#∘⡊❅ ˚⊹ girls grow into women ` by locking secrets inside themselves — past

[palaceofpassion]

Tempverse: Episode 2: Camping Time!

Here is episode 2, which I had to cut down cause going past 5k is starting to drive me insane!  Also my finger has been locking up.

Pyrrha Nikos was a lot of things, she was a champion, a S Grade Fighter, someone who always thought about doing the right thing.  Someone who believed her destiny would be to save as many as she could, even if it were to cost her life.  She was many things, and one thing that many forgot or didn’t realize, was that chiefly among everything else she was still a young woman.  Another thing very few knew was that she was an actor, a person who could put on a front when pressured by others and who could mask how she really felt.  And finally something that no one knew, because of the former reasons, was that she was a Grade A pervert.  Though really, could you blame the young woman?  As previously stated she WAS a young woman, one who was currently blossoming into her full youth, one who had urges and desires.  One who was currently in a field filled with health… strong… robust young individuals who were practically spewing out sexual pheromones.  

In fact, she had been invited to no less than 4 orgies in her past!  So yes she was a bit of a pervert, often having wild fantasies about her competition together, or them alone, or other women and men it really didn’t matter to her.  But one thing she was, something that oftentimes got her called a stiff, was someone who was devoted to the idea of destiny and love.  Despite her… growing lust, she was strong willed so much so that she really never saw the point in participating in sexually charged campaigns.  So despite the invitations she declined, albeit a small part of her HAD regretted that decision a few times.  Though when ‘accidents’ happened and said competitors ended up in quite the pickle, well she was most grateful to have stuck to her guns.  

Still to sate her urges she fantasized, which wasn’t too difficult when shower rooms were all unisex.  Despite her attempts to keep her eyes low she HAD seen quite a few individuals in their bare and well… she may have had some seriously twisted thoughts.  Like that one time, her old classmate and rival Arslan was actually the sweetest of girls!  Pyrrha wasn’t sure if she was like her or not, hiding her devious desires, or was simply naive enough to not care… but there had been times where Pyrrha had thought about her rival being pinned. The very thought of various men and women taking their turns with the gorgeous dark skinned muscular fighter had seen her through SEVERAL heated nights.  

So yes… Pyrrha Nikos was in fact a pervert… one who may or may not have had several metal piercings at various peculiar places… ones that she made SURE to keep hidden.  She was fine with being called prudish, fine with no one knowing her secrets or her desires.  It was easier that way, easier to be seen as abstinent, clean, pure.  So she made a vow to herself, never to display herself in public, to hide her dirty little secrets taking them to the grave.  She’d always been good at it, she never thought it would change.  

Yet, as she rested beneath the cold droplets of a running shower head, she found herself unable to concentrate.  Her thoughts laying back to the night before, the soft husky moans reverberating from within arms reach, or… or her own lack of inhibitions.  She could still feel the sensation of her fingers running through her soft soaking pussy, her digits roaming across the plump lips squeezing and grinding against her needy flesh.  Her new friends lusty moans still filled her ears, the wild scent of… of Jaune’s seed still clung to her nose.  Every breath was filled with a deep murky aroma.  Everytime she closed her eyes she could still envision the bag shifting as they… as they… as they plunged themselves into one another.  

She could only imagine, only DREAM about what was happening beneath those sheets, what they were doing to one another.  Pyrrha was an observant woman, always keeping an eye out for competition… always watching for an opportunity to imagine.  And… while others had ‘chosen’ to mock Jaune in his surprisingly adorable onesie… in her perverse and twisted little thoughts had chosen to take a peak downstairs.  Oh how easy it was to see, she was surprised at the lack of attention his lower region had received, perhaps the only other person to notice was the woman who had struck first?  

As thoughts of the night before continued to flutter through her thoughts, her hands began to slowly descend down her tight finely fit stomach.  Fingers, sliding between the curvature and creases of her abs roaming lower beneath her pelvis and finding themselves sinking between her drenched lips.  

Yet as her hands began to seep into her flesh, her thoughts fell back to their conversation.  Her eyes shut tightly as she bit her lip, everything coming back to her as clear as day.  

The young Nikos had never been so far away from home, even in her old school she was still within walking distance of her family house.  Even as she closed her eyes to try to lul herself into a comfortable rest she  found herself unable to.  She wondered, as her heart paced quickly within her breasts, if her new friends, oh a word she’d so adored to use, were already fast asleep.  Perhaps they were not?  Mayhaps she would be able to start a brief conversation with them.  And yet, as she willed herself to fumble around, she heard them speak.  Their voices but a soft whisper, almost drowned out by the snoring in the distance.  

The young woman’s heart began to race, the sound of the two laying just within arms reach whisked its way towards her.  “I don’t belong here…”  She stilled, her thoughts running rampant at what Jaune meant.  He was approved, he must have belonged here, right?  “I… I faked my transcripts.”  Quickly her hands wrapped around her lips forcing down the gasp that nearly escaped.  She… she shouldn’t be hearing this!  But… he DIDN’T belong here!  Her heart began to crack, she’d just made a friend, and now she would have to part.  She WOULD tell the Headmaster, even… even if she destroyed their new friendship she couldn’t let him get hurt, couldn’t let him hurt anyone else.  She knew… knew that… there was a selfish part of her that didn’t want to.  

Despite her reservations, they continued to talk, her thoughts in shambles as they came upon May’s response.  She heard them shift around, nearly drowning out May’s soft, “I’ll protect you.”  Pyrrha wondered, was that what friends did?  Did a good friend still let something dangerous happen to their new companions?  She didn’t know, she’d never been close to anyone before… but… but… then they got to the conversation about her.  She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, hadn’t meant to… but now she found herself completely enraptured by their muted musings.  “She’s really pretty…”  “She’s apparently famous…”  “Doesn’t matter…”  “She just wants friends…” 

She bit upon her lips, fighting back the choking sobs that were sure to follow.  Her heart swelled and body trembled.  She’d never had anyone talk about her that way, they… their voices were genuinely concerned.  They wanted to be around her, they really didn’t know who she was, yet they wanted to be with her.  She heard the Schnee’s name brought up, but mostly in jest, though she too had noticed the lustful glances that the young Heiress had passed her way.  Despite herself, despite the previous thoughts of turning Jaune in… she decided that maybe it would be okay to be a bit selfish this time around?  

Then something she wasn’t EVEN sure wasn't part of one of her fantasies happened.   

Even as Pyrrha’s legs trembled beneath her, her painted breath washed out by the hot flooding water above her and her toes curling into the hard tile floor, she found the events of last night to be too outrageous.  Her fingers curled within her quivering hole, grasping at the soft edge of her lips and plunging deeper into her depths. Squelch her ears were surrounded by the soft sound of liquid and air passing between her fingers and her pussy.  Her soft vulva folded beneath her tight white knuckles as she squeezed around her digits.  Her tongue whisked around her free hand, flicking between her fingers as she squeezed upon the strong pink muscle. 

She could only imagine what they were doing, and oh how it delighted her!  Just the thought of May’s small short stacked body being penetrated by that ridiculous monster between Jaune’s legs set her off!  Oh Brothers’ she wished she could have seen it, just… oh just watching them mate would have been so very delightful~  Would her little stomach bulge as his member punched into her?  Would those huge, delicious wobbly tits jiggle and bounce with every thrust?  She felt something shake inside of her while she pushed her head against the hot tile bracing herself for what was to come.

“Oh gods oh gods!”  She couldn’t stop herself any further, pinning her head against the tile, her ass wiggled expectantly.  Her mind was cracking, turning hazy as she continued to think about what she’d experienced yesterday.  She’d seen so many, seen a ton of things, but never that close, or!  Or that BIG, THAT HUGE!  Jaune’s massive cock hidden and tucked away, May’s massive bouncing soft breasts hidden away by her thick jacket.  How either of them moved was beyond her, but she couldn’t get the image out of her mind!  She wanted to touch them!  To suck on them, to feel both of them!  

Her eyes shut tight as she imagined herself, pinned between both Jaune and May, her face buried between May’s massive breasts rubbing herself back and forth as her fingers squeezed into those plump swells.  She imagined Jaune behind her, his massive GIANT FUCKING COCK, Piercing her insides pushing all the way into her depths burying himself into her.  She couldn’t stop herself as her fingers  grew faster and faster.  Her body quaked as her nails curved into her soaked pussy.  

She wanted something else, something bigger, harder, something to fill her with thick hot seed!  She wanted Jaune to bury into her, to breed her and pin her!  Despite her lustful experiences in the past, she’d NEVER felt the desire to be bred.  To have someone pump all their baby batter inside of her oven.  She’d never wanted to motorboat someone so badly before, to bury her face into a woman’s breasts, to suck and pinch them as much as she wanted now!  Her body was on the edge, her womb quivered in hope and anticipation.  She knew it was something more, something far deeper than a physical attraction.  They had treated her differently, had ignored her status that… that had turned her on far more than it should have!  And… and they both had a scent to them, an intoxicating aroma that she oh gods!  Just thinking about the smell coming off of their bodies that morning!  It was still trapped in her nose, her thoughts befuddled as she was getting to the edge.  “DICK DICK COCK!  TITS BREASTS MILKBAGS!  BREED ME BREED ME BREED ME!  FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME!  COCK COCK COCK COCK COCK DICK DICK DICK!  CUM CUM CUM CUM! INSIDE INSIDE INSIDE!”  SHE WANTED SO BAD!  SO BAD!  “SUCK IT! SUCK DICK!  SWALLOW!  DRINK!”  She tried as she might to stifle those last words, thanking the brothers she was alone.

Her lips sucked on her plunged digits as she tried to muffle her coming orgasm.  With a silent scream she fell to her knees.  Her core tightening inside, no one would notice the sticky clear fluids being washed away by the falling faucet water.  Her chest heaved as she let her mind clear of the thoughts of last night.  “How are those two doing?”  

By the time Jaune had woken, May and Pyrrha had already gone off, obviously starting their day.  Fighting back the residual grogginess he began to shift, slowly sitting up.  Slowly he began to clench his hand into a grip and then release it, repeating it a few times to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming.  After a few cycles, he felt his blood warm inside his body at the realization and dawning of what had happened last night.  He could still feel May’s body pressed against his, the phantom warmth of their embracing forms floated within his thoughts.  “So it wasn’t a dream…”  

While he wanted to relish in satisfaction, the sound of a bell chiming above stripped him from his thoughts.  “Right… I have a lot to do today.”  Though as he stared down, the sticky feeling between his thighs was still ever present, he knew the first thing he would have to do was take a shower…

Thankfully it didn’t take too long to shower, and it had been a rather uneventful affair, well minus a few of the stares he’d been getting as he made his way over.  Perhaps it was because of his close proximity to Pyrrha?  Or maybe they’d caught notice of his and May’s little endeavors last night?  He wasn’t really sure… and honestly he had more important things to think about, like surviving today.  He couldn’t shake the feeling of how out of his depths he was.  Everywhere he looked he was met with confident grins, robust bodies, people who KNEW they had this… people who knew they belonged here.  

While he, Jaune Arc, truly didn’t belong here, he wasn’t stupid… well okay he probably wasn’t what one would call street smart, it was kind of hard to be with how much time he spent in bed.  But!  But, he’d been given the best education that his parents could afford, and thankfully that was quite a bit!  He’d also had his sisters help him out from time to time, they’d all been such wonderful supporters.  Also being bedridden had given him a lot of free time!  So he’d read, and no not just comics though he really did enjoy those, no he’d gone out of his way on reading about the outside.  Reading about Grimm, reading about how to survive, not once had he ever given up hope on being a huntsman.  So even though he’d honestly felt like he’d never get the chance, he’d still sworn to try.

