comfort, a haven from the outside world.

You begin to cry as you both stand in the middle of the parlor. Matt's arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you into a tight hug. It was all finally done, and you couldn't feel the overwhelming sense of sadness. The very same you felt as you left the city.

"It's alright, sweetheart. I got you." He whispers as you continue to sob.

You hold onto Matt, feeling his steady presence anchoring you amidst the waves of emotion. The tears flow freely, a mixture of relief, joy, and a bittersweet longing for the old memories that haunted these walls. You couldn't wait to bring your friends and family here in the future summers, and make new memories that were happier than the old.

After a while, the tears subside, and you sniffle, wiping away your damp cheeks with the back of your hand. "I'm sorry," you murmur against his chest.

He pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face gently. "There's nothing to apologize for," he says softly.

You nod, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "You're right." You pause, feeling a surge of love radiating from the man in front of you.

"We made it," he says softly, his voice filled with reassurance. "We turned this house into our own little sanctuary."

"I love you," you whisper, burying your face in Matt's chest.

He holds you tighter, his heartbeat reverberating through your body. "I love you too," he replies.

That night you decide to have a picnic on the porch. You turn on the fairy lights, and set the radio to the local classic rock station. As you set up outside, Matt was in the kitchen preparing the meal you both were going to enjoy. Everything was perfect.

As twilight settles in, casting a soft golden glow over the porch, you light a few candles and spread out a cozy blanket. The scent of freshly cut grass mingles with the aroma of the meal Matt has prepared, creating an intoxicating symphony for your senses.

After dinner, you both clean and decide to stay outside for the rest of the evening and bask in the romantic setting you had set up. He notes that he forgot to bring the best part of dinner and runs back inside to grab dessert.

Matt emerges from the kitchen, carrying a basket filled with delicious treats. He carefully sets the basket down and joins you on the blanket, wrapping his arm around you.

"This is amazing," he whispers, his voice filled with awe.

You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his presence enveloping you. "I wanted to create this special moment for us," you say softly, your gaze fixed on the flickering lights.

The two of you spend the evening laughing and reminiscing, savoring each bite of food and each tender moment shared. As the night deepens, you find yourselves lost in conversation under a sky sprinkled with constellations.

Matt's fingers trace patterns on your arm, creating a soothing rhythm that matches the cadence of your conversation. You pause for a moment, overcome by a wave of gratitude. Gratitude for this beautiful night, for the love that fills your heart, and for the journey that has brought you here. You lean in closer to Matt, resting your head on his shoulder.

"I never imagined we would be here," you say softly, your voice filled with wonder. "Creating a home together, filled with love and happiness."

Matt squeezes your hand gently. "Life has a funny way of surprising us," he replies, his voice laced with sincerity. "And I'm grateful for every twist and turn that led us here."

As the hours pass, you find yourselves lost in conversation, delving into topics ranging from childhood dreams to future aspirations. Each word exchanged deepens your connection, solidifying the bond you've built over the years.

Eventually, the conversation mellows into comfortable silence, yet the electricity in the air remains tangible. You nestle closer to each other under the blanket, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. With every passing second, it becomes clearer that this is where you're meant to be.

You look up at Matt, gently grabbing his chin and pulling him in for a kiss. As your lips meet, a surge of warmth courses through your veins. The kiss is gentle yet filled with a quiet intensity, a beautiful reflection of the bond you share. Time seems to stand still as you savor the taste of his lips, the feeling of his arms wrapped around you.

When the kiss deepens, you feel a sense of belonging and contentment settle within you. Under the soft glow of the moon, you and Matt continue to share sweet, lingering kisses, each one filled with an unspoken promise.

Eventually you both feel the exhaustion from the long work day, and decide to head inside for the night. Matt is the first one to head inside and as you pick up the blanket and turn off the lights on the porch.

You linger long enough for Matt to come back out and wrap his arms around your waist and kiss your neck lightly. "We have a lifetime of moments like this ahead of us," he says softly. "Come inside now."

Nodding, you follow him back inside for the night. Inside, the house is bathed in a soft, inviting glow. The scent of freshly painted walls lingers in the air, a gentle reminder of the transformation you both undertook together.

Matt leads you upstairs to the bedroom, where the moonlight spills through the open curtains, casting ethereal shadows on the hardwood floor. He pulls back the covers and invites you to slide into bed. You nestle against the plush pillows and feel the weight of the day slowly melt away.

As Matt joins you under the covers, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. His touch is gentle yet possessive, a silent affirmation of his love for you. The room feels hushed, as if it holds its breath in reverence for the intimacy shared between two souls.

You close your eyes, letting the tranquility of the moment wash over you. The sound of your steady breaths fills the room, creating a soothing rhythm that lulls you closer to sleep.

The day before you leave is filled with eventful commotion as you invite some of your neighbors over for a small barbecue. You and Matt spend the morning setting up the backyard, draping string lights across the trees and arranging tables and chairs.

The aroma of grilled burgers and vegetables fills the air as the food sizzles on the barbecue. You decided to man the grill to give Matt a break from all the cooking he insisted on doing. The neighbors arrive one by one, carrying dishes to share. Laughter and conversation fill the backyard as everyone gathers around, sharing stories and exchanging smiles.

Another car begins to pull into your driveway, and you realize who it is before you see the two figures step out of the vehicle.

"No fucking way" You say as you turn to Matt who has a huge smile spread across his face.

"I called them last night when you went out to pick up dinner." He replies.

You start sprinting towards the car as Foggy steps out and walks around the car. Once he sees you running, he mutters an 'Oh shit' as you jump into his arms. He catches you and spins you a bit before setting you down. You give a gentler hug to Karen.

"I can't believe you guys drove all the way out here!" You say happily.

"We had to come see this house! Especially if we're invited here every summer." Karen says while lightly nudging your side.

Leading your friends to the picnic area, you introduce them to your neighbors and some old friends from high school. The backyard is filled with the joyful chatter of voices, as everyone embraces the sense of community and love that permeates the atmosphere.

As night falls and everyone leaves, the four of you gather around a crackling bonfire, its dancing flames illuminating the faces around you. Matt sits beside you, his hand entwined with yours, as you listen to Foggy telling one of his infamous stories. You all add in little quips to enhance the story as everyone listens and drinks.

The crackling sound of the flames blends with the soft hum of laughter, creating a harmonious symphony of friendship and love. As you look around at the faces illuminated by the fire's glow, you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

Gratitude for the unwavering support of your friends, who have stood by you through thick and thin. Gratitude for this beautiful home that has become a haven, a place of solace and happiness. And most of all, gratitude for the love that surrounds you, weaving its way through every moment shared.

As the night wears on and the fire begins to die down, you find yourself lost in a comfortable silence. The embers glow softly, casting a warm light that dances across your friends' faces. Karen leans her head on Foggy's shoulder, while Matt rests his chin on top of your head.

"What a great night, amongst friends." Foggy sighs.

"I'm really glad you guys came out here to see the house." You begin. "It's like this house was built for our family."

"You wouldn't have this house if it weren't for your dad." Matt reminds and you nod in agreement.

"To Tommy!" Foggy says while raising his beer can.

You smile as the rest of you raise your drinks and cheers to your dad. A tear rolls down your cheek, but Matt wipes it away before it's able to fall from your face.

"You know," Karen says, breaking the silence, "your dad would be so proud of you right now. Look at what you've built, what you've overcome. It's truly amazing."

The moment is bittersweet, as the memory of your father tugs at your heart. It's been years since he passed away, but the house stands as a testament to his hard work and love for his family, a symbol of the legacy he left behind.

As the night winds down, you and your friends gather up the empty beer cans and remnants of the barbecue feast. The fire has dwindled to mere embers, casting a soft glow upon the yard.

With a final round of goodnights, Foggy and Karen retreat to their respective rooms. You and Matt finish cleaning in the kitchen and make sure everything is put away before you all leave in the morning.

As you climb into bed, exhaustion weighs heavily on your eyelids. Matt wraps his arms around you, pulling you close and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. The warmth of his embrace soothes you, easing away the worries and stresses of the day.

"Thank you for everything," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He tightens his hold on you, his voice filled with affection. "I would do anything for you. You know that."

With a final sigh, you surrender to the gentle embrace of slumber, knowing that tomorrow will bring new adventures and challenges. But for now, in this haven of love and sanctuary, you find solace.

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wickedsrest-rp · 1 year

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Name: Bridie Fionnuala Dougherty Species: Faun Occupation: Owner of Tír na nÓg Age: 28 Years Old Played By: Grace Face Claim: Aisha Dee

"My parents totally knew when they named me that I was gonna be amazing. It’s in my initials! BFD- Big Freakin’ Deal!"

TW: Alcoholism

Bridie always loved music. It felt like it buzzed through every single fiber of her being. It would make sense, since she practically grew up in venues like The Grand Ole Opry in Nashville. The Dougherty family lived in an aos sí just outside of the city limits. It was far enough away that they were safe from the non-fae, but close enough to the city that they could go and have their fill of people enjoying themselves. And Nashville was a great spot for it. Bachelorette parties, bars, clubs, and concerts- the city had it all. And one of the city’s biggest acts was Fionn Dougherty. Bridie loved watching her father perform. The control he had over an audience was like nothing she’d ever seen before, and the frenzy he’d get them all whipped up into… They could feed for weeks on that energy alone. She knew from the time she was sat in the wings with her mother Oisin, she wanted to be just like her dad when she grew up.

Unfortunately, Bridie’s talents weren’t exactly musical in nature. She could sing well enough,but not well enough to sell out venues, and she couldn’t play an instrument to save her life. But her ear was her gift. Bridie could predict what songs would be hits with astounding accuracy. She simply attributed it to knowing what she liked. “And if I want to dance to it, then everyone is going to want to dance to it.” Being a young faun in a big city, she spent a lot of her evenings in nightclubs once she was old enough, and that’s when it hit her. She could do this. She could create a space where people would come, and listen to great music, dance until their feet fell off, drink, revel, and give her enough euphoria to feed off of for the rest of her days. It was foolproof!

Well. Almost foolproof.

There were a few problems. The main problem with owning a business is that you’re the one in charge. And while Bridie loved to party, she hated to be the boss. That was the major downfall of her first spot- a nightclub in New York she called The Avalon. She just did not want to be the one responsible for getting all the paperwork in order that she needed to have everything open by the books. It was stupid, in her opinion. Why the hell did they need a liquor license? It’s easy! You open the bottle, and you drink! It’s not hard! Needless to say, the place was shut down within a year. The second problem was that she’d unfortunately not picked the best location for a fae bar. Because across the street and two blocks down was a dingy little bar that was very popular with hunters passing through the Big Apple. Once they caught wind, Bridie knew it was time to skip town. Down on her investment and determined not to go home, she looked for a new spot that she could buy for cheap. She was going to try and do it right the second time.

She heard a rumor from a friend of a friend about a town in Maine. A town with plenty of fae, and plenty of unsuspecting mortals wandering in and out. And it just so happened that there was an empty venue available for incredibly cheap due to some silly rumor about the bathroom being haunted. Bridie bought it for a song, and opened up Wicked’s Rest’s hottest new nightclub, Tír na nÓg.

This time, she’ll have this thing in the bag.

Character Facts:

Personality: Colorful, adventurous, confident, fun-loving, friendly, careless, childish, impulsive, irresponsible, naïve

Both her parents work with music. Her father is a very popular singer in the Nashville music scene, and her mother toured for years as a dancer.

She can frequently be found not doing her actual job of managing her club and instead will be dj-ing. It’s the only way she can ensure everyone is having an amazing time.

When she says she listens to every genre of music, she means it.

In her unglamoured form, she has honey colored fur on goat legs, with little patches of white dotting her coat in irregular patterns, and curling horns that spiral back from her temples.

#alcoholism tw #retired

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masterofmunson · 3 years

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look after you (1)

TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam asks you to join him and Bucky on a mission in Madripoor. When you get injured, Bucky feels the need to remind you more than once that he’s supposed to look after you now that Steve’s gone.

Warnings: tfatws spoilers, language, violence, blood, grief, angst, major pining

Word Count: 6k+

Author’s Note: Here she is!! I’m really excited to see what you guys think! This is my first Bucky fic in AGES! I decided to make this into a mini series since this fic is so long haha. Please let me know what you think. Comments, reblogs, and asks are highly encouraged and appreciated! Enjoy!

You hadn’t seen Sam or Bucky in several weeks. You were still adjusting to life post-blip. It had been a long five years for you and just seconds for them. You were no longer the bright-eyed and bushy tailed recruit. You’d grown into your position amongst the established and experienced Avengers. Now, it meant nothing.

Tony’s gone. Steve’s dead, Natasha too. The Avengers had officially disbanded. You felt lost and confused, still blinded by your grief over losing them. You had nowhere to go, so you just floated from place to place as needed.

You were laying low and a shell of the person you once were. You had no one to look towards anymore. Bucky went his separate ways and got some sort of footing in New York City with the pardon he was given by the government since his return to the states. You checked in every now and then with him, but you didn’t want to slow down his progress so you distanced yourself from him.

You know he feels some sort of responsibility towards you. Steve did too, and you suppose now that he’s gone, Bucky feels the need to take his place. It doesn’t matter that you’re no longer the naive 23 year old he met in Berlin all those years ago. It doesn’t matter that there was something lingering between the two of you before he turned to ash. You’re a grown woman now and war and politics has hardened your soul.

He needs to move on from you. The version he has of you in his head is gone, dead. He wants a fresh start, and you can’t give it to him.

Sam checks in with you once in a while. He asks you how you’re doing and you respond the same each time. “Same shit, different day,” you laughed lightly.

He knows better than to ask you to join him on his missions with the military. You’re not in the right headspace to return to the field, least of all if it meant that you were representing the US government wherever the fight was.

Now that John Walker has the shield and has been branded the new Captain America, it gives you all the more reason to stay away. If he had so much as just breathed in your direction, you’d kill him and rip the shield from his grasp and return it to Sam.

You ignored all emails and phone calls that had to do with John Walker. He wanted your blessing on live television, as if that meant anything. Yes, you were close with Steve, but you’re not an original Avenger. You just caught his eye during training one day and he took you under his wing. John Walker just wanted to create a bridge between the two of you since Sam and Bucky were obviously out of the question.

You were the first person Sam called when he told you he was giving up the shield. You didn’t ask why. You knew he had his reasons and you respected him to accept that whatever the reasons were, they were good enough.

So, when Sam called in the middle of the night, you picked up the phone without a second thought. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sit up and fumble for the light on the nightstand beside you.

“Sam? You do realize it’s three in the morning, right?” you asked, yawning into your phone.

Sam curses in your ear and apologizes quietly. “Sorry. You would think with all this traveling, I’d remember time zones are a thing,” he laughed softly.

“What is it, Sam?”

“We’re in a bit of a tight spot. We could use your help.”

Your brows pinch together. “Who’s we, Sam?”

“Me and Barnes.”

Your heart jumps inside your throat. How the hell did Sam manage to rope Bucky into whatever he’s doing? The last you heard, Bucky wasn’t allowed to go on government missions until his therapist thought he made enough progress to do so. You know he’s nowhere near the progress he wants to be, so how is he with Sam?

“Jesus, Sam. You know he’s not in the right headspace to go on missions!” There’s a heavy pause between the two of you before you relent. “Where am I meeting you?”

“Latvia. I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

You hang up quickly and hurry out of bed. After so many years of getting up at odd hours for emergency missions and the like, you’re not surprised that Sam asked you to meet him in the middle of the night. You grab your duffle bag and stuff all your belongings back inside. You travel lightly, and now it definitely seemed to work out in your favor.

You’ve spent the last couple of weeks in a small town just outside of Helena, Montana. It’s nice and quiet and you’ve really taken the time to reflect on your life since things started going back to normal post-blip. The locals are nice and hospitable, and no one asks you about Steve, Tony, or what you thought of John Walker. You hope it had something to do with the fact that they didn’t know who you were. You certainly hoped that was the case. You’ve kept your head down and tried your best to blend in.

You go hiking quite frequently and take drives through the mountains. It’s nice and relaxing, a far cry from what you’re used to. You’ll definitely miss it, and you have second thoughts about meeting up with Sam, but you push them away. Steve abandoned you both, and you wouldn’t do that to him.

It takes you several hours to get to the closest international airport and by the time you arrive, the sun begins to rise in the distance. You hurry through the airport security and send Sam a quick update that you’re about to board your flight before you settle in your seat and fall back asleep.

....

You sleep through the entire flight. You blame it on your ability to sleep anywhere due to the number of missions you have under your belt. You’re wide awake when the plane lands and you’re quick to pull out your phone and send a message to Sam that you’ve made it safe and sound to Latvia.

Your legs are stiff and sore when you stand up for the first time when it’s time to leave. You pull your duffle bag from the overhead compartment and slowly make your way to the front. It takes you nearly an hour to get through customs and now you’re just anxiously waiting to see Sam.

When you see him waiting for you at the baggage claim area, you grin as your eyes meet. You hurry over to him and drop your duffle bag to the floor as he pulls you in for a hug. It’s warm and tight and it’s exactly what you need. Sam pulls away first and reaches for your bag, throwing an arm over your shoulder as you walk out of the airport to his car.

You stop walking when you notice two figures near a very fancy yellow car as you and Sam near them. Sam keeps walking and you take slow, tentative steps. You know one of the figures has to be Bucky, but Sam never mentioned a third person.

“Sam, I thought you said that it was just you and Bucky,” you said cautiously.

Sam stops in his tracks and lets out a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. It makes your heart race and you swallow the lump in your throat as they begin to come into focus as they near the two of you. “Y/n, before you get angry, I just need you to know that this wasn’t my idea. Believe me when I tell you that he is the last person we would ask for help,” Sam replied as his eyes went from you to the two people approaching.

“Who is he?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“Ah! Y/n, good to know that your flight went rather smoothly. It is good to see you again.”

No. There’s no way. You must be dreaming. Hemlut Zemo is not standing right in front of you. He is in prison. He is behind bars for the crimes he committed. The two men that you're closest to wouldn’t jailbreak someone as atrocious as Zemo. There has to be an explanation. It doesn’t make sense.

“What the fuck is Zemo doing out of prison?!” you hissed, looking between Bucky and Sam, demanding an explanation.

“Y/n, honey, I can explain, just please get in the car,” Bucky pleaded, reaching out to touch your hand.

You glare at him and take a step back. “Are you out of your mind, Bucky? You break him out of jail because you need him, is that it? Do you remember what he did to you, because I certainly do!”

Bucky frowns and lets out a deep and heavy sigh. He looks over at Sam. “Did you fill her in at all?”

“No!” you shouted. “I can speak for myself, James! Someone better start talking and tell me what the hell is going on!”

“We don’t really have time for this right now,” Zemo interrupts, “we really must be going. I’m sure Sam and James can fill you in in the car.”

You glare at the Sokovian terrorist and snap at him. “Shut your mouth, Zemo.”

He raises his hands up in surrender and takes a step back. Bucky towers over you and this time you let him take your hand. He squeezes it gently and pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly. You’re tense and fuming as he holds you.

His mouth finds the shell of your ear and despite the wave of anger flowing through your body, it sends a shiver down your spine. Bucky whispers, “I hate to say it, but Zemo’s right. We have to go. I’ll explain on the way, I promise.”

You huff childishly and turn your head away from him as he kisses your temple. “Fine. If he steps out of line, I’ll kill him.”

Bucky laughs and takes your hand and walks you to the car. “Get in line, honey. Sam and I have first dibs.”

You resist the urge to smile and Bucky opens the door for you as Sam tosses your bag in the trunk and climbs into the front seat. Bucky slides in beside you and he tells you everything.

He tells you about their first encounter with the Flag Smashers. He tells you about how the leader and a few of her followers have taken a newer version of the serum that runs through his veins. He tells you that she plans on giving the serum to more people to build an army and that you have to stop her.

It makes your heart stop. You hadn’t really been keeping tabs on the Flag Smashers. Now, looking back, you probably should have. There’s still a lot of unknown variables to account for and it looks like the boys are taking it one step at a time, and apparently it starts with a trip to Madripoor. Zemo chimes in every now and then as he drives and it makes your blood boil that you’re forced to listen to what he has to say. You hate that he has the upper hand and is keeping valuable information hostage. You want to strangle him.

After a while, Zemo pulls into a private airport. Bucky helps you out of the car and grabs your bag from the trunk as the four of you walk towards the jet just off the runway. You had no idea just how rich Zemo was. Now that he’s out of prison, for now at least, his arrogance returned back in full force in addition to his pompous attitude.

You board the plane in silence, ignoring every word coming out of the Baron’s mouth. You settle in the back of the plane and ignore Bucky’s stares as you look out the window. You’re too angry to engage in conversation. You don’t care that Zemo insults Steve’s legacy. He’s gone, dead, what do you care? Yes, you wanted Steve to be happy, but he abandoned you. He abandoned Sam and Bucky.

Zemo rambles on and on. “People like Steve become symbols, icons. Then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought,” he turns to address Bucky directly. “You remember that, right? As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?”

Silence fills the space and for a moment, you feel a reprieve. That was until Zemo mentioned the Winter Soldier.

“We can’t go into Madripoor as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

You immediately stand up and protest, storming to the front of the plane. “No. Absolutely not. I won’t let you use Bucky, not again. There has to be another way.”

Zemo clicks his tongue at you and shakes his head. A smug graces his features and you lung at him, wrapping your hands around his throat. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Bucky leaps to his feet and tears you off of Zemo, dragging you to the back of the plane behind the curtains to give the two of you an illusion of privacy. Your shoulders shake with rage and Bucky’s hands caress your face.

“You can’t be him. He’s not you anymore. You don’t have to do this, Bucky. Please,” you begged, clinging to his hands. “I can’t let Zemo control you again.”

Bucky’s touched with how protective you are over him. He pulls you closer and hugs you tightly against him. Your fingers grip the back of his shirt and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“Honey,” he whispered. “I have to. I have to do this so we can stop the Flag Smashers from getting the serum. It’s for the mission.”

You huffed against his chest. Now you’re really regretting your decision to help Sam. You would’ve said no if you had known that it meant watching Bucky turn into the Winter Soldier again, even if it wasn’t real.

You don’t know what to say. He won’t change his mind. Bucky’s just as stubborn as you are and he’ll do anything for the success of the mission, just like Steve did.

You pull away and return back to your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare into the back of Zemo’s plush leather seat. Bucky trails behind you and squeezes your shoulder. You shrug off his touch as he takes the empty seat next to yours.

“And, I’m afraid that where we’re going doesn’t take too kindly to women who are…. how do I put this…. strong willed,” Zemo said.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bucky barked, jumping to your defense just moments after you did the same for him.

“Selby will see Y/n as competition. We can’t have that happen. She’ll have to stay behind.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m just going to just sit here and do nothing,” you snapped. “I’m coming with. I don’t care if I have to pretend to be meek.”

Zemo turns to look at you. He’s challenging you. You both know it. He’s pushing your buttons and it’s working. He smirks and leans against the armchair. His eyebrows raise and he asks, “Even if it means pretending to be a prostitute?”

Your gaze doesn’t falter and you ignore both Sam’s and Bucky’s protests. It falls on deaf ears. You don’t care, as long as you’re with Sam and Bucky and they’re safe. “Yes,” you answered without a second thought. You’ve done worse things than pretend to be a sex worker. It would be a piece of cake.

Zemo grins, letting out a soft laugh. “It looks like you’ll be joining us after all then, Y/n.”

You scoff at him and look out the window. Bucky drags you from your seat once more and pulls you behind the curtain. You look away from him and he reaches to squeeze your hand.

“You don’t have to do this. You have nothing to prove,” he whispered, brushing the top of your palm with his warm and calloused fingers.

“You don’t either,” you mumbled back.

He smiles softly at your retort and pulls you into his arms. He holds you gently and cards his fingers through your hair. You hum quietly as he holds you.

“Touché, honey.”

There’s a beat of silence between the two of you before you lean back to meet his gaze. His blue eyes pierce through yours and it makes your heart race. You pull away and rub your palms against your thighs.

You disappear behind the curtain once more, leaving Bucky behind.

…

When you arrive in Madripoor, you’re dressed in an outfit that leaves little to the imagination. The dress has a plunging neckline that settles just below your naval. Your chest is barely covered and your boobs threaten to slip over the fabric. You’re dressed for the part, that’s for sure.

Zemo is the first one to look at you when you return from behind the curtain. He whistles at you and it makes your skin crawl.

Bucky shoves Zemo harshly and grips his chest tightly, snarling in his face. “Watch your mouth,” Bucky hissed, shoving him into one of the chairs.

He turns to look at you and you reach to squeeze his hand. You pull him away from Zemo and whisper softly, “It’s alright, Buck. Take a deep breath.”

He grits his teeth and shakes his head, and does what you ask. “I’ll kill him. If he does that again, I’ll kill him.”

You laugh softly and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I don’t doubt you will, Buck.”

The two of you trail behind Sam and Zemo as you leave the plane. A sleek black car is waiting just off the runway and you follow behind to the vehicle. When you settle into your spot in between Buck and Sam in the back, Zemo turns to look at the three of you.

“It’s imperative that we don’t break character, no matter what. If you do, we’re good as dead, understand?”

You scoff and roll your eyes as he looks towards you. “Crystal,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

He turns to face the front of the vehicle and silence fills the car.

Suddenly, a number of motorcycles surround the car as you drive into Low Town. you make sure to keep your eyes forward and Bucky reaches for the hand on your knee. He squeezes it tightly and you do the same.

Reality is now just setting in for you. This is the first mission that you’ve been on since Steve went back to the 40s, and since Tony died. It had been three long months since Tony saved the world and brought everyone back that was taken five years earlier. You know that three months isn’t long, but it still makes you nervous. You haven’t been training to keep things from going rusty. You had no desire to.

Bucky leans into you, his mouth near the shell of your ear. “You okay?”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah, just a bit nervous. I’m a little out of practice. This is my first mission since Steve left,” you mumbled back, squeezing his hand again to keep you grounded. He does the same in return.

“It’s alright. I have your back. I’ll protect you, promise.”

A small smile finds its way onto your face and you shake your head at him. “You know better than anyone else than to promise something like that before a mission, Buck. It’s bad luck,” you teased.

He laughs too and the car stops in what you guess is the downtown area of Low Town. You take a deep breath and Bucky does the same. You squeeze his hand one last time before his hand falls from your grasp. He opens the door and climbs out. You follow close behind and find your spot next to Sam. He gingerly wraps his arm around your waist as you walk into the Princess Bar.

Electronic music blasts through the speakers and the bass vibrates through your chest. You press against Sam as you push through people to get to the bar. The smell of drugs and alcohol is suffocating as you walk and ignore the stares sent your way. They’re not staring at you, but Bucky, who walks just a step behind you like a looming shadow.

“Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?” Zemo asked Bucky in Russian.

It makes your blood boil and Sam squeezes your waist tightly, a reminder that you must not break character. You hate it. You hate that Bucky has to pretend to be the person he’s worked so hard to distance himself from. Bucky is not him. The Winter Soldier doesn’t exist anymore. That part of him is gone, dead. You only hope that Bucky reminds himself that the Winter Soldier isn’t him anymore as he pretends just feet behind you.

You stand in front of the bar counter as the bartender approaches. You keep your mouth shut as Zemo exchanges words with the man, briefly bringing Sam, the Smiling Tiger, into the conversation. Your eyes find Bucky’s and your heart jumps inside your throat. His eyes are cold and void of any emotion. He’s stoic and brooding. He’s fallen into character perfectly and it scares you to think that all the progress he’s made over the years has been destroyed in this moment. For his sake, you hope not.

You tear your eyes away from Bucky at the feeling of Sam’s hand on the curve of your ass. You watch him carefully as he takes a shot. The bartender moves on and you let out a careful breath.

A man grasps at Zemo’s shoulder and sneers at him. He looks over at Bucky as Zemo asks to see Selby before he walks away. Another man approaches Zemo from behind and he speaks in Russian once more. “Winter Soldier, attack.”