So yeah he wasn’t stupid, he knew oh how he absolutely knew that au… that Headmistress Glynda and Headmaster Ozpin knew his transcripts were fake.  Which made it all the more shocking when they’d accepted him in.  His parents hadn’t taken it well at first, but they’d relented when he talked it out with them.  His family had their reservations about him coming to Beacon, so they did their best to try to get him ready in the short amount of time that they’d had left.  He knew that none of them expected him to pass, they were banking on him flunking out during initiation.  He knew… or at least he felt that Un… that Headmaster Ozpin was just humoring him.  He knew that of course but… but he had to take the chance!  

And yet, he knew how right they were, how he didn’t even believe in himself.  You know, if he was being honest with himself right now, he’d say he was scared.  Because he was he was honestly doing everything in his power to keep from shaking.  He was terrified, terrified that he was putting his life on the line for something that he had no right of doing.  He didn’t belong here, he was just some kid whose head had been filled with fantasy after fantasy.  From the stories of his parents, to his older sister.  He’d always wanted to see the world, wanted to experience what was behind his walls.  So… even with how terrified he was, even ignoring the terrible shakes running through his body, he decided not just then but long ago.  That no matter what, he’d do what he had to do.  And, even has he knew that he could be facing his death at any moment, he decided that dying while doing something he wanted to do was far better than not doing anything at all.  

Besides it wasn’t all that bad, he’d actually gotten to make friends!  Him!  Jaune Arc, quite possibly the most socially inept person in existence!  Heck it wasn’t even just Pyrrha or May, there was that gi- “Jaune!”  

At the call of his voice he was suddenly pulled from his thoughts.  His head snapped to his right, as his gaze fell upon a small girl within a redhood.   “Jaune!”  She called out once again, a smile spread across his face.  Yeah, this wasn’t all that bad.  

“Hey Ruby.”  

“Jaune! Jaune!  It’s good to see you!”  

How could he not feel better as he watched one of his new friends practically bounce on over to him, though the girl tagging along behind her seemed far less amused.  “So sis, this is the boyfriend you were talking about.”  He felt his cheeks flash hot for a moment, though only for a moment as he realized the sisterly tone coming from the girl.  And as someone who had to endure CONSTANT teasing from seven sisters, he’d grown a resistance to it.  

Ruby however, seemed to still lack that natural but very important defense.  “What?!  NO!”  The young hooded girl floundered around trying to think of an excuse without also insulting her new friend at the same time.  “I’m not looking for anyone!  Evenifhewasreallyniceandhelpedmeout!”  

There was a moment of silence between the three of them, however only for a moment as both Jaune and Yang began to burst out in a cacophonic laughter.  “Oh Rubes, never change.”  

And just like a kicked puppy, the young girl eyed her sister and pouted.  Something that was giving Jaune serious deja vu vibes from his own little sisters.  He wondered if it was just a universal sister thing or if perhaps he just didn’t have enough data.  “That was mean Yang!”  

The elder sister pulled the younger into a tight hug rubbing her face against her, “Oh Rubes, it's fine!  So.”  Jaune blinked as she brought her attention towards him, “No bunny pajamas today?”  This time, however, he felt his face grow a small tinge of red as he scratched the back of his head.  

“Uhm haha, no not right now at least.  Though they’re honestly really comfortable.”  

“And stylish too.”  

Ah, thank goodness he’d had all that sister training or he may have thought that was a real compliment.  He wasn’t exactly the best at picking out sarcasm, but that definitely was one.  “I mean, I like them enough, and they were a gift from one of my little sisters.”  

That had the unexpected effect of pulling the grin off her face and bringing her to a more serious look.  It was like she was pondering something for a moment before she started talking, “Family gifts ARE important.”  The blonde woman began to gently rub her hands through Ruby’s hair, running her fingers through the dark locks and pulling her close.  “Okay, you got me there then.”  

Jaune smiled at the small victory.  “Oh uhm, I’m Jaune, Jaune Arc.”  Reaching out his hand for a shake, which the girl replicated though she may have squeezed a bit too tight as he had to fight back a yelp.  

“Yang, Yang Xiao Long, Ruby’s big sister.”  When she released his hand he felt it pulse, “She has a seriously strong grip!”   “So you on your way to get your gear then?”    

“Yeah, it's almost time I think, and I don’t wanna be late.”  “I’d rather be there early, otherwise I’m going to fret all day.”   

Finally Ruby chimed back in, “Then we can all go together!”  The excitable girl hopped around the taller blondes with a bright smile on her face.  He couldn’t help but feel a bit of a confidence boost after witnessing Ruby’s own confidence.  She must believe that she had this in the bag, and if someone as young as her could do it?  Then well he could at the very least try,  even if he failed at the end of the day he could say he at least made an attempt.  And honestly, that's all he could ever ask of himself at this point.  

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”  He could at the very least give it his all.  And who knows, maybe things will turn out better than he’d expected.  

May found that she was practically floating!  Even the little part of her that screamed and chided her for last night’s acts was quashed down by how overall delighted she was.  She’d done it!  She’d practically confessed to her long time crush, and they’d almost gone all the way.  It had been an absolutely fantastic experience, one that she could only HOPE would get outdone when they finally DID have their first time together.  And as she all but glided across the Beacon grounds, she found herself still soaking in the memories of his touch.  She could practically still feel his body around hers, his big round cock sliding between her plump thighs, or his hands grasping onto her bare bottom.  Or oh how could she forget, the feeling his hot white seed soaking in her panties, foaming around the curves of her pussy.  

Just the thought of it sent shivers running up her spine and making her core clench in joy.  Though, and as much as she wanted to keep on with the memory, she had things to do.  So, she’d left her friend behind that morning, wanting to let him get as much sleep as he could before they HAD to get up.  She knew things were going to be rough for him, there was no way that whatever training his parents had given him was going to be enough.  She highly doubted he’d had any official training either, so she would make due on her promise.  She would protect him, and watch out for him.  But first thing first she needed to get herself in the mood.  

She’d spent a lot of time cleaning out her gear, her sniper though on the simpler side of things required a lot of attention and maintenance.  Something she went through on a daily basis to make sure that it was still functioning properly.  She would much rather be over prepared rather than not prepared, if things went bad after all.  This of course meant that she was the first one in the locker rooms.  It also meant that she was there when other people started to come in.  She heard a few passing remarks about her getting close to Pyrrha, or how she had gotten along with the scraggly looking blonde, but she ignored them.  Thankfully, and perhaps part of the reason WHY she put so much attention into her maintenance was because of how it let her wash out her normal shyness.  

She was able to ignore the dreadful thoughts of dealing with others, of having to face other people.  It let her simply concentrate on something that wouldn’t judge her, or talk about her behind her back.  She could just put her all into making sure that the very thing keeping her alive was working.  And that was something she could get behind, something she truly enjoyed.  So she ignored the conversations going on around her, and gratefully so.  Though, there was one conversation she found herself almost completely unable to ignore.  Thankfully she’d finished her preparations by that point.  

“So Pyrrha, have you thought about whose team you would want to be on.”

“I’m not quite sure.  I was planning on letting the chips fall where they may.”  

“Uhm, excuse me?”  

Okay, that was enough familiar voices to grab her attention, though as she finally snapped out of her own little world she realized how very few people were in the locker room now.  As far as she could see it was only herself, the Schnee, Jaune, Pyrrha, and two girls off in the distance.  “Oh, it's a good thing I finished.”   She wouldn’t want to be late after all.  

Though, she felt a chill run down her spine as she began to watch the rather painful event in front of her unfold.  

“What do you want?”  She flinched, if looks could kill she was sure that the Schnee would be charged with murder.  

Poor Jaune didn’t seem to notice though, “I’m sorry I was just wondering if you two could move please?  My stu-”  

“How dare you!  Do you not know who this is?!”  Oh she wasn’t going to let him finish.  She wasn’t sure she should join in, but… Jaune would have done it for her.  Letting out a sigh she walked up to the group.  Though by this point the Schnee had begun to make Pyrrha quite uncomfortable if the pained expression she had on her face was anything to go by.  

“And do you think you deserve to be on the same team as her?!”  

“I uhm…”  

“He… he didn’t… say anything about that though?”  May despite her normal meekness decided to chime in.  This of course had the unwanted but expected effect of earning her the Schnee’s wrath.  

“And WHO are you?”  Oh jeez, how could a girl just a bit smaller than her be so frightening?  It was like dealing with an angry chihuahua.  

Though, thankfully before May had to respond, Pyrrha decided to comment.  “Ms. Schnee, that’s enough.”  May was quite surprised at Pyrrha’s hardened voice as she gazed down upon the little Snow White.  “I believe that you’ve been rude enough as it was, Jaune here wasn’t even asking to be on a team.”  She turned her attention to Jaune, “But I would be delighted to be.”  

May smiled as Pyrrha gave Jaune a reassuring grin, the young boy’s face turning a deep crimson as he sputtered out a few nonsensical words.  

“Now that's most un…”  

“I believe he was simply asking us if we could move.  Isn’t that right Jaune?”  

“Yes please, you’re uh, in front of my locker.”  

The Schnee blinked as she turned towards the number in Jaune’s hand, and then the locker behind her.  Thankfully she had enough and stayed silently shortly after, huffing as she decided to take her leave.  

Frankly Jaune had no idea what to do in this situation, it had been awkward enough with the girl who’d already probably didn’t like him, just kind of threatening him.  “Well… that was interesting.”  

Pyrrha simply smiled his way, something that caught both May and Jaune’s attention as they felt a small warm feeling churn inside of them.  “I hope neither of you are bothered by any of what she said.”  

“None here.”  Jaune shook his head, he didn’t really get famous people.  

“That’s the same for me.”  May found herself stating what she felt was obvious.  Despite her shyness, she liked to be upfront about things.  

A warm cozy feeling fell upon the trio, only to be interrupted by the other two students still in the room.  “THAT WAS AWESOME!”  Ruby’s sudden appearance between the three caused the trio to suddenly jump back in surprise.  The young redhead turned her attention towards Pyrrha, a gleam in her eye that Pyrrha had seen all too often, however what came next wasn’t exactly what she expected.  “The way you shut her down!  Ms Snooty never saw it coming!”  This officially caught Pyrrha off guard, maybe coming here wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Well now, I see why you weren’t instantly smitten by my adorable little sister lover boy.”  

Jaune nearly jumped out of his pants as Yang suddenly appeared by his side, her arm resting on his shoulder, “You’ve got these two beauties fighting over!  Heck one of them’s even a champion!”  

Pyrrha couldn’t help but flinch at being called champion, even if this woman, she didn’t know their names, said it only in jest towards Jaune.  For now she’d let it slide, though she did take note of the way Jaune’s demeanor flattened.  Regardless, now wasn’t the time for that, they would all need to be at their utmost best if they wished to survive.

“Well uuuuh!  We should get going!”  

The younger girl, Ruby she believed her name was, decided to break the awkwardness.  

Pyrrha nodded, “I agree.”  The sooner she got her partner, the better things would turn out.  And hopefully, peering over to Jaune and May, she would end up on a team with these two splendid individuals.  

Jaune wasn’t ready for this!  He’d already been prepared for what was to come, but actually standing on a launchpad without any real plan other than “Use your Aura.” was not something that he felt comfortable with.  

“Today will be the day that you decide not only your partners, but your teams.”  

“Oh man!” 

“I knew it!”  

Jaune’s face scrunched as he heard two different voices in the background.  One he recognized as Ruby, and the other he didn’t.  

He couldn’t really argue with Ruby’s dismay, finding their partners in the middle of a forest was going to be awfully troublesome, it didn’t help that it was simply adding more pressure onto him, something he REALLY didn’t need right now.

“Oh gods I hope I don’t hurl.”

That had been another thing he’d been worried about when his elder sister had informed him that they’d be flying over the valley.

“The first person you make contact with will be your new partner.”  

“Oh that's… that doesn’t seem like a good way to build partnerships!”  

“As for teams?”  