You hold your breath in anticipation as the unsuspecting man rests his hand on Zemo’s shoulder. You want to reach out and touch Bucky, tell him that he doesn’t have to, that the two of you still have time to make a run for it, but you don’t. You can’t. Zemo would probably try and kill you if you interfere and it’s the last thing you need.

Bucky stalks over to him with two long strides, and rips the man’s hand from Zemo’s shoulder. He twists his wrist back and throws him to the ground. Another man swings at Bucky and he stops it with ease. He punches his back and kicks him against another crowny. As another man attempts to punch and kick at Bucky. He uses his metal arm and momentum to take each of them out.

“It doesn’t take much for him to fall back into form,” Zemo smirked, leaning over to look at you and Sam.

“Shut your mouth,” you hissed between your teeth as you watched Bucky.

Bucky grabs one of the men by the throat and slams him into the counter. Guns cock all around you as you look around the room. Your heart is inside your throat and there’s ringing in your ears. You reach to grab Bucky’s arm, but Sam beats you to it.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us,” Zemo whispered. “Well done, soldier.”

Sam lets go of his arm and takes a step back, pulling you with him. He squeezes your hip tightly as you watch Bucky’s grip fall from the man’s throat.

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender said.

Zemo moves to follow him and you resist the urge to reach out and touch Bucky. Sam pulls you along and you walk in silence down a number of hallways. The music fades into the background and you’re squeezing Sam’s hand like your life depends on it.

A number of men on Selby’s security detail whistle as you walk by. You bite your tongue and resist the urge to snap their necks. The four of you wait at the door at the end of the hall for several seconds before it opens. You walk inside and Zemo takes you from Sam’s side. Your jaw ticks as he guides you to the empty sofa. His hand settles on your thigh and you tense under his touch.

Zemo and Selby negotiate for information. All you need to know is who created the serum and where they are. That’s it. Zemo needs to stick to the plan.

Zemo stands up from his spot next to you. “Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum, and I give you him…. along with the code words to control him,” Zemo stands behind Bucky, his hand resting on his shoulder. He’s silent and obedient, the perfect encapsulation of who he had been for the last 80 years.

There wasn’t a discussion over what the offer would be when you were on the plane from Latvia. You just assumed Zemo would figure a way out of it, he was clever enough to do it before. You hadn’t thought that he would actually use the Winter Soldier to his benefit outside of protection. How naive of you.

Bucky’s eyes are dark and he stares straight ahead as Zemo caresses his chin. He doesn’t flinch or react. He’s playing the Winter Soldier perfectly and you hate every second. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you start to taste blood.

“He will do anything you want.”

Selby grins, leaning back in her spot on the couch opposite of you. She tells him what you need to know. She nears Sam and then the worst happens, his phone begins to ring.

She tells him to answer it and your fingers squeeze into the leather couch. Your heart races and for the first time since you walked into the bar, Bucky’s eyes find yours. You know he can see your panic.

Things are fine momentarily. Sam’s trying his best to stay in character and you know it’s not working as well as he’d like. You hold your breath and your panic settles in at the mention of Sam’s name coming from Sarah.

“Kill them—”

Your eyes widen in horror as a bullet pierces through the glass window in front of you and lodges into Selby’s throat, killing her instantly. The act is over.

You leap to your feet and pull the tactical knife that you hid in your dress out from underneath you. You slice the knife across your attacker’s arm. Bucky kicks him into the wall and grabs you by the arm.

You run as fast as you can out the bar and through the streets of Madripoor. You dodge bullets and fight off others that attack you with knives.

You do well, all things considered with what you’re dressed in. You dig your heel into the boot of your attacker, throwing them off balance. You kick their leg out from underneath them and Sam knocks them unconscious.

Bucky, of course, is doing just fine on his own. You run over to help. You disarm the man closer to you and use the butt of the gun to knock him out.

You barely have time to register the man creeping up behind Bucky. His arm is outstretched with a gun in his hand. Bucky has no clue.

“Bucky!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, running as fast as you can towards him.

He turns to look at you as you use your whole body to shove him aside as the gun goes off.

Time stands still.

You fall to the ground in a daze as the bullet rips through your shoulder. Your eyes stare up into the night sky as it takes you a moment to realize that you’d just been shot.

You try to sit up and get back on your feet. You don’t have time to worry about your wound. You need to get the hell out of Low Town.

Bucky nearly drags you off the ground and you run. You run as fast as you can despite the bullet in your shoulder.

“We need to get out of here!” Bucky shouted, inspecting your wound.

A shadowy figure approaches and Bucky blocks you from view. The hood drops and you peer over Bucky’s shoulder. You don’t have time to be surprised that Sharon is the one standing in front of you.

“Sharon? What are you doing here?” Sam asked.

“We don’t have time for that!” Bucky snapped. “Sharon, please. You gotta help us. Y/n’s been shot.”

She nods and motions for you to follow her. She stops in front of a beautiful blue car and Bucky guides you into the car, pressing his metal hand against your shoulder to stop the bleeding. You ignore Sam and Bucky’s bickering as they yell at you for getting shot. You don’t have the energy to respond.

Sharon races across town and pulls up to a very fancy building. Sharon jumps out and opens the door for Bucky. His arm holds your torso and your uninjured arm is thrown over his shoulder as you walk inside. You gather into the elevator as it takes you to the top floor.

Your entire body goes numb and Bucky guides you to the kitchen counter. Sharon briefly disappears before returning with a heavy duty first aid kit.

“Do you have tequila?” you asked her as Bucky rummaged through the bag for the correct supplies. Sharon laughs softly before grabbing a bottle of tequila from her liquor cabinet. You take a generous sip and the liquid burns your throat.

Bucky inspects the bullet wound carefully. Thankfully it was a through and through. He doesn’t have to fish the bullet out. He works quickly and you grit your teeth as he stitches the wound close on both sides of your shoulder.

The pain lessened to a dull throb now that he’s finished. He cleans the excess blood off your skin before gently placing your arm in a sling.

“Why did you do that, Y/n?” Bucky chastised you, shaking his head in disappointment. “I could’ve taken care of him.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at him. “I don’t even get a thank you for saving your ass? You were vulnerable, I did the right thing.”

He sighs and you look away. Your eyes find Sharon’s. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

She nods and disappears down the hall to her bedroom. Silence fills the room and Sam takes his turn to reprimand you. You ignore him entirely and take another large swig of tequila.

Sharon returns moments later with a pair of clean clothes. You thank her quietly and she points you in the direction of one of the guest bedrooms. You hop off the counter and ignore Bucky’s protests and calls of your name.

You huffed in frustration as you limped towards one of Sharon’s guest bedrooms. You had enough of Sam and Bucky yelling at you for your recklessness, especially Bucky. You’re exhausted and all you want to do is sleep.

You did what you thought was right. You did what Steve would’ve done. You had Bucky’s back. Isn’t that what mattered? Sure, you got shot in the shoulder, but it isn’t something you haven’t done before. You have the scars to prove it.

“Stop running away from me! We’re not done talking about this!” Bucky yelled after you, hot on your heels into the bedroom. “What were you thinking?”

You’re sick of Bucky questioning you. You’re not a child and you’re not the bright eyed recruit he thinks you still are. You did what was right in the heat of the moment. You don’t regret it. You’d do it all over again if it meant that he was safe.

“Stop treating me like a child, James! I’m not Steve’s recruit anymore! I’m a grown woman,” you shouted back at him. Your shoulders shake and you glare at him. “I know you still think I’m that naive 25 year old, but that’s not me anymore. The last five years may have been five seconds to you, but they weren’t to me. Accept the fact that I did what I thought was right.”

“It was reckless!”

“Steve would’ve done it!” you bit back.

“This isn’t about Steve!” he argued.

You laugh bitterly and shake your head. He doesn’t see it. He doesn’t see what you see. You know he sees you as his responsibility now that Steve’s gone. He feels an obligation to look after you because Steve did. You have a part of Steve with you. Bucky’s clinging to any last remains of Steve, and that includes you.

“Isn’t it though? You feel like you have a responsibility to protect me, to look after me. Why? It’s because Steve did and now that he’s gone, you feel like you have to replace him!”

The silence that fills the room suffocates you. Your heart races with anger. You want Bucky to leave you alone. You didn’t ask for this. Sam needed your help, and when you provided it, you got yelled at for it. Now you just want to go home.

You turn your back to Bucky and pull the pants that Sharon gave you up your legs before discarding the dress in the corner of the room. You don’t care if Bucky sees all the scars that litter your backside. Maybe then he would understand that you’ve always done what’s best for the mission, even if that meant getting hurt. You throw the sweatshirt over your head and turn to look at Bucky again.

“Do you have anything else to say to me? Are you going to try and deny it?”

Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re one of the only people I have left that have a connection to Steve.”

Another bitter laugh escapes your mouth. He doesn’t understand. “He abandoned me, James! He abandoned us. Steve’s gone. You can’t hold on to him anymore. You don’t have to do anything Steve did. You have nothing to prove to me, I promise. I don’t need you to replace Steve. I need you, Buck. You’re the one that’s here with me, not Steve.”

Tears threaten to spill over your cheeks and you look away from him. The silence is deafening and Bucky moves to take you in his arms. He holds you against his chest and cards his fingers through your hair. You cry against his chest and cling to his henley. He gently guides you to the bed and sits down with you in his lap.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispered, rubbing your back. “You’re right. It just scared me. I don’t think I can handle losing you too. I’m sorry.”

You pull away to look at him with your tear stained cheeks and he carefully wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb. You blink away the remaining tears and lean into his touch. “It’s okay, Buck. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

You rest your forehead against his and breathe him in. His metal hand rubs circles against your back and it sends shivers down your spine. He holds you carefully and no words are exchanged. Your eyes flicker to his lips and your heart thunders against your chest.

There’s a soft knock at the door and you pull your body off of Bucky’s. You sit beside him as Sam pokes his head inside the room. “Is everything okay?” he asked, looking between the two of you.

You look over at Bucky and then back to Sam. You smile and nod slowly. “Everything’s perfect, Sam.”

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes imagines #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #Bucky imagines #tfatws #tfatws x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #Sebastian stan imagines #sebastian x reader #sebastian imagine #my writing

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volturiwolf · 3 years

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Soulmates - A Demetri Volturi x Reader Imagine

A/N: This is the first imagine I finished and uploaded, and it came quite unexpectedly while talking with @volturidoll13 who suggested a Demetri Volturi one-shot where the reader would follow Bella and Alice to Italy and would accidentally say “wish he’d choke ME” out loud (see my post for reference). So, here it is. Also, I’m sorry if something doesn’t make sense. English is not my first langage. Enjoy :)

No of Words: 5749

Mentions of: Swear Language, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Dying/Death, Killings, Self-doubt, Self-consciousness, Kinky Choking, Sexual Arousal

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I think I had enough of Bella. No, I know I've had enough of her. She may be my best friend, the one who truly understood me the moment I stepped foot in Forks High School, beginning of last year, but this was just too much.

I have spent countless hours trying to support her when Edward Cullen left her, 5 months ago. I was there to be her emotional support, and even spent time with Jacob Black, an old friend of Bella's, who stayed at the Quileute reservation.

Jacob seemed kind of polite, although his attempts to flirt with Bella whenever he could were cringy, to say the least. But I supported her then too, trying to be sort of the third wheel / the one who tried to show Jacob she wasn't really interested in him that way.

His friends, Embry and Quil, were as nice and polite as they were beautiful. When Embry abandoned Jacob and Quil, Bella and I were there to support him. When Jacob abandoned Bella, I was there to support her.

Even when Bella was sad, angry and desperate to know what happened to Jacob, I was there to calm her down. I was there when she went to see him and he turned her away. I was there when she slapped Paul in the face. I was there when he turned into a huge wolf, and I couldn't help but scream.

Jacob explained everything about the wolves to both Bella and I. He told us how it's part of their DNA; how they are meant to protect the tribe from dangerous outsiders; how the metamorphosis from human to wolf can be somehow controlled over time, with practice and persistence. THAT I could understand.

What I couldn't understand was how vampires existed in this world! It wasn't Bella the one to reveal that secret to me, rather Alice, Edward's sister. Apparently, she saw Bella dying, the day she supposedly went cliff-diving, which I told her not to, having a severe fear of heights myself.

Bella took the risk, and if it weren't for Jacob, she would most likely be dead by now. That's what Alice said she "saw" - she explained to my incapable self that, as a vampire, she had a gift, the gift of predicting the future, based on others' decisions.

All this information was overwhelming me. I could swallow the harsh reality of wolves existing, but vampires, too? It seemed too much for me in such a short period of time.

Alice quickly explained some basics to me, like the fact that the Cullens were vegetarians, but the majority of their kind fed on human blood, as well as the fact that they even had a sort-of-government of vampires, residing in Italy, the Volturi.

She then turned to Bella to scold her about her recklessness and how she was prone to "life-threatening idiocy". I couldn't agree more with the short brunette right now. Bella has been nothing but reckless the last few weeks, and she was putting her life in danger for no reason.

They were talking about Edward or whatever, but I wasn't paying any particular attention until Jacob showed up. I decided to give them some space to talk, and Alice followed behind me, stepping out of the house.

Her face was a mix of disgust and worry, not paying any particular attention to me, probably trying to hear Bella and Jacob's conversation from the kitchen. After a minute or two, I heard her taking a sharp breath, her eyes fixating on nothing in particular; they were just staring ahead of her.

She took a sharp breath, as she regained consciousness, stepping quickly into the house. She walked in quite wide and quick strides, considering her miniature figure, and, though taller than her, I had some trouble following behind her.

She ran directly to the kitchen. "Bella. Bella, it's Edward. He thinks you're dead. Rosalie told him why I came here."

They both looked at Jacob; Bella practically screaming to his face, accusing him of not giving her the telephone to speak with Edward herself.

"Bella, he's going to the Volturi. He wants to die, too." The small brunette continued.

Within a minute, Bella made her decision: she was going to Italy to save her ex-lover. She promised us that she would just make sure he lived, and then, she would go back to her "boring" life.

Alice ran outside, starting her car immediately, as Bella was followed closely by Jacob, who tried to convince her not to go, pleading with her, all in vain. Bella was as stubborn as she could get, and nobody could change her mind.

I turned to Jacob, without really thinking about my next words. "Don't worry. I'll go with her. I'll make sure she's back safe, okay?"

All Jacob could do is nod at me, though his face was full of concern, frustration, and he was clearly distraught by Bella's decision to leave him and save Edward. As if all this time she, Jacob and, sometimes, I spent time together meant nothing to her.

I jumped in the back seat of the car, not waiting for either Bella's, or Alice's approval. I knew it would be a huge risk for me to go to the vampires' lair, but I also knew that Bella could use all the emotional support she could get.

As much as I hated Edward for what he did and said to her, I knew that he was everything to her, like her own little haven. Her own little oasis, which I guess felt more like a tundra, compared to Jacob's flaming hot desert. I rolled my eyes at my embarrassing thoughts, but I assumed that's how she thought of them.

The drive to the airport felt like a ton of weight crushing my shoulders. I had no place to follow them to Italy, as it was truly none of my business. But I promised Jacob, and though Bella could make me so frustrated with her lack of self-confidence and self-respect, I liked her company a lot, and I needed to make sure she was alive and safe.

In the couple of months that she came out of her apathetic state, we reconnected again, reminiscing about our unorthodox friendship, both of us being new to the town, shy and not particularly sociable.

However, Bella was the ideal friend to keep you grounded and connected with reality, which I, sometimes, had trouble with; my mind was running wild and free most of the time, while my mouth was staying shut.

So, I was willing to go across the ocean for her, to an unknown place, in a castle full of bloodsucking vampires. I wasn't pleased, but I was willing. Willing to help her save her stupid ex-boyfriend, and hopefully not get killed in the process.

During the flights, Alice tried, more or less, to explain the dynamics of the vampire world; the Volturi, being this sort of government-slash-royalty of the vampire kind, were tasked with imposing their laws over the other vampires. Their most important law? Don't expose your existence to humans, unless you want to die. Well, there goes that!

Alice had already talked to me about their kind; Bella knew through her association with both Edward and the rest of the Cullen family. The chances of any of us making out of there alive seemed slim to none. I was literally flying towards my death. Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool.

I was trying to calm down my nerves, which did not work at all, when all I could think about were those Italian vampires. Alice told me that the vampire Kings, especially Aro, who seemed to be their leader, were interested in collecting talented vampires.

So, it was pretty obvious that he would, most likely, get rid of Bella and myself, and would gladly keep Alice and Edward, who, as Alice told me, has the gift of reading people’s minds. So, we were actually doing that Aro guy a favor there; bring him the “talents” and get rid of the “intruders”, the humans. Great. Just, great.

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We were currently on our way to Volterra. Alice had stolen a yellow Porsche from the airport’s parking lot, which neither Bella, nor I opposed to, for now. It was a fast way to get to Volterra, plus I’ve never actually been in a Porsche, and I felt pretty amazing. Alice seemed like a skillful driver, and drove pretty fast, which I liked, especially if I was the one driving. Bella and Alice’s conversation interrupted my thoughts.

“What? What do you see?”

“They refused him.” That was good, right?

“So..?” Bella knew there was something else behind Alice’s vision.

“He’s gonna make a scene. Show himself to the humans.” Why the hell, Edward?!

“No! When?”

“He’s gonna wait until noon, when the sun’s at its highest.” Bella seemed more and more worried and anxious, and I heard her heavy breath, which seemed like she was starting to go on panic mode. I stroked her shoulders lightly, trying to calm her down. As much as she deserved to get worried, given the events that led us here, this was not the time to panic.

“There’s Volterra.” Alice pointed to her left, at a beautiful, picturesque town that looked as if it had jumped out of the Renaissance era. The scenery of Tuscany was beautiful, and it had always been part of my bucket list to travel across Tuscany in a small rental car. That was not how I pictured that trip, or how I pictured my last day on Earth.

Alice was running through the city’s narrow streets by now, never stopping to honk at people passing by, who moved left and right, trying to avoid the “crazy driver who decided it was a good idea to drive a sports car through such a city’s small, narrow, occupied streets”; at least, that’s how I saw it.

Alice did not back down, and continued driving skillfully through the city’s small arteries. It was odd though, the fact that everyone around us was wearing red capes, red clothes, everything was red. Bella questioned it out loud and Alice informed us that today was the celebration of Saint Marcus’ Day, the day that the Saint expelled all vampires from the town. The irony.

Bella was experiencing a full on panic attack, as we were only 5 minutes away from Edward’s shenanigans. Theoretically, everything was in order, until the moment we were stopped by the local police who refused to let us go any farther. Bella opened her door. She would go on foot, to find Edward before he exposed himself. Alice would park the car somewhere outside of the town’s walls, and we’d then go and find them.

I turned around my seat, to watch Bella running through the streets, to the plaza where the clock tower, which Edward was going to expose himself from, was located. Alice left the car outside of the walls, but still, close enough to have easy access.

For me, it was quite easy to walk around now, as my skin was not sparkling like Alice’s was. Alice had to wrap herself around a coat, a long, thick scarf and gloves, and wear sunglasses to protect her identity even more. I was walking in the middle of the streets, watching around carefully, as good as my human eyes could see, trying to help Alice go unnoticed, as she pushed herself more towards the buildings’ walls, trying to avoid the sunlight.

That went on for a while, until we were close enough to the clock tower, where Alice took my hand on hers and, with long strides, walked towards the main entrance, which was, thankfully, shaded enough for her to walk through.

She must have heard the conversation inside the building, as the moment we stepped in - Alice breaking the lock that kept the door momentarily closed, she started talking to the others, who I mistook as being Bella and Edward. As another sign of my unluckiness in life, she was actually addressing two other vampires, a tall brunette and a shorter blond.

They both looked gorgeous, but they could probably kill me as easily as it was for me to blink. I instantly became stiff, and Alice must have felt it, but she kept on holding my hand, trying to play it cool in front of the others, while trying to get rid of her disguise with her free hand at the same time.

“Come on, guys. It’s a festival. You wouldn’t want to make a scene.” She tried to play it nice and cool, though I knew she was just as worried being here as the rest of us.

“We wouldn’t.” The brunette vampire responded, now looking at me, who, by now, I have lost all my confidence in coming to Italy to help Bella.

I caught the blond vampire looking me up and down my body, and felt rather self-conscious. I didn’t have the best relationship with my own body and my own self; I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror, most of the time. So, I made up for what I lacked in self-confidence with sarcasm, bad humor, honesty and snarky remarks. I would be really going off of him right now, if I wasn’t shaking.

Though beautiful, the blond vampire also scared me, just as much as his brunette partner. I stared back at him, looking at his confident stance, one hand behind his back, and a smirk across his face.

When my (Y/E/C) eyes met with his red ones, I started shivering even more, holding on Alice tighter than before. I felt my heart beating faster, my breath became both sharper and deeper, and I felt as if I would cry, right then and there, in front of everyone. I saw the blond becoming a bit stiff, his jaw clenching, swallowing deeply, but he still wouldn’t take his eyes off of me.

Alice and Edward exchanged some looks, as if they knew what was happening, but chose to not tell anyone else. The scene in front of me was interrupted by the clicks of heeled shoes, and a blonde girl came into our view.

“Enough.” Her voice was stern, and her stance was stoic as she came closer to us.

“Jane.” Edward recognised her and lowered his head towards the ground. He didn’t seem scared before, when it was just the two vampires in front of us, but the small woman now seemed to have him terrified.

“Aro sent me to see what was taking so long.” She looked between the two vampires of her coven, as if she was criticizing them for their incompetence to bring us all before Aro. Then, she turned to us, looking us straight in our eyes, or rather our souls, probably to warn and scare us at the same time, before walking back to where she came from.

Alice turned towards Bella and I, the only humans there, who clearly looked more terrified than she and Edward did. “Just do as she says.” She simply said and we followed behind the girl, with the other two vampires closely behind us.

The blond one was so close to me, I could feel the coldness radiating off his body, making me shiver. The brunette gave Edward the red robe I didn’t notice he was holding before, probably to cover himself in front of the Kings. The blonde girl moved between Bella and Edward, and Alice and I. Edward was trying to comfort Bella but I couldn’t exactly make out what they were saying, my mind making all shorts of scenarios about how the vampires would kill me and the others. The more I thought about it, the more I was shriveling on Alice’s side.

We reached an elevator - I never thought vampires used elevators, but maybe it was for the humans around? The brunette and the blond entered first, as the blond turned around to stare at us, turning his gaze at me afterwards, before fully stepping in. Then, it was time for Edward and Bella to get in, followed by Alice and I. The blonde girl stepped in last, before the elevator’s doors closed shut.

The elevator music, an operetta, was supposed to calm peoples’ nerves. Yet, in this tight box, it had the opposite effect. Surrounded by vampires, vegetarian and non, the music was just creeping me out.

The fact that the blond vampire was merely two inches away from me was making my knees weak and my heart pounding, though I, myself, didn’t even know if my own body was reacting out of fear or attraction towards the blond vampire. I felt him leaning closer to me and barely heard him sniff around, but I clearly saw Alice turning her head around and giving him death stares, to which he retrieved back to his original position.

The elevator stopped and we all stepped out. We walked past a receptionist’s desk, the woman standing up, smiling and wishing us a good afternoon - based on the few Italian that I knew. From what Bella and Edward said, the receptionist was a human, wishing to become a vampire, like the others.

“And so she will be.” Demetri smirked, looking at me, who I still haven't abandoned Alice’s hand.

“Or dessert.” Jane interrupted, and I felt myself losing consciousness for a split second, before I felt the blond vampire grabbing my arm to stabilize me. His hand was cold and his grip tight on me, not leaving me even after I looked at him with wide eyes. He just smiled and continued walking ahead.

Jane opened the doors in front of her, leading us to a massive room, made out of marble, and decorated with Roman columns and scriptures on the walls. Surprisingly, it was well-lit and bright, compared to the dark halls that we passed through just a minute ago.

“Sister. Send you out to get one and you bring back two. And two halves. Such a clever girl.” A brunette boy, a bit taller than Jane, called towards her, as she walked by his side.

The blond vampire let me go and walk farther into the room, still holding Alice’s hand like I was holding on her for dear life. The blond vampire now stood a few feet behind us, next to the tall brunette one.

A black-haired vampire, who seemed a bit too excited, started walking towards us. “What a happy surprise! Bella is alive after all. Isn’t that wonderful. I love a happy ending. They are so rare.” He was talking with fake happiness in his face, as if he was reading from a script, grabbing Edward’s hand in the process.

“La tua cantante.” Your singer. The vampire seemed to know how much Edward craved Bella’s blood, and questioned how Edward could do so easily.

“Aro can read every thought I’ve ever had with one touch.” Well, that explained a lot. And now I placed who Aro was within the Volturi.

I now learned more about Edward’s gift, which was more similar to Aro’s than anyone else’s, but he couldn’t actually read Bella’s thoughts. Aro requested if he could test his own gift on Bella, probably hoping that he could read her thoughts and brag about it. But when Bella offered her hand, which he took too willingly, his face was unreadable and then, disappointed and angry, not being able to read her either.

Then, he turned towards me, still by Alice’s side. His red eyes were cold and hostile, and his face uninviting. I felt small and vulnerable, exposed, in front of his critical gaze.

“Dear (Y/N), excuse me for the waiting. Edward has presented me a very..intriguing image of you. Could you offer me your hand? I would like to get to know you, as well.”

My lips were trembling, not being able to say a word, and my eyes were glistening. Please, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry. I knew that whatever Edward had shown him I couldn’t avoid. So, I took a step forward, leaving Alice’s hand and extending the other one towards Aro. I felt a breeze behind me, as Demetri came to stand on my right side, looking closely between Aro and I.

The mind reader took my hand between his hands, and I felt my thoughts being examined and tossed around my head, like a small whisper trying to cast a spell on me. The vampire looked at me, deep in the eyes, and his face was filled with fascination for whatever he saw inside my head.

“Fascinating, indeed, dear. Your mind is just filled with thoughts and images, though they are not very distinct. You are not an easy book to read. I still haven’t figured out who you really are. Although…”. He looked at the vampire standing beside me, motioning for him to give him his hand.

The blond obeyed his master. Did he have any other choice? Probably not. Aro took the blond’s hand, and his wicked, sick smile came back.

“Oh, this suddenly became even better than I would have expected.” He turned towards the vampire sitting on the throne, looking sad. Marcus? The vampire in question nodded, and Aro turned around in an almost theatrical move, with open arms, for everyone to see.

“It seems that our dear Demetri has finally found his mate in (Y/N). I’m so happy for the two of you!” His face was smiling, but his voice sounded as fake as ever.

I didn’t know what “mates” meant. Alice didn’t have enough time to explain every “vampire term” to me, so I was clueless regarding this part. The blond, who I now knew as Demetri, must have seen the confusion in my face, as he leaned slightly towards me and whispered “Soulmates” in my ear. My eyes widened and he giggled lightly.

Whether it was how close he came near me, or his giggle, or the fact that we were “soulmates”, my heart responded immediately, thumbing faster in my chest, and I felt my cheeks burn - I was clearly blushing in front of everyone, as if I couldn’t be any more awkward than I was before.

Aro interrupted my embarrassment, as he turned once again towards Bella, wanting to test if she was immune to the others’ gifts as well. He turned towards the blonde girl, Jane, asking her basically to show off her own gift. Edward ran forward to stop whatever it was going to happen, only to end up in pain, writhing in an inaudible pain, as Bella was practically screaming to stop.

I honestly didn’t mind Edward suffering, even if it was for a few seconds, considering that Bella had it worse for over 5 months. He finally dropped to the floor, as Alice ran to his side, and the blonde girl’s brother ran to grab Bella, to stop her from going by her lover’s side.

I had no idea what was happening. I was just looking around, shocked and scared, as all these unfamiliar things were taking place in front of my untrained eyes. I felt a hand stroking my arm up and down. I turned around to see Demetri smiling slightly at me, trying to calm me down. I sighed a bit and felt my heart slightly at ease.

That was until the Kings decided that Bella was a liability - I wasn’t? - and Aro called out for Felix. I turned around and saw the tall brunette smiling evilly, while the shorter brunette turned Bella around and left her there, exposed, in front of the giant. Edward seemed to know what it would be happening, as he immediately stood up and ran by Bella’s side to protect her.

He immediately ran forward, attacking the tall brunette, and knocking him down. Alice ran towards Edward to help him out, but she was immediately stopped by Demetri, who I didn’t notice had left my side, grabbing her by her neck and immobilizing her, dragging her away from ever reaching her brother.

“Alec!” Demetri shouted towards the brunette boy, who had just left Bella at Felix’s mercy, pointing towards me with his eyes. The boy, Alec, came by my side, and practically dragged me farther from the scene that took place in front of me. His grip was a bit too much as he squeezed my arm, making me slightly cry in pain. Demetri growled at him, and Alec’s grip loosened significantly, but he still kept his hand on my arm.

Felix was pissed by now, as he immediately started fighting Edward, pushing and slamming him around the room. However, I couldn’t focus my gaze on them; not because they were fast, but because I was focused on watching Demetri, and how he was still holding on Alice’s neck tightly, never letting her go.

Watching Demetri’s hand around Alice’s neck should have made me feel appalled and sorry for the small brunette girl, but it didn’t. On the contrary, I felt rather aroused, watching his strong hand wrapped around the brunette’s neck.

Honestly, I felt a wave of jealousy and annoyance hitting me. That should have been me! Only I was worthy to be touched by this sort of demon who masked his true identity with the facade of an angel. It should be me! I couldn’t help myself, my jealousy building up inside me.

“Wish he’d choke ME!” I told myself, getting more frustrated by the minute.

“Patience, cara mia. All in due time.” Demetri smirked at me. I did not realise I said that out loud, until Alec started snorting beside me, clearly laughing cheekily, and Felix started bursting in laughter, his grip tight on Edward’s jaw by now.

I had embarrassed myself in a room full of vampires once again, the majority of them being part of the Volturi coven. If the Earth opened in half and swallowed me, I would pretty much welcome it at that point.

Bella brought me back to reality, as she was practically screaming, begging the vampires to let go of Edward, as she looked clearly distraught and upset. She even offered herself instead of Edward! Why, Bella? Just why? I have understood by now that they were mates and they’d do anything for each other, but she would sacrifice her own life for Edward?! That didn’t make sense to me.

Aro seemed to agree with me, but he thought more of the “soulless monster” perspective, while I thought more of Edward’s character, and how much his absence had scarred Bella. Alice told me, on our way here, that he thought he was doing everything to keep her away just to protect her, that being close to him put her in danger. But, from my own experience with Bella, she was suffering more away from him than he thought she would.

Aro looked disappointed between Edward and Bella, wishing he would give her immortality, which he did not seem willing to do. Aro moved menacingly towards the terrified girl, prepared to end her life. I fell forwards, attempting to reach her, to move in between them, but Alec’s grip tightened, keeping me back, both of his hands on my arms now. Aro was basically licking his lips, when, suddenly, Alice stopped him.

The small brunette confirmed that Bella would become a vampire like them, and that she would even be the one to change her, as she saw in her vision. Aro called her forward, and Demetri let her walk towards his Master.

He then moved towards Alec and I, replacing the brunette boy, but, instead of grabbing my arms like Alec did, he embraced me tightly, not letting me move away from my position. His cold embrace sent shivers down my spine, but, surprisingly, I let myself relax in his arms, feeling safe, and like that was where I belonged. I felt him smiling and relaxing, as well.

Aro seemed pleased with whatever Alice had shown him, and intrigued by her own gift of predicting the future. Alice had told me that her gift was subjected to the decisions people made, and the future could just change at any point. However, if Aro believed that her vision would eventually come true, we had no reason to tell him otherwise.

Aro turned to Bella. “Your gifts will make for an intriguing immortal.” He whispered as he touched her face, Bella clearly feeling uncomfortable under his touch. I would, too - Aro seemed creepy in his own way, his behavior and movements just as unpredictable.

He then told us to leave, and prepare for Bella’s transformation, and Felix let go of Edward. Marcus told everyone that a woman named Heidi would be coming soon and thanked us “for the visit”, as Aro said his goodbyes. Demetri walked towards the exit, me still in his arms. Edward grabbed Bella by her hand and Alice followed them behind.

As we were walking through the corridor, a beautiful woman walked past us, many people - they looked like tourists - following behind her. She had long, wavy brown hair and purple eyes, which could only mean that she was most likely wearing blue contacts over her red eyes. Her aura was full of confidence and power; she knew what she was doing and she took her job seriously.

“Nice fishing, Heidi.” I heard Demetri addressing the woman from behind me. So, that was the Heidi Marcus was referring to. Wait.. Nice..what?

“Yes, they do look rather juicy.” The beautiful woman replied, eyeing between Bella and I, as she continued leading the tourists down the hallway.

Demetri must have seen her reaction, as he brought me closer to him. I was in shock, and started trembling more than before. These people, these poor people would be the vampires’ snacks in a few seconds. Like Bella and I could have been just minutes ago. I tried to not think about it, but the screams that echoed through the hall would probably haunt me for the rest of my life.

Demetri opened another door as we approached the end of the corridor, and we found ourselves back in the reception area. The Italian woman greeted us once again, but I didn’t listen to what she said, still in shock, just waiting to leave this horrible place as soon as I could.

“Just wait here. You will be able to leave in a few hours, when it’s dark outside.” Demetri instructed Edward and Alice, and took his arms away from my body, turning to look at me. “Wait here, cara mia. I’ll be back soon.” I nodded, not being able to say a word.

Demetri turned and ran towards the throne room. I knew he left to feed, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of him killing innocent humans. I couldn’t keep myself from crying, as I started trembling and losing balance.

Alice came by my side, trying to stabilize and calm me down, while Edward tried calming down a hyperventilating Bella. We were both losing our sanity, not being able to keep up with the Volturi’s lifestyle, as it seemed. I was craving Demetri’s touch but, at the same time, I couldn’t stop the human in me, the logic, the sense that said that I should stay away from the vampires who killed people.

I heard Alice and Edward talking with the receptionist, but I couldn’t make out exactly what they were talking about. Alice, slowly and carefully, with her hands still on my arms, led me to a nearby bench, as the receptionist walked away. I was rocking back and forth, trying to calm down, realizing that we are still alive. I saw the receptionist coming towards us, offering a glass of water to both Bella and I.

“Grazie mille.” I thanked her, my voice barely audible.

“Prego.” She smiled at me, and walked back towards her desk.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I didn’t realise how much time passed, until I heard footsteps coming towards us. I was way more calm by now. Lifting my head towards the direction of the footsteps, I saw Demetri and Felix. I shyly smiled at Demetri, and he smiled back, with a smile wider than mine, a smile that warmed my heart.

“Hello, again, amore mio.” I felt as if my heart stopped for a split second upon hearing the words he used to address me. I would still be weak to my knees, if I didn't already sit down.

Felix was the one to inform us that we were allowed to go now, being way past nighttime. I stood up, and attempted to walk forward, towards Bella and the two Cullen siblings. I intended to leave with them, but I was stopped by Demetri’s hand on my wrist.

“Where are you going, cara?” He looked at me, knowing why I was attempting to walk away.

“I.. I thought we’d.. be leaving? That I’d be leaving? With the others?” At least, I was hoping I would be leaving with them.

“I’m sorry, amore. I can’t let you go, not now that I found you. You’ll be staying here, with me.” Demetri sounded so natural and serious, and I could only stare at him, my mouth agape.

“But.. I thought it was okay for me to leave. I have a life behind, you know. I have a school to finish, I have my family, I have things to do.” I still looked at him dumbfounded, waiting for him to allow me to go, just for now, just for a few months at least.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). But I cannot risk anything happening to you. I will make sure you are safe and protected here. We will arrange everything with your school and your family, and whatever else is needed. Please, stay.” Demetri’s eyes were pleading, and a shiver passed through my body, just by looking at him and hearing him talk.

It took me a few minutes to respond; nobody said a word all this time. “Okay.” I said faintly. “I will stay.. here.. with you.”

Demetri’s face lit up, and he leaned closer to me, wrapping his arms around me. He was careful to not hurt me, and I knew, at the moment, with my heart full of love and affection for that man, that that was where I was supposed to be. With Demetri. For as long as it lasted.

#demetri volturi #volturi #demetri volturi x reader #twilight #twilight saga #twilight post #twilight renessaince

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what-i-call-men · 3 years

Text

Loyalty

James Patrick March x fem!reader

Warnings: a lot of murder, cheating on multiple occasions, some sex mentions, a proposal

Request: from me Fic thought of the night- you become James’ first prodigy because you were in the hotel with your husband and ended up pushing him out the window or something (where he wouldn’t end up in the hotel) and James wants you to carry on his work but you just fall in love with his passion. I’m thinking like housewife in the 60s poisoning her husband or something. Maybe she’s running from the crime scene and hiding in the hotel. Murder suicide and when she wakes up James is just clapping

Picture credit to @copy-of-a-cheeto

That was it, you were over his stupid screaming and fighting with you and constant harassment over how bad you were at everything. You’d had it. You were on vacation with your husband and this was the last straw after nights of fighting instead of what should’ve been a romantic get away. He currently stood beside the window, looking out to the city, and muttering about how his assistant was so much better than you in bed. It wasn’t something you didn’t know about either but this was the last straw in your book.

With a rush of rage you walked behind him, grabbing an ice pick off the bar and ran it through his back. He gasped at the sudden pain, but before he could turn around to you you were removing the pick and picking him up with the strength of your adrenaline, pushing him head first out the window onto the street in front of the hotel. You leaned out after hearing the thud of his body from the 8-story drop. As you stared down at the body on the street you felt nothing other than rage, but as soon as you turned back to your room you realized that he’s dead and you just killed him. As soon as people figured out who he was you’d be suspect number one.

You hurried to his bag and grabbed the razor out of his toiletries. Killing yourself or your husband wasn’t even the strangest part of the whole affair. The strangest part was you waking up, staring down at your bloody body in the bath tub. At first you didn’t even realize what was happening until you heard slow clapping from behind you in your room. Turning around, you saw a man dressed in a suit with a cane and an ascot around his neck. “That was quite a show deary, I’ve never seen a woman with rage quite like yours.” He said and untucked the cane from his arm to lean against it again. “If you would’ve waited a few more seconds I would’ve offered you my own knife. Or I would’ve even done him in myself.”He gestures to his cane where it unlatched the head to reveal a small dagger.

You looked at him for a second, still at a loss for words until you finally murmured out a “who are you?”. James offered his hand to you to which you took as he introduced himself. “My name is James Patrick March. I built this hotel and I was walking past and heard the commotion. Serves him right for what he did to a beautiful woman like you. He got everything that was coming to him.” James muttered as he looked out towards the window where the body had fallen right off the property but behind the building where no one would see it.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long. He makes it so hard to even carve up a chicken for dinner without imagining it was it throat. He had been sleeping with his assistant for a year but I never went to college so I could never afford leave him.” You muttered as James walked towards the door, beckoning you to follow him. You followed and he nodded for you to continue talking. “He always wanted kids but I was never able to give that to him so he would seek her out in hopes she would provide that for him.” You felt like James was protecting you and made you feel better about what had happened. It was comforting until he placed his hand in yours to lead you down the halls and you felt a wedding ring adorned on his finger.

As the night went on James helped you, making a woman from the front desk carry in the body of your husband and throw him down a chute. He also had Ms. Evers dispose of your body and your husbands things. You soon sat in what you assumed was his room at a dinner table, eating along with him as he spoke about how artful your murder was. How a murder suicide was how he died as well with Ms. Evers and how that never stopped him from killing others. As James spoke, you quickly became enthralled with how passionate he was about death and killing. You didn’t have a weird or gross feeling when he talked about it, only a passionate love for the art of murder.

As days passed James had begun to taking a liking to your intrigue, in his murders. He began to show you the ropes of his preparation towards murder, the gory treasures he took from those he killed. On a trip you two took around the hotel on one of these days, he seemed particularly exited as you followed behind him past the bar and down a flight of stairs. “Mr. March I wanted to thank you for helping me out of my situation.” You spoke towards the man before you as he walked ahead of you.

“It was no problem dearest, I built this hotel as a safe haven for my hobby. A body is the least of its concerns.” He went on as you walked behind him. “May I ask where your wife is?” You asked and he faltered for a moment before stopping his walking and turning to you. “She’s none of your concern dearest.” He said and then continued walking, you falling a bit behind before he moved on to show you the torture chambers in the basement of the hotel. Surprisingly you weren’t weak stomached as he spoke eloquently about everything. Instead you held onto his elbow as he lead you around.

Something still felt wrong with him wearing a wedding ring and yet no talk of his wife or even a hint of her being around him. You’d been with him pretty much all of the last few days and he didn’t even have women’s things in his room to hint she lived there. “I have a surprise for you.” He said and you turned after hearing a door close behind you. Ms. Evers stood with a man and woman being hauled in behind her. “He’s just like your husband. He’s here today with his mistress because they chose to run away together. I thought this might excite you.” James said and the couple was thrown before you, gagged and tied.

You paused for a moment. You saw fear in both of their eyes. This woman was years younger than the man and he had grey littered through his hair. “Is she your assistant?” You spoke to him harshly, feeling the same anger towards your husband to this man now. He looked up at you and nodded. You felt your face grow hot as James slipped something into your hand. You glanced down to see a blade, the one from the top of his cane. Looking back to the man, you stared him down as you plunged the knife into the woman’s chest. His eyes widened and he screamed behind the gag.

Soon after stabbing the woman a few times you ripped the blade out and pointed it at the man. “You ungrateful traitorous bastard of a man deserve the worst and hottest place in hell for treating your poor hardworking wife as if she were nothing! She’s not nothing. I’m. Not. Nothing.” You yelled, punctuating your last words with a stab to his chest. You now straddling his body as blood coated your front. You felt no remorse. You in fact felt relief and you only felt better when James scooped you up and praised you. He ended his praise with a kiss to your lips. One that lasted a few moments as your heart dropped in your chest.

Nothing was really the same after that. James would ring your room every time a new man came in with a mistress and you would show up to their room usually with a knife behind your back. And every time you returned to James with blood splatter across your face and dress he would kiss you and help clean you off. You loved the praise he gave you but you knew you’d become his woman on the side. You’d never even slept with him but you still felt bad every time his wedding band touched your arm.

It wasn’t until he’d invited you to a dinner with him and his wife was there that you had truly met her. “Y/n, dearest, this is my wife Elizabeth.” He said as he gestured to the other woman at the table. She was a major juxtaposition in comparison to him. She was more into the times with her fashion, beautiful blonde hair swept across her face. “I’m so happy you could join us. I wanted to talk to you about your relationship with James here.” She patted a seat near her as James nudged you forwards. You sat nervously beside her, her aura oozing confidence and radiance.

“I want you to know I know everything you do for him and that him and I have an open arrangement for him and i to do as we please. Because I am the living owner of the hotel I keep the name and the legality of what we had, but none of the love he had for me.” She said and placed her hand on yours. “If you’d like to keep him company in the romantic sense I will be all the more supportive of your choice.” She added.

From that night on your relationship with James become more gory. Now instead of kisses and praise. You two would kill together in the hotel, then make love on the sheets stained with the blood of the adulterous couples. James was a rough man but you were just as commanding which he loved. He became so infatuated with killing with you, he invited you to a dinner he had which he coined “Devils Night”. It was his birthday dinner which initially was you and Him alone, but as the years went on he found others he deemed more impressive than you.

These others were alive and he coached them to kill for him in the outside world. It wasn’t until John that you had truly become fed up with these new guests, each one more horrid than the last. When John came around you wanted nothing more than to kill him along with Sally. He took up all of James’ time. You had turned to Elizabeth for comfort which she welcomed with open arms and bare chest. Sure it was taboo to sleep not only with her husband but also with her. It brought a new flame to your existence to find comfort in her arms at your shared loss in the murderous man. It wasn’t until she announced to you she planned to marry again that you grew excited again.

“James will not take it well. I’m telling you now so that you can swoop in to comfort him. I see how in love with him you are and how passionate he is about killing with you.” She said as she lit up her cigarette, the two of you clad in your silk robes as you laid in her bed. “James was never enough to make me happy but he truly will be for you for eternity.” She said and you grinned. That smile didn’t leave your face until James came you to hours after their monthly dinner, his hair a mess and his cheeks red with what was either anger or tears.

You welcomed him into your room with open arms, pressing his lips to yours as you closed the door behind him. He lifted you up and brought you to your bed, muttering quietly about how he didn’t see it coming and how stupid Elizabeth’s man was for choosing her. You shut him up with your lips as you undid his jacket, throwing it on the ground as you began on his button up. He kissed along the column of your throat as you felt the fire ignite in you again. A fire that hasn’t blazed since the 70s when James had found his second prodigy after you.

He set you down and you looked up to him as he paused in thought. “There’s a couple in room 36. Can we go back to how we were?” He asked gently and put his hands on your arms, his wedding ring now missing from his hand. “I’d love to James.” You muttered and leaned up to his lips once more. The couple was no trouble, to murder. You always loved to get the men while he had no problem taking care of the women.

Moments after you were both straddling the bodies, now soaked in their blood and enjoying the adrenaline rush at its peak. You heard James say something but you couldn’t hear him over the buzz in your ears. Looking to him, you egged him to repeat his words. “Marry me. You’re the only one who truly understands me. Better than Elizabeth ever was.” He said and turned to you fully from where he kneeled on the bed. “No one is as good to me as you, you are the best thing to happen to me in this eternal life. You bring light to this dreary eternity more than completing some stupid commandments killings from my lifetime.”

He said and moved over the bodies to you where you just smiled and nodded at him. He grabbed you by the waist, letting you fall back onto the bed into the pools of blood, kissing you fervently as you grinned against his lips. The kiss tasted like so many before, coated in an iron taste and the love of this man before you, but this was different because as he pulled away he smiled down at you. “Let me help you up, Mrs. March.” He offered and you took his hand, butterflies swarming in your chest as he helped you.

#james march #james patrick march #james march x reader #ahs hotel #fic thoughts fulfilled

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omgkatinka · 3 years

Text

Breaking and Entering

Summary: Your cat gets you into trouble with your grumpy new neighbour

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Reader

>>> chapter 2

Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of abuse; anxiety, angst, grumpy neighbour / Also: English is not my native language and this is my first and probably last attempt at writing. I do not even know why I tried. This is eventually a result of procrastinating from learning for my exam next week. I mixed up tenses.

Also not betad.

Words: 2.127

Here you were. New Job. New city. New apartment. Again. The past years have been a hassle of starting over.

When did your life take that turn? When your mother died? When you had to leave your grandfather to live with your father because you were underage? When instead going to study English literature like you always dreamed of your father made sure you’d get some fancy business master’s degree? Or when your ex-fiancé abused you and no one believed you because he was not just abusive but manipulative. Your life possibly finally took that turn when you ran. Head over heels. Leaving everything behind but your cat. You stopped counting the places you lived. Well rather visited for you never stayed long. Sometimes your ex would show up and you’d flee. Or you thought you had seen him in a crowd and flee. Or you were getting restless. High Functioning Flight Mode. All the damn time.

Moving days were a constant companion and those days smelled like freedom. It was just you, your SUV and your cat. The little fella would proudly ride shotgun while you sang along your old school rock playlist. Your whole life fit into a car.

This time it is Minneapolis. Large city. Anonymous, easy to vanish. You scored a job at a major financial player. Major as in Fortune 500 major. Thankfully, you worked project based for a while now, so no one ever really questioned your constant moving all over the nation. If they ever read that far in your resume that is. Summa cum laude in combination with a Harvard degree opened most doors for you.

The furnished apartment you found was in a half decent neighbourhood for a change. It was not the smallest you’d lived in and it faced the back of the building onto a yard hosting a huge oak tree.

Settling into Minneapolis was easier than it should have been. Your new co-workers were friendly. Too friendly. Not one lunch break you would get to spend on your own. Especially Marta from accounting was keen to talk to you. She was lovely. It was not her fault you never made friends. Because you never stayed. But still, that insistent woman and a couple of more people gave you a sense of familiarity you would never have expected from a huge company like that.

Most of the new neighbours greeted friendly too. Most, apart from one. When you were unloading your car, he stood right in your way, a bear of a man, shooting you a death glare. Mumbling something about not being allowed to park here and stomping off. You did not pay attention to his word, being intimidated by his sheer size. A broad beast, grumpy at that. You made a mental note to avoid him. Great plan.

Here ‘s the thing with your plans: they tend to simply not work. Three weeks after starting over, you come home to for once not being greeted by Jack. Your cat Jack. Named after an infamous pirate because of his funny face and weird way to walk. Not being greeted by Jack stirred panic. He was old but almost never failed to wait at the door for you. He did not today. Searching the whole place for him you came up empty. When you realised, you had left the bedroom window open in the morning you started to hyperventilate. He liked to sit outside on the fire escape while you got ready in the mornings. Looking outside he is not there either. By now you were freaking out, running downstairs, calling for Jack. Climbing up the roof. Nothing. By now you were crying. Starting to search the apartment one more time. And then once more. At some point you cried yourself to sleep until you are woken up by frantic knocking at your door. While still trying to figure out where you’re at, you glimpse the clock. It says 2 a.m.. Great. And what is this noise? Right. Knocking. On the door. Furious by now.

Opening your door, you find your grumpy neighbour. Even more grumpy. Scowling. „Is this thing yours? “ he asks, lifting Jack into your line of vision.

As relieved as you were to have your cat back. That was when things got out of hand. Thanks to that scare you frantically double checked every window every day before leaving for work. All is good for five days. When you get home on the sixth though – Jack is gone. Again. And the window you double checked the very same morning is open. You panic. Torn between hoping Jack broke into your grumpy neighbours’ place again hence being safe and him sitting on the roof calling out pigeons. You check the yard, the roof. No Jack. Hesitantly you knock at Mr. Grumpy’s door. No answer. Going onto midnight you hear the elevator and spy onto the floor. There he is. You brace yourself and head out. Looking apologetic. „um Hi, I am so sorry, but my cat escaped again. Would you mind checking if he did break into your place again? “. He does not answer. Unless grunts count as answers. He just raises an eyebrow at you and tilts his head in direction of his door. You avoid breathing and follow him into his apartment. Where you find your cat sits lounging on the couch like he owns the place. You cannot help but snort. That is what you get naming the little fella after a pirate. Breaking and entering seems to be his thing. It takes you a moment to realise Mr. Grumpy is staring at you, so you take a deep breath, apologize again and introduce yourself. „You really need to close your windows, you know? Not just from keeping that thing in your place but also to keep others out.“. Telling him, you double checked your windows just earns you a headshake. And there is that critical eyebrow again. Great. Then it dawns on you „if your so adamant on checking windows, how do you think Jack got in here? “. Now he looks puzzled. „Who is Jack? “ he asks and you fight hard to not snort again. “The cat, obviously” you answer. That earns you another grunt. ‘Great at communication that specimen’ you think and grab your cat. “Uhm, I am so sorry he, uhm…, we invaded your place again. So so sorry. Thanks for your patience. Good night, Mister?” “Marshall”. And that is the last thing he says. “Well good night Mister Marshall”. At that you hold on to your furry, purring companion and head back into your apartment. From now it will be triple checking the windows it seems.

Three times within the next you need to get your cat from his new favourite hideaway during the next week. The only new thing is Mr Grumpy telling you “it’s just Marshall”. Everything else is the same. Like being trapped in a fucking time lapse. Him scowling, telling you to “fucking check your windows” and giving you that critical eyebrow of doom. Each time though, you start to notice things. About his place. About him. He seems to live out of boxes. His shelves are empty. The only cosy thing seems to be the fluffy blanket Jack made his favourite place on the black leather couch. Also, he wears a gun. And a batch. You despise guns but guess this one comes with the job. And his accent is foreign. No, not foreign, it is English. A bit like a lost, grumpy Mr. Darcy. WHAT? Mr. Darcy? You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you finally going insane? Now take your cat and get out of here!

How do you reason with a cat? You surely tried but the next time you have not even noticed Jack vanishing. It’s a Saturday and you were just filling your coffee cup when there is knocking on your door again. You open the door to a sleepy looking Marshall, holding Jack. Shrugging. Something is different. Taking your cat out of his huge hands you are about to apologize again, when he beats you to speaking “did you just make coffee?”. You nod and he steps into your apartment. “Well, come in, why don’t you?” you mutter and find him standing in front of your kitchen island, scratching his head, looking kind of lost. With huge eyes and a suddenly small voice he says “sorry for barging in like that, your little fella here woke me up. Pretty sassy for such a small guy. Would you mind sharing a cup of coffee? I forgot to go grocery shopping and seem to run out of everything.”. For a moment you stare at him, stunned from the number of words he just threw at you and the lack of grunts. When you remember how to use your words, you tell him to take a seat, grab a cup and ask him how he prefers his coffee. Fixing both your cups and setting them on the table you finally get to apologize again for your little intruder, constantly breaking into his place. Marshall just shrugs at that and admits, that he has no idea how Jack opens the windows. He himself started to double and triple check his windows and it should not even be possible to open them from the outside. It is that moment you realise what is different. He looks sleepy but barely as tired as before and more important. He’s not grumpy. That’s new. And you do not know how to handle that. After silently drinking his coffee, he thanks you for the coffee and crouches down to pet Jack and tells him something that sounds like ‘see you mate’, then tells you goodbye and takes his leave.

It is the next Friday that you come home to a post-it on your door with “Jack is visiting” scribbled on it. Somehow you remember your cat not being overly fond with men, but he seems to have a soft spot for this one. Or his couch. Taking a deep breath, you turn and move over to knock at the next door. Heavy relaxed footsteps near and Marshall opens the door widely, motioning for you to come in. “We were just about to choose a movie and call for pizza. Why don’t you change into something more comfortable and join us?”. You look at the man as if he did just grow two more heads. Raising his eyebrow at you he adds “maybe choose pizza before you head over, so I can order already”. Shaking off the initial shock, you apologize. Before you can actually try to take a leave, he sternly asks “did you have dinner?”. When you shake your head, he repeats “come on, it’s just pizza and a movie. And maybe we should use the opportunity to discuss a shared custody arrangement for Jack.”. At that your stomach rumbles and when you see the glint in Marshalls eyes, you know this is a battle not worth fighting. And you are hungry. You tell him your pizza order and head over to shower and get changed. You wonder how you are not nervous about this. Since things went south with your ex you could hardly stand to be alone with one man. Let alone spend the evening at his place for dinner and movie.

Back at Marshalls place he offers you a bottle of water and his cosy looking armchair. While himself settling beside Jack on the couch. He suggests watching pirates of the Caribbean and you accept, telling him that you actually named the cat after Jack Sparrow to which he counters “It’s captain. Captain Jack Sparrow.”. The evening proceeds with you watching the movie, laughing and having pizza. You are taken aback to realise he actually ordered some extra tuna for Jack. From time to time, you catch yourself watching Marshall instead of the movie. He seems so much younger when relaxed. And handsome. How did you not realise what a beautiful face hides behind those curls and that beard?

After the movie you grab your snoring cat and thank Marshall for the evening when he pushes something cold into your free hand. You need a moment to realise, that he just handed you a key and give him a puzzled look. “I told you we’ll need a shared custody agreement, considering this little one keeps breaking and entering and claiming this apartment. I often work long hours and when shit hits the fan even spend the nights at the office. You might need it to retrieve the lodger.”. With that he winks - well tries to and fails – and opens the door for you, telling you goodnight.

#henry cavill fanfiction #walter marshall

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thefirstknife · 3 years

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SIGH

Myelin released a video today arguing that Osiris is already dead. I disagree with most of his arguments and also am not a fan of some of them in particular and I want to address this in case people watch and are confused. And I assume people will ask questions about it. I think Myelin himself is also confused about certain things he mentioned and isn't interpreting them properly.

Disclaimer: obviously I am biased when it comes to this. I want Osiris to not die. This isn't an attempt to entirely disprove the theory that he may be dead already. Ultimately I don't know if he's dead. I'll do my best to look at it objectively and also address Myelin's points objectively.

I'll try to summarise Myelin's points and address them but you can always watch his video yourself to make sure I didn't interpret him wrong.