Ozpin took a sip of his ‘coffee’.  Of course Jaune knew it wasn’t actually coffee, if he had to guess it was either tea or hot chocolate.  The man couldn’t handle anything bitter on his tongue.  He had a serious sweet tooth about it.  

“Well, that’s a secret.”  

Even in this rather unfortunate situation, Jaune found the time to roll his eyes.  

“Now then, Professor Goodwitch?”  

Jaune’s attention fell upon the disciplinarian and vice headmistress of Beacon Academy.  Probably the only real reason he’d actually made it in.  Even as he took the time to scan her cold demeanor, he couldn’t help but smile.  As scary as she was when she was stern and in her working mood, he’d always see her as nothing more than his loving aunt.  

“You will be launched one at a time into the Emerald Forest.”  

This he knew, “And when you touch down you will make an attempt to route with your fellow students.  The first individuals you make eye contact with will become your partner.”  He caught note of the s at the end of individuals, and that confused him slightly.  Had she miss-spoken?  

“From there, you have 48 hours to survive.”  

He blinked, this was different from what Rua had told him it would be!  But… survival?  He could make do with that!  Surviving off the land was probably the ONLY thing he was good at.

One nasally redhead decided to speak up, “What?  What does that have to do with being a huntsman!?”  

He was dutifully ignored. 

“We have provided all of you with a starter pack.”  

“Oh, that's what this is!”  

He heard Yang call out this time.  

“In it you will find various items, such as rope, a flint and steel, and most importantly a flare.  If ever you feel that you are unable to continue you and your teammates must decide on withdrawing.  Do note, there ARE Grimm in the forest.  You will have to learn to balance your survival instincts as well as your combat.  Being a Huntsman will often leave you in situations where you are low on supplies, or have to forage to survive.  This will be a good deciding factor on if any of you actually have what it means.”  

And with that she fell silent, pushing up her glasses as she took her place behind Ozpin. 

“Well then, any questions?”  

Jaune didn’t say anything, for the first time since he got here, he was feeling confident… except there was one thing he wanted to ask.  Raising his hand he was also ignored.  

“Good, I wish you the best of luck.”  

He couldn’t help but frown, catching the smile on Ozpin’s face as he was suddenly shot into the air, “I HAD A QUESTION!”  

Glynda watched as her nephew was suddenly launched into the air, having not noticed that several other students had already been sent off before him, “You know, Dana’s probably going to hear about that.”  

“Oh… hmm…”  

Ozpin frowned, that wasn’t good.  

“Well… he should be fine, he always did enjoy reading survival guides.”  

Glynda simply shook her head and sighed, this was going to be a very long initiation.  And, while she was supposed to be impartial, she did hope her nephew ended up on a good team.  

“So… has everyone already placed their bets onto the betting pool yet?”  

Glynda frowned, “You know how I feel about betting…”  

“Well?”  

“Ugh… yes.”

“And?”  

“Oobleck believes that at least a few students will get frisky during the initiation.  He stated that Winchester is definitely going to try something.”  

She glowered at the thought, “I don’t blame him… god I hope no woman ends up on his team.”  

“Agreed.”  

“Peach thinks that Lie, Valkyrie, and Sustrai will be up to some form of mischief and hanky panky.”  

“Mmhmm.”  

“And I believe that Zedong and Arc will push their relationship a little further.”

“Oh come now, that’s an easy bet.  We all could practically hear them last night.”  He took a sip of his drink once more, “I’m betting that Nikos snaps, you can smell the repression on the girl a mile away, your nephew is in danger.”  

“I swear, he’s just like his mom…”  

[z3llous]

Would You Still Love me?

(FTM Reader x Sanji)

Warning: Transphobia. It's gonna get sad before it gets happy, so don’t read if you aren't in the mental state for that.

(Also it starts with she/her pronouns for a reason, just wait and see ok? Don’t worry it’ll get there.)

    (Aug 16, 2020)

  He was her closest and most trusted friend. They did everything and went everywhere together, but not today.

    Women were what he loved, y/n was a woman, and y/n loved him. So what was the problem? As much as she loved him, she wasn't sure he loved her in the same way. Her love was unconditional, but was his?

    The path trailed off into a darker more mysterious part of town.

    He seemed to "love" all women, but what about her specifically? Was it simply adoration? Would he truly love her if she asked him to, or would he continue to "love" the others as well?

Wandering aimlessly and alone was the plan of the day. It was all in hope of somehow easing the weight of her heavy heart.

She would love him even if he wasn't a him. Regardless of gender Sanji was her everything. Gender meant little to her as long as Sanji was Sanji, but what about him? Would he still care about her if she wasn't a woman anymore?

A dark eerie shop came into view ahead to her left. It somehow gave her a warm welcoming feeling that flooded her lonely soul and begged for a visitor.

Wasn't the person more important than the gender?

As she grew closer she noticed the witch symbol that marked all magic shops.

The thoughts that plagued her mind and heart relentlessly, became lighter as she turned the bone handle and opened the door.

"May I help you?" A sweet fairly young looking witch asked kindly.

Incense filled the small shop with its pleasant aroma bringing some comfort to her weary mind.

"I don't need help at the moment. Would it be a bother if I asked questions about some of the things you're selling?" y/n said politely, eyes trailing across the shelves.

"Not at all, dear. Look around, ask all you like." She answered happily twirling a strand of her soft teal hair.

"Thank you." y/n said before walking around in search of something that might be of use.

The bay leaves caught her eye, since she'd watched Sanji use them in soups before. Unfortunately, the thought of Sanji wasn't welcome at the moment. Her expression unknowingly dropped.

"I'm sorry to pry, but are you alright miss? No one else is here and I won't judge you, dear." The kind witch asked noticing the poor girl's change in mood.

"I- No, I'm not alright..." y/n answered truthfully, since there was no use in hiding it. Her heart couldn't bear to lie to such a kind woman.

"Well what's the matter, dear?" Curiosity and concern filling the witch's voice and face. She knew from experience how harmful holding in emotions could be.

"Well, there's this man I love, but he adores women in general. I'm not sure, even if he truly loved me, that it would be the same way in which I love him. I love him for him, not because he's a man. Would he still care about me if I wasn't a woman?" Y/n admitted feeling relieved that she'd finally said her worries aloud.

"Ah, your worries are deep and valid, dear. It's understandable that you'd feel that way. Would you mind if I read you? Take a closer look at your soul." The teal witch said looking wise beyond her years. She'd thought similarly when she met her wife and soulmate. One often searches deeply inside themselves and the other when soulmates are involved.

"Why not? I'm always open to learn a bit about myself. " She said walking over.

A teal lock of wavy hair dropped from the witch's hand as she released it and held out her palm calmly.

Y/n placed her hand into hers and waited. The witch examined her hands, eyes, and face with her experienced gold eyes.

"I'm certain this isn't your first life. You've been both man and woman in your previous lives." The witch said confidently and patted y/n's hand softly to reassure her.

"That doesn't surprise me..." y/n stated, eyes drifting to the floor.

"You've known it for awhile, hun. Well, I do have something. I wouldn't normally bring it out, but since it fits your situation. So, I'll make an exception." She said pulling out a purple potion with blue flecks swirling about inside in a whirlpool like manner.

The sight of such a thing mesmerized her eyes with its lustrous hypnotic swirl.

"It changes one from female to male. The only way to reverse it is to ingest a male to female potion. Make sure to take it before you climb into bed, because it has sleep inducing qualities." The witch continued as she carefully poured some into a small shot glass sized bottle, sealed it, and marked it with the male symbol, before placing it onto the counter in front of y/n.

"Thank you, so much." y/n said paying her and placing it carefully into her bag.

"Not a problem, dear. Would you like the other one as well? Some grow to miss their old body within a week." The witch said pulling out a red glittering potion.

"....Just in case, yes." She said after a moment of thought. The sweet witch had experience with these things after all.

"Alright, dear." She said cheerfully as she poured another small bottle and marked it with the female symbol. Excited for the poor thing to settle the turmoil that resided within her.

"I can't thank you enough!" y/n exclaimed paying for that one too and putting it into her bag as well.

"I wish the greatest of blessings upon you, dear! I hope that man sees you for you!" The Teal witch happily waved as she watched the girl leave.

---

Robin was the only one who knew of what she was going to do. Robin never failed to keep a secret for her and she certainly wasn't about change that.

Once night had arrived she waltzed into the safety of her own room. Sliding under the cool sheets she couldn't help but fantasize of the best possible outcome. Excitement filled her system and she drank the surprisingly sweet potion. A pleasant feeling swept through her that was soon followed by drowsiness and so she slipped away into unconsciousness.

---

*drєαm*

hє pínnєd ѕαnjí αgαínѕt α wαll αnd ѕlíd híѕ hαndѕ íntσ thє вlσndє'ѕ hαír. hє вєgαn tσ pull hím clσѕє fσr α kíѕѕ-

---

He squinted his eyes from the glaring ray of sun light that peeked past the curtain. Suddenly remembering he raced to the mirror. Amazing, the potion had worked so well. It would take a bit to get used to, but they already had some previously oversized clothes that fit nicely.

Robin, expecting it, casually greeted them as though nothing had changed.

"Morning, Y/n." Robin said as he walked out and sat next to her for their usual morning reading session.

"WAIT Y/N???" Ussop yelled confusedly, nearly dropping the project he was working on.

"Yes, Ussop?" y/n asked normally, turning toward him as he lowered his book.

"WHAT HAPPENED???" he yelled again.

"Oh, I bought a potion from a nice witch lady." Y/n answered casually going back to his book.

"That sounds SUUUUPERRR!" Franky yelled popping into the conversation for a moment.

"Thank you, Franky, it is." Y/n said with a smile.

"Did it hurt?" Chopper asked peaking around the corner, since he was playing hide and seek with Luffy.

"Not at all, it tasted sweet and made me sleepy." Y/n answered calmly as he turned a page.

"I wanna meet the nice witch lady!" Luffy exclaimed as he fell out of an orange tree.

"STAY OUT OF MY ORANGE TREES!" Nami yelled as she ran over and grabbed all the oranges that fell before Luffy could get them.

"I don't think the nice witch lady would appreciate you running all over her shop, Luffy." Y/n said amused, turning another page.

"Aaaaaw no fair!" Luffy whined as he rubbed the new bump on his head.

"Nami-swaaan! Robin-chwaaan! Y/n- Who are you?" Sanji said walking out of the kitchen with a morning snack only to be surprised by a familiar, yet new face.

"A nice witch lady gave y/n a potion!" Chopper said with adorable enthusiasm.

Sanji just froze with a blank stare, Chopper panicked, and Luffy started poking Sanji.

Suddenly it clicked and Sanji quickly placed down the snacks on a nearby table and sped off to the kitchen.

===[edited^]=== ---

Sanji didn't talk to y/n much all day. He seemed... distant.

Evening came around and everyone was having fun on the beach. Robin was comfortably reading a book and laying on a beach towel beneath an umbrella, Nami yelling at Luffy, and the others were messing around with crabs.

"Sanji! Mind if I help?" Y/n walked up happily offering to help him cook the crabs like he always did.

Looking away Sanji held out a ready to be cooked crab and said nothing the entire time. The silence began to bother y/n a little bit.

"Are you alright?" He asked Sanji quietly to avoid drawing attention.

".....why?" Sanji asked looking down.

"Why what?" Y/n said confusedly.

"Why did you take the potion? I- never mind..." He said refusing to look up.

"What? What is it?" y/n stared at him.

"It's nothing." Sanji said glancing at him for second and turning away.

"It clearly isn't nothing."

"I-..."

"I what?!"

"You were better before this!"

"I can't BELIEVE you!" y/n yelled standing up and running off.

Sanji angrily focused on the crab and Luffy looked up at with a frown.

Luffy walked off after y/n.

---

Sobbing echoed from the cave as Luffy walked closer. His frown dropped further when he saw y/n curled in a weeping ball. He sat next to him and gently placed his hat onto his head.