Now, Myelin's main point is that Osiris was possessed by Savathun instead of Savathun making a meat puppet/clone in his image or simply shapeshifting into him. His first proof is the Wolftone Draw bow lore. We've all read the lore and Myelin also reads the lore.

First, he wonders how Osiris is seeing what Savathun is doing. Obviously, we have no answer for this yet. Myelin's position is that this is proof of him being possessed and him trying to break through the possession. He also says that some of it seems like "Osiris views his own body in a third perspective." Which I agree with!

What I disagree with is Myelin saying this could mean Osiris' "physical body was destroyed" and that he may be floating around in some form similar to Toland. I'm not sure why complicate the matter in this way when the most obvious answer to this is simply that Savathun has created a clone or shapeshifted into a form of Osiris and the real Osiris is trapped somewhere. The lore seems to indicate this pretty clearly to me:

I cannot speak, cannot breathe, I reach for Sagira but then I remember… I form a fist but feel nothing, I am bound, and as I thrash the images cut fissures through my mind—

And:

She has stolen my form, my voice, but someone will see my failure and cast her out… they MUST—

These seem to me like he is somewhere and he is seeing through his clone's eyes at certain points. It would fit Savathun's MO to torture him in this way. She assumed his form and the real him is bound elsewhere, somewhere safe. I've said so before, and it turned out to be true: Savathun is using Osiris as a bargaining chip so possessing him would be much riskier to her plan than simply keeping him imprisoned somewhere where we can't get to him and where he can't break free from possession. It would make no sense for her to kill him.

As for how he's seeing things if he's not possessed: Savathun is THE Witch Queen. She has exhibited a wide array of magical and paracausal abilities, including the ability to shapeshift and watch others through objects and living beings. Osiris specifically says that he is "bound" and that the images of what she's doing "cut fissures through his mind" and that he's "thrashing," as well as asserting that Savathun "has stolen his form." If he's bound somewhere in her throne world, she may very well be using some sort of Hive magic to inflict images she wants him to see upon him. Just enough to allow him to know that he is a prisoner.

I'm not sure why Myelin only makes two positions: either he's in third perspective without a body like Toland OR he's possessed. The third option is right there: Savathun assumed his likeness.

That brings both Myelin and me to his next point which he positions as the "real turning point" for him. It's from the Chrysura Melo autorifle:

Savathûn, physical form a twisting instar, emerges from the shadows and crawls over the shattered pieces of the Ghost. She reaches toward the ruined man.

Myelin focuses on the bold part, a specific word: "instar." This is a nice catch btw, something I haven't noticed before. He describes what an "instar" is. Tw bugs for that link, but an instar is "a developmental stage of arthropods, such as insects, between each moult (ecdysis), until sexual maturity is reached." Savathun's physical form is described as a twisting instar at this point and Myelin says that she is in the stage of changing herself into a new form. He also says that in this form she "needs a new skin" and therefore steals the skin of Osiris aka possesses him.

But from all the googling and research I've done, I can't seem to find any examples of insect instars needing to acquire a new outside source to change their forms. They simply exist in one larval form (instar) and then change into another as they outgrow the previous one. They don't have to find another body or a host to inhabit.

Seeing as Myelin bases most of his theory on this specific word, I have to challenge that because this is simply not what that word means. Savathun, in the process of changing from one instar to another, doesn't have to possess Osiris. She simply has to change her form from one instar into another. It's still her and it's more likely that she looks to the real Osiris to use him as a model for what new form she will take.

This is why the Chrysura Melo lore page is describing "Osiris" as being uncertain on his legs and confused by human behaviours and slowly falling apart over months and months of existence: this is Savathun's instar in the shape of Osiris which is reaching the end of its lifespan and at the end of that lifespan, Savathun has to shed that instar and turn into another. Generally, moths have a few instar forms before turning into a cocoon and then later emerging out as moths. This is a nice page with pictures, but again, tw for bugs. She has clearly reached the end of her Osiris-instar and shed it away when Mara trapped her in a chrysalis cocoon where Savathun is continuing to grow, like a moth, to eventually assume the form we see in The Witch Queen. Some examples that, to me, allude to Savathun existing in a Osiris-instar and how that shape is unfamiliar to her:

Osiris takes a shaky step forward.

...

He passes the bottle, and Osiris, hands numb, puzzles at it. His mouth hangs in a half-smile before he takes a long drink, slaking a bone-deep thirst.

...

When Saint places a hand on his forearm, Osiris holds impossibly still just to see what the other man will do.

...

Osiris stumbles as he walks through the Last City.

Savathun is describing her life as Osiris and it's clear, from this and other huge amount of lore, that she was very unfamiliar with the human form and that, at the end, it started falling apart on its own. Which is what would happen to a instar of an insect, forcing it to switch into a new stage. In Ripe, she also specifically states "I am ready earlier than anticipated." In the same lore page, she also mentions a lot of really weird descriptions of how her "form" is dissolving essentially and "I clench the gangling black mass that threatens to unspool recklessly from within this shell of flesh. My new arms are too thin, too weak. My new shell still bound with thick mucus." She's barely holding it together. I'm not sure why Osiris' real human body would've been doing this.

There's another aspect from Ripe and that is that she mentions her worm inside of her:

I feel this form splitting beneath its wrappings, held together weakly by wet strands of sinew. And from deep inside, stirred by that latest scrap of deception, I hear the oily growl of the Worm.

This is how we know that her Osiris-form is her. Otherwise, Osiris' real body would've been possessed by Savathun who also holds her worm and that's more than convoluted. What we're looking at, presumably, is Savathun's instar which always has a worm at the center and evolves into other forms around the worm itself.

I'm sorry if this is rambly, but I just really can't see how possession would be possible, especially when based on insect morphology. As a last addition to the whole "instar" business which seems to be the center of Myelin's theory, I want to take a look at the word itself. It's a Latin word, and well... :

īnstar n sg (indeclinable, no genitive)

image, likeness, resemblance

counterpart

worth, value

an equal form (of)

of equal weight/size/form (to)

By the Traveler this can't be happening. Once again I am caught in the euphoria of analysing Latin words being used in Destiny. By all definitions, except maybe number 3, this alludes to a clone. An image of something. Resembling something. A likeness. Counterpart. An equal form of...

Savathun's insect-instar form fashioned in the likeness of Osiris. Not Savathun infecting Osiris: Savathun morphing herself into a counterpart of his form.

With that whole thing done, Myelin focuses on the infamous sidearm Spoiler Alert. It has a description which is just: "Someone is going to die." Myelin uses this as proof that, well, someone is going to die because the last time this gun was issued, Cayde died.

The problem here, even if we're taking this as a serious lore hint, is the timeline. Originally, Spoiler Alert was issued in Warmind. Cayde-6 died in the expansion after Warmind.

Spoiler Alert being issued in Season of the Lost would then be an equivalent of telling us someone is going to die in The Witch Queen expansion.

What does that have to do with Osiris? The position Myelin takes in this whole video is that Osiris is already dead. Not that he will die in The Witch Queen: that he has already died, perhaps at the start of this season when Savathun transformed off-screen OR even further back, at the end of Immolant, when she possessed him. This makes no sense with his other position, that Osiris is observing what Savathun is doing: how, if he's dead and why would we even get this lore if he's dead?

Most of all, Spoiler Alert, if it's alluding to a future death of a major character, cannot allude to Osiris having died before the gun was re-issued OR to him dying literally on the day the gun was re-issued. What kind of a warning is that? If they really wanted to allude to Osiris dying with this gun, the gun would've had to have been re-issued in Season of the Splicer as the final possible season to "warn us."

If Spoiler Alert is telling us some important character will really die, it's telling us this will happen in The Witch Queen. I can't imagine a situation where we save Osiris in this season and then he dies in the next expansion. Kinda pointless plotline. And it also does not fit with the rest of the video which is telling us that Osiris is already dead and Savathun is bluffing about having him as a bargaining chip. I am also not in favour of the theory that we will not find the real Osiris this season and that this plotline will stretch into The Witch Queen because that would be almost a year of grappling with the same plot of "we have to find Osiris." So whatever happens to Osiris, we will know this season. Which means the Spoiler Alert gun is of no relevance to the outcome of the Osiris plot.

The next point Myelin makes is the cutscene from week 1 of Savathun talking to us. He focuses on the image of Osiris looking kinda dead, with moths flying around him and one moth coming out of his mouth. This image is a better argument than any of the above because the imagery here is very clear. No room to misinterpret this really, we literally see Osiris being half-skeletal with a moth coming from his mouth.

However, if we take the position that Savathun made a clone, then the "dead" Osiris in this image is just that clone being dead after it fell apart and Savathun had to transform. The moth coming out of his mouth is probably what this is supposed to symbolise: Savathun outgrowing her Osiris-instar and assuming a new form, currently cocooned in Mara's chambers.

Not to mention that she literally says she "assumed his shape." Not "took his body." She "assumed his shape" to be "more pleasing to our eyes" so she could "guide our victory" against Xivu Arath. Obviously she couldn't guide us if she looked like the Hive. Instead, she morphed into a shape that looks like Osiris and kept him to herself, possibly for information as well as a bargaining chip.

The next part is something I heavily dislike as a point from Myelin.

He starts by saying how there's a trope in movies where you get attached to a character and you just have a feeling that something bad is going to happen to them because the narrative is making you form a bond with that character. And at first I thought he'll say that the narrative has been doing this with Osiris, which is WEIRD, due to how generally disliked he is in the fandom, mostly due to people misunderstanding him, but also due to other reasons which have resurfaced ever since he's been officially confirmed as a gay man in a relationship with Saint.

And of course, Myelin is not talking about Osiris at all. He's talking about Saint. He's saying that the narrative made us attached to Saint and that "they are setting up Saint-14 to lose Osiris." This is aggravating in several ways.

One, that trope about being attached to a character is generally about the character that is going to die. Bungie didn't make us get attached to Cayde so they can kill off Ikora. They made us attached to Cayde and then killed off Cayde. Making us attached to Saint-14 to kill off Osiris is completely disregarding Osiris as a character in his own right and Osiris is by far THE most powerful and important Guardian that has ever lived. To boil him down to an accessory of Saint's story is not just disrespectful to Osiris, it's just utterly wrong.

And second, essentially fridging Osiris for Saint's manpain is just homophobia. As far as I know, Myelin is not a gay man so him making this point is simply homophobic. We do not need Osiris to die to see Saint's pain and drive for vengeance against Savathun. Bungie has made that clear. It's actually never been clearer just how much Saint suffers right now, in how much pain he is and how angry he is.

It's been shown in the voice lines in the main quest, in the cutscene at the start of the season, in the week 2 radio transmission, in voice lines during various activities, in voice lines from other people talking about him (most notably Ikora saying he's "tearing up the system to find real Osiris") and in various lore tabs. We truly do NOT need more affirmation to how much Saint is suffering. We surely don't need to ramp up the angst by killing Osiris off in order to send Saint into a more of a frenzy. His frenzy is already known and already underway. The man has tried breaking into Savathun's chamber to kick her ass already. He is "tearing the system apart." He is broadcasting live. He went on a mission with Mithrax to find Sagira's remains and the most likely place where Osiris went missing. The man is already on a crusade.

I don't think he needs to learn that Osiris has died somewhere, alone, months ago in order for us to see his pain. Or to cause more pain to us, the players. It's simply a completely insensitive way of looking at a story of two gay men who have been through enough suffering already.

I know people dislike and misunderstand Osiris. I know people absolutely adore Saint. I know people would get a kick out of seeing Saint going feral instead of him behaving in a very trope-shattering way by plugging holes in the Wall and feeding pigeons and singing songs to the children of the City.

I think those people don't understand Saint nor do they appreciate him as he is. They certainly have no respect for the man he loves or for their relationship that transcends time, space and reality. And if Saint knew that, he would definitely go feral on their ass first and foremost.

I'd like to think that Season of the Lost is a direct mirror of Season of Dawn. Two very important turning points in Destiny's story that are led by an undying love between Osiris and Saint-14. Just as Osiris risked it all and we all supported him in getting Saint back, right now we are all supporting Saint and risking it all to get Osiris back.

And as an important note, the story so far has been very clear to explain to us that we're looking for "the real Osiris." This is what this whole season is based on. We want real Osiris back. This alone disproves the theory of possession, but it also highlights that this season is about saving someone we've lost. Ending the season that's based on trying to find Osiris by telling us "oh he's dead" seems to be very much narratively senseless.

Speaking of narratively senseless, Osiris' death would not make sense yet. His arc isn't over. His questions and plotlines aren't over (and he has raised many of them in Immolant, which hasn't been followed up on because he got kidnapped). And speaking of Immolant, there is the following, from Sagira:

"Shut up! Listen to my words!" Her iris is bright with Light. "There are great things still left for you; don't lose hope in the darkness." She is luminant.

Osiris breathes the word, as if he could hold it back: "No." He would understand in time. She had seen it.

This seems like a pretty strong implication that his story is far from over. It would be quite a bummer if this was completely ignored and we're delivered Osiris' dead body at some point during this season.

Of course, I'm not discouting the possibility that Osiris will never be the same after this. It's likely that there will be lasting consequences if he's alive.

I am also not discounting the possibility that Osiris may as well be dead. I want to make that clear. It's possible. But I did my best to make a somewhat coherent analysis of why that is probably not the case and why Myelin's position in particular is flawed. And as I said at the start, I definitely am biased in a way that makes me hope that Osiris is not dead. I fully understand that and would not be opposed to people pointing out flaws in my argument if there are any. I am, genuinely, trying to be as objective as possible with this though, but as always, I could end up being wrong in the end.

And that is my TED talk.

#destiny 2 #osiris #savathun #saint-14 #o14 #lore vibing #long post #i am burdened with writing essays when lore youtubers make a video

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sokkastyles · 3 years

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I’ve talked about this before, but I need to emphasize that Zuko working in the tea shop is a huge part of his arc and development. It wasn’t just something that lasted only a few episodes that he hated and then moved on from, it’s something that is threaded throughout his arc and into the finale.

Of course he’s not happy for a large part of the time he’s working there in book two. He’s a traumatized teenager who is desperately trying to achieve the approval of his father so that he can go back to the home he was banished from. Iroh tries to make the best of things in part because Iroh genuinely enjoys it and making the best of a bad situation is just who he is, but he also wants Zuko to be happy and wants to make the best life for his nephew that he can, and he knows that Zuko needs positivity and security in his life, as well as tries to nurture in Zuko an appreciation for the small things in life and an attitude of service. It is hardly surprising that Zuko is resistant to this, though.

Zuko complains even more when he and Iroh are presented with new opportunities, because he doesn’t want to accept the possibility of growth in this new life.

Iroh: Did you hear, nephew? This man wants to give us our own tea shop in the Upper Ring of the city!

Quon: That's right, young man, your life is about to change for the better!

Zuko: [Sarcastically.] I'll try to contain my joy. [Walks outside, slams door shut.]

Zuko spends seven episodes working in the tea shop in a twenty episode season. It runs through his entire Ba Sing Se arc. He grumbles, groans, and complains through most of it.

Iroh: So, I was thinking about names for my new tea shop. How about the Jasmine Dragon? It's dramatic, poetic, has a nice ring to it.

Zuko: [Shows Iroh the flyer.] The Avatar is here in Ba Sing Se and he's lost his bison.

Iroh: [Grabs the flyer.] We have a chance for a new life here. [Cut to Zuko looking out a window.] If you start stirring up trouble, we could lose all the good things that are happening for us.

Zuko: [Turns to Iroh.] Good things that are happening for you! Have you ever thought that I want more from life than a nice apartment and a job serving tea?

Iroh: There is nothing wrong with a life of peace and prosperity. I suggest you think about what it is that you want from your life and why.

Zuko: I want my destiny.

Iroh: What that means is up to you.

Zuko’s time in the tea shop is part of his arc of discovering that he can choose his own destiny, and although he didn’t choose to live as a refugee, he can choose what he makes of it, which is what Iroh is trying to teach him here. Part of that is choosing to accept Iroh’s love, choosing to appreciate the good things instead of wishing for something that he doesn’t have, and we know that Zuko’s desire to go back to being the prince of the Fire Nation and earn his father’s affection is ultimately empty, and part of a life where he was abused, as well as where he was a part of a system that was oppressing others.

Then Zuko refuses Iroh’s advice about accepting a simple life in favor of pursuing Appa as the Blue Spirit - an identity that represents Zuko’s internal conflict between his fractured self image, which in book two involves him using the Blue Spirit identity to steal, to get back a part of the old life which he’s lost. It is extremely painful for him to admit that trying to get back to who he was before his banishment is causing him to engage in self-destructive behaviors that are stagnating his growth. Iroh just wants him to be safe and happy but he also knows that Zuko has to confront this conflict within himself.

That’s why, after he frees Appa, he must throw away the Blue Spirit mask once and for all, symbolically letting go of his desire to go back to the Fire Nation.

Iroh: You did the right thing, nephew. Leave it behind.

Giving up the past is never easy. Especially giving up the ideas he’s held onto for so long, the idea of what he can one day get back that, as Iroh said in book one, had kept Zuko going through his banishment, that gave him hope. But part of creating your own destiny is realizing that you can find hope in places you didn’t think you could find it. Zuko has to find something else to put his hope in and that’s represented physically by the sickness he suffers after freeing Appa. His entire sense of self has been shaken to the core, because change, real change, is hard.

Iroh: You should know that this is not a natural sickness, but that shouldn't stop you from enjoying tea.

Zuko: What's happening?

Iroh: Your critical decision. What you did beneath that lake. It was in such conflict with our image of yourself that you are now at war within your own mind and body.

Zuko: What's that mean?

Iroh: You are going through a metamorphosis, my nephew. It will not be a pleasant experience, but when you come out of it, you will be the beautiful prince you were always meant to be.

Tea even makes an appearance during Zuko’s “metamorphosis,” because the tea is symbolic, y’all. Then when Zuko wakes up from his sickness, we see an immediate change in him.

Iroh: Now that your fever is gone, you seem different somehow.

Zuko: [Optimistically.] It's a new day. We've got a new apartment, new furniture, and today's the grand opening of your new tea shop. Things are looking up, Uncle.

This doesn’t necessarily mean that Zuko has suddenly decided that he loves serving tea and working customer service, but the change he’s experienced is about choosing to find the good, to accept change into his life, to accept humility, and love. And this is the most happy we’ve ever seen Zuko be. We also see him emotionally supporting Iroh and working on his relationship with his uncle because he knows that seeing Zuko happy makes Iroh happy. Before, Zuko made a big show of his unhappiness, slamming doors and frowning and shouting and generally acting like a spoiled teenager with major authority issues, which made Iroh visibly upset. Iroh constantly tries to get Zuko to change his attitude but in the end it’s something that Zuko has to choose himself.

Iroh: Who thought when we came to this city as refugees, that I'd end up owning my own tea shop? Follow your passion, Zuko, and life will reward you.

Zuko: Congratulations, Uncle.

Iroh: I am very thankful.

Zuko: You deserve it. The Jasmine Dragon will be the best tea shop in the city.

Iroh: No. I'm thankful because you decided to share this special day with me. It means more than you know.

Zuko: Now let's make these people some tea!

This is more than just Zuko being happy for Iroh or trying to be happy because Iroh wants him to be happy. We see the idea repeated here that you can choose your own destiny, and that those who do are rewarded by life. This is also echoed in Zuko’s conversation with Katara in which he tells her that lately he has realized that he is free to choose what he makes of the scars of his past, and his future. We also see him practicing what Iroh told him, he lets go of shame by letting go of pride. Instead of talking about what he thinks he deserves, he talks about what Iroh deserves. The dialogue also indicates that Zuko chose to be there.

This development is emphasized when Zuko and Iroh are invited to serve tea to the Earth King.

Iroh: I ... I can't believe it!

Zuko: What is it, Uncle?

Iroh: Great news! We've been invited to serve tea to the Earth King!

Zuko goes from “step aside, filth!” and complaining about doing work to smiling about serving tea to the king of a rival nation. That’s character development. And as I said before, it was essential to Zuko’s development in becoming the kind of Fire Lord that he is supposed to be.

The dramatic irony of Katara finding them and unintentionally ratting them out to Azula is that when Katara enters the tea shop, she finds not only a Zuko in a tea apron, but a happy one enthusiastically taking people’s orders.

Zuko: Uncle! I need two jasmine, one green, and one lychee!

Iroh: I'm brewing as fast as I can!

I love this scene so much because it’s like, imagine that you decide to go to Panera Bread and you find Kylo Ren working at the counter, cheerfully asking you if you want chips or an apple with that. It’s also hilarious that Katara’s immediate thought is they’re infiltrating the city when she knows that there’s an evil force of brainwashing government agents lurking about.

That Zuko genuinely found peace with his life in Ba Sing Se is narratively important because it makes what happens next even harder for him. “The Crossroads of Destiny” is a true crossroads because he’s fought hard to find happiness and hope in his new life, but then it’s all ripped away and he’s put to the test. That he fails it this time just emphasizes how hard it is to break free of old destructive habits.

This is why when he does go back to the Fire Nation, we’re shown his doubts, and how uncomfortable he is. He tries to be happy and to accept his role as prince, but he already knows that this is not the destiny he wants for himself. The excessive opulence of the Fire Nation is meant to show this. We see this in scenes like Zuko constantly being unhappy during the beach episode and becoming angry when he is told to relax and do nothing, and his insecurity at the party in a room full of rich kids.

In particular, we see him being uncomfortable being waited on by servants in “Nightmares and Daydreams”:

Servant #1: Fresh fruit, Prince Zuko?

Zuko puts out his hand and shakes his head respectfully.

Servant #2: May I wash your feet, sir?

Zuko respectfully puts his hand out and shakes his head again.

Servant #1: Head massage?

Zuko shakes his head again.

Servant #2: Hot towel?

Zuko looks at the towels for a moment and takes one. He is seen wiping his forehead before walking out of the room. The two servants bow behind him. Zuko walks out the palace gates, with Fire Nation citizens waiting for him.

Servant #1: Prince Zuko, is something wrong? You didn't take the palanquin.

Zuko: I'm just going to Mai's house. It's not far.

Servant #1: It's not a prince's place to walk anywhere, sir.

Zuko looks to the distance, walks over, and gets into the palanquin.

We see him trying to fit in with Mai because he’s a sixteen year old who has a girlfriend for the first time in his life and he wants to impress her, but what this scene actually shows is their differing values.

Zuko: Tell me, if you could have anything you want right now, what would it be?

Mai: Hm ... A big fancy fruit tart, with rose petals on top.

Zuko: You know, being a prince and all, I might just be able to make that happen.

Mai: That would be impressive.

Zuko: [To the servants.] Do you think you could find a fresh fruit tart for the lady, with rose petals on top?

Servant: Excellent choice, sir.

Mai: I guess there's some nice perks that come with being royalty. [Pushing Zuko to lay down with her.] Though there's annoying stuff, too. Like that all-day war meeting coming up.

Zuko: [Sitting up, followed by Mai.] War meeting? What are you talking about?

Mai: Azula mentioned something. I-I assumed you were going, too.

Zuko: I guess I wasn't invited.

The two look away from each other.

Zuko asks Mai what she would want if she could have anything and what she comes up with is fruit tarts. This doesn’t necessarily mean that Mai is shallow, but what it does mean is that she’s never had to worry about what she wants in terms of the big picture.

“Who are you, and what do you want?”

She’s also never had to go hungry like Zuko has, and never had to serve others like Zuko has.

And then she brings up the war meeting, which to her is only an annoyance. Zuko doesn’t care about fruit tarts and palanquin rides, but this is something he cares about. It’s also funny to me that Mai is like “make out time,” and let’s be real, nobody would fault Zuko, a sixteen year old boy, for enjoying a little hanky panky, but Zuko is like “no, anxiety time!” Which shows how much he’s changed and how much he is struggling to be happy despite all the fruit tarts and hot towels and having a girlfriend who is all over him.

It is NOT a coincidence that when Zuko joins the gaang, we see him genuinely happy and among friends and making and serving tea.

Zuko had to go back to the Fire Nation to really understand how much he had changed and to really be able to choose his own destiny, but we know which one he chooses, between a life of empty riches and a life helping others. Even when we see him addressing the people as Fire Lord, his speech is all about service and humility. When the crowd cheers for him, he does this:

Zuko: Please. The real hero is the Avatar.

Which shows how far he’s come from the boy who so desperately wanted recognition, who was repulsed by the idea of serving others or lowering himself to the status of a “peasant,” who only thought of himself and what he deserved. His last scene is not his coronation, not his triumphant moment of standing in front of a crowd as Fire Lord, or even confronting his father, but a quiet moment, serving tea to his friends.

#zuko #atla #atla meta #iroh #mai #the blue spirit #the tea is symbolic

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retrievablememories · 3 years

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afterdeath | lucas

title: afterdeath pairing: vampire!lucas x fairy!reader genre: angst, forbidden romance, fantasy, vampire!au request: May I request a Vampire!Lucas with a fairy!s/o (Forbidden romance perhaps?) word count: 8.6k warnings: descriptions of death and sickness, mentions of a funeral, viewing, and funerary preparations, major character death (but...with a slight twist), mentions of blood and drinking blood, smoking cigarettes, arguments/conflict, mentions of physical violence, some romeo and juliet elements? a/n: hmm this fic probably could’ve been more detailed but i was trying to avoid triggering my own damn self with so much talk of death...ha...not sure why i went this route but i wanted a forbidden romance with an actual decent ending for both characters and this was the first idea i had recommended songs: OLLA - jhené aiko

Year 1508

“We’ve felled the demon!”

“Indeed, we have!”

Cheers ring through the dawn as a large group of fairies dance around an immense bonfire, raising their shouts of celebration to the sky. Within the fire burns the body of the Primitiva Vampire, the One and Only Pureblood, haphazardly thrown over the wood pile and relieved of her head—which sits near the bottom of the burning mass of wood, her face still twisted in a mien of anger.

As the sky begins turning lighter with the onset of sunrise, the fairies continue their celebration, staying close to the fire all the while. They carry large flaming torches to guard against any of the Primitiva Vampire’s followers who might try to sneak upon them and strike in that sliver of space where the sun has yet to rise.

The Primitiva Vampire had a long reign of terrorizing fairies and turning humans and other supernatural creatures into vampires. Each transformed being became a terrible revenant, one which viciously hunted villages and stole into people’s homes for more blood, more death, and more unwilling adherents to the vampiric cult.

Mass numbers of fairies had been decimated once the vampires first tasted their blood and took a unique liking to it. For over 200 years, the carnage continued on at the hand of the Primitiva Vampire, who had one day blinked into existence in a way that could never really be explained by any conceivable means, either human or magic. And without ever giving a hint to her strange conception, she tore across cities and towns, converting others into night creatures like herself and building a loyal following of half-bedeviled beings.

When fairy populations had dwindled to nearly extinction-level quantities, they were left no other choice—fight back or be wiped completely from the universe’s ledger. So they took up arms, honed their magic skills, and did just that.

And now, all their efforts culminate in this blood-stained morning. It marks a much-anticipated moment of revelry before they have to return to their posts to watch for the night creatures inevitably waiting on the other side of the sunset, ready to avenge their slain Goddess.

Present Day

“You probably shouldn’t be here right now.”

“I wanted to come,” Lucas replies, taking your hand is his large one. “I wanted to see you.”

“I can figure that.” You laugh quietly, a little afraid to let your voice rise higher in case it carries too far. “But that doesn’t mean you should’ve come.”

Lucas holds your hand tightly. His skin is cold against yours due to his slow blood, and colder still from the chill permeating the air. It’s only one of many vampiric traits that the other fairies would think of as strange or barbaric, but you don’t see it that way. The chilliness just reminds you solely of him.

“Well, I missed you. And I’m here now, so you’ll just have to deal with me.”

The building you’re standing behind is damp, old, and dilapidated, and it’s not even one of your pre-designated meeting places. In front of you is a rusted chain link fence, which barricades a field of tall and unkempt grass. More aged and crumbling buildings scatter themselves across the distance, taken over by grass and climbing vines.

You don’t know what’s out here. This is one place within your district you haven’t been to before. It was Lucas’s idea to come here, after your last meeting place had nearly been discovered and he found it too risky to keep going there.