Y/n calmed down a bit and leaned against him before he began to talk.

"Luffy, Sanji doesn't like me for who I am. I love him with everything I am. Why can't he just love me. Does it matter if I'm a woman or not? I want my best friend back. I'm still the same y/n aren't I?" y/n began to cry again.

Luffy looked down quietly for a moment.

"Y/n is y/n no matter what. He's wrong for being upset with you. You'll always be our y/n." Luffy said as he turned to him and smiled.

Y/n hugged Luffy tightly.

"Thank you...thank you so much, Luffy." He said slowly letting go, giving Luffy his hat back as well as a teary eyed smile.

They got up and walked into town, since Luffy agreed to let them stay the night in an inn. He gave Luffy a piece of paper with his room number and the symbol of the inn drawn on it in case they needed to find him. Y/n hugged Luffy once more before he headed back to the rest of the crew.

---

The had nearly set by the time Luffy returned.

"Luffy? Where's y/n?" Ussop and Nami asked when they noticed that he had returned alone.

"In town." he answered with a rare frown.

"What???! Why?!" Both of them yelled confused.

"He isn't coming back tonight." He said turning to Sanji, who was staring at the sand with his hair covering both his eyes.

Everyone turned to Sanji. They all heard what he said to y/n.

"Apologize to y/n." Luffy demanded looking at Sanji seriously.

"I agree. You weren't exactly pleasant to y/n today." Zoro said getting up and standing next to Luffy.

"Cruel more like it." Ussop stated glaring over his shoulder from where he sat.

"...Yeah." Chopper sadly mumbled next to Ussop.

"Captain's right." Robin said not looking up from her book.

"Not Suuuperrr." Franky said lacking passion.

"Horrible..." Nami whispered.

Luffy walked closer and held out the paper in front of Sanji.

"Go find him and apologize. He'll forgive you." Luffy said pushing the paper against him.

Sanji slowly stood up and grabbed the paper. He finally looked up with a hurt expression.

"Are you sure?" Sanji painfully asked holding in tears and gripping the paper.

"He's your best friend isn't he?" Luffy answered placing a hand onto his shoulder.

Sanji nodded.

"Then go." Luffy said smiling.

Immediately Sanji rushed towards town.

---

He desperately looked for the Symbol. One path to another, alley after alley, turn after turn, he was beginning to think he'd loose his precious friend.

Who am I kidding. He's not just my best friend. He's also my love. I was just confused by the change in gender. My feelings never left and I got frustrated and took it out on him. It doesn't matter, y/n is y/n. I need to see him. I have to. I can't loose him.

As he ran around the corner hope rushed back into him at the sight of the inn.

He quickly apologized to poor man at the desk for bothering him at such a late hour. He scoured the place for the number that marked the room of his love.

"13..." he whispered at the sight of it.

Softly he knocked on the door. Anxiety crawled up his back as his worst fear arose from the depths of his mind.

What if he doesn't forgive me? I'll never forgive myself if he leaves because of me.

The door opened and wild disheveled y/n appeared. They looked at him for a second... and closed the door.

He knocked again.

"Please, y/n. Please talk to me. At least listen." He pleaded.

The door opened again and Sanji walked in. Y/n closed the door behind him and turned towards Sanji silently.

Remorse and longing filled his heart from just seeing him. Sanji couldn't help but quickly pull y/n into a needy hug.

Tears soaked into y/n's shirt as he pulled him in as close as possible.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was frustrated with my own feelings and took it out on you. I was wrong. I was so wrong. I'm sorry. Please don't leave. Please, I love you. Don't leave me. You're my best friend and my love. Don't leave." His tears escaped rapidly and his breath grew unsteady.

His shaky hands grasped y/n's shirt.

Y/n wrapped his arms around Sanji and leaned into him. Tears began to escape from him as well.

"I forgive you. I'm sorry I yelled. I shouldn't have pushed you to tell me. I understand. I love you too and I'm not going anywhere. It's gonna be alright. C'mon,  you can stay here with me tonight." Y/n whispered and gently led him to the bed.

Taking off his shoes and vest Sanji crawled under the sheets. Y/n turned the light off and crawled in too.

He pulled Sanji in close so his head rest upon his chest and began to run his hands through the messy blonde hair.

"Shhhhh, rest easy, my precious Prince." y/n whispered softly kissing his forehead.

"I will, my love." Sanji tiredly answered nuzzling further into his chest and placing a soft kiss onto his collar bone.

They slept better than ever before that night.

[mischiefthedreamerx]

The First Steps

Synopsis: Young Sylvie has kept this secret for far too long and now it's time to tell her Mother whether she is ready or not. Little Sylvie is taking her first small steps in becoming who she feels inside.

A/N: So Sylvie is probably the equivalent to a 10 year old here. It's basically Sylvie coming out as trans and wanting to change her name etc. This is just a simple sweet one shot.

Word Count: 2.2k

- - - - -

Young Sylvie sat herself down in front of her mirror, golden coloured hairbrush in hand brushing her black silky locks. It had now grown a few inches past her shoulders, others had started asking when she was going to get it cut or simply made an innocent statement on its growing length. She liked it this long, though still preferred it to be longer. Sylvie looked down at the piece of jewellery she borrowed from her mother's dressing room. Well she took them without permission but she planned on returning them before her mother noticed...

Firstly she picked up some form of silver circular headpiece with silver metallic leafs around the band. She had also snuck out a silk white shawl. She knew very well that it wasn't right to steal the items but if she returned them without being caught then no harm was done. She traced her fingers over the headpiece before gently placed it above her forehead. Then added the white shawl over her shoulders. Seeing herself in the mirror, she knew she looked ridiculous with it on, especially over her green tunic. She adjusted a few strands of hair around the headpiece. This was one of the ways she could pretend to feel better, to distract herself but this void that was still burning inside her chest.

With a sigh, she slumped her shoulders in defeat.

Though an even worse distraction bombarded her when her brother practically threw himself into her room, the door whacking itself open.

"Thor!" Sylvie shouted in panic, quickly tearing off the headpiece and shawl, shoving them under her bed. Thor stood there, wide eyed.

"Have you heard of a such a thing called privacy?" She ragged.

Thor ignored the question and composed himself, holding a wooden sword in hand. "Well I was going to ask if you'd come out with me and Fandral in the woods but it seems you're rather busy playing... dress up." Thor teased.

"I am not! And besides Father forbid us to go into the woods." She said, desperate to change the subject.

"We won't go far, I promise." Thor smiled.

"Right. Of course." Sylvie returned her gaze to the mirror, hoping this would make Thor realise she did not wish to play with him but he didn't quite understand this hidden message.

"So..are you coming?"

Sylvie grumbled. "No. Go and play with your stupid little sword."

Thor crossed his arms. "Fine I will!" He stuck out his touch and left.

"Careful I don't cut your tongue off in your sleep..." Sylvie muttered to herself in a hushed voice. "Knock next time too!" She yelled. With a careless flicker of a hand, the door slammed shut. A part of Sylvie now regretted not taking up Thor's offer because now she was alone again in her miserable thoughts.

She placed her forehead against the mirror and sighed, clutching the silk shawl in her hands. Her eyes were closed as if praying, waiting for her reflection to magically change when she opened them but still she only saw some sad little 'boy' wishing she was anyone else but herself.

Sylvie then heard the sound of a door handle slowly being turned.

She was prepared this time. "I said knock next time—“

Her mother appeared in the doorway.

"Mother!" Sylvie scrambled, standing herself up. The shawl hiding behind her back.

Her mother cautiously entered the room. "Is everything alright, dear? I heard shouting."

A small sense of relief filled her knowing Thor had not told their mother on the 'borrowed' possessions or better yet her wearing them but her anxiety still held firm.

"Everything is quite alright, Mother." She stuttered, sweat appearing above her brows. Her mother took a few more steps closer.

"Loki, did you really think I would not have noticed." She raised an eyebrow, no anger in her features, only a sense of calmness but her presence still heavily filled the room. Sylvie looked down at the floor and unhid the shawl from behind her back. Sylvie may have been good at being sly but her Mother was proven to be a challenge to trick.

She wasn't sure if she should apologise or explain why she had them in the first place. Or maybe now was the right moment to explain everything.

"Mother, I'm sorry, I.." Her words fell apart.

"I think it's time you and I have a little talk. Shall we?" Her mother walked over to sit on her bed. The door quietly closing by itself. Sylvie sat herself down next to her mother, avoiding her mother's gaze.

"Why did you take those things? I'm not angry. I just wish to understand the reasoning behind this. Perhaps I can help you."

Sylvie nodded. She wasn't ready, but if not now, then when? She knew how she felt, it was explaining it out loud that was the struggle. Was something wrong with her? Was she sick? Or even a way to fix her to stop feeling like this.

Sylvie had succumb to silence, blinking away the tears. Her mother patiently waiting.

"I..I don't feel right." She met her mother's soft blue eyes, she nodded once to encourage Sylvie to continue. She only wished to recoil into herself and disappear.

"I look in the mirror and it hurts, Mother. It hurts." Sylvie turned to look up at her mother, the tears slipping themselves free.

Sylvie fell into the comfort of her mother's warm embrace, a hand wrapped around her. She clung to the fabric of her mother's dress, hoping it would stop the tears.

"Hush, my dear. I'm listening." Frigga whispered, threading her fingers through Sylvie's locks.

"Why does it hurt so much? There is nothing wrong with who you are, Loki." She said, Sylvie only shook her head, pulling herself away.

"No, you don't understand! I don't want—" She rubbed away her tears, taking a deep breath to take control of her steady breathing from the crying. She wasn't close to explaining it. She had once wrote down all the things she felt when she eventually told her parents, scripted it in her head, in front of the mirror and now all of that was useless.

Her mother stayed calm, though Sylvie could tell she was puzzled at the sudden raised voice. "If you could magically become anyone you wish, who would it be?" She asked. The question caught Sylvie of track.

"Anyone?" She asked. Her mother nodded. Sylvie knew a few people she wanted to look like. It was now or never. There might not be another chance like this for awhile. What’s the worse thing that could happen? She knew her family loved her regardless, even despite her being adopted, they never once treated her any differently.

Sylvie jumped off her head and walked towards her book shelf, picking out a book without hesitation. She pressed the book close to her chest, then showing it to her mother.

On the cover was a women with long blonde hair tied in a braid wearing gold and white armour, blue cape flowing behind her. Her arm was held out high holding a glowing light blue sword as she sat on a pegasus mid flight. In her eyes was the fearless look of warrior ready for battle. She was beautiful and power and strong.

It was a fictional story about the main character's journey to becoming a highly respected Valkyrie despite the hardships she went through, being born into a poor family and was looked down upon for how weak she was. Sylvie stood in front of her mother, holding her hands together in anticipation for her response.

Her mother's eyes scanned over the cover. "You wish to be a Valkyrie?" Frigga frowned slightly.

Becoming a Valkyrie was definitely a far away dream, a dream so impossible to reach that it would never become a reality.

"It's more than that." Sylvie replied.

"Loki..." Her mother placed the book down on the bed. "Tell me more. What are you so afraid of, my dear?"

"I'm afraid you'll no longer love me. That you'll think I'm pretending or confused..or..or.."

Her mother stood up and bent down in front of Sylvie to reach her level. "Sweetheart, we could never stop loving you. I trust that you know your own mind. You're a smart and sensible young boy."

Sylvie visible winced as if someone had injured her, chocking out a heavy sob and began to weep. Sylvie promised herself she would not cry, promised she'd be strong. The promises lay broken. She was weak.

"I don't want to be a boy, Mother. I don't want to look like this. I want to be pretty. I feel horrible. I...I feel disgusting." Sylvie held onto her mother for dear life. Frigga embraced her tightly.

"Oh, my dear." Frigga let Sylvie cry into her shoulder until the heavy sobs became only sniffles. Frigga wasn't exactly sure what to make of this sudden turn of events. She knew Sylvie was never like her brother or most young boys for that matter, always more quiet, never fitting in with Thor and his friends. She'd much rather play with her toys or interact with the girls from her classes.

Frigga was always considered wise, knowing what to say when comforting and support others or even explaining the complexity of different methods regarding magic. Though now, she had no right words on how to comfort her distressed child. She still very much believed her child knew their own mind and that every word Sylvie said was not some child wanting to play pretend but a child in so much pain from hiding her true self for far too long. Perhaps Frigga felt a sense of guilt from not realising her child's distress. What Sylvie was feeling wasn't something Frigga had not heard before but it was still new to her. It was not a choice. She would continue to love her child unconditional despite not understanding much.

"For how long have you been feeling this way?"

Sylvie sniffled and wiped her tears with a shrug. "A long time. It has only become much worse. I have tried, really tried to stop being this way. To be more like Thor and the others."

Frigga placed a strand of hair behind Sylvie's ear. "You do not have to be anything like your brother. You two are very special in your own ways. Thor.. he relies on brute strength, charging head first into battle without analysing the battle field in itself. Of course he has some remarkable strengths. But you, my child, you are very powerful, intelligent, pure at heart, cunning even. You have qualities that many dismiss, cast aside as if they were only weak but my dear, they are your hidden strengths to use to your advantage." Frigga's voice whispered softly. She continued;

"And.. if from within you feel.. you're trapped.." Frigga paused, searching for the right words.

"In the wrong body." Sylvie said, completing her mother's sentence.

Frigga nodded. "Yes. Then we shall do whatever we can to support you. You will encounter many who will not quite fathom all of this, or many will say that you are sick. Do not ever let other's perception of who you are change you. Only you truly understand who you are from within and that’s all that matter."

Sylvie stood there, giving herself some time to take in what her mother had said. She had not expected this sort of outcome. A small smile made it's way to Sylvie's lip.

"Thank you, Mother. Can we tell Father...together?"

"We will and he shall love his daughter all the same." Frigga placed a kiss upon her forehead. "This..is still very new to me but is there another name you one day wish to be called by?"

Sylvie's eyes sparkled with instant excitement. She picked up her story book and pointed to the Valkyrie on the front cover.

“Her!” She passed the book to her mother. Frigga turned to look at the back of the book to read the blurb.

"Sylvie?" She said, reading the main character’s name.

Sylvie nodded, the void becoming only but a distant ache. Right now she no longer thought about what her father or Thor would think of this or for the rest of Asgard for that matter. Sylvie wanted to live in this blissful moment and hoped for many more.

"Sounds very elegant and mystical." Her mother said. "It's perfect."

Sylvie struggled to hide her ever growing smile as she hugged her mother.

"Though you must understand it will take us all some time to adjust to this change. We may make mistakes along the way, but I can assure you that as a family, together, we will support you."

Sylvie understood that it would be a big adjustment for everyone, even for herself and mistakes will follow and many will not support her journey, she was well aware of the troubles she may face but right now, Sylvie had made her first steps into becoming the person she was on the inside

"I know, Mother." Sylvie said, she reached down picking up the shawl and silver headpiece. "Here. I'm sorry for taking them without your permission, Mother.”

Frigga took the headpiece and placed it on Sylvie's head.

"Keep them." She smiled. "They look much better on you, my little princess."

- - - - -

A/N: Omg I didn't think I'd make this so heartbreaking. Also please no comments about how I didn't explain being trans that well considering its coming from a distressed child

[cherienymphe]

Crossfire III (Biker!Bucky x Reader x Steve)

Warnings: DUB-CON, eventual NON-CON, eventual kidnapping

PLEASE DNI IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU

summary: You and your new husband Steve move back to his hometown. It is here that his past catches up with him, and you both pay the price.

~

You peeked through the window, a smile spreading over your lips as you caught a glimpse of who had knocked on the door. Wanda had a small smile on her own face when you finally opened it. She looked so lively outside of the diner setting.

“Wanda! What are you doing here?”

“School doesn’t start back for weeks, so I figured you don’t want to be cooped in the house until then. I thought I’d show you around town,” she said.

“Oh.”

Steve had claimed that he was going to get around to doing that, but work had taken up so much of his time. Not to mention everything else he was dealing with. It seemed silly to make him show you around with much more serious things on his plate. You absentmindedly brushed your fingers over your neck, flinching a bit.

“You know what? I love that idea. Come in! I just need to put on my shoes,” you said, stepping aside.

You closed the door behind her as she looked around.

“Wow. It looks so different from the last time I was in here,” she said.

“This used to be the hangout spot or something?” you chuckled as you put your shoes on.

“Something like that,” she chuckled back. “I told you, I was never really friends with Steve. My brother, Pietro, was though. I think he idolized him a bit, to be honest. I came around with him once or twice during some of their meetings.”

“Meetings? What kind of meetings?” you asked, grabbing your purse.

She seemed to freeze, lips parting ever so slightly as her eyes widened. You frowned at her as she hurried to double back.

“Not…not meetings really. Just when the guys would hang out and stuff,” she said with a shake of her head.

You eyed her odd demeanor for a bit, eventually brushing it off. You followed her outside and looked around in confusion.

“How’d you get here?”

“I walked,” she said with a shrug. “My house isn’t far.”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to that, how small the town was. Sure, walking in New York was normal, but that was in the city and the boroughs. You considered taking the car but decided against it.

“You don’t mind walking some more, do you?”

“Of course not. You won’t get the full experience driving around anyway!”

You locked the door behind you, thankful that it was nice outside.

“Walking around this town was how we found all the cool hangout spots when we were kids,” she chuckled. “Some of the best places here would’ve remained a secret to us.”

“What was Steve like then?” you wondered. “He doesn’t talk about his past much…”

Hell, before you moved here you had thought Steve only had two friends his whole life.

“I’m sure he’s the same now as he was then,” she chuckled. “Bossy and self-righteous…kind of like a kid when he doesn’t get his way.”

She nudged you, and you frowned. Steve could be set in his ways sometimes, sure, but that wasn’t at all what he was like. At least, not now. He’d told you he was a different man back then, but you were really starting to wonder just how different.

You kept your thoughts to yourself and instead listened to Wanda as she talked about the different businesses in town. You learned that she and her brother aren’t from here but from Sokovia.

“Yeah, we didn’t know the language well when we moved here, but Steve and Bucky made us feel welcome. They accepted us with ease and the rest followed,” she said.

You glanced away at the mention of Steve’s former friend, and you bit your lip.

“So Steve and Bucky were pretty close…”

“Like brothers,” she confirmed.

You watched her face fall, and your curiosity to know what happened between them grew. Again, you kept your thoughts to yourself. You wanted to trust that Steve would tell you in his own time. The two of you spent the rest of the day walking around town. You walked by the small shopping center you didn’t even know was here. It consisted of a Dollar General, a liquor store, a post office, and a small clothing shop you’d never heard of.

When the two of you neared the local bar, Wanda’s demeanor changed. She slowed, visibly uncomfortable, and you frowned. You saw ‘The Asgardian’ flashing in bright neon lights. It was late in the evening, now, so the place seemed to be just livening up. You noticed quite a few motorcycles parked out front, a few of which looked familiar.

There were a couple of people mingling by their bikes, drinking beer and laughing. You noticed a small group of women eyeing the two of you, all sporting those leather jackets. Wanda grabbed your arm.

“Come on-.”

“Wanda!”

You both looked over to see one of the women waving you two over, dark ponytail swinging. You could tell that Wanda was uncomfortable, so you spoke up.

“We don’t have to go over if you don’t want to,” you said. “You can tell them I don’t feel well or something.”

Wanda bit her lip before eventually shaking her head.                “I wish it were that easy,” she quietly replied, reluctantly approaching them.

You followed and noticed the way some of the men closer to the bar eyed you. You made eye contact with Sam, and he waved. You returned it with a small smile.

“You know Sam?”

You cut your eyes to the woman who asked. She was finishing up a cigarette, green eyes focused on you as she stomped it out.

“Not really. He came by the house the other day to see Steve,” you answered.

She smirked, glancing at the blonde woman beside her before pushing off of her bike. She stuck her hand out.

“You must be Steve’s wife. Natasha,” she introduced herself.

You took her hand, introducing yourself as well. The other girls greeted you and introduced themselves too, albeit the blonde one, Sharon, did so reluctantly.

“We’re about to head inside. You two should join us.”

It was the one who’d waved you two over. She had introduced herself as Brunnhilde, but she claimed that everyone called her Valkyrie.

“I was just showing Y/N around. We were actually about to head back to-.”

“Just for a few drinks,” Natasha laughed, throwing her arm over your shoulder. “Besides, Pietro’s inside. He’s been wondering where you were, Wanda.”

You didn’t protest when Natasha pulled you along.

“So, how long you and Steve been married?”

“A little over a month,” you answered, “…but we’ve been together for almost two years.”

“Newlyweds,” she laughed. “That’s sweet.”

The bar was dimly lit inside and filled with smoke. It was rowdy, and your ears were immediately filled with loud chatter and boisterous laughter from men and women alike. A few people eyed you as you walked past with Natasha, but their eyes didn’t linger for too long, almost as if they were afraid to stare.

You settled down at a table in the back, Wanda and the rest close behind. Natasha waved the server over and ordered a round of beers.

“You drink?” the redhead asked.

“Not much,” you honestly replied.

Back in your college days you got pretty wild, but that was behind you. Or so you thought. One round of beer turned into three then three turned into five. Before you knew it, your body felt light and your head felt fuzzy. You found that you liked Natasha. She was funny if not a little rough around the edges, but it was in that good and tough straightforward way you’d always envied.

She was currently telling you about the time Steve had gotten in trouble for breaking into the school for senior prank day. The cops had him cuffed and ready to go when Tony and Clint distracted them while Sam and Bucky busted him out of the car. You snorted, immediately covering your mouth in a fit of giggles.

“God, Steve never tells me any of this stuff,” you complained. “I didn’t even know the guy had friends.”

You chuckled, taking another sip of beer.

“Yeah,” Natasha sighed. “Steve had a lot of friends, a whoole support system here before he ran off.”

She suddenly scoffed, chuckling without humor.

“It was pretty brave of him to come back here after what he did. Brave…or stupid, I still haven’t decided yet, but the man always did have steel balls.”

You frowned at her, confusion piercing your brain as she nursed her beer.

“What do you mean?”

Something in you was telling you that this was a conversation meant for Steve and you, that you were doing exactly what you said you wouldn’t: prying. She almost choked on her beer, staring at you with wide eyes before she laughed. This time it was genuine.

“You don’t know? You’re telling me Steve didn’t tell you?”

Your frown only deepened, and she suddenly quieted, a look of disbelief falling over her features. She fell back in her seat with a light scoff, shaking her head as she glanced away.

“That son of a bitch,” she whispered, but you still heard her over the noise.

Against your better judgement, you pressed her for information.

“What? What did he do?”

She sighed, setting her beer back down before leaning forward.

“Well…you know about the club. The money they would take and-.”

“Wait, wait, what club? What money?”

You were growing more confused by the minute. She stared at you for a moment, studying you. Realization bled into her features.

“You don’t know anything…do you?”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, and apparently you didn’t need to. Your silence was answer enough. She looked away, and you watched as she clenched her jaw.

“I think you should go,” she said.

You blinked.

“What? Why? I-.”

“Because you clearly don’t know your husband at all…and I’d hate to be the one to ruin that for you,” she said, staring you down. “You should go anyway before Bucky shows up.”

You frowned but nodded at the mention of Bucky. You turned and tapped Wanda on the shoulder, telling her you were going to go.

“Alright. I’ll go with you,” she said, putting on her jacket.

“Let me go to the bathroom first,” you told her.