The entire city of Beijing is split up into different districts, each belonging to a different faction of supernatural beings. Some nonhuman races have close ties with each other and allow frequent cross-district mingling; others are sworn enemies, forbidden to fraternize with each other under pain of death. In these latter cases, crossing into another’s territory without express permission—or in rare situations, ties to a powerful ally (or allies) on the other side—is asking to get arrested, injured, or worse.

Lucas would be your tie to the vampire side and you his tie to the fairy side if your species weren’t centuries-long enemies. Instead, you’re relegated to having him sneak in and out of your district and hide what he is with blood-scent blockers and eye contacts to make the trickery easier to get away with. There’s only so much you can do to disguise your fae nature; stepping into vampire territory would turn you into a shining beacon.

“Hmm…” you sigh, shaking your head with a small smile on your face. You grasp Lucas’s hand so you’re now holding it with both of yours. “How long do you think we can keep this up? Going from place to place like this. Hiding like criminals.”

Lucas gives a lopsided grin—one that cannot morph into a full smile because of the sadness coloring it. “I don’t know. Forever, if we’re lucky.” He chuckles.

You stare at your intertwined hands, unaware of the sheer intensity of the longing expression on your face, though Lucas sees it clearly. It threatens to burn his heart to ash. “Unfortunately, fae don’t live forever like you do, so maybe not. Besides, your people would probably find out and come after me before we could even settle into a ‘forever.’”

He shakes his head fretfully at your words, squeezing your hand. “Do we have to talk about all that now? You know we don’t have much time together. Let’s just enjoy it for what it is.” Lucas pulls you into him, tucking your head into his shoulder.

“That’s fine by me,” you say, and resist the urge to make some dark joke about how scandalous it is for a fairy to have their neck so close to a vampire’s mouth—or a vampire’s anything.

You both stay together in that dingy and old spot for a while, talking in the dark until he tells you he has to go. He follows you the whole way back home to ensure you’re safe, keeping to the shadows until he sees you disappear past your front door. Then, he slips away again to head back to the familiar manor in his own district.

It’s nearly morning when Lucas gets back to the large house he shares with the other six men. By this time of day, he knows they will either be in bed or getting ready to turn in.

“Still visiting that fairy, I see.”

The unexpected voice doesn’t scare Lucas, but it does make his body tense up a bit in irritation and a slight sense of anticipation. He sighs and stops in his tracks on the way to his room, though he doesn’t face the clan leader just yet.

“Is that a problem? Because you know I’m not going to stop.”

Kun makes a noise of disbelief. “Of course it is. You know what the consequences are if anyone outside of us finds out.” Lucas turns to him slightly, and the look on Kun’s face is more disappointment—maybe even slight fear?—than anger. “I clearly can’t stop you from doing what you want to, but I can’t help you if the Association gets involved.”

Lucas rocks back on his heels and sighs, rolling his eyes at the mention of the vampire organization. “Fuck the Association. They’re nothing but a bunch of old ass hags who have no purpose in their lives other than ruling over every other vampire in the world.”

Kun looks weary at his words. “You really don’t care, do you, Xuxi. They’d have your heart on a stake if they ever heard that.” He pauses and rolls his eyes. “They’re also not that much older than me, so I wonder who you’re calling an ‘old ass hag’...”

“Isn’t it a good thing that they won’t hear it, then?” Lucas laughs, but it’s not an entirely humorous sound, and he gives Kun a searching look as his chuckles die off.

“Don’t look at me like that. I have no interest in telling them anything, mostly because I also have no interest in our whole clan being wiped out.”

Lucas nods, reaffirming his somewhat shaky but still present trust in Kun, needing the regular reassurances for his own calm. He stretches his arms above his head and takes a few steps like he’ll go to his room, though he doesn’t move to leave just yet. “Just don’t see what the big deal about all this is. All this over some ancient bloodsucker who died like 500 years ago...who cares.”

Kun winces again, though he doesn’t bother with reprimanding Lucas this time; he only shakes his head and sighs heavily like it’s already a lost cause. “A vampire and a fairy together is more than blasphemy—it’s ridiculous. It’s illogical. They all think we’re bloodsucking demons hellbent on killing them.”

“To be fair, there’s definitely a sect of vampire zealots or two who are trying to do exactly that despite the laws.”

Kun sighs. Lucas is right; what can he say to argue that? “Xuxi…”

“I’m telling you I’ll be fine, Kun-ge. You don’t need to worry about me and Y/N. Things have been going fine for this long.” Lucas nods, then heads off to his room for real this time. Kun watches him leave, feeling a lot less reassured than the younger man.

Ten takes Xiaojun and Lucas on one of their weekly outings to a blood lounge. Blood lounges are an easy and accessible way for vampires to get blood, though the legalities of this practice are a little muddy. Before getting with you, Lucas didn’t mind drinking straight from the source—going to one of the back rooms and sucking some willing, vulnerable being just to the point of death—but now, it feels like a type of transgression. Drinking someone else’s blood can be an intensely intimate act, on the same level as sex depending on the context, and he doesn’t want to do anything to make you think he’d be unfaithful.

To his fortune, there is no club rule about having to feed off other beings; many vampires take their blood in fancy champagne glasses, just like drinks in a human club. He does that now as the three men sit in a darkly lit booth.

Their conversation is unexciting for a while, with Lucas keeping careful not to mention you or any of his recent visits to your district to avoid any prying ears in the lounge. However, things soon get interesting. “We all know how Renjun got taken off the Association’s Registry a year ago, right?” Ten asks suddenly.

“Yes, of course.” Xiaojun answers like he’s already bored of this turn in the conversation. “That’s what happens whenever a vampire dies.”

Ten nods, but his eyes are wide like he has a secret he’s itching to tell. “But I don’t think he actually died.”

Lucas’s ears perk up at that.

“Why?” Xiaojun asks.

“He was seeing that human before he supposedly died, you know—”

“The one who lost it and drove the stake in his heart? We all know how it happened—”

“Can you let me finish? Anyway, I’ve heard some...suggestions that he faked his death—that maybe he got a magic user to set the whole crime scene up and make it look like it was real. Illusory magic, or something like that.”

Xiaojun sits forward. “A magic user. As in a fairy? Or a witch? Who?”

“I don’t know, just someone who uses magic. People are starting to think he and the human faked it all and ran away to Tianjin. I heard someone even claimed they saw somebody who resembled him when they went to Tianjin recently, though I don’t know how true that is…”

Xiaojun’s interest is thoroughly engaged now. “Think the Association will go looking for him, if it's true?”

“I don’t know if they’d care enough to hunt down an unregistered vampire who’s laying low and not creating chaos with other citizens. We all know Tianjin is way more relaxed about inter-species relationships, too. But the Association doesn’t like looking stupid. And that kind of trick definitely makes them look stupid.”

Lucas sits back, taking all of this information in. He is uncharacteristically quiet, but he doesn’t know what to make of that situation or why Ten is telling them about it. He thinks he can guess why, though, by the way Ten’s gaze lingers on him, and that scares him a little. The way this rumor piques a forbidden interest in him scares him. Lucas lifts the glass of blood to his lips and drinks from it, trying to distract himself from the current conversation.

“All this for a damn human. Only an idiot would try something like that,” Xiaojun says, shaking his head.

“Maybe a smart one. It did get him off the Registry.”

“How can you be a smart idiot?!” Ten and Xiaojun start arguing over the semantics of the term, and Lucas watches them in amusement, though his mind remains in two different places for the rest of their time in the blood lounge.

—

Later that night when they are back at the manor, Lucas pulls Ten aside, just like the older man expected him to.

“What’s wrong?” Ten asks, though his expression shows he already knows exactly what’s the matter.

“You...the stuff you said about Renjun earlier. I…” Lucas doesn’t know how to start or break his idea to him softly, so he decides to just say it. “Is it really possible?”

“I think it’s possible. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to get off the Registry…though many other attempts were way less successful.” Then Ten hesitates before saying, “You could try it.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am.” Ten’s expression softens a little. “I know you and Y/N love each other a lot, but there’s no way the Association will ever let you stay together if they find out. Y/N’s life could actually be in danger. Both of you are, every moment you spend together while living in these districts. If you really want to stay with Y/N, then…”

“...But I wouldn’t be able to see any of you again.” You and Lucas have become so entwined with one another that he can hardly imagine a life without you, but he also finds it difficult to picture his existence without his brothers. They’ve become like blood family to him over the last couple centuries.

“Yeah.” Ten sighs deeply, and although his reply is short, Lucas knows that one word is carrying the weight of all of his stress and sorrow about the idea. “Maybe we could find a way to visit you sometimes. Get the fairies or witches to do some of their magicky shit.” Ten laughs quietly. “But...it’s still just an idea. You don’t have to do it.”

Lucas shakes his head slowly. He wants to put the idea to bed and try to continue on with his life, managing his clandestine visits to your district when he can. But now that he knows of an alternative way, no matter how unreasonable or unbelievable it is, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget about it. “Kun-ge is going to kill you once he finds out this was your suggestion. You know that, right?”

Ten shrugs, and the sadness lifts momentarily in the curve of his lips. “He can try.”

The next time you and Lucas meet up, it’s in yet another different place under an ancient and mostly abandoned bridge. As a precaution, you stand together underneath the darkness of the bridge and stay out of sight, though there are few chances of anyone being around to see you in the first place.

He has to muster up the courage to tell you of his idea, unsure of how you’ll react or what you’ll think of it. It’s a lot to ask of you. Your kinships and friendships are not as extensive as his, only having a brother and two cousins left in the world, but he doesn’t know if he could ever ask you to leave them behind like this. Or if he could shake off the guilt that would remain from it.

“There might be a way for us to change things…” Lucas starts, skipping the build-up because he knows it would take him forever to think of something appropriate to say. “But I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Change things?” You glance at him curiously. You wish you could see the deep red of his irises, but they are hidden behind his brown contacts. “As in, with us?”

“Yes. So that maybe we wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore. Or at least...not sneak around as much as we do now.”

“What is it?” you ask. Despite yourself, your wings flutter against your back as wonder and excitement rise in your chest. You and Lucas have waxed poetic many times before about how you wish things could be different; and neither of you have ever been able to come up with a workable plan. But now, his claim that maybe something is possible has you dangerously curious.

“Taking myself off the Registry. I could basically just...disappear. The Association can’t harm what technically no longer exists.”

You stare at him in confusion. “But you can’t do that, right? Only under special circumstances…”

Lucas sees the question in your eyes and nods. “Right. Like if I die…” You flinch, shaking your head immediately. “...or pretend I’ve died.” This makes you pause, not expecting to hear something like that come from him.

“Pretend...you’ve died. Faking your own death?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but...there’s another vampire who we think has done it before. And...it worked. Supposedly.”

You shake your head again, but you turn the idea over in your mind. “How would you even do that? Someone would have to know you’re not really dead. That can’t be as easy as it sounds...”

Lucas swallows hard. “I know, it doesn’t, but maybe if we plan it right...I think we could pull this off. Some of the others...already know about it.” Only Ten, really, but that’ll inevitably change soon.

Your heart is hammering in your chest just thinking about this plan—the small, undefined plan that it is—and you’re unsure how to approach it. “If we leave under those circumstances, we can’t come back here to Beijing. Which means we won’t see anyone else again, our families and friends...”

“You understand that.” Lucas’s voice comes out strained.

You sigh, wringing your hands. “I do.”

Lucas hangs his head, closing his eyes tightly. “It’s too much to ask of you. We can just forget about this, really. I know sneaking around has been difficult, and I just—”

“I never said I wouldn’t agree to it,” you say softly, interrupting him before he can begin deriding himself about the idea.

Lucas’s head perks up again, and you both look at each other for a long moment. A cold night breeze flows through your clothes and rustles your wings, which remain tucked close against your back.

“Just think of it as leaving the nest, I guess,” you say, though there are tears welling in your eyes. “Growing up and making a life for ourselves. We can do that...right?”

Lucas bites his lip and closes his eyelids to stave off the tears trying to form in his own eyes. “Yeah. We can do that. Even if it’s a bit...unconventional.”

You nod hurriedly, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands before any more tears can make their way out. “If you really want to do this, then we need to visit my brother.”

—

Your brother is predictably not thrilled about the idea. He likes Lucas well enough, but he’s never been very good at hiding his skepticism about your relationship. Though he would never say this to you directly, he never expected your relationship to make it past a few months; and yet it’s been a year and a half since you and Lucas started seeing each other. Maybe he’d be glad about your relationship’s stability if your partner was anyone other than a vampire. Alas, he instead spends all his time stressing over whether either of you will be found out at any moment’s notice.

“You’re playing with fire,” your brother says as he sits down at his desk within his apothecary office. He shakes his head the entire time, but he rifles through his collection of books on magic anyway. If there is anyone who knows a potion or spell that could work for this scheme and would actually be willing to keep it all secret, it’s your brother.

“I know that, Aldriel.” You cross your arms, sighing impatiently at your brother’s continuous reprimands since you’ve stepped through his door. “That’s why we came to you. You’re one of the best magic wielders and potionists around.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. No need to blow smoke up my ass,” Aldriel replies, never one to let a moment to brag slip away. He continues flipping through his book fast enough to make the words on the pages blur, his brow creased with focus. He is paying attention to the words and pictures on the pages, though you also know him well enough to realize this is him trying to distract himself from the many thoughts that must be crowding his brain.

“Don’t be so worried about it,” you say, trying to speak against the lump that’s suddenly forming in your throat. “You’ve always complained about wanting me out of your hair, anyway.”

Aldriel pauses in flipping through his spell book to look directly at you now, his brows creased even further and his face creating a visage of bitter desperation. “Not like this.”

Sighing, you turn away from him and let him go back to his textbook, knowing you’d probably start to cry if you look at him any longer. And who knows what will happen once that begins.

You go back to Lucas, who is sitting in the other room with his face turned to the window. It is nighttime and the blinds are closed, so you know he’s not looking at anything in particular. His mind must be similarly preoccupied.

“You okay?” you ask, touching his arm.

“Fine,” he answers, though he doesn’t turn to you. He just grasps your hand where it slides down to his own, gripping your fingers tightly. “As fine as I can be in this situation, I guess.”

You sit down in front of Lucas on the floor’s intricately decorated rug, resting your head against his knee. “It’ll be okay.” You aren’t sure of the words when they leave your lips, but you have to believe in them or else all will be lost.

—

You both spend a few hours at Aldriel’s place. At one point, you try to prod Lucas into going back to his clan to avoid raising suspicions for being gone too long—you can just get the potion to him some other day—but he insists it’ll be easier for him to stay and receive the potion now.

Finally, in the hour before dawn, your brother’s door opens and he steps through. “It’s ready.”

Both you and Lucas come alert at that, and you step back into Aldriel’s apothecary to see what he’s developed.

“This is an advanced death glamor potion,” your brother says, holding up a small glass bottle. “It contains a magic incantation that will leave you dead for a week and only a week. Seven days. Your body will remain in perfect stasis, so there’s no risk of the regular side effects that come with death.”

“A week?” you repeat, nervousness coursing through your body. Lucas looks equally apprehensive, and he squeezes your hand tighter.

Aldriel nods, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “That should be enough time to take care of the funeral arrangements and make everyone else think you’ve passed.” He says the last bit while gesturing to Lucas. “I’m not super clear on how vampire funerary customs work, though, so—”

Lucas nods. “No, it’ll work. That’s enough time.”

Your brother’s mouth creases into a thin line. “Good.” He passes the vial to Lucas, makes an expression like he might say something else, and then shakes his head, glancing to you instead. “You plan to go to Tianjin, right?”

“That’s right,” you say quietly.

“You’ll need to find a place to stay, then, until you can get one of your own. And I think we both know exactly where that will be.”

The potion works just as Aldriel said it would. It’s hard to know whether to be dismayed or relieved about this, though the former emotion quickly wins out with everyone.

Lucas takes it a week after meeting with your brother and procuring all the necessary fake documents, claiming it’s best not to wait any longer for it. You feel apprehensive about doing it so soon; or maybe you just want to stall for a little while longer. By now the other five men in his clan all know, each with varying reactions to it but ultimately unable to do anything to change his mind—not even Kun.

On the night Lucas uses the potion, Kun makes one last ditch attempt at reasoning.

“You don’t need to go to this extreme,” the older man insists. Though his voice is cold and sharp and deceptively calm, his entire face is a picture of perfect anger. Everyone had already had their turns talking to Lucas alone and telling him what they needed him to hear—and now it’s just Kun left.

“It’s my decision,” Lucas says, keeping his voice steadier than he feels. “I want to be with Y/N. There is no other way.”

“You’re endangering the entire clan with this. You’d throw us all away for one person?” Kun’s eyes are red-rimmed, but not just from the rage; Lucas knows he’s been crying. Lucas shuts his own eyes, his forehead creasing as he presses the pads of his fingers to his temples.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Lucas shakes his head, knowing he is treading on very dangerous waters with what he’s about to say. As if the situation weren’t already contentious enough. “You closed yourself off to love a long time ago. After Jingyi died. You just wouldn’t know.”

The vivid red hue of anger bleeds into Kun’s irises at the mention of his late human lover, and he has to make a very concentrated effort not to reach for the younger’s neck. “How dare you speak of her.”

Lucas opens his eyes again and looks directly at his elder now. “You’ve let the Association run your life too much,” he says, though the words come out sounding a bit defeated. He’s not even sure why he invokes Kun’s lover now; maybe he is trying to make the split easier by provoking the other man into hating him. “You’ve let them beat it into you that love is not worth trying for. What did you gain from that, in the end? But more loneliness.”

Lucas gets the breath knocked from him when Kun slams him up against the wall, and the unpleasant sound of wood splintering strikes against his eardrums. A long vertical crack forms in the wood behind Lucas, but not wide enough to make the wall separate completely. Not using his full strength, then, Lucas thinks to himself.

Kun looks for all the world like he might kill Lucas then and there without the younger man ever needing to take a potion—just bite his heart right out. He crumples Lucas’s shirt in his hands, fisting the fabric tightly enough to create small rips in it. His irises are the color of newly spilled arterial blood, and alongside the red rimming of his eyes from his earlier crying, it makes for an agonizing sight—one that sears itself into the back of Lucas’s mind. It’s made even worse by the new tears spilling down the older man’s face.

He chokes out through the tears, “You cannot do this. I raised you. You would have me destroyed twice?”

Lucas wishes he could shut every one of his senses off right now, but he can only manage to shut his eyes, once again, against the pain in the other man’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Kun-ge.”

—

After that, Lucas goes back to his own room and sits on the bed for a long time, replaying the events in his head and growing colder with the realization of what he’s about to do. He stares at the small vial on his dresser until he can’t stare at it anymore, and then he downs it all at once. He looks at the vial with renewed interest as it actually disappears once the fluid is gone, the glass evaporating away in the palm of his hand like water droplets under the sun. No evidence.

Lying on his side, he stares at the wall across from his bed and waits for the spell to begin working. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually his vision begins to blur, almost so imperceptibly that it’s difficult to realize until he notices everything in his field of view is doubled, objects bleeding out of their lines like pictures drawn by a drunken artist—there’s a strange ringing in his ears too, a sound on the edge of his hearing but still present, and he doesn’t know what any of it means, or if this is how other beings feel when they are on the brink of death—it’s frightening, and he feels a momentary pang of sympathy for other nonhumans and humans alike who have no choice but to experience this terrible ordeal at the closing of their lives—

It’s harder to keep his eyes open now, so he closes them and lets all sounds and sensations fade out of his hearing—he only holds one last memory of you in his mind, of the soft and filmy texture of your wings underneath his fingertips, of you laughing whole-heartedly at something silly he’d said, and he joins his hands together in the universal symbol of prayer even as they grow weaker, hoping and praying even to his cursed vampire ancestor that this won’t be the very last memory of you—

—

“Yes, he has...most certainly departed from this world.”

An Association council member known as Belial announces this to the room of men after doing a thorough check of Lucas’s body. His voice is distant and saddened. The texture of it is almost tangible, dragging everyone down with it like a physical thing—akin to a rock being dropped into a thin sheet. “Such a fledgling, too. Truly tragic and strange circumstances.” Belial stands beside the bed, shaking his head and looking down at the still form of the younger man as if he might discover an answer if he stares for long enough. “Was there no indication…?”

“He was probably exposed to bad blood,” Ten replies, his voice tense and quiet. Though Kun is clan leader, he doesn’t say anything at all, leaving all the dirty work of explaining the lie to Ten.

Belial’s gaze turns to Ten. He shifts his head slightly to turn his ear towards him, as if he didn’t understand what the other man said. “Bad...blood? As in death by blood weakness?”

The room feels like it’s been sucked of air once these words are spoken, and the younger men shift uncomfortably. Sicheng never lifts his gaze to look at Belial, though Yangyang’s eyes keep darting between Belial and Lucas on the bed like he’s waiting for something to happen. Hendery is just as anxious beside Yangyang, both of them passing uneasy energy between each other. Xiaojun’s face is still fixed into the same permanent frown it had been in since Lucas first told them of the plan. His eyes remain downcast and fixed on Lucas, silently asking Why did you have to be the idiot this time?

“Yes, blood weakness. He hadn’t drank as much blood as usual in the last few days...maybe he seemed a little restless...but we didn’t think it was unusual. He...didn’t seem sick.”

“Where would he have gotten bad blood from? We vampires always take such care…” Belial’s tone turns condescending, as if he could expect no better from a young vampire—someone not even wise enough to tell bad blood from uninfected blood. How could one let themselves be taken out of this world by such a fundamental, basic mistake? Kun curls his fingers into a fist at his side, though he quickly remembers himself and tries to let them relax.

“The blood lounge,” Hendery blurts out. Every eye turns to him now, and Ten’s mouth thins into an agitated line. This isn’t what they agreed on. “M-maybe it was spoiled blood from the blood lounge. It had to be. He’s more careful than that…”

Belial’s eyes are whirling with so many emotions that it’s hard to pin any singular one down. “Serving bad blood, with or without knowledge of it, is an incredible offense within any vampire district. In that case, the establishment must be shut down—after an exhaustive investigation, of course.” This statement causes more discomfort among the gathered men, almost too much of it to be properly concealed.

“I think that won’t be necessary,” Kun interjects quietly. Belial looks at him with an expression that reeks of offense, and Kun returns the stare, glaring straight into the elder vampire’s eyes. “He died of blood weakness, most likely from drinking from some disease-ridden human. Even though he used the blood lounge and blood bags, he was in the habit of getting outside blood on occasion. It was a moment of poor judgment that cost him his life...and nothing more than that.”

A tense silence stretches over the room, and Belial’s eyes still don’t leave Kun’s. The other men remain statue-still, waiting to see what will happen—if it will work—until Belial says, “Yes. Of course. I’ll file his passing with the Keepers of the Registry, as protocol states.”

The other men stay quiet and motionless until Belial departs from their house.

“You used your compulsion on a council member,” says Yangyang, and even his voice is trembling when he speaks.

“I didn’t think that was possible,” Xiaojun notes, though his tone is more irritated than awed. “They’re all so much more advanced.”

That action obviously didn’t come for free, though, because Kun is holding his head like it hurts, turning away from the rest of them. “Such recklessness is not my style. Primitiva help us all. We’re all dead if we’re found out.”

“Why did you say that,” Sicheng deadpans, his words directed to Hendery. Even though Sicheng hasn’t said or done anything since stepping into the room, he looks thoroughly exhausted. “You almost gave us away.”

Hendery holds himself up on the bed as if he’ll collapse, his body bent with all the weight of their lies. He makes a motion like he might sit on the bed before remembering it’s where Lucas’s body is resting, and he straightens himself with some effort. “I...but he was thinking badly of Lucas. Like it was his fault.”

“It was,” Kun says faintly.

“You can’t let your emotions get the best of you right now. Just let me handle the talking.” Ten’s expression is stressed, and for a moment he starts to wonder if he should’ve ever said anything to Lucas at all.

Xiaojun shakes his head. “For now, there is a lot more we need to do than just talking.”

Vampire funerary procedures are much different from what many other supernatural races are used to—even blasphemous to some. Everything is handled at the home of the deceased instead of a funeral home or mortuary, in keeping with the tradition of honoring one’s vampire ancestors—and ultimately, the Primitiva Vampire. After the Primitiva’s gruesome death hundreds of years ago, all that had been left was her ashes once the fire burned out, but her followers still gave the remains a proper processing and burial.

The men dress Lucas in one of his nicest suits and perform all the necessary actions that would be involved at a funerary home, including preparing the casket. All of them help throughout this process as tradition dictates, though it is more difficult than any of them expected it to be. (No one even makes a dark joke about you’ll have to do this for me when I’m gone, which speaks to their inner turmoil.)

The viewing is equally challenging to get through, if not more.

Many of their vampire friends and acquaintances attend, including various members of the Association. Everyone seems to buy the blood weakness lie perfectly, which means Kun’s compulsion worked as it should have. That knowledge does very little to relax any of them in the grand scheme of things, though.

Though they know Lucas is not really gone, the sight of him lying there in that dark coffin with other vampires looking sadly down at his still face and dabbing their tears away is deeply frightening.

The night of the viewing goes by at a glacial pace, and every other night after that up until the funeral passes even more slowly, like time itself has dropped its speed to prolong the torment.

When the last few straggling visitors for the viewing are gone, the men go their separate ways to try to deal with the not-so-small trauma of the day’s events. Kun goes up to one of the manor’s several wide balconies, one that they’ve all used as a familiar hangout spot or simply a place to unwind over the years. The sun will not rise for another forty-five minutes or so, giving him enough time to sit and think before it becomes unsafe. He is not very surprised when he finds Ten already there, though he decides not to leave.

“You stopped smoking three decades ago,” Kun comments, waving his hand in a pitiful attempt to clear out the smell of smoke filling the air. There’s no hint of teasing or personality in his voice, only hollowness and exhaustion. He sits beside the other man in one of the chairs sat outside. “Where did you even get cigarettes from?”

“Don’t worry about me. This is just for the nerves.”

“Why would I worry, it’s not like you can—” Kun pauses before saying the word they both know, realizing it hits far too close to home right now. Silence falls between them until Kun asks, “Do you actually believe this will be worth it?”

“It will. We’ve worked too hard for it not to be.” Ten takes a drag from his cigarette. “We’re giving them a second chance. Isn’t that something to feel good about?”

“A second chance. How interesting.”

“Everyone deserves one.” Ten glances at Kun from the corners of his eyes and doesn’t say anything more, but Kun already knows what he’s vaguely implying.

“And yet everyone doesn’t get one.”

“All the more reason to take the opportunity when it becomes possible.”

Kun doesn’t reply to that. Ten places a hand on his shoulder, but the older man meets this with little regard as he rises from his seat and walks away at a sluggish pace.

You stand in the train station ready to buy a ticket, clutching documents falsifying your identity and feeling more terrified than you possibly ever have. Today marks the seventh day, and you don’t even know if Lucas is alive right now. It was too risky to have any of the other clan members contact you—not until you and Lucas meet up in the designated place. You know Aldriel is an excellent potion master, and if he says the spell will work as intended then it will, but there’s always that seed of doubt.

Your parting with Aldriel had been typical of your relationship with him—you crumbling before him and him pretending like he was fine, lending enough strength for the both of you to survive on, though you knew he was also bleeding from the heart.

“You better not forget about me,” you’d told him, smushing your face into the sleeve of his shirt to hide your tears, though there was no stopping the flow. It was staining his shirt sleeve right through.

He’d scoffed at you, though it was a watery sound. “I couldn’t if I wanted to.” He’d held your head closer against his shoulder, the both of you glued together in whichever way seemed fit when you’d walked through his door one last time to say goodbye. “We’ll see each other again. Don’t worry.”

You’d lifted your head from his shoulder then, looking at him with an aggrieved expression. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Aldriel put his hand on top of your head, petting you like a small puppy. It was a thing you’d disliked since you were both children, but which only made your heart hurt even more now. “Have more faith in me than that, dear sister. You’ll see.”

When it’s your turn to get a ticket, you step up to the counter and hand over your information, trying to keep the shaking in your hands to a minimum. The teller behind the counter is also a fairy, their wings tucked against the back of their uniform but peeking out at the sides. You childishly try to take some solace in that, hoping there will be some solidarity between you two. Maybe they’ll be less critical of your legitimacy than any other being might be.

The process is scarily easier than you’d thought it would be, though you are sweating the entire time. A fake name and birth date, and no one suspected anything. All of this would have to be your new identity now if you were to live with Lucas in Tianjin without being discovered.

Getting on the train when it comes is only part of the long journey ahead. It doesn’t provide you with much relief, but you are at least thankful to have one segment of that journey complete.

—

It takes another cab to get to your destination once you’re off the train, but you soon arrive at the house of one of Aldriel’s friends and his similar-name twin—Raziel. Raziel was Aldriel’s most trusted and oldest friend, their woven history extending back to childhood. The three of you had grown up together, and you’d even been quite familiar with Raziel until they left for Tianjin some years ago. Now, you’re back in front of each other again under circumstances that you never could’ve guessed.

“You’re here. Good.” Raziel welcomes you into their house with open arms, tugging you into a jittery hug that you anxiously return.

“Have...you heard anything?” you ask, though you know it’s futile. Raziel wouldn’t have gotten any more information than you have, not until Lucas was standing right on their doorstep. They shake their head and give you a sympathetic look, patting your hands.

“He’ll be alright. Everything will go well. I believe it.” Raziel guides you further into their house, presumably towards the room you’ll be staying in while you’re there. “It’s all so romantic, though—even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. I hope you know you’re doing a good thing, in the end.”

You force your facial muscles into a smile, though it is a ghostly and fleeting one. “Thank you.”

Either way, you will have to wait until nighttime to know if Raziel’s words come true or not; the sun is still high in the sky. It’s only midday. You’ve never before hated the sunlight, but right now you curse the sun’s rays that elongate the time between you and your lover.

—

“You all, give him some damn space,” Ten says, trying to pull the younger vampires away so they won’t crowd around the coffin. “He doesn’t need the scare of his life looking at all your faces when he wakes up.” Despite trying his best to be the voice of reason, Ten also has to refuse the urge to station himself beside the coffin and watch for the slightest movement of eyelids, the tiniest twitch of the lips. His hands shake from the frayed nerves of a week of nothing but death and gloom, and even though he doesn’t need to sleep, he thinks he will be out for at least two days after all of this is over.

There is no set time, no designated signal for when—or the dreaded if—Lucas will awaken. The waiting game feels longer than it really is, especially with the hours until the funeral commences steadily counting down. However, it is not very long before there’s a big sucking breath coming from the coffin, the sudden sound of lungs being filled after a week of complete stillness. Everyone rushes back to the bier when this happens, peering wildly inside the coffin.

Lucas’s eyelids flutter for an eternity before shooting open. He immediately seems distressed upon waking, sitting up out of the coffin so quick that it stutters on its stand, and the others have to steady it before it tips over.

“Xuxi...are you okay?” Sicheng asks, voice hushed with nervousness. Despite his unending anger and distress about the situation, Kun has also crowded in to witness Lucas’s awakening, and he visibly sags with relief to see the younger man is at last awake.

The look in Lucas’s eyes is wild. They are momentarily afraid that maybe something has gone wrong with the potion—maybe it has affected his mind somehow and he doesn’t remember any of them— but then he says,

“Y/N. Is Y/N okay?”

“We don’t know,” Sicheng replies. “I mean, hopefully. But it was safer to not have so much cross-communication going on—you’ll have to go to the meeting spot to find out…”

Though the reasons for this make sense, this does not provide consolation. Lucas fumbles his way out of the coffin with the men’s help. It’s clear he’s still disoriented, which makes them even more nervous, if that’s possible at this point.

“You should drink some blood before you leave,” Hendery suggests, and everyone else agrees. Lucas won’t argue that, so he downs one of the blood bags they have stored until he feels a little more like himself.

“You have to go soon, the funeral is set to start in another hour—we’ll have to leave—” Yangyang warns him, though the words fade at the end of his sentence. He doesn’t know how to continue his thought or how to even begin saying goodbye.

Lucas fills that gap by steeling himself and saying his farewells to each of them in turn, though his eyes are troubled and his chin crumples like he might cry at any moment.

“Don’t say I never helped you out with anything,” Ten says, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. Being separated is painful, but it’ll ultimately serve its purpose of giving Lucas a chance at having a love that none of them could. After seeing Kun suffer the way he did after losing Jingyi, Ten wants to spare another one of his mates from dealing with the same fate.

When Lucas gets to Kun, there is a slight awkward silence and a swift exchange of glances—Lucas’s soft gaze butting up against Kun’s more solid one, which is simultaneously pleading to him and rebuking him for his actions. Still, Kun embraces him tightly enough that their bodies could join together.

“Xuxi…” Kun starts, “I don’t…” And then his words break, leaving an unspoken thought between them.

“One day, you’ll forgive me for this,” Lucas whispers to the older man. Kun gives him an endlessly hurt look in return, silently asking him how he could even conceive those words. When they separate from each other, it’s with much reluctance. Lucas looks at them all and nods once, his mouth tight with grief.

“Right. Time to go, then.”

—

You awake in the middle of the night to cool fingers on the side of your face, which startles you completely out of your sleep. Opening your eyes to an unfamiliar room scares you even more, and it takes you a moment to remember why your surroundings have changed. The knowledge comes back to you quickly when a large palm slips against your own, long fingers twining with yours.

“Xuxi,” you whisper quietly, the sound of his name hanging in the air like a prayer. One of the last few times you’ll be able to freely call him that, except in private.

You can’t see his figure well with all the lights turned out, but he had no problem navigating through the dark to reach your bedside. Wanting desperately to see his face, you fumble around for the bedside lamp switch before turning it on.

“Y/N…” Lucas’s face is suddenly illuminated to you in all its golden glory, a myriad of emotions flickering over his features.

“I didn’t even hear you come in,” you say breathlessly. You’re somewhat sad and wish you could’ve met him at the door, embraced him after his long trip, but it doesn’t much matter anymore because he’s here now.

“Poor Y/N. My baby must’ve been so tired.” Lucas bumps his forehead against yours, his whole body drooping with relief as he practically sinks into you, and you giggle a little as you complain about having to hold his weight up. There is a tingle behind your eyes that threatens to turn into a sudden burst of tears, but you try to hold them at bay for a while longer.

“Are we safe?” he whispers, needing your confirmation. “Raziel said so. But...are we really safe?”

“That’s frightening to even think about,” you reply quietly. “We can’t stay here too long, but for now…I think we will be.” Lucas nods without a word, still holding your hand. His blood-scent is completely absent, as it usually is when he’s around you, and you know he’s used the blockers. Soon, with the ability to go out together and not be arrested or threatened for it, that will not be necessary to disguise his vampirism anymore. “It...won’t be easy.”

“No, but the things we want out of life usually aren’t.”

You squeeze his hand. “Raziel will help take care of things for us. It won’t all be trials and tribulations. I hope.” More hesitantly, you ask him, “What was it like? Being dead?” You know that vampires, being once human, still have souls and an afterlife to go to like most other living beings.

The look on his face is worrying. He doesn’t meet your eyes; he only shakes his head and stares at your joined hands. “It was cold without you.” His lips pull into a weak and chapped smile, if only to quiet your worrying, but that doesn’t work as intended. You decide to leave it for now, figuring there will be more time to talk about it when he feels ready.

Turning the light back off, you both press your bodies together as close as they can physically get, Lucas’s head on your chest and his long legs all jumbled together with yours. You fall asleep before he does, lulled away by his comforting and safe presence. He stays awake for a while longer, staring into the dark and the dark staring back into him, before everything else falls away.

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wisehq · 3 years

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Mission Debrief: Chapter 43

...IT’S HAPPENING! IT’S HAPPENING! IT’S HAPPENING-!

Alright, before we get into it- full disclosure; the hivemind is in full swing at the Operation Strix discord server, so pretty much anything I write here is going to be an amalgamation of all the conspiracy theories and reactions we vomited out as soon as the chapter dropped. On that same note, I think writing these the day after will start to be the norm. Just so I have the chance to calm myself before going on a twenty-page tangent about everything Endo may or may not be planning.

Okay [deep breath] let’s get into it.

First, let’s start off with Franky, before we get into the juicy stuff.

When the chapter first started, I thought we were going to get backstory on Franky. Endo seemed to be alluding to this on his twitter page, and I was actually interested in possibly seeing more about his and Twilight’s relationship. Of course that didn’t end up happening; instead we got another side story about Franky trying to get some action by finding a lady’s lost cat, but seeing as how it’s Franky we’re talking about it seemed appropriate. Also, how can I be upset when-

The princess herself arrives! I gotta say, I loved the lightheartedness of most of this chapter. Yor’s always a delight, and pairing her together with Franky was a smart move on Endo’s part. They built off each other’s wackiness and I love this moment with the two of them. Just like with Twilight, we see that Franky genuinely wants to make the world a better place (and also get rich along the way) and Yor’s so impressed with him. I also liked that moment where Franky is surprised to find Yor still playing Loid’s wife even when he isn’t there- much like how he was with Anya while he was babysitting her. Just another little nod to the fact that he sees the Forger girls as being more than players in a game of elaborate house.

Then- just a quick thing before we get into what I know we all want to talk about- it’s interesting to me that Franky isn’t a one-man operation. He has a whole network of informants that he works with, and it makes sense that someone in his line of work has a many ears on the wall as possible. It’s a surefire way to stay plugged into the goings-on of the Ostanian underworld, unless of course...

...They get taken out by Garden.

AGHGHGHGHGH ALRIGHT, OK LET’S GO-

Garden. We finally have a name for Yor’s group now; we thought it was The Shop for the longest time, but apparently that’s only part of it. Yor alluded to this briefly back in ch. 29 when she described The Shop was being in charge of information gathering, and once their job was done it was Yor’s turn to come in and do the actual assassination. In this sense we see The Shop was being more of a support role in the same way that Franky is, though it’s still safe to assume the Shopkeeper is still in charge of both The Shop and Garden. At least for now- until we get more information to say otherwise, anyway.

Of course, the interesting thing is our silhouetted figures standing in this panel- not to mention the fact that Franky states that all the members are capable of taking on a whole troop of soldiers (for reference, a troop ranges between 9 and 100 men, though it usually hovers around 50). We know Yor is capable of doing this, but now that we also know the other assassins of Garden are as well, it begs the question; is Yor’s strength truly a unique thing in this world? And if it isn’t, what could be the source of it?

OSO-R, the drug used during the Tennis arc, was described as being in its trial stages. I originally chalked up it’s fast development time as just being part of manga logic, although I’m now starting to question that theory. It’s possible the roadmap for OSO-R has been around for much longer than first thought, and may find its traces back to when the war had just ended. Loid describes Garden as having been around for some time. We also know that Yor was just a child when she started up her assassination gig, so it’s possible that she and others like her may be have been exposed to a serum similar to OSO-R a decade or so before. Given Ostania’s track record of human experimentation, the scenario is possible.

Also going back to what Franky describes as “the shadow government”; it’s interesting that we’re hearing rumblings of a government operating outside the public’s view literally one chapter after we were just introduced to the concept of a royal class at some point in Ostania’s past. There’s a lot of things that cab be construed from this (such as Garden serving an authority that doesn’t necessarily align with Donovan and the government) but listing everything would just turn this review into one long-winded mess. So instead, we’re gonna entertain a fun theory- one that may or may not be true, but if it *does* end up being confirmed later on down that road, you heard it here first.

*ahem*

Mr. Green is a part of Garden.

Allow me to state my case.

When ch. 39 came out, I found it very unusual that a brand new character we haven’t seen before got a majority of the panel-time alongside Damian and the boys. It wasn’t very suspicious at the time, given that we’d just been introduced to Becky’s maid Martha, so we all just assumed Endo was building up his side characters a bit. For all intents and purposes, that may very well be the case.

However.

I know one person in particular who latched onto this panel right here, and for good reason; why would a security guard stationed at a school nowhere close to the border know about code words being used by people trying to cross over illegally? Yes, he was supposedly in the navy, but the way he phrases it here heavily implies that these code words are a recent affair, or at the very least are still being used currently. Why would he know that? Even if he was in the military, it’s information that has absolutely nothing to do with being in the navy.

Mr. Green is also very strong; strong enough to make the boys think they were going down rapids when in actuality it was just him rowing so fast. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever paddled a boat before, but it’s hard work- and it’s certainly difficult to the get that boat going at cruising speed, let alone fast enough to cause rapids. Yor’s the only one we’ve seen with strength like that and- yes, Green was supposedly in the navy, but at this point in time we don’t know anything else about him. We don’t know what he did after the war, nor do we know how he wound up in Eden Academy in the first place.

This is where we start going deep down the rabbit hole. Hang on.

This gentleman who we’ve never seen before is clearly aware that Garden exists, or at the very least is privy to Yor’s actual job. Much like how WISE has plants within Loid’s hospital, this man likely works to support Yor in some way. If such is the case, we can likely assume that- because the shadow government is supporting Garden- they would have their assassins posted in key areas for various reasons, likely to keep an eye out for traitors or to keep them spread out to cover a wide area should the need ever arise to deploy them.

We’ve only ever see Yor target traitorous politicians and outright terrorists (I realize this one is just a daydream, but you get my point). It would make sense, seeing as how she works at city hall and it would likely put her in an advantageous position when hunting them down. Of course, politicians aren’t the only people who might catch Garden’s attention. Given the amount of political and economic unrest that is currently going on in the country, there likely would be some people who would be fed up with the state of things. Such people may not be like Franklin Perkin- someone who would take direct action against the government- but instead would rather try to steer others towards a mindset that stands in opposition to Ostania. Such a person may try to target more impressionable people- people who are likely to listen and learn from an authority figure in their lives. People like...small children.

Eden students.

Garden. Eden. I see what you’re doing there, Endo.

Traitorous professors? Renegade academics? It would make sense to have a Garden assassin stationed at the most prestigious school in the country; the amount of information and contacts that are positioned around there are second to none, and what better way to suppress insurrection than at the source, at the very foundations of knowledge itself? Also, for kicks and giggles, let’s not forget that the name Mr. Green certainly fits with the plant motif Endo is going for with his assassin group (Garden. Thorn Princess. Briar. You catch my drift?)

Am I grasping at straws? Probably lol. I’d also like to reiterate that this is in no way all my thinking- a lot of crazy people put their brains together for this one, good or bad. But hey, it’s about all we can do until the next chapter! And at the very least, it’s a lot of fun to wonder what-if!

Also, BONUS

...She’s coming.

#spy x family

138 notes · View notes

etherrealoblivion · 4 years

Text

A Broken System

MASTERLIST

Summary: At her birthday celebration, Y/N is out on the town enjoying herself when she runs into a cute FBI agent who she’d love to take home and do terrible things to. Normally, someone meeting an FBI agent at a bar wouldn’t be that big of a deal. There’s just one, miniscule, microscopic, meager, problem... Y/N is only twenty.

tags: Large Age Difference, power imbalance, choking, Dom/sub, safe sex, vaginal penetration, dirty talk, cliffhanger.

A/N: this just made so much more sense in third person. i tried replacing it with second person, but trust me it did not work. hope you enjoy! gif by @toyboxboy

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Words: 5,930

Spencer Reid never really thought he was attractive.

Probably had something to do with his perpetually messy hair, gangly stature, and his tendency to ramble on and on and on and. . .

Yeah. Like that.

Another factor definitely was the fact that he was in his 30’s and had never really had a stable relationship. Sure, he’d had relationships with a few women. Well, two women. The first being a girl he’d met in college with whom he had a brief fling. Spencer didn’t really count it as a stable relationship due to the fact they barely even kissed. And the other woman, the only woman he’d ever really loved, died tragically several years ago.

Maeve.

Maeve was the real reason Spencer didn’t like going to bars with Morgan or being set up on dates by Penelope. She was the reason that Spencer wasn’t interested in anyone anymore. Who could possibly compare to Maeve?

Damn it. That was the other reason he wasn’t looking to date. He knew how the mind worked and there was no doubt that if any new person came into his life, she’d be unconsciously compared to Maeve. He couldn’t put anyone through that.

So, Spencer Reid stayed single. Which, for him, was relatively easy. Whenever someone started to get a little too close with him, he’d blabber and spout facts until they ran off. Morgan would ask what happened and Reid would just put on a slight frown, mumbling how she had to go.

The charade got more effortless the more they went out. Morgan, almost always going home on the arm of some woman and Spencer content to get a cab back to his own place, have a quick efficient orgasm, and fall asleep.

He had a system. And no one was going to break it.

Y/N hated the summertime.

Well, she didn’t usually. Anywhere else on the planet it would be mildly enjoyable. The beach, ice cream, staying up all night. All that fun crap. In Washington D.C, however, summer was hell.

But! When one was accepted into Georgetown and their parents offered to pay FULL tuition plus housing, how can one say no?

Seriously, she wanted to know.

After two whole years in this armpit of a town, Y/N had finally gotten used to the sweltering heat that plagued the city during the summer. Whatever. She just stayed in the comfortable A.C. all day anyway.

But, the summer before her third year was almost over, and the only thing she could think about now was graduating with a major in Journalism. She didn’t really like most of the courses, but it’s what she needed to do to become a full-time editor.

Living in a rent-free apartment was heaven. No roommates meant no worrying about, well, anything. The only problem was, her parents could hold it over her head every time they called. Which is why she never answered their calls.

Today, however, answering was unavoidable.

Because not only was it the day before her first class, today was her twentieth birthday.

Y/N was in the middle of getting dressed to go out with her friends when her phone vibrated from the kitchen table.

“Hello?”

She tried so hard to suppress the cringe at her mom’s voice.

“Sweetie! How are you? Are you eating?”

“Yes, mom.”

Oh boy. Strong start, mom.

“You look skinny in the pictures on Facebook!”

Yeah, she was definitely going to be late.

Surprisingly, it only took five minutes to push her mom off the phone, insisting that her friends were on their way and she had to keep getting ready.

A sharp rap on the door saved her.

“Come on!! It’s almost ten!” Y/N’s friend, Mina, said, annoyed. “All the old people leave the bars at ten and if we don’t get there soon, the bouncers won’t let us in!”

Y/N didn’t really understand the logic there. Hot girls always got into bars. Especially late at night. How were there not more crimes committed in clubs? Maybe she’d find out in her first class tomorrow.

“Hey!” Mina snapped her out of it, “Come on! Let’s go.”

They arrived outside a dinky little club a few minutes later. It had taken Y/N a while to get accustomed to how close everything was together in this town. Before college, she had been a small-town girl. Promise ring and everything. That, uh. That didn’t last long.

Before they got in line, Mina took a long satin sash out of her purse and secured it across Y/N’s torso.

“What the hell’s this?”

The sash was white with large pink flowy letters that poignantly spelled out: Birthday Bitch.

“It’s a sash.”

Three of Mina’s friends strode up, quickly exchanging hugs and wishing Y/N a happy birthday.

“I see that it’s a sash, but why am I wearing it?”

Mina confidently strode up to the bouncer, Y/N at her side, fake ID at the ready. Technically, it was the right birthdate, the year was just a little off.

“Go through. Happy Birthday,” the guy said, barely sparing the ID a glance, more focused on the huge sash. It made sense. She didn’t look her age. No one would think she was only in college by taking a glance at her.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Look,” Mina pulled her aside just before they entered, “this makes every single guy in there want to buy you a drink. So, go enjoy a free Shirley Temple, on me.”

Y/N scoffed and entered the club, immediately overwhelmed by the booming of the music.

Jesus Christ. How did people not die from this? It felt like her heart was beating out of her chest.

Sure, she’d been in a bar before. But not a real, proper club. She was pretty sure she saw some people wearing neon. Oh my god, there was a DJ.

Suppressing a laugh, she headed to the bar. At least there was a bar. There were so many people gathered around though that she couldn’t get much access to the one bartender on staff.

Luckily, he spotted her sash that seemed to shine under the blacklights.

“Hey, make some room for the birthday girl!”

And the crowd parted like the red sea, every man’s head turned towards her, and she cautiously approached the bartender who gave her a quick wink.

“Scotch. Neat.”

A dark man with a silver nose ring slid onto the stool next to her.

“It’s on me,” he addressed the bartender, staring at her the whole time. “So. Birthday girl. How old are you turning?”

She smiled softly. The sash was working great, but now she had to come up with a way to answer his question without explicitly lying.

“Who wants to know?”

Maybe flirting would be distracting enough.

He smiled, glancing down for a moment, then holding out his hand. Ha. Men.

“I’m Jon.”

Ugh. She hated handshakes. But for this man, she might be able to make an exception.

“Y/N.”

Five minutes later, she wished with all her heart she could take the handshake back. Y/N should have known better than to talk to a guy at a club. They were all sleazebags. But! She did manage to get a couple of drinks out of it.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said after his fifth time mentioning Outback Steakhouse.

But before she could leave the bar discreetly, a hand wrapped around her arm, yanking her back.

“Hey, what’s the matter? I thought we were talking?”

Y/N may have been a small-town girl, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing his shoulders and driving her knee up into his crotch, stomping off toward the exit.

Only when she got outside did she realize how fast her heart was beating. She leaned over, hands on her knees to catch her breath.

A soft hand on her shoulder made her snap around, grab the hand and twist it around the stranger’s back, shoving him up against the alley wall.

“I’m sorry!” the man squawked shrilly. “I’m sorry!” It wasn’t Jon.

“What were you doing?” she demanded, not releasing him yet.

“I saw you lean over. I just wanted to see if you were ok!”

She finally drank in the man’s appearance. He was wearing a soft purple sweater vest over a grey button-down, slacks, and worn black converse on his feet.

Confident that he wasn’t a threat, she released him and took a step back.

The man rubbed his elbow softly, glancing at her chest. Before she could tell him off for staring at her rack, he pointed to the sash.

“Is it your birthday?”

She looked down. Oh, he’d been looking at the sash of course. Then why did she feel … disappointed?

“Oh, yeah. Some guy bought me a drink and got a little, er, touchy.”

Suddenly, the man’s face went dark.

“Who is he? Where is he?”

He started to walk back into the club but she stopped him, reaching out and gently grabbing his arm.

“Hey! It’s fine. I kicked him in the crotch.”

The man’s eyes switched from anger to surprise in a flash. He flustered for a moment, before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking back into the alley.

Y/N now took a closer look at his face. He had deep, wise brown eyes, a small five-o-clock shadow gracing his jaw, and very full lips, the latter of which he was biting profusely. Aw. He was nervous. But why?

Maybe because he was in an alley with a random girl who had just been groped at a club and he didn’t know what to do.

She chuckled, attempting to diffuse the tension.

“Um. I didn’t get your name?”

He smiled brightly, thankful for the change in topic.

“Oh! Of course, sorry. I’m Spencer!”

And Y/N braced herself for the telltale outstretching of the hand.

But none came. He simply stood there, one hand in his pocket and the other waving at her, a dopey smile on his face.

Her face lit up.

“You didn’t try to shake my hand,” she muttered, awed.

The man, Spencer, got an embarrassed look on his face, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I, uh. I’m a bit of a germaphobe. But, really, everyone should be! The amount of germs passed in a handshake is staggering. They really should be abolished altogether.”

“Right! People should just bow their heads or, or, wave!” she said excitedly, gesturing to his hand. “I mean a handshake is like a hug with a part of you that comes in contact with everything! Might as well go up to someone and start making out with them.”

As she spoke, his face lit up in wonder.

“Right? It’s crazy! But the thing is, some people actually do that! I was in that club for fifteen minutes and I swear I saw three couples leave together that definitely didn’t go in together.”

“I know!” she said, starting to pace in the cramped alley. “I mean, who goes home with someone that you just met! They could be a serial killer for all you know!”

She looked at Spencer and was delighted to see a joyful expression on his face. It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t introduced herself.

“I’m Y/N. Sorry for blabbering,” she waved, chuckling slightly.

Spencer smiled even wider.

“Don’t be sorry! Usually, I’m the one who has to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?”

“Blabbering,” he said sheepishly, hands back in his pockets. When he was talking, they had been moving about wildly. It was kind of endearing.

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, considering. “Blabbering is underrated. One could argue it’s the best way to learn useless information.”

“Well, I’d agree but no information is really useless.”

Y/N held up a finger.

“‘Information is useless if it is not applied to something important or if you will forget it before you have a chance to apply it.’”

Spencer’s mouth fell open.

“Timothy Harris?”

She nodded. “The 4-Hour Workweek. Outdated, but still applies.”

When she noticed his expression, it nearly knocked her breath away. He was looking at her like no one ever had before. Like he’d just realized the most important thing in the universe.

Before her cowardice could catch up, she took a step forward, closing the distance between them. His face went blank, shocked by the sudden approach. He nearly gasped when she spoke.

“It’s totally ridiculous to go home with someone you just met, right?”

Spencer’s eyes widened.

“Totally.”

“Why were you out tonight in the first place? You don’t exactly seem like the club-going type.”

He smiled softly.

“I, uh, just got a promotion last week. My friend Morgan wanted to take me out to celebrate. It was either this or karaoke.”

She chuckled softly, their faces so close he must have felt her breath.

“I don’t know, I’d have liked to see your rendition of Bad Romance. Has anyone ever told you you’ve got a whole Lady Gaga vibe?”

“You should see my Beyonce.” And he did a little mime of the Single Ladies dance, sending Y/N into a fit of giggles. Without thinking — probably due to the trace amounts of alcohol in her system, not enough to be drunk, but enough to be tipsy — she reached up her arms around his shoulders, clasping them together behind his neck like a teen slow-dancing at prom.

Spencer seemed startled by the sudden physical contact. He froze, hands unmoving at his sides.

Y/N pulled her arms back, stepping away from him, discouraged and embarrassed.

“Sorry,” she said, collecting herself and walking back towards the club door. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Wait!” he called before she could reenter the club. A tiny part of her let out a breath in relief. She turned around to see him with a hand outstretched toward her, frozen with the uncertainty of what to do next.

He recovered quickly, a blush visible on his cheeks in the lamplight of the alley.

“If you’re leaving, would you, um. Could I walk you home?”

She had no idea what possessed her in that moment but just as he spoke, she walked up to Spencer, threaded her fingers through his hair, and pulled him down into a passionate kiss.

To her surprise, he responded immediately, running his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him, eagerly returning the kiss.

His lips were so warm. He tasted very faintly of alcohol and maybe a breath mint? Y/N let herself fall into the sensation.

Suddenly, her back was pressed up against the wall of the alley, Spencer’s hands lighting a trail of fire down her body. He hesitated, pulling back briefly to make sure she was ok.

A glint in her eye, she yanked him back down, tongues clashing together in a blaze of glory. He hiked her leg up around his hips, pressing them closer together. Y/N could feel the hardness in his pants pressing into her stomach, sending a wave of heat down to her core.

She pulled back. If they went any further, she didn’t know if she’d be able to leave the alley.

Y/N tried to hide the smile on her face but it was no use. She beamed at Spencer, linking her arm through his elbow.

“Lead the way. Wait, that doesn’t make sense, you’re taking me home. I’ll lead the way!”

And so they walked, arm in arm down the busy D.C. streets, silently enjoying each other’s company.

They arrived outside her apartment fifteen minutes later, Y/N clumsily unlocking the door, nervous from the thought of what was about to happen. They hadn’t explicitly said anything in particular. Was he going to come in? Would she invite him?

Spencer, it seemed, was also daunted, standing awkwardly on the threshold of her place, hands buried in his pockets.

An idea sprung into Y/N’s brain.

She approached him, wrapping her hands around his neck again only this time, his hands rested lightly on her waist.

“Still think going home with a stranger is a bad idea?”

Spencer chuckled softly, stroking the exposed skin of her waist from where her top had ridden up.

“I’m still debating it.”

“Oh?”

He slid his hand around the sash, fingers hovering above her chest.

“I never asked, how old did you turn?”

She smiled. For some reason, she felt she could trust this man. The worst that could happen was he calls the cops on her for having a fake ID. She could deal with that. Destroy the evidence, bat her eyes. Easy. Besides, he looked barely of age himself. She quickly wondered what he did for a living? He did say he got a promotion.