You stood and swayed for a bit, realizing that you had drank more than you intended to. You managed to make it to the other side of the room though, hand sliding along the wall as you stepped into the dark hallway.

The bathroom wasn’t the cleanest, and you turned your nose up in disgust. You normally squatted over public toilets, but you were so wobbly you didn’t think you’d be able to. You sighed, mulling over Natasha’s words. While it was true that there were things about Steve you didn’t know, was it really true that you didn’t know him at all? Did you really not know Steve at all?

The alcohol in your system made your emotions so much more…more, and you blinked away tears. Ever since you’d moved here, nothing had gone like you thought it would, and while it might’ve been unfair to think so, you partly blamed Steve. Not only had he moved back here knowing that when he left, he’d left behind bad blood, but he allowed you to be blindsided.

You stumbled to the sink, splashing water over your face after washing your hands. There was no use looking into the mirror, the dirt and grime covering it didn’t allow you to see anything. God, you could just imagine what Steve was going to say when Wanda dragged you home, drunk and wobbly. You yanked the door open, a burp rising in your throat, but you swallowed it down in shock.

Your body was frozen as your eyes connected with familiar blue ones. He smiled at you, but it was cold, mocking even. You stumbled back when he stepped inside, and your eyes widened when he closed the door behind him.

“You-you can’t be in here,” you told him, moving to get past him.

He gripped your arms and pushed you back. His large frame and your inebriated state made it easy. You winced when he pushed you into the sink, pain traveling through your lower back.

“I’ve got my hands in almost every cookie jar in this town. I can go wherever I want,” he shot back, tightening his grip.

You struggled against him, but he only chuckled at your attempt. You grunted in frustration, fed up.

“What do you want from me, Bucky?”

You spat his name, and a slow smirked danced along his lips.

“Hmm. I haven’t quite figured that out yet. I know what I want from Steve…”

You glared at him.

“…but I don’t know what I want from you exactly. Well…at least not all of what I want.”

He stepped closer, pressing himself against you, and your struggle increased. You could smell nicotine on his breath, and you gasped when one hand traveled down to grip your thigh. With your now free hand, you shoved against his chest, but he only pushed himself closer.

“Steve and I shared a lot back then. T-shirts, bikes…women,” he said, gripping your jaw. “Although, I don’t think he’s inclined to do so anymore. He seems a little…possessive of you.”

His laugh sent shivers down your spine, and you pushed against him, hard. You were satisfied when he took a step back, but your relief was short lived when he shoved you back. Your head slammed against the mirror, and you squeezed your eyes shut. Your already tilting vision was swaying when you opened them.

“You know what he told me that day I came by? He said if I so much as looked at you again, he’d bury me. You got yourself a keeper,” he chuckled. “Too bad he’s a liar and a thief.”

“Don’t talk about him like that. I don’t know what happened between you two, but Steve isn’t that person.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, gaze almost pitying.

“He hasn’t changed, sweetheart. He just got better at hiding,” he sneered.

You turned your face away, but his grip on your chin tightened. He leaned down when you tried to lean away, nose brushing against yours.

“Did you even ask him what he took? What he did?”

You tried to ignore him, but he wouldn’t let you.

“We used to go from town to town, you know…taking money from anyone we could. Selling drugs to anyone desperate enough to buy.”

You jerked in his grip, eyes wide in disbelief as you stared at him.

“We thought we were untouchable…and we were. No one messed with us, and if they did, we made an example out of them. Steve led and we followed,” he continued.

“No,” you shook your head, stomach churning.

“We were gonna take over this town. Almost two million dollars,” he whistled. “That’s how much money we had saved up. We were going to buy out everyone we could. We were so close, and this whole town knew it. They were scared, and rightfully so…”

He suddenly gripped your hair, one arm curling around your waist as he pinned you to him.

“Then Steve had a change of heart one day. He turned his back on all of us and the way of life he helped create. He left. No big deal, we would eventually get over it…had he not taken the money with him,” he spat.

You swallowed, eyes widening as you realized the severity of the whole ordeal.

“Not only is he a traitor who turned his back on us, but he’s a thief too.”

He looked over you and suddenly hummed.

“You look like you’re going to be sick. Let me walk you outside to get some air.”

He didn’t give you time to protest before yanking you away from the wall and towards the door. The bar was even louder than before, and the hallway was dark, the only light coming from the lights in the bar. Bucky didn’t go that way though. He shoved you towards the back of the building.

His hand was still in your hair, and his grip was tight as he forced you through a backdoor. The air was cool on your skin, but the cool brick wall against your back was colder as he pinned you against it.

“Steve really thought that he could just come back here and live the rest of his days out peacefully after what he did. So confident,” he mused.

You yelped into his mouth as he pressed his lips against yours. They were soft and forceful, pressing against yours so harshly it hurt. With one of his hand in your hair and the other pressing into your back, your movements were restricted. He forced his leg between yours, and you brought your knee up.

He let go of you with a groan, and you pushed past him. Your foot caught on his as he stuck it out, and you felt yourself falling. However, he stopped you before you could hit the ground. One hand gripped your arm while the other wrapped around your throat. His lips were at your ear, heaving chest pressing into your back.

“That was cheap, doll,” he hissed.

“Let go of me!”

His grip tightened, and you gasped, digging your nails into his arm. He shook you.

“You tell Steve that I want that money back. I don’t think he’s taking me seriously, and I’d hate to have to find ways to…” his lips brushed over your cheek “…get his attention.”

You stumbled when he finally let go of you, and your arms and neck were sore. You spun around, hand outstretched to slap him, but he caught your wrist. You glared at him and he glared back, his hold tight.

“You should go home to your husband, Mrs. Rogers. I’m sure he’s wondering where you are,” he said.

You yanked your hand from his grip, jaw clenched as you eyed him. Deciding to pick your battles, you turned and stumbled away from him. It was dark outside, now and you were positive that Wanda was worried. You were proven right when you made your way to the parking lot.

She ran towards you, your purse in her hand. Her eyes were wide and inquiring as she steadied you.

“Where were you? You were taking so long so I went to check on you, but you were gone.”

“Are you in their...club or whatever too? With Bucky?” you asked, ignoring her question.

Her face fell, but she shook her head.

“No…”

“…but your brother is,” you guessed.

She didn’t deny it.

“Who…who told you? Did Nat-?”

She didn’t have a chance to finish, bright headlights nearly blinding you both as a car pulled up beside you. You recognized the car.

There was a frown on Steve’s face as he hopped out. There was a frown on yours too as he approached you. He nodded at Wanda, thanking her when she handed him your purse.

“I’ll talk to you later, Y/N?”

You eyed her, suddenly unsure of who to trust, but nodded anyway. She looked between you two before reluctantly walking away, going back inside no doubt. It was quiet, and you could tell that Steve was upset, although you couldn’t understand why. You were the only one with a reason to be mad.

“Get in the car, Y/N,” he sighed. “I don’t even know why you’re here of all places and-.”

“Two million dollars?” you quietly interrupted him.

He paused and swallowed his words, visibly taken aback as you questioned him. His eyes gave away nothing, but his body language did.

“…what?”

“You heard me, Steve.”

He didn’t reply right away, and his jaw ticked. He glanced around, eyes narrowed.

“Let’s talk about this at home, or at least in the car-.”

“I want to talk about this here, Steve. I want to know why you thought you could just come back here after doing such a thing and act like nothing happened. I want to know why you didn’t tell me, why you just let me walk into this mess with you?”

He heaved another sigh, running his hands down his face.

“Y/N-.”

“Bucky doesn’t want that money back. I don’t care what he says! He knows you don’t have that money to just give back. He wants revenge!”

“Honey-.”

“And then you actually have the nerve to want to raise children here? Knowing you had a target on your back the second you crossed the city limits? You think I’d want to bring children into this?”

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. You didn’t wait for him to say anything, instead walking around him and getting in the car. You crossed your arms over your chest as he slid into the driver’s side. You could feel his eyes on you, but you refused to look at him. He reached for your face, but you jerked away, and he sighed.

The short drive to the house was quiet. You could feel him glance at you here and there, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to look at him. You knew that Steve was different then, he’d told you so, but you had never imagined…

He stole from people, sold drugs? You didn’t even want to linger on what Bucky meant when he’d said they’d made examples out of people. You were starting to regret the way you’d confronted Steve, but the alcohol in your system had clouded your judgement. You wanted to believe Bucky was lying, but Steve’s reaction told you all you needed to know. You weren’t even sure you wanted to hear his side of things.

You ignored his calls as you hurried from the car.

“Y/N.”

You rushed inside the house, and you could hear his footsteps behind you.

“Y/N, stop!”

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you to a halt. You turned to glare at him, attempting to pull your arm free but he wouldn’t relent.

“I was going to tell you the truth. I promise that I was,” he assured you.

You didn’t know if you believed him.

“I had hoped things would be different now, that they would have let it go-.”

You cut him off with a scoff, a laugh bubbling in your throat.

“I don’t believe that, and I refuse to think you do. Two million dollars, Steve? Come on. I didn’t grow up with these people but even I know they’d never let that go. No sane person would…”

You jerked away from him, heading for the stairs. He called you again, but you simply ignored him.

 ~

You stared out of the window, gaze locked on the moon shining light into your room. Your back was to Steve, but you knew that he wasn’t asleep either. His breathing was different. You heard him sigh before you felt the bed move.

You frowned when he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You reached down to push his hand away, but he tightened his grip.

“Let go of me,” you whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back, pressing himself against you.

You sighed, lacking the energy for this discussion at this time of night.

“That’s a nice sentiment, Steve, but we’re still here in your hometown with dangerous people who want payback for what you did,” you replied, fighting his hold.

“I had my reasons,” he snapped. “Will you stop it?”

You huffed in frustration, sitting up and grabbing your pillow.

“I’m sleeping on the couch.”

You yelped when he pulled you back down, covering your frame with his own. Your eyes were wide as you pushed against him.

“What is wrong with you? Get off of me, Steve.”

His face was twisted into anger.

“I said I was sorry. What more do you want?”

“I want to sleep on the couch, tonight. That’s what I want. I feel like I don’t know anything about you, and right now, I don’t feel comfortable with you,” you told him.

He frowned down at you, eyes hardening as he studied you. He ran them over you. Blinking a few times before pursing his lips.

“You know…about everything….”

You glanced away, and your silence was deafening.

“Who told you?”

“Does it matter? Its all true isn’t it? You led and they followed,” you repeated Bucky’s words.

“Was it Bucky? Did he tell you?”

“Does. It. Matter.”

His blue eyes were cold.

“I told you to stay away from him-.”

“I didn’t go looking for him, Steve! He found me! He sought me out, and he’s going to keep doing so because of what you did.”

His jaw ticked as he fought to think of a response. You looked away from him, swallowing.

“Natasha was right. I don’t know you, at all.”

He pressed his lips against your cheek, and you closed your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry,” he whispered against your skin.

You didn’t respond, and he continued.

“I never wanted you to know about that, any of it. I’ve tried so hard to put all of that behind me.”

And yet, he still came back here. You turned your face away when his lips sought out your own, but he gripped your chin. You made a noise of protest when he pressed his lips against yours, but he ignored you.

“Steve.”

His other hand slid up your legs, pushing your t-shirt up with it, and you squirmed beneath him.

“Steve, come on,” you pleaded. “Stop.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your mouth. “I’m sorry, and I love you. Let me show you.”

You stared up at the ceiling as his mouth trailed down to your neck, hands pinning your wrists down. You closed your eyes, realizing you couldn’t fight against his hold. His touch that once brought you comfort was making your skin crawl.

When you came for the third time that night, trembling and out of breath, you’d almost forgotten what had angered you. Steve’s grip was unrelenting as he held you to him, his low voice lulling you to sleep, the couch long forgotten.

[reinabeestudio]

To celebrate Valentine’s Day, I wrote a humble one-shot featuring Phantom Thief Karamatsu and Detective Shinshia, inspired by the Phantom Thief set from Hesokuri Wars lol.

It is very simple, and I did it just to cater myself LMAO. But maybe some of you find it cute✨. As a small fact, I titled the story “Alone Together”.

Story under the cut!

Finally, February was here! Heart-shaped decorations in every store, roses of different colors were seen over different parts of the city, cute sweets… last but not least, there was the romance. For a long time, this was a sour month for the sextuplets. They were phantom thieves of renown, yet they never got a single chocolate in their whole lives by their fans! It was truly demoralizing, almost as bad as Christmas.

Tradition said that women were the ones that gifted chocolate for the men they had chosen. This year, however, the blue phantom thief had a mission. An important gift to give.

Karamatsu tried so many times in the past to convey his feelings to the new detective: Shinshia Doremi. She acted rough and distant at first. “We are enemies,” she declared coldly. But in the rare moments they could spent together, her behaviour softened and the real Shinshia Doremi was exposed: a warm, yet shy girl. Sadly, everytime he tried to tell her about what he felt, someone or something would interrupt their moment together. Often their separate duties, as detective and phantom thief. 

Oh, Cupid, how cruel was he! Keeping the hearts of this couple in the scale of Lady Justice, its pans so close but never together! Such a tragic fate!

Well, perhaps the vision he had of their love inside his head had evolved into something more dramatic than what it actually was in real life. But it added some excitement to whatever their situation was.

Karamatsu was no fool, either. He knew there were others interested in the girl… Mostly, his boisterous, shitty eldest. He noticed the way that idiot looked at her, and it wasn’t love. At least, not the the type of love he felt inside. The blue thief decided it was time to strike while he still had the chance, and ask her out. Subtly.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♡ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Once more the young detective ended up being one of the few remaining people in the department. Rookies got so much paperwork, it was just ridiculous. She had to keep a dictionary close to her, too. Some of these characters looked like an amalgamation made of nightmares.

To keep boredom away, Shinshia started singing, the words echoing throughout the empty office. A soft duet, the name of which she could not call to mind at the moment. However, she did remember that it was a popular love song. It was one of the first songs she heard when she first arrived to Japan.

The sun goes to sleep once more

In this lonely time, I wonder

Is your heart dreaming of me?

The detective finished with the paper she had in front of her, and grabbed the next one in the pile. “How tedious,” she thought. She kept singing to herself.

Stars twinkle above our heads

And the moon gives us her best glowing smile

But tonight, I’ll be yours...

“... And yours alone.” 

Another voice joined in with her song, singing along. Shinshia went silent and turned around, but she saw nothing besides empty desks. She went back to her paperwork, along with her song.

However, before she could sing another word, Shinshia stopped entirely when suddenly a pair of hands covered her eyes. “Who is it?” a familiar male voice asked in a sing-song tone.

“The sweet release of death, I hope.”

She resumed her work when she regained her sight as the infamous phantom thief, Karamatsu, casually leant against her desk with a subtle smile. “Long day, I presume.”

“You have no idea,” she sighed and tucked her hair behind her ears . “You should leave before someone sees you. Unless you want me to handcuff you.”

Karamatsu laughed quietly. “Heh, being helpless at your mercy sounds like a very tempting offer, darling. ” Shinshia’s face immediately flushed and he laughed again, genuinely. “But I am here to steal you away.”

“Steal me away?” Shinshia asked, not even looking away from the papers. She put some loose locks of hair behind her ear again. She was often pulling hair away from her face lately. “Sorry Karamatsu, but I have a ton of paperwork left to do. I can’t be stolen right now.”

“C’mon, Shia-chan! It won’t be for long. I’m just asking you to take a break.”

“I told you, I’m busy right n-”

The phantom thief put a hand over the paper she was writing on, and the scowling detective finally looked up at him. It was in that moment when she noticed that he was wearing casual clothes, and not his usual garish outfit filled with blue glitter. The only part that did stand out was, perhaps, the black eyepatch on his left eye. He felt triumphant over this, how she looked at him.

“Tonight, be mine alone ♪.”

After a minute of silence and a staring competition that was perhaps getting a bit too intense for the situation, Shinshia got up from her desk grumbling. “Fine. A short break.”

With a triumphant spring in his step, he suddenly scooped her up in his arms effortlessly and left the office. His plan was working so far.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♡ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Now this was strange.

Karamatsu dragged Shinshia out of the office. That was not the strange part, but instead of avoiding crowded places like he always did, they just… kept walking. Out in the open. Walking didn’t bother her, it was just unusual. He was a famous criminal, after all. It was a miracle they left the building so easily. Or maybe the author was just too lazy to think of something smart.

Wait, author? What author? That makes no sense. Just ignore it.

It was snowing outside. Snow wasn’t common where she was from, so she still marvelled at the sight of it everytime. Despite how much she enjoyed watching the snow fall, it was still cold in the streets. So smart was she, that she forgot to grab her jacket before they left, and now she was constantly rubbing her hands together.

Karamatsu laughed. “You’ll end up setting them on fire, Shia-chan.”

Shinshia snorted. The comment was lame, yet she snorted, like the fool she was. Karamatsu took her hand on his own and blew on it, before he decided to put both of their hands inside his coat pocket. She glanced at him, noticing that he was actually doing the same at her. However, as soon as he noticed her eyes on him, Karamatsu quickly looked away and instead focused on the cars that passed by.

After spending their evening with an impromptu stroll, they finally headed back to the building. Karamatsu spent most of the time silent, which was even more unusual that this whole situation. Usually, he loved doing long monologues filled with inscrutable flowery words that probably sounded cool only in his mind. But during that evening, Karamatsu seemed focused in whatever was going through his head at the moment. Then again, Shinshia didn’t talk much herself.

The poor detective couldn’t help it! He was a man that had to be put behind bars for his crimes, she knew this. However, everytime they were together, her mind just stopped working properly. This had been happening since she actually caught him once: Karamatsu, one of the six-colored phantom thieves that stole valuable pieces of art all around the city. He was pretty popular among the youngest members of her department, some of them even called themselves his fans. That was done in secret, of course.

Shinshia knew little about the man next to her. Truth be told, she wanted to unveil that air of mystery around him by herself. Not as a detective, but as… something else. Maybe as a friend. Or maybe as something deeper. Only the author knew.

Hold on, what-- you know what, nevermind that.

First she thought, maybe she was just starstruck. After all, as soon as she arrived to that building, she was assigned to the case of the phantom thieves. Shinshia was in a country that was so different  to her native Spain, and she knew no one, besides this guy. A criminal. But he kept coming back when she was alone, giving her advice and listening to her troubles… And then a bond bloomed between them. So sudden, yet so natural, as if it was destined to happen.

“Shinshia,” Karamatsu called to her softly, pulling her from her thoughts, “I have a little present for you.”

“A present? Why?”

“Just a little something I got for you! It’s fine, I promise.”

Shinshia sighed. “Well, fine.”

His eye glittered as he clasped his hands happily. Gosh, what a big baby. “Good! Close your eyes, and don’t open them until I say you can, understand?” He said that last part in English, for some reason.

Strange request, but Shinshia did what he told her anyway, and closed her eyes. She could hear Karamatsu fumbling with something- not sure with what, but it was small, she supposed. He did say it was a little something, after all. Suddenly, she felt his hands on the sides of her head, playing with the locks of her hair. He put them back, and then she felt those same hair locks being slightly pulled back by something. She feels his warm hand linger on her chin, delicately caressing along her jawline before pulling away.

“Open your eyes.”

Shinshia opened her eyes, feeling really curious about what Karamatsu did. He took out a round pocket mirror and then he showed her: a blue hair bow was holding back her hair.

Karamatsu smiled at her softly. “Your hair is growing long, Shia-chan. It keeps getting in front of your eyes, doesn’t it?” She nodded, impressed. When did he notice her annoyance at her hair? It was such an insignificant detail. “Now I can see your cute face again.”

Shinshia looked down, feeling her face warm up. “T-Thanks.”

After he put the small mirror back in its place, he took an envelope out of the same pocket. He gave it to her. It would have looked like a normal letter, if it wasn’t for the small heart on the back… And the blue glitter. So painful.

“What is this?” Shinshia took the envelope and opened it. Inside there was a single piece of black paper with text in gold letters. “An invitation?”

“Observant as always! It’d make me very happy to see you there.”

“I’m not sure, Karamatsu… this is very sudden.”

“But, Shia-chan! It will be so much fun!” Karamatsu looked at her with puppy eyes. Uh, eye. “Do it for me. Please?” 

How was that working so well, what the hell. Shinshia sighed in defeat. “I will think about it.”

Feeling victorious yet again, Karamatsu took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Good night, Shia-chan. I hope to see you there.” Those were his last words before he turned around and walked away, quickly melting into the crowd. Now Shinshia Doremi was left alone at the doors of her workplace with her heart beating incredibly fast.

The detective looked down at the sparkly envelope. This thing was so shiny that it hurted to look at it for too long. It was so painful! It was so tacky!

“You're so troublesome.” she said to no one. She released a deep sigh.

She was in love with the blue phantom thief called Karamatsu.

Shinshia decided to attend to the party, after all.

She didn’t go to parties often… mostly because she wasn’t invited to any of them. But, if she was being honest with herself, the promise of meeting him again was too tempting to resist. Also, free food and drinks.

Woah. She really had to have a deep crush on the man of strange monologues, if she was going to ignore her insecurity just for him. What a guy, he was making miracles happen even when he wasn’t present.

So she got ready, donning the prettiest dress she could find inside her closet. She wore the blue bow he gifted her, and after checking herself in the mirror, she grabbed her clutch purse and left to the party.

“Even if Karamatsu isn’t there, it’s better than to be alone during Valentine’s day,” she thought as she locked the door of her house behind her.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♡ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

It was a Valentine’s dance party. It should have been obvious, considering the day it took place. But she wasn’t aware that Valentine’s Day parties existed at all. Of course they do, why wouldn’t they? Maybe the host was single as hell, and this was their attempt in trying to find a partner. Or maybe it was a Jay Gatsby trying to find their Daisy Buchanan. Yikes, hopefully not. 

Also, every celebration needs a party, obviously.

Somewhere, someone in the world will throw a party for Cat Day. Maybe they will put a silly little hat on top of their cat’s head, followed by the confused pet trying to swat it away with its little paws and failing as the owner was in the floor laughing to tears.

That turned to be a very amusing thought, after all. It’d be so funny if someone celebrated Cat Day like that. She didn’t even know if Cat Day existed at all, but now she really hoped that it did.

Back to reality, Shinshia grabbed a glass from the nearest table as she looked around, moving between the many guests that were having fun together. Where in the world was Karamatsu? How could a single man wearing a black eyepatch be so difficult to find among so many colorful outfits? Pretty sure his full name was Karamatsu Sandiego. A famous thief whose signature look features a blue, glittery matching top hat and long cape. Of course, it all checked out, she just solved the case.

The detective was so into her own dumb line of thought that she didn’t notice the carpet, and her shoe caught. There was barely time to react; carpet veered up, her drink tipped forward, and suddenly the floor was very close. Extremely close. However, she hadn’t bit it, and that didn’t quite make sense. Gravity existed, and through gravity, she should have hit the floor.

There was something holding her up. A hand, which connected to an arm, which led all the way to a well-tailored suit. A delicious, familiar fragrance reached her nose.

“Well now,” a voice purred so slowly, and hands turned her to face upwards. Karamatsu’s face slowly turned into a tender smile. “I see you decided to come after all, darling.”

“Ah, well…” Shinshia really couldn’t say much with her waist held so enticingly by those hands, as warm hands brushed up against her skin and tickled. “I... I had to make sure that you didn’t steal anything! There are many people here wearing valuable jewelry, I’m sure you’d manage to steal something.”