It would be easiest to just tell him the truth.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this…”

He chuckled lowly in her ear, moving his lips gently across her neck.

“I can handle it.”

She gasped at the sensation, legs clamping together.

“Officially, it’s my twenty-third. At least, that’s what it says on my ID. One of them.”

Spencer froze, waiting for her to go on.

Y/N quickly backtracked.

“It’s okay! I’m twenty! Not a minor, no worries.”

But Spencer pulled away, an extremely worried look on his face despite her assurance.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re underage.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah? Come on, by one year. What, you never had a fake ID?”

“No!” he said shrilly, running a hand through his hair.

“Spencer, it’s ok! It’s not like I’m gonna get caught. I look much older and when are there cops at a place like that?”

He reached into his pocket and fished out a folded wallet. Snapping it open, Y/N’s jaw dropped at the FBI badge with his picture in the corner.

She floundered for a moment, unable to truly comprehend what was happening.

“You’re . . .”

“Yep,” he said shortly, pocketing the badge.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much my reaction too,” he said, sighing. “I should arrest you.”

Y/N took a step back, incredulous.

“Arrest me?”

“You have a fake ID. You’re clearly drunk.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Great idea, Spencer. Book me. Take me down to the FBI and tell them exactly what happened to lead to you finding out I’m only twenty. I’m sure they’ll need very specific details.”

A look of realization flitted across Spencer’s face and he buried his head in his hands, groaning.

“How old are you anyway?!” she demanded, upset at him for being upset.

“Thirty-four!” he shouted, throwing his arms up in the air.

Oh shit.

This was bad.

He was fourteen years older than her, in the FBI, and probably was seconds away from arresting her.

“There’s no way you’re thirty-four. I mean, look at you!”

He rolled his eyes, snorting, and beginning to pace the small hallway.

“This is exactly what I get. I meet a girl I really like for the first time in years and she’s decades younger than me. And a criminal!”

“Hey!” she said, shoving his shoulder. “Not decades. I’m not a criminal. And how the hell do you think I feel? I’m out trying to have fun on my birthday, some guy gropes me leading me to run into the perfect man, take him back to my apartment thinking I’m gonna get lucky only to find out he’s a cop who’s gonna arrest me. Best birthday ever.”

Spencer eyed her carefully.

“Get lucky?”

Y/N’s eyes went wide. Shit. She hadn’t meant to reveal that part. Even though it was pretty obvious, something about it not being said added to the excitement.

“Did you really . . . I mean were you…. Um.” Spencer seemed to lose all authoritative tone suddenly, stammering nervously. It was such a 180, it shocked Y/N.

“Was I going to let you fuck me?”

He cringed at the bluntness but nodded sheepishly.

“Yeah, Spencer. I was.” She scoffed. “Honestly, I still would. But I understand if I’m more than you can handle,” she said coyly, trying to keep a straight face. “Just please don’t arrest me, Sir.”

His expression darkened at her words. Something deep and lustful behind it. Feeling bold, she went with it.

“Or is it Agent?” she cocked her head, holding a finger to her lips in thought. “How do I address you properly, sir?”

A small groan left Spencer’s mouth and he stepped forward, brushing a hand over her hair.

“We shouldn’t do this, Y/N…”

Slowly, she backed up into her apartment, pulling him with her.

“We shouldn’t.” She gently led him to her bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed, him towering over her. “To be fair, you’re the one with handcuffs.”

He groaned again, wiping a hand down his face.

“This is a bad idea.”

But he crouched down in front of her, pressing his forehead to her exposed knee, breathing deeply.

“Spencer,” it was barely a whisper but he met her eyes instantly. She smiled gently, reaching out to him and coaxing him up from the floor so he was hovering above her, mouths inches apart. “Listen, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” she assured him. “But I want this.”

She leaned back, pulling him with her so he was lying atop her, an obvious bulge pressing against her through their clothing.

“I want this, Spencer.”

Y/N hoped that he knew he could leave if he wanted. She didn’t want to pressure him into anything. Despite the age difference, she seemed to be the one more in control.

Spencer lowered his head, sighing.

“Fuck,” he moaned, lightly thrusting against her, a moan escaping her mouth at the contact.

That seemed to be the last straw.

He sat up, ripping his sweater vest off along with his button-down, quickly moving back over her, lips latching to her neck and chest.

Oh thank god. She wasn’t sure if she’d have been able to stand it if he’d left. But from the way he was touching her, hands moving up and down her sides, gently pulling her skirt down, looking up at her every now and then to make sure it was alright, he wasn’t going anywhere.

She just spurred him on, stripping off her top and bra, now only wearing her panties.

Spencer groaned at the sight, a hand reaching up, hovering over her breast. She arched her back up into his hand, letting out a gasp as he started to fondle her.

God, his hands were huge. And nimble. Oh, so nimble.

She reached for his belt, quickly unbuckling it and tossing it across the room, pushing his pants down faster than possible.

He groaned again, a magical sound, reaching a hand down to stroke her through her panties, coaxing a gasp from her beautiful lips.

In a flash, Spencer had pulled down her panties and buried his head between her legs.

Y/N gasped, hand flying to the back of his head, edging him on.

He slipped two fingers into her, his tongue flicking against her clit wildly, making her writhe and moan on the bed, gasping his name.

“Spencer, Spencer.” It took all the resolve she had to pull his head away from her. “I need you to fuck me.”

Spencer looked at her, trying to read her expression.

“Y/N . . . are you sure?”

Rather than answer, she yanked him up, crashing their mouths together, one hand quickly pushing down his boxers, his erection springing free.

Good god.

Wow.

How the hell was she supposed to fit that inside her?

She looked up at him, impressed, only to see a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Well,” she said, kicking off the panties pooled around her ankles, laid bare underneath the stranger on top of her. “This night gets better by the second.”

His size was a little daunting, but the thought of him slowly filling her up, probably not being able to fit all the way in, only added to her desire.

He dipped his head down, stealing a quick yet passionate kiss.

“Do you have . . ?”

“Yeah, in the drawer.”

He reached over, grabbed a condom, and rolled it on. It looked extremely tight on him. Y/N unconsciously licked her lips. Spencer chuckled.

“Maybe next time. I need to be inside you.”

And with that, he flung her legs around his hips, positioning his cock at her entrance, slowly running it up and down, moistening the condom with her juices.

God. The feeling of him being so close and yet so far was almost enough to push her over the edge right there. He had been a god with his tongue and she was desperate for more friction.

Reaching down, she lightly circled her clit, moaning at the instant pleasure.

Before she could enjoy it much, hands gripped her wrists, pinning them above her on the bed, Spencer staring at her with a dark look.

“If you wanna touch yourself, you have to ask permission. Understood?”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

Words escaped her so she settled for a small nod.

“Use your words.”

His tone was so commanding the word left her mouth the moment he finished speaking.

“Yes.”

He lightly placed his hand around her neck, not applying any pressure, just hovering.

“Yes, what?”

Fuck. She wondered if it was possible to come just from being talked to.

“Yes, sir.”

And with that, he slid inside her, slowly filling her up with his length, moaning roughly at the sensation.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, watching as Spencer’s face tightened, jawline even sharper, and a dark look in his eye. He carefully applied a bit more pressure to her throat, quickly releasing his hand afterward.

They were both still as she adjusted to the size of him inside her.

“Is this ok?” his voice sounded so different than it had a moment ago. He had shifted back to the geeky guy she’d met in the alley.

She nodded gently at him, running a hand over his cheek in a way that was surely far too personal for a one night stand.

“My safeword is apple.”

He froze for a moment, shocked. Apparently she was kinkier than he’d expected.

Tired of not being fucked by this man, she dug her heels into his back, directing him to move.

He did without hesitation, groaning at the sensation of slowly pulling out and thrusting back in.

The feeling overwhelmed both of them, a litany of curses and moans falling from their mouths. Spencer’s hand moved back to her throat, squeezing much harder now that he knew what to listen for if she wanted to stop.

The sound of her moaning was enough to make him come right there and then. That, with the feeling of her around him and the fact that his hand was around her throat, totally in control.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

Oh my god, where was this coming from? Her nails scraped down his back, leaving a trail of marks.

“You like feeling me fuck you?” he wrapped a hand around her leg, pulling it higher to try to hit the magical spot inside of her. “You like when I wrap my hand around your pretty little neck? Showing you how in control I am of you.”

She nodded ecstatically, legs tightening around him. She was definitely close to coming.

“What were you thinking? Going to a bar when you’re underage. Then leading a stranger to your home, intending to let him fuck you silly. Finding out I’m ages older than you and still practically begging me to bend you over and pound you till you can’t see straight. Is the age difference what gets you off, Y/N?”

At the sound of her name, she let out a raucous moan, no doubt waking up the other tenants of the building.

Spencer smiled, drilling harder and tightening his grip on her throat.

“Oh, you like it when I say your name? You like when I shove my big cock in you and moan your name in your ear?”

She practically screamed as his hand started to circle her clit, the stimulation practically knocking the air out of her.

He was hitting her g-spot with every thrust, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She was so close. She just needed….

“You gonna come for me, Y/N?” he punctuated it with a particularly hard thrust, feeling her begin to clench around him, orgasm washing over her.

Her walls tightening around his cock was enough to send him barreling over the edge, grunting as he thrust in her four more times before feeling his balls tighten up and spill his seed deep inside her.

“Fuck,” he grunted, using his forearms to stay above her, both of them completely out of breath.

Slowly, he pulled out with a sigh, discarding the condom in the trash by her bed.

Y/N was seeing stars. This man had just given her her first penetrative orgasm. And, possibly the best sex she’d ever had.

‘Fuck’, was right.

Spencer flopped down next to her, still naked, trying to catch his breath.

Y/N turned to him, placing a hand on his chest.

It was strange. Even though they’d just had some of the best sex Y/N had ever had, she didn’t even know this man. And yet, somehow, she felt like she did. Did that happen a lot once you had sex with someone?

Her eyes refocused from where they’d been staring off into space to see a concerned Spencer looking at her.

“What?” she asked.

He studied her for another moment before speaking.

“You were biting your lip.”

A blush crept up her cheek.

“Yeah sorry. Helps me think.”

He let out a sharp breath, a sort of soft laugh.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said as he retrieved his underwear, slipping them back on and starting to button up his shirt.

Oh. Was he going to leave? Of course he was! That’s all this was, anyway. A one night stand. You had sex. That was the point.

Then why did it feel like hell?

“You okay?”

Her thoughts had drifted into space again. Spencer had laid back down, now on his side facing her, holding her hand, looking at her intensely. His gaze was practically burning.

“Yeah.”

“I, uh, I don’t normally do . . . that.”

She chuckled. It was rather obvious he wasn’t the hookup type. Despite the dirty things that had come from his mouth.

“Me either.”

He softly stroked her cheek.

“Are you going to stay?” she blurted.

His face fell.

“Oh, no I wasn’t going to impose if you-”

“NO! I mean,” she took a breath. “I want you to . . . I mean, if you want . . . I'd . . . I’d like you to stay. If you want?”

God. She sounded like a teenager asking their crush to prom. This was no stuttering sophomore she could kick in the crotch if he said no. He was a man. Although, he did tend to stutter. Maybe it wasn’t all that different.

He lit up, a wide smile brightening his features and he began to stroke her hand.

“I’d like that too.”

Wondering if it was possible for cheeks to sprain from smiling, she pulled up the covers, cuddling up against him, falling asleep almost immediately.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Ugh. The stupid alarm. She had been right in the middle of a wonderful dream involving Spencer’s hands and her bruised throat.

What time was it anyway?

The red clock radio proudly displayed: 7:00.

Right, it was the first day of classes. Maybe she’d just ditch and stay in with Spencer. He had been so warm she was sure he had a sun where a heart should be. College didn’t matter anyway, right? Ugh.

A shiver ran through her. She reached out for Spencer, only to find the cold other half of the bed.

Sitting up in bed, she stared at the empty spot.

Had he really walked out on her in the middle of the night? No…. No? Fuck. How could she be so stupid. Of course he didn’t want to-

Oh, he’d left a note.

In a fast yet tidy scrawl, Spencer had left the following message on a little notecard.

Good morning! I am truly sorry to walk out like this, but I have a class at 7:30 and I have to stop by my place and get ready. I’ll be back at the bar tonight, 10:30. I’d love to see you there.

-Spencer. X

Her heart melted into an ocean at the sentiment behind each individual letter. The man she’d just had a dirty one night stand with wanted to see her again.

Wait, he’d said a class? He hadn’t told her he was a student! To be fair, neither had she. That’s another thing they had in common apparently. It made sense why he didn’t tell her. A lot of people were ashamed of going back to college later in life. She thought that was ridiculous. Good for him.

Maybe she could look him up in the student registry. Actually, he may not even go to Georgetown. There were plenty of colleges nearby. She couldn’t have looked him up anyway. She didn’t even know his last name.

It was probably a good thing he left, because she, too, had a class at 7:30.

It only took her twenty minutes to shower, get dressed, and walk the very short distance to campus.

She arrived in the lecture hall with exactly one minute to spare, finding a seat next to a brightly dressed redhead holding a fuzzy pen.

“Hi! I’m Allie.”

“Y/N,” she said, suppressing the cringe as Allie reached out to shake her hand.

“Nice to meet you! What’s your major?”

Oh god. The inevitable college question.

“Journalism. You?”

“English,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Super boring I know, but it lets me take fun classes like this one. Why are you taking this class?”

“Oh, um. It looked fun, I guess. My dad was a lawyer and he kind of piqued my interest in the criminal justice system.”

Allie sighed.

“Thank god. You know half the girls are here just because the Professor is a hottie,” she said with air quotes, rolling her eyes again.

“Really?” Y/N asked, glancing around at the seats noticing the vast majority of the population were women. “Wait, I thought Ms. Merklins was the teacher? Did something change?”

“You didn’t get the email? It just went out the other day, Ms. Merklins had to retire. Something about a club foot. Anyway, the new teacher is supposedly super overqualified. Plus, he’s cute.”

“Huh.”

“Yep. I talked to this one girl in the hall, she actually said she’d sleep with him! Can you imagine?”

Y/N laughed.

“Nooooo. I cannot and I don’t want to. I’m just here to learn, I promise.”

“Same here. Although, if I start getting C’s, all bets are off.”

Y/N laughed and politely chatted with Allie while they waited.

The Professor’s office door swung open and Y/N reached into her bag to get her laptop.

“Hello, class.”

“Hello,” the class echoed.

“Welcome to Criminology. I am Professor Reid and I-.”

Y/N looked up over her screen as he stopped talking, making sudden eye-contact with the Professor.

She froze in her seat, blood running cold.

No way. No fucking way.

Spencer?

TAGLIST

@whollytaciturn @101donuts @thegingerfairchild @safertokiss @happyiidiot @cielo1984 @thupidalethea @darkacademiacherry @matthewreid @aloha-ashley-taylor @justchiara-02 @spnobsessedmemes @sweet-darlin @matthewreid

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #smut

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zuffer-weird-girl · 3 years

Text

Fourth commandment: honor father and mother

Contain spoilers from the manga.

Old writing of mine. Thought about posting so here you go.

I recently find out that the majority of the fics I have more replogs and comments are avout sadness sooo why not shed sone tears for our bird man this time huh?

He smirked at hearing the sound of you singing in the shower. He had just arrived from work and was greeted by what he loved to hear the most, your voice, his dove's voice

The echo the bathroom made only made him smile more at being able to hear such melodies coming out of your sweet lips.

He would tease you now at them about it. But oh, how it ceased the anciety and pain in his heart on terrible days he would just swallow it up for your sake. Knowing very well that your family life wasn't the best anyway. Not perfect, but was good as you would describe it every now at then with a smile; despite his worried frown whenever that was a fight and affected you so badly to the point you cried over his shoulder at night or morning.

His ears pecked up when your humming stopped and smiled lovingly when the melody of your qorda started to come...

'You left and took, my heart suffocated, and it suppressed my pain, a subtle gesture of loveee~'

A chuckle left his lips. He would never learn where the musics you learmed came from. But it didn't meant it was beautiful no less. He stood up from the couch and took careful steps to hear it more without you knowing it.

'Father. Look at this rain outside ... oh my father, I think the time has come...

aandd dont just, sit there to see and vanish it

the chance that already weaves in the past, oh this little boy's soul just is begging it...'

For some reason... that part, made his heart thump hard on his chest... after all. It did reminded the hero of... him.

His father. The reason why his true name was hidden from the public view and completely erased by the comission. The one that constantly beaten up just for him going into the city just to help others. The man that was a thief, a murderer, a liar... a abuser.

Just when he swallowed up another part of your song came up.

"Oh mother, cover me up with your sacred embrace, allow me to be your son, recreate that thought of a shelter, just don’t leave me alone,

your memory is my calm, swords that pierce into my soul.

like the wind of the desert that is so cold...

How I miss your maternal love and your laughter.

the world only brought me slaughter, I lost that old hope of just being a child,

that the smile never fades, they made me just a weapon..

I am still in the quest to be loved~" the shower sounds stopped as you he heard you sigbh and without him noticing, he stormed out of the roon to close himself on his huge closet, a hand on his mouth as tears threteaned to spill from his eyes at the mention of only blinking them.

Keigo's past was never an easy one... his parents never should be used as a example. His mother did fell in love with a criminal, but that didn't make it easier... she wasn't warm, she wasn't the kind of mother that would just embrace him and help the poor boy feel safe, loved nor protected....

God... she made him go get some money and questioned what were the use of his wings, his quirk... what kind of mother says that to a child that was only trying to help dammit!?

Angry drops of tears strated to fall from his eyes as he controlled the harsh breaths and sobs that threatened to escape beforw his whole body tensed and stopped when he heard the source of his comfort on his adult life...

"Honey? Did you come home earlier? Where are you?" He heard you call and took deep breaths before putting on a smile on his face, a so fake smile that surely you would notice right away.

"Right in the big ass closet dove. I was planning to shower a-anyway." He cursed himself the moment his voice cracked as he desperately picked some clothes to wear as he discarded his hero costume with pure anger.

"..Kei?" He flinched at hearing your voice behind him "Baby is something wrong? Tough patrol, is that?" You carresed his feathers gently and he almost whimpered at how delicately your fingertips brushed against it.

"J-Just a bit. Nothing major." He shrugged and made bee line towards to the bathroom as you stood there in pure worry and confusion at the same time. Never Keigo refused your comfort when you two finally passed that time of getting to know each other in your relantionship.

Frowning, you decided that maybe just a time for himself was best as you picked your favorite and warm pajamas and started to get things started to see if Hawks's mood brighten up for just a bit.

Sadly you knew he was trying way too hard to hide the pain. But the echo of his muffled sobs and curses as he ounched the wall wasn't helping him at all...

Brownies on the oven, Fried chicken already ordered and the most you could do of a nest out of pillows and blankets on the living room right in front of the Tv, already open to choose a movie on your boyfriend's will.

The sounds of the water finally stopped as you mentally prepared yourself as you saw your boyfriend in grey sweatpants and red hoodie, wings and hair all dropey as well as his eyes, him rubbing the top of his hair with a towel until his honeyed orbs widened at the sign of the living room and you cursing yourself for burning your hand at taking out the batch of the brownies out of the oven without protection....

"Fuck..." You hissed in anger before a confused sound left you as a warm and bigger hand grasped yours with care and brought the place where you had burned on his oh so kissable lips.

"Maybe you should have waited a bit. Just saying though." He smirked, but not with the usual glint on his eyes as you frowned but playfully scoffed.

"Excuse me? I am Hawks's girlfriend!" You dramatically proclaimed as he snorted "'The young hero that is way too fast for his own good!', so yeah, I guess I have the right of being a bit too anxious to get the set of brownies I made out just on time, thank you very much."

"And burnt yourself along the way." He chuckled as you showed your tongue at him with a smile but his features soon dropped and looked away from you, in hopes you wouldn't catched.

But you did.

"Whats all this for anyway? Am I geting my ass beaten up for forgetting some day important?" You frowned with a smile as you carefully hugged him from behind, mindfull of his wings as his muscles tensed up a bit only to loose as his scarred hand carresed yours over his chest.

"Cant I just spoil my man for a bit? Especially after a tough day?" You sensed his shoulder getting up and dropping with a watery chuckle as he shook his head in disbelief.

"You didn't have to do all this you know? Is not-"

"Dont." You muttered sternly as you let go of him to get right in front of your boyfriend as you cupped his cheeks "Dont say 'is not a big of a deal' with me Takami Keigo. I know you more than yourself as you once said it. Dont hide things that bother you away from me when you help me just as much with my insecurities and problems, alright?" He looked troubled as his eyes dropped to the ground mainly controlling himself as always but you nudge his gaze back up rubbing your nose against his "Alright?" You asked for the second time as his mouth opened and closed like a fish before giving up and nodding, pulling you to him for him to hide his face on the crook of your neck as he hugged your waist tightly, shoulders shaking.

"Aw my prince..." you cooed as you hugged his neck and caressed his nape "What is bothering you, hm? Is it the comission again pressuring you?" He shook his head as you frowned... maybe it was one of his secret missions he couldn't speak about it...

The inter phone ranged, indicating that the food you ordered was here. Moving away from the hug, Keigo only pulled you back as you frowned but soon noticed a couple of his feathers working their way to catch the money and go pick themselves.

"Kei I would pay myself for those!" You poyted as he only tightened his hold on you.

"Is the least I could do dove... please just at least this let me do it."

"Well.. fine. But you have to get a cool movie to watch. No crappy ones."

"... yeah sure."

Now you were alarmed. Not even a "you're the one who chooses the crap one"s ?.... For All Might, what happened to him...?

"Kei..." you almost whimpered, which catched his attention as he looked at you in concern as he cupped your cheeks in worry which you quickly covered with your own "What's going on? Dont tell me is nothing...please, I can see right through you that something is not right..."

Hawks sighed shakily as his eyes looked at the other direction as well as his hands dropped into your waist to pull you close.

"Sounds stupid but... I heard you singing. Beautiful as always..." he smiled as you contained your urge to squeak in embarrassment "But... I dunno, the lyrics of the song catched me off guard I guess? Speaking of father and mother's love or some shit..." he chuckled dryly as you frowned, catresing the rebel strands of blong hair making their way into his face.

"So it has to do with them? Did they contacted you or something?" You asked softy as you carresed his cheek and was meeted with a shook of his head and a sarcastic chuckle.

"Why would I? She is happy with me far away from her, a nice home to live in... as far for the old man, he..." he sighed heavily "I could care less. Neither of them cared so sometimes I ask myself why the fuck they didn't used the goddamn protection if they didn't want a brat to "ruin" their lifes?!" He sobbed as he clinged to you "he himself made the favor of saying the freacking condom was beaides but he made the mistake of not using it! What kind of dad says that to their kid of six years (Y/n)?! F-FUCKING SIX YEARS! I KNOW I WAS A DAMN MISTAKE BUT DID THEY HAVE TO RUB IT ON MY FACE ALL THE FUCKING TIME?!" Your heart broke in more than two pieces at seing him in this state before you guided him to the make shift nest to pull him down.

"Stop this, Kei-" you shushed him softly as he gulped harshly, gritting his teeth to mantain his tears at bay "If they werent careful, fuck them, this doesn't matter to us. They dont matter. But what they done, it wasn't a fucking mistake. It was a miracle and a blessing. My hero, my boyfriend was born because of these two, so stop saying that you being born was a mistake!" You cried while he stopped grinding his teeth to look at you dumbfounded.

"Your wings saved more people than anyone can count." You whispered tearfully as your hands carresed them before cupping his cheek "You saved more people than anyone can count. You matter not only for me but for a shit ton of people!"

"... you're getting worked up because of this tantrum I threw-" he mumbled only fro widen his eyes at the how you almost screamed.

"Of course I am worked up! Who wouldn't be?! Whenever I have shit to deal with, you get angry at whoever hurted me, so damn well I will get pissed off with or who whatever makes you fell less like the shining bright passionate and beautiful hero that you are Takami Keigo!" You poked his chest angrily before breathing in and out to contain your tears as he finally cracked a toothless smile at your state.

"You... You're so perfect you know that?" You angry face soon vanish at the way he looked at you like you were the solution for all of his problems, like an angel that came to hush all of his dark voices that haunted him at night with nightmares... a look with so much love that almost made you tear up again as a smile cracked into your lips.

"Dammit... love im trying to stay serious..." you hugged and peppered his face with kisses all over until he was chuckling heartless and turning his face enough for your lips to land on his instead of his skin.

You both were breathless as you were on top of him and carresed his golden looks with heart eyes as he closed them with lopsided smile at the pets and all the sweet gestures you did for him, and him only.

"Kei.." he hummed "Seriously, stop thinking about what your parents thought or think of you. They opinion doesn't matter, specially considering who they are and what they done so far... but dont hold hatred either because it only prejudices you, not them." He opened his eyes slowly and stared at the ceiling.

"... i cant actually forgive them. I dont feel I could even if I tried..."

"Im not saying for you to forgive them Kei." You stared at him as he arched one of his eyebrows that you surely need to trim at least tommorow "They are the same thing as the commission if you think about it. Their feelings or opinions towards you doesn't mean anything. Because you, birdboy, are the greatest human being in all world and everything I could even ask for." You smushed his cheeks together causing him to chuckle watery.

"You're gonna make me cry again birdie.." he prosteted heartly as you kissed both of his cheeka then his lips lovingly.

"Then at least be tears of joy, hm?" You hummed as his gaze soften and let tou peck his lips "The food is going to get cold, Im going to grab the plates okay?"

He groaned(whined?) While hugging your waist tighter and pressing his head down on your collarbone "Dont leave now, you're warm..."

"Keigo, you're basically a walking furnace especially with this hoodie, you will live." You giggled when he huffed and looked up at you with a pout.

"My feathers can go grab it then, you stay right where you are. Arent this suppose to be for me after all?"

"You've been gotten lazier every day it passes huh chicken little?" You carresed the apple of his cheeks as he tsked.

"Lazy my ass, I almost never have a day off..." he mumbled before nuzzling on your neck and sighing in bliss.

"Maybe if I pester them enough you can get some... but for now lets just rest here and enjoy the peace and quiet eh?"

"Hmm..." he hummed on your neck, causing vibrations to tickle your skin as you laughed and grabbed the packet his feathers brought, taking a package of nuggets out and almost getting to eat one until a certain bird brain just looked up and opened his mouth.

"You're such a cutie brat you know that?" You plopped the chicken nugget on his mouth as he hummed lovingly before smilling at you one more time.

"First, yeah I think as myself as pretty adorable-ouch!" You snorted at his expression after you pinched his ribs "Second... I love you.. so much." He mmurmured, face getting back on the crock of your neck.

"I love you more..." you kissed tenderly his temple and carresed his back while laying down on the huge amount of pillows.

"I love you more." He grunted.

"Dont argue with me on this!" You giggled as he chuckled.

"But is true... you're my love, my home, my family... my world."

"Takami Keigo if you make me cry one more time I swear Im beating you out of our nest."

"WHa?! WHY?!"

"BECAUSE YOU DO THIS ON PURPOSE YOU ASS!"

"IM NOT EVEN DOING ANYTHING!" He laughed at your desperate laughter and just laying back on the safety of your arms as he breathed in and finally felt the anxiety of earlier completely vanishing.

Yeah... fuck what his parents thought of him. What matters to him is when he is finally popping the big question and making you oficially his.

==============

(A/n) if anypne interested, the start of "song" is actually from a brazilian rap dedicated for gaara, naruto and sasaku called "sem familia" or in english "no family"

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #bnha heroes x reader #hawks #takami keigo #keigo needs love #zuffer writingbnha fanfiction #bnha fanfics #bnha heroes

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btzone · 3 years

Text

Commonality of Buck-Tick member names

I was thinking that if you’re not Japanese, you might not know how common or rare the various Japanese names are. For Buck-Tick, the names of the band members are fairly common first names and surnames, not really anything unusual happening there. No native speaker should have trouble reading their names. However, the most interesting thing to note is that Hisashi’s kanji is not usually how one would think to read that name, which is how it ended up that on their very first release on an independent label, his name was typo-ed as Kotobuki instead of Hisashi. (To keep that kanji and reading, it is likely to add one more kanji to make Hisashi, much like how Atsushi’s name is 2 kanji.) Our Hisashi Imai is not the only one with that kanji and name reading, but it’s not the default way to read it. This is why when you fill out forms in Japan, you not only write your name’s kanji but you also write down how to read it because you never know what combos a parent came up with.

Some basic info about their surnames, such as how common it is and where in Japan is it most common. Excluding Hokkaido and Tokyo as the majority of people who live in those two places are “immigrants”, so to speak, and not native for several generations. (If you meet someone from those 2 places, ask them where their grandparents are from.) I need you to be able to track your family history in that general area for at least 150-200 years in Japan to call you a native of that region, sorry. (If you can’t claim that you’re the 19th generation descendant of so-and-so, what is your worth?) This sort of tracking is quite easy to do in Japan because we have family registry books that note the genealogy (patriarchal because who needs to remember the names of women) and also serves as a way of establishing citizenship. It’s also fairly common IMHO for the history of a surname to be like, well 1000 years ago this person did something good for the emperor/king so they were granted a gift and the gift was this name and some land. But, I digress. (Trust me, this whole paragraph is hilarious if you’re Japanese with a sense of humor because it’s true.)

Focusing on family names here. No info on their first names as I looked up what were the most common names given to boys in the years the members were born and though their names are common enough, only one of the members have a name in the top 10 most popular boys names for the year they were born. Takashi (same kanji as B-T member; real first name of Toll) was the 9th most common name given to a boy in 1962 (same year as Takashi the drummer). Yutaka gets an honorable mention. Yutaka (same kanji as B-T member) was the 3rd most common name given to a boy in 1962 and 1963; the 6th most common name given to a boy in 1964; the 7th most common name given to a boy in 1965 (Yutaka the bassist was born in 1967). Minor note: though the kanji is different, Atsushi was the 10th most common name given to a boy in 1968 (Atsushi the singer was born in 1966). To the rest of the band members, don’t feel so bad as my name isn’t in the top 10 either! And who can even read child names today. It’s crazy, right? (mic check, um, can I get a chuckle?)

What is not so commonly shared and do not expect to ever know this stuff is the family crest. The family crest is VERY specific to the son that you descended from. Japan be like, “We can’t have each of George Foreman’s kids named George AND have the same family crest!” This ain’t no google search thing. This ain’t no ask a librarian. This is in the family genealogical book and the only people who get to see that is family. Sure, there’s crests online. But don’t think that’s your crest or your favorite celebrity crest. That’s just some common crest that made it’s way to a scanner. Also, if you study a craft, it could be that craft is from a “school” that passes on a pseudonym once you’ve mastered the craft, complete with kanji and crest so unless you know the master’s birth name, you’re not even looking in the right direction. Example, one year someone with the same family name and kanji as mine got really famous in Japan and even made international headlines. Like, you’ve probably heard of this person famous. My mom was curious if we’re related (internet says there’s only 5400 of us so maybe) and while she was visiting relatives, happened to find out that we have different family crests, thus she gave up the search and declared we are not related. (She did not want to bother to go back 19 generations or so to the story of the king who passed out names.., see paragraph 2 above.)

On to the names! For reference, all Buck-Tick members are from Gunma prefecture. Japan has a population of 126,476,461 people. The most common surnames are Satō, Suzuki, Takahashi, Tanaka, Itō, Watanabe, Yamamoto, Nakamura, and Kobayashi. Each of those surnames have over 1,000,000 people with that name residing in Japan. What’s a rare surname? Something with either 1 or 4+ kanji. (Except Hayashi.) They exist but. Really rare surnames? Well, those would be the names the Japanese government declared cannot exist anymore so those names tend to exist only outside of Japan. (Happened to one part of my family so I know this shit exists. Only 460 left. How did they get away with it? And how can I get hanko with this?)

Name info source: https://myoji-yurai.net/

桜井 (sakurai) literal meaning: cherry blossom-well (like a water well) This kanji for Sakurai is ranked #106 for most common surnames in Japan. This is the most common kanji for Sakurai. It is commonly found in Kanagawa, Saitama, and Chiba prefectures. (Kanto region) For cities, Takasaki, Gunma and Uonuma, Niigata have the most people named Sakurai. Roughly 172,000 people in the entire nation are named 桜井. In Gunma, almost 5% of Kanna town has this surname. Other famous Sakurais? Argh, someone in The Alfee. Better than that, Ao from Cali≠Gari.

櫻井 (sakurai) Same name as above, just different cherry blossom kanji (older version). This kanji for Sakurai is ranked #813 for most common surnames in Japan. It is commonly found in Kanagawa, Aichi, and Chiba prefectures (Kanto and Chubu regions) For cities, Takasaki, Gunma and Akashi, Hyogo have the most people named Sakurai. Roughly 23,600 people in the entire nation are named 櫻井. (The people who couldn’t be sussed to simplify their kanji.)

今井 (imai) literal meaning: now-well (like a water well) This kanji for Imai is ranked #75 for most common surname in Japan. This is the most common kanji for Imai. It is commonly found in Kanagawa, Saitama, and Aichi prefectures. (Kanto region) For cities, Gero, Gifu and Ichinomiya, Aichi have the most people named Imai. Roughly 212,000 people in the entire nation are named 今井. In Gunma, 20% of Ueno village has this surname. Other famous Imais? Miki Imai, singer, wife to Tomoyasu Hotei. 星野 (hoshino) literal meaning: star-field This kanji for Hoshino is ranked #147 for most common surnames in Japan. This is the most common kanji for Hoshino. It is commonly found in Gunma, Saitama, and Kanagawa prefectures (Kanto region). For cities, Kiryu, Gunma and Nagaoka, Niigata have the most people named Hoshino. Roughly 137,000 people in the entire nation are named 星野. In Gunma, almost 36% of Katashina village has this surname. Other famous Hoshinos? Gen Hoshino wrote a song during the pandemic that got very popular and even Hisashi Imai posted a video of him playing along to that song.

樋口 (higuchi) literal meaning: gutter-mouth This kanji for Higuchi is ranked #132 for most common surnames in Japan. This is the most common kanji for Higuchi. It is commonly found in Fukuoka, Osaka, Niigata, and Kanagawa prefectures (Kansai to Chubu regions) but it’s safe to say it is common throughout all of Japan except for Okinawa. Roughly 146,000 people in the entire nation are named 樋口. In Gunma, there’s roughly 1,000 people named Higuchi in Takasaki and guess where our bassist is from. Other famous Higuchis? How about Yutaka Higuchi the figure skater.

Yagami...the stage name of the drummer. He never writes this in kanji but I imagined that if he did, he would write it as 八神. Or did he write it like that once so that’s why I imagine it that way? Anyway, there’s many possible kanji variations and I was surprised that the most common way to write it is actually 谷上. (For me, I’m like is that Tanuye? Taniue? because I’m Okinawan and we have weird place names.)

#buck-tick #kanji is weird but people are weirder

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hughjidiot · 3 years

Text

Under Your Scars, an Amphibia Fanfiction

(TW for panic attacks. Takes place post-canon with aged-up characters.)

Marcy has been together with Anne for one year now and wants to make their anniversary special, but memories of what happened in Amphibia all those years ago threaten to bring everything crashing down.

Thankfully for Marcy, Sasha is there to hold her together while she falls apart.

AO3 Link

---

The shower knob squeaked as it was turned to the right, cutting off the steady stream of warm water. Steam filled the tiny apartment bathroom as Marcy Wu stepped out of the shower, water dripping down her in rivets, eyes shut tight. Quick as a flash the nineteen-year-old STEM major whipped the fluffy green towel off the bar beside the sink, wrapping it tightly around her torso.

It was only when she was fully covered that Marcy dared open her eyes.

She wiped the condensation away from the mirror, brushing her wet hair away from her eyes. She popped open the medicine cabinet above the sink, removing her toothbrush and toothpaste before gently closing the door. As she cleaned her teeth, the mint of the toothpaste tingling against her tongue, Marcy ran though her to-do list in her head. A paradoxical mix of anticipation and apprehension roiled in her gut.

Today was hers and Anne’s anniversary.

Marcy still couldn’t believe it had been a full year since she and Anne Boonchuy had officially started dating. A full year since Anne had first taken Marcy’s hands in her own, blushing and stuttering, asking if Marcy wanted to have dinner together that weekend. Not with Sasha as they usually did; just the two of them. Marcy had been stunned into silence, a silence that Anne had initially taken for a rejection that had her stammering out an apology looking close to tears.

Marcy’s senses had returned to her just in time, and she’d practically screamed yes, of course she’d go out with Anne.

In hindsight it seemed natural that the two girls would end up together. They’d been friends since kindergarten, complimenting each other perfectly. Anne would be the one to look out for Marcy and keep her safe, while Marcy would be the one to help Anne with the schoolwork she always struggled with. Along with their mutual friend Sasha Waybright, they completed each other, made each other whole.

Granted there had been some… complications in their adolescence. Complications that were exacerbated by circumstances that most teenagers couldn’t imagine dealing with. But in the end the three had worked through everything, coming out with a stronger friendship, a genuine friendship. A friendship that had naturally segued into romance for Anne and Marcy, with Sasha fully supportive of her oldest friends getting together.

Now it was time to celebrate one year of their relationship.

The day had gotten off to a great start already, Marcy waking up to find that Anne had already gotten up and prepared a full breakfast of all their favorite foods. They laughed and joked as they ate, finding simple joy in each other’s presence. They talked about Anne’s work and Marcy’s schooling, and how much they were looking forward to the reservation they’d made at that new Italian restaurant for dinner tonight.

Marcy felt her face heat up as she finished brushing, spitting the foamy mixture into the sink. Their dinner date wasn’t until eight in the evening, it was a little after eleven now, and Anne would be back from working the lunch shift at her parent’s restaurant around two. Meaning they’d have almost the entire day all to themselves. And Marcy wanted it to be special.

After a year together, after a year of going no further than heavy make-out sessions, she’d decided it was finally time to take things with Anne to the next level.

Feeling that her hair was dry enough, Marcy retrieved the hair dryer from the cabinet. She closed the door again, and froze at the sight of her reflection.

Her towel had slipped ever-so-slightly, exposing a triangular patch of pale-pink skin just below her collarbone, extending to underneath the fabric.

Marcy felt her breath hitch as the memories came flooding back to her.

Memories of her arguing with her parents on that autumn day.

Running from her house in tears, screaming that they were ruining her life.

Finding the Calamity Box in the pawn shop.

Remembering the book from the library, thinking it had to be a coincidence, that there’s no way it would actually work.

Then, the fateful decision: what’s the harm in trying?

Marcy felt her hands start to tremble. The memories came faster.

Standing outside the pawn shop with Sasha while Anne stole the music box.

Seeing a blinding flash when Anne opened the box at the park.

Landing in a city straight out of one of her video games.

Meeting him. The “good king” who took in a confused and frightened visitor from another world. The man who housed, studied with her, gave her a crossbow as a gift and taught her how to shoot. An adult who actually listened to what she had to say, who encouraged her to embrace her own interests rather than force his ideals on her.

Being made the head of an entire military branch. Going on thrilling missions and daring adventures, just like her favorite fantasy novels.

Then, meeting Anne again after so many months apart.

Marcy’s eyes started to burn, welling up with tears. More memories, slamming into her like a physical force.

Feeling such hope and joy as she was reunited with her oldest friend.

Showing her the city. Introducing her to King Andrias.

Doing research on the music box so that the girls could finally get home. Just like Anne wanted.

Letting her go so she could spend just a little more time with her surrogate frog family.

Watching Anne dash through the streets, leaving Marcy alone.

Then, seven words from King Andrias that would again change the course of her life: “I have a proposition for you, Marcy… ”

Marcy’s legs trembled, and she dropped the hairdryer and gripped the counter to steady herself as she tried desperately to get her breathing under control. Not helping was that the motion had caused her towel to drop further, exposing even more of that damned scar. The memories wouldn’t stop.

Travelling across Amphibia with Anne and the Plantars on a quest to charge the stones of the Calamity Box.

Meeting Sasha again after so much time apart, who seemed to have truly grown and turned over a new leaf.

Lying to both of them about going home.

Returning to Newtopia with the fully-charged box in tow.

Watching in shock as Sasha and Grime stabbed them in the back and launched a full-blown toad rebellion.

Watching in horror as Anne exploded at Sasha, ending their friendship right then and there.

Thinking that it was fine, this was fine, they’d had their spats before, Marcy could fix this like she always did.

Working with Anne, the Plantars, Yunan and Olivia to free King Andrias and crush the rebellion.

Then, the moment everything came crashing down.

Keep it together, Marcy thought to herself in the bathroom, shutting her eyes tight. She bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as her mind was assaulted with sounds and images. Not today. Not today…

Listening in stunned shock to Andrias’s delusional ranting.

Watching the Calamity Box light up the castle, feeling the entire structure rise into the sky as a small army of robots seemed to show up out of nowhere.

Pleading with Andrias that this wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn’t part of the plan.

Standing there helpless as Andrias coldly revealed the truth in front of everyone.

Desperately trying to explain things to Anne and Sasha. Sasha backing away in anger and disgust. Anne looking at Marcy with such hurt, such betrayal.

You did that to them, a voice whispered in the back of Marcy’s brain. You tore them from their homes, their lives, put them through hell. It was all you, Marcy.

Fighting Andrias’ robots alongside everyone.

Staring in horror as Andrias cruelly dropped Sprig to his death.

Diving out the window after them, whistling for Joe Sparrow to fly in and save them both. It was the least she could do. He was Anne’s best friend, after all.

Returning to the castle with Sprig in tow, watching in awe as Anne laid the hurt down on Andrias, using powers that none of the girls understood at the time.

Grabbing the music box, using it to open a portal home. Anne and the Plantars rushing through while Sasha and Grime held off Andrias.

And then.

Pain.

Pain unlike anything Marcy had ever felt.

Looking down to see the glowing tip of Andrias’s sword protruding from her chest.

Hearing the stone-cold voice of the man she thought she could trust: “Now look what you made me do.”

Pain.

Using her last breath to apologize as her body went numb.

Pain.

Hearing Anne’s anguished cry as the world around Marcy faded away.

Pain pain pain such horrible pain-

Marcy practically ripped the medicine cabinet open, grabbing her anti-panic attack medication. She untwisted the cap and, despite her shaking, managed to get a single pill out and popped it into her mouth. She slammed the cabinet door shut and turned on the faucet, collecting water in her cupped hands and taking a huge gulp.

Unfortunately, her rapid movements sent the towel tumbling to the floor, leaving that goddamned scar on full display.

An ugly, thick, jagged line of pale-pink, starting below her collarbone, crossing down over her heart and ending just below her right breast.

A permanent reminder of the biggest mistake of Marcy’s life. A mistake that had nearly gotten her killed. Almost got her friends killed. Could have killed them at several points, if things had gone just a little bit differently.

Aside from the doctors she’d seen when their adventure in Amphibia was over, she’d never shown anyone the full scar. Not her parents, not Sasha, not even Anne.

In her mind’s eye she saw Anne staring at her bare chest, recoiling in shock and horror from the sight of the scar. A reminder of the one who uprooted Anne from everything she knew on her thirteenth birthday and dropped her into a hostile new world that had almost killed her multiple times.

She heard Anne’s words from all those years ago echo in her ears: “How could you?! I’ve been missing my family, my life!”

Marcy tore out of the bathroom, eyes shut against the sting of her tears. She sprinted to the bedroom and threw herself onto the bed, not daring to open her eyes until she had pulled the comforter over her still-damp form and covered her scar. Her breathing was heavy and ragged, her vision was blurry, her heart slammed against her ribcage, and a sensation of pins and needles settled in her hands and feet.

Marcy curled herself tight into a ball on the bed she shared with Anne. Sweet, kind, wonderful Anne who was hard at work right now, who would walk through the front door in just a few hours expecting to spend a magical anniversary with her girlfriend.

That thought did little to calm Marcy down.

She reached for her phone on the nightstand. It wasn’t easy with her hands trembling the way they were, but she managed to pull up Sasha’s name and hit the call button. Marcy waited for what felt like an eternity as the phone rang until, mercifully, it was answered on the second ring.

“What’s up girlfriend?” Sasha Waybright asked casually.

“S-sasha?” Marcy choked out.

“Marcy?!” Sasha’s tone changed in a heartbeat. “What’s the matter? Where are you?”

“Apartment. Anxiety attack. It’s r-really bad this time…”

“Hang on, I’m on my way!”

Sasha hung up. Marcy let the phone slip from her hand and she curled up tighter, trying to focus on her breathing.

Several minutes later, Marcy heard the front door unlock and Sasha’s voice call out: “Marcy?!”

“In here,” Marcy managed to reply.

Sasha came rushing into the bedroom. The blond woman took one look at the scene on the bed and gasped, hand going to her mouth.

“S-sorry to bother you,” Marcy said with a forced smile, craning her neck to look. “I-I didn’t have anyone else to call…”

“Marcy it’s okay,” Sasha said right away. She crossed the room and laid down on the bed, wrapping her arms around Marcy and pulling her close. One hand went to Marcy’s wet black hair, stroking gently. “It’s okay, just breathe with me. Breathe, Marcy. In and out. In…”

Marcy took a shaky breath, holding it in.

“And out.”

She forced herself to exhale slowly, the tears still falling.

“In… and out…”

---

It took several minutes, but the combination of Sasha’s comforting presence and the medication managed to calm Marcy down. After making sure Marcy was okay, Sasha laid out a t-shirt and some sweatpants for her before heading out to the kitchen to fix her something to eat. It took every ounce of Marcy’s energy to pull herself out of bed, quickly putting the shirt on first to get that scar covered. She pulled on her pants and shuffled out of the bedroom, moving at a slow and steady pace.

“Hey Mar-Mar,” Sasha said gently. She was sitting on the living room couch, two bowls of mint chocolate-chip ice cream placed on the coffee table in front of her. “Hope you don’t mind but I raided your freezer.”

“It’s fine,” Marcy said with a small smile. She grabbed one of the bowls and shoveled a huge spoonful into her mouth. The pleasant taste of mint spread across her tongue as she crunched chocolate chunks between her teeth. “Sasha I’m so sorry for dragging you over here-”

“Uh-uh-uh!” Sasha said firmly. “I don’t wanna hear any of that junk. You know I’m always here for you and Anne, no matter what.” She paused to eat some of her own ice cream. “So… it was really bad this time, huh?”

Marcy shuddered as she thought back to her panic attack in the bathroom. “Yeah. I haven’t had an attack that bad in a long time.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, do you know what triggered it?”

An image of Anne recoiling at the sight of Marcy’s scar tried to force its way into Marcy’s brain, but she derailed that train of thought.

“Well… do you know what today is?” Marcy asked.

“Your’s and Anne’s anniversary,” Sasha answered instantly. She furrowed her brow. “What, did you guys have a fight or something?” Sasha’s eyes widened. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

“No no no!” Marcy said quickly, waving her hands. “No, everything’s fine between us. And it’s been going great so far: we had a nice breakfast this morning and have a reservation at the new Italian place tonight.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Marcy paused, a blush settling over her cheeks. “Well… Anne gets home from work in a few hours, and then we have a few hours before dinner. I wanted the two of us to have a… special time together. If you know what I mean.”

Sasha pursed her lips in thought, then her eyes widened and she smirked. “Oh I get you,” she said teasingly. “Finally gonna kick things up a notch, huh? Marcy you dog.”

Marcy gave a small smile and blushed deeper at Sasha’s playful ribbing.

“So what are you worried about? Do you need anything ‘special’ to spice things up? ‘Cause there’s a shop like three blocks from here, I can tag along if you’re nervous about going by your-”

“No, that’s not the issue,” Marcy said quickly before her face could burst into flames. She gave a heavy sigh. “I’m just worried about… this.”

She grabbed her shirt collar and pulled it down just enough to expose the top part of her scar.

Sasha furrowed her brow. “Your scar? What’s the big deal about that?” Her eyes widened and she winced. “Er not to say your scar isn't important, I mean! I know that it’s from a major time in our lives a-and I’m not trying to downplay the crazy shit you went through, I just-”

“It’s okay, I get what you mean,” Marcy said. She sighed heavily. “But that’s… kind of my problem.”

“Uh, I’m not following you.”

Marcy sighed heavily. “It’s just… when you get down to it, everything we went through in Amphibia was because of me. I was the one who found the Calamity Box. I was the one who knew exactly what it would do. I helped you pressure Anne into stealing it, all because I couldn’t face being alone.”

Marcy felt her eyes start to burn as the tears welled up again, and she quickly wiped them away. “I didn’t wanna be alone, and I ripped you guys away from your lives and families! I dropped you into a dangerous world, a place that could’ve gotten you guys killed!” The tears welled up again and Marcy’s voice hitched as she went on. “And then I lied to you both about going home! I-I just assumed you guys would want to keep going on adventures with me forever, I never even considered your feelings! I was so blinded by my desires that I didn’t even realize a power-hungry tyrant was playing me like a fiddle! And he… h-he...”

Sasha’s arms shot out, pulling Marcy into a tight hug. “It’s okay, Marcy,” she said softly. “Everything’s okay. Just breathe.”

Marcy took several deep, shuddering breaths. She could feel another attack welling up inside her, but the medication kept it in check. Sasha held her for a few more minutes until Marcy felt calm enough to continue.

“This scar is a permanent reminder of everything I put us through,” Marcy said when she pulled away. She subconsciously traced her hand across the scar over her shirt. “It’s something I’ll be living with for the rest of my life. Most of the time I can’t even look at it without triggering an attack. And I guess I’m just… afraid of Anne seeing it, okay? What if she sees it and remembers that everything she went through was my fault? What if…”

Marcy paused for a long while, looking down. When she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper. “What if she realizes just how horrible I am?”

Sasha reached out to put a comforting hand on Marcy’s shoulder.

“Oh Mar-Mar…” she said gently, a soft smile gracing her features. “You’re such an idiot.”

Marcy looked up sharply. “Huh?”

“You really think Anne’s gonna leave you over something like that?” Sasha chuckled and shook her head. “For someone so smart, you can be pretty damn stupid sometimes. Anne is crazy about you Marcy. You should hear the way she goes on about you during our girls’ nights. There’s no way in hell she’d leave you over everything that happened all those years ago.”

“But I was the one who-”

“And that’s another thing! You’re putting way too much blame on yourself for that mess. Sure you might have found the box but I was the one who convinced Anne to swipe it. And you’re not the only one who made some big mistakes in Amphibia.” She chuckled. “I mean at least Andrias tricked you. I willingly tried to start a violent uprising to overthrow the government.”

Marcy rolled her eyes. “And look what happened when we stopped you.”

Sasha shrugged. “Yeah, but hindsight is a bitch like that.” She gently grabbed Marcy’s chin to turn her head towards Sasha, looking Marcy in the eye as she continued.

“Look, I’m not trying to downplay your mistakes. Because you made some big ones, I’m not denying that. We all made mistakes, but we all owned up to them. We learned from them so we could become better people. And you’re forgetting the important thing of all: we forgave you. Anne and I both forgave you a long, long time ago. Okay?”

Marcy felt a pang in her chest. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard those words, not by a long shot. But it didn’t lessen the impact one bit. She could feel the storm clouds of anxiety that had been roiling inside her begin to dissipate. “... Really?”

Sasha smiled sweetly. “Really.”

She yelped as Marcy shot forward to wrap Sasha in a hug, but quickly returned the embrace.

“Thank you Sasha,” Marcy said, “I really needed this, you have no idea.”

“No problem, Marcy,” Sasha said, patting her friend on the back. “You gonna be okay?”

Marcy pulled back and nodded. “Yeah. I… I think I’ll be alright.”

“Good. Now before I take off, are you sure there’s nothing you need help with before Anne comes home?”

Marcy opened her mouth but paused, the gears turning in her brain. She slowly smiled as an idea began to take shape.

“Actually… I think there is. I’m gonna need some rose petals.”

---

The apartment was dark when Anne arrived after work.

This fact didn’t surprise her too much; Marcy had a habit of gaming with the lights off, much to Anne’s charaign. But when she fished the key out of her pocket and let herself in, she was surprised to see the living room TV dark and the couch Marcy-free.

“Honey, I’m home!” Anne called out her usual greeting as she stepped across the threshold, gently shutting the door behind her.

No response.

Anne frowned as she shrugged her coat off her shoulders. Was Marcy taking a nap or something?

She was about to call out again when she saw them: rose petals on the floor. They started just beyond the front door and led down the hall towards the bedroom. The door was open just a crack, soft light coming from inside.

“Well well well, what have we here?” Anne asked herself with a chuckle as she kicked off her shoes. “Marcy Wu, you charmer.”

Anne made her way down the hall, gently opening the bedroom door.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The lights in the bedroom were all off and the curtains had been drawn; the only illumination came from the candles burning on the nightstand. The trail of rose petals continued across the carpet to the bed itself.

Marcy Wu laid back on the bed, her upper body propped up on pillows with her arms spread out casually. The blanket covered her up to her chest, clinging to the contours of her body, the creamy skin of her bare shoulders tantalizing peeking out from where the blanket ended. Marcy smiled warmly at her girlfriend, giving Anne the sultriest gaze she could muster.

“Hey Anna-Bananna,” she said in a breathy voice. “How was work?”

Fire blossomed in Anne’s face as she opened and closed her mouth, which was suddenly very dry. “Uh… guh…”

Marcy felt her confidence ebb at Anne’s stammering and she chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry, was this too much?”

“Oh no no, it’s more than fine!” Anne said quickly. “I mean I was thinking you’d have something waiting for me when I got home, but this…” Anne made a show of tugging at her shirt collar. “This is beyond anything I could’ve imagined.”

Marcy perked up, smiling shyly as she brushed some of her hair behind her ear. “So you like it then?”

Anne crossed the space between them in a fraction of a second, joining Marcy on the bed. She cupped Marcy’s chin and leaned in for a long, deep kiss. Marcy returned the kiss with gusto, reaching up with one hand to thread her fingers through Anne’s hair while the other held the blanket in place.

“I love it,” Anne said when she pulled away, fixing Marcy with a fiery gaze that had her trembling in anticipation. As much as Marcy wanted to start tearing Anne’s clothes off right then and there, she took a deep breath and held herself back.

She had to do this right.

“Anne,” Marcy said as she sat up, still holding the blanket up over her chest as she looked into her girlfriend’s eyes, “this last year has been the happiest of my entire life. When I’m with you, everything just feels right. You complete me in ways no one else ever has. You give me strength and confidence, inspire me to be a better person. I love that you’re the last thing I see before I go to sleep each night and the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning. I love you, Anne Boonchuy.”

Anne placed a hand over her mouth, eyes twinkling. “Marcy…”

Marcy took another deep breath. “I know we’ve gotten pretty… familiar with each other over these last several months. And if you’re ready to take things to the next level…”

She let the blanket fall. “Then so am I.”

Anne’s blush deepened as her eyes traveled downward. Marcy kept her face steady, but some dark corner of her brain was still expecting Anne to pull back at the sight of her scar, reminded that everything that happened in Amphibia - all of her hardships and brushes with death - was all because of Marcy.

But there was no revulsion, no anger. There was lust and desire in her gaze to be sure. But there was also passion and love. The same spark Marcy saw when she and Anne would get lost in each other’s eyes while eating dinner, or walking in the park, or just cuddling on the couch.

Anne looked back up at Marcy, then leaned in for a second kiss. Tender and gentle but with a hunger and passion bubbling just below the surface. Marcy melted into the kiss, allowing herself to be pushed back onto the pillows as Anne crawled further onto the bed, climbing on top of her girlfriend. Anne pulled away after several long seconds, both girls breathing heavily, staring at each other with smoldering eyes.

“I’ve been ready for a long, long time,” Anne said. “I love you Marcy Wu.”

Marcy felt her heart soar.

She wrapped her arms around Anne and pulled her close for yet another kiss. The third of many, many more.

#amphibia #marcanne #anne boonchuy #marcy wu #sasha waybright #fanfic

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