“Heh, it seems my plans were ruined by the great Shinshia once more!” Karamatsu continued onwards with that smile just deepening at her sight, and somehow, he seemed to be leaning a bit closer. The room rang with cheery laughter, and the party carried onwards without a single glance towards the thief and the detective.

“You always seem to be,” one hand caressed its fine way up to her shoulder, “Stumbling around me. I’m starting to wonder if you are tripping on purpose now, hmmm?”

He knew well she wasn’t doing it on purpose. But before she could complain about that, he pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her completely. The hand on her waist pulled her just a little closer that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. He laced his fingers with hers. “I enjoy our moments together, darling.”

The orchestra struck up a mesmerizing waltz, and Karamatsu’s eye perked up enough that Shinshia could practically see the lightbulb above his head.

“Let’s dance!” he invited her without a second thought, and Shinshia stumbled as Karamatsu guided her to the dance floor. A violin hummed and a key plucked, and then his hands were on her waist, a smile beaming away. 

Unexpectedly, he was good at the waltz. What the hell, that was not fair. Shinshia found herself tripping quite a lot, and the phantom thief just chuckled everytime she crashed into his body. It didn’t seem to phase him either, he just grinned all the wider and adjusted until she fell back into rhythm. 

Finally, somehow the rhythm came to Shinshia. Maybe it was the guiding steps of Karamatsu. Maybe it was the smile he gave her as she fumbled along. Or, perhaps, it was the hand he still had on her waist, caring as it kindly led her along despite her inexperience. Whatever it was, it had her steps synchronize with Karamatsu’s, and suddenly she started noticing other things: how his rings glistened in the light as Karamatsu led both of them through the swarm of couples, or how his brown eye never looked away from her face. Small details, yet they were such lovely little things that made her heart beat wildly inside the detective’s chest.

“Say, Shinshia.”

“Yes?”

“You said you came here to make sure I didn’t steal anything, right?”

Shinshia raised an eyebrow in confusion, but she nodded. Where was he going on with this? Was he actually going to do that? She told it as a joke, she didn’t want to work tonight.

“Heh, well, my beloved Shinshia... ” Karamatsu leaned down slightly and whispered. “I believe I already stole something.”

Shinshia didn’t really notice the song grew faster until a violin screeched in delight and suddenly Karamatsu was really close. When the song was over, he had dipped her just as the last violin ended with an exaggerated flourish. 

Karamatsu leaned forward, his lips brushing hers, and perhaps it hadn’t been such a bad thing, tripping over her own shoe. Not when she could feel him gaze at her in rapt adoration. Not when Karamatsu had her so lovingly wrapped in his hands, and clutching as if she was the most fragile, most precious thing in the world that had happened to him.

No, perhaps it was for the best.

[longitud-de-onda]

{un veneno} march: eloquence

pairing; javier peña x female reader summary; your time with emiliana is running out and your feelings for javier are only growing rating; m warnings; talk about sex, alcohol (can i even write a javi fic without it?), angst, age gap, two idiots who need to get over themselves word count; 3.1k january, february

un veneno masterlist

You turned over as you woke up, not wanting to open your eyes to the bright light that streamed into your room from the windows. When you did, however, your eyes didn’t open to the darker side of your room but the worn fabric of Javier’s couch.

You stretched out, groaning as you woke up. Your neck was a little sore, which you attributed to the position you were lying in without a pillow. A blanket was half-draped over you, and you were still wearing yesterday’s clothes. It didn’t feel great, but the couch was surprisingly comfortable.

The events of the night before began to return to your memory: going out for drinks with Javier, returning to his apartment, watching TV on the couch until late. You must have drifted off at some point.

It was nice to know Javier let you fall asleep there. It had happened before, more often than you’d like to admit, but usually, he’d set you up in the small spare bedroom he had.

You heard a bit of rustling as you rolled over to glance over the room. Javier was walking out of the kitchen towards the door, a piece of toast in hand.

“Javi?” you said, voice dripping with sleep, “What are you doing?”

“You’re awake!” he startled before breaking out into a smile. “Good morning.”

He had grabbed his leather jacket and looked like he was about to leave.

“Morning,” you smiled up at him. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to go to work,” he said. There was a tinge of apology in his voice like he wanted to spend the day with you.

“It’s Saturday,” you complained. It was too early for you to care about being respectful, or care at all about what you were saying. You wanted him to stay.

After that day on the mountainside, you had taken to spending your Saturdays with Javier. He had the day off, so you could go do stuff together. Except, obviously, today.

“I know, but it’s important,” he said. He took a bite of the toast.

“I hate the DEA,” you said. You had hoped you’d get to go out to the market on the other side of town. Javier had promised he’d take you there at some point, he didn’t trust you to go alone. Too dangerous, he said.

“I know,” he laughed, “I’m sorry. You can stay as long as you need. Just lock up.”

“Okay,” you said, “When’ll you be done?”

“I meant you could stay as long as you need to wake up and eat and stuff. You can’t spend all day inside.” Javier opened the door. “We can do lunch tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you said. “Bye, Javi.”

“Have a good day,” he said before exiting the apartment.

You pushed the blanket off of yourself and sat up. It hurt, having him leave as soon as you woke up. Not that you were in a position where you could be offended. You were lucky he let you spend the night.

Javier’s attention was something you found yourself almost fighting for, and you knew others must as well. He was charming, young, handsome, and worked for the Embassy. That was the definition of a perfect man in most peoples’ books.

You stood up and walked over to the kitchen, where you grabbed a banana and sat down to eat. This was your 8th time, if you had kept track correctly, spending the night at Javier’s, and you seemed to always get a better nights’ sleep, even on the couch, than you did back at Emiliana’s.

Unfortunately, today was different in that Javier wasn’t there. You missed having him wander around, talking about different things. You missed telling him about work. Sometimes he’d talk about his favorite music or Colombian political secrets, and you’d tell him about how you always managed to find the best restaurants in every city and lecture him about packing a bag for an overnight because whenever he had to go up to Medellín he always overpacked.

As you sat eating, you found yourself wondering what the back half of his apartment looked like.

You walked over to his room and pushed open the door. The smell hit you before you could even notice what it looked like. A combination of sweat and latex and whatever that distinctly sex smell was, and the wave of it was so strong you had a hard time imagining that he hadn’t had sex in the past 8 hours you had been in the apartment.

Usually, that smell dissipated, you were familiar with that. For it to linger?

Your stomach clenched as your mind cleared a bit to notice the big bed in the center of the room and you realized he must have someone else in here almost every day. There’s likely been girls younger than yourself in that bed.

And for some reason, you haven’t been one of those women.

You’re standing in Javier’s closet, shuffling around in the small space, Javier sitting on his bed beyond the closed door. You had been chatting ever since you arrived at his place after school got out.

You hoped to be able to change out of your work clothes into the outfit that had somehow migrated to Javier’s closet, but the limited space didn’t allow for any speed.

“Hey, um, you have to move out of Emi’s soon, right?” Javier asked, voice muffled through the wood.

“Yeah,” you said, frowning. “I do.”

You had a couple days left and had been lying to Emiliana for a couple weeks now about having a place to stay. You chalked your procrastination up to over-involvement with teaching work and spending the rest of your free time with Javier or out partying. That didn’t fix the fact that in a few days you’d be effectively homeless.

“What are you going to do? You’ve set something up, right?” he said.

You couldn’t outright say no. Not to Javier. He was a decade or so older than you, had things figured out, had dealt with his own fair share of housing problems in the past. To admit that you had ignored this problem would be to admit how naive you were.

“I’ve traveled a lot, you know,” you decided on saying. “Been places where I didn’t know where I was going to sleep for the night.”

“Y/N!” he sounds like he’s rolling his eyes. “This is different. You’re working a job, you need something stable.”

“I don’t do stability.” That was as close to a life motto as you had. Living someplace for two months was new territory for you. The prospect of another nine or so was practically impossible to imagine.

“I know, but...” he stopped.

You paused, shirt halfway on, and waited for him to finish his sentence.

“What if you just move in with me?”

“What?” you ask, stunned. You finish putting on your shirt, mind working double time.

“I mean, you practically already live here. Your clothes are here, you eat here. I have a spare bedroom,” he said.

Moving in with Javier? As roommates? It was like some sort of angel and demon joined forces to create a godsend that would also torture you for the rest of the year. And how long was he suggesting this for? Because the nights you spent here were already pushing your limits of staying shut up about how much you wanted to kiss him.

“You know what, forget I said anything. It was a bad idea,” Javier rushed out.

You tensed up. No. You wanted this. Even if he was going to be the death of you.

You slipped on your pants as fast as you could, and flung open the door, throwing yourself onto Javier. He hugged back.

“No,” you said into his shoulder, “It’s a great idea. Thank you.”

“Where are you headed?” Javier walked out from his room, seeing you grabbing your jacket and purse which had been tossed across the couch earlier that day.

You were wearing the tightest jeans you owned and a cropped tank top, and the feeling of Javier’s eyes swooping over your body was just what you needed. There was no question: you were wearing this outfit to get the attention of someone.

“Dancing,” you responded, keeping it short as not to divulge your feelings. I’m going out so that I can forget about the fact that I get to sleep in the room next to you but never in your bed wasn’t the most appropriate answer.

“Fun.” He was frozen in the opposite corner of the room and you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. You had been living together for two weeks. You had gone out before. Why was he acting weird about it now? Why was this different?

“You’d hate it,” you said.

He liked going out for drinks but that was his limit. You had learned that the reason Javier was so perplexed by your social tendencies was your comfort around crowds. After years of training and working with the DEA, too many people put him into Agent Peña mode, and while it was useful for self-preservation, it meant his idea of fun usually involved fewer people.

“Maybe not?” he said, walking further into the living room. You furrowed your brow. What was he getting at? “The fact that you’d be there makes a pretty compelling argument.”

“Sure it does,” you laughed, trying to ignore the way his words sent a chill down your spine. Your brain helpfully supplied you with the image of Javier in a disco with you, tipsy and on the dance floor, hands around your hips, grabbing at bare skin on your waist and sliding up your leg under a short skirt. The goosebumps crawled up your arms and you shrugged on your jacket.

“I’m not going to be back until tomorrow,” you said.

“Why not?” He actually looked confused and for a moment you felt sorry that he didn’t understand. Until you remembered he was why.

“Um...” You didn’t know how to tell him, I’m going to go out of my way to fuck someone so that I can forget that I’m falling in love with you. It hurt everywhere, but mostly in your chest, and you knew staying in this apartment any longer would cause you to explode. Your heart couldn’t handle the sort of torture you were putting it through.

Javier was perfect in all the ways you didn’t think men were capable of. He respected everyone, even the women he paid to have sex with. He was great at being a roommate: sitting down for dinner with you, going out and buying groceries, listening to you vent about your bad days. He was vulnerable, at least within the confines of your apartment, sharing the difficulties of his job in ways you were beginning to understand. He said good night to you every evening with so much tenderness it hurt.

You knew Javier was getting lots of action. It was no secret that before most of the fucking occurred in his living room. Now that you were around he had the decency to always stick to the bedroom if he even had them there. Usually, he would leave for the evening, but sometimes you would get to meet his encounters.

Some of them were young, just over 18 and absolutely stunning, while others were closer to his age and would stay for an hour to smoke with him and talk. It didn’t matter who they were. Only that they were almost always different every time and they each were successful in confirming that you were quite possibly the only girl in Bogotá who wouldn’t get to warm Javier’s bed for a night.

You couldn’t handle it anymore. The last time you slept with someone was over a month ago, with Mateo, and your most recent orgasms had been at your own hand with Javier’s name on your lips, face pushed into the pillow, hoping he wouldn’t hear.

Your pause was enough for him to understand you’d be falling asleep in someone else’s bed tonight.

“Right,” he nodded. He stood across from you, hands in his pockets. “Well, stay safe?”

You rolled your eyes.

“You too, Javi. You never know, I leave you alone and you’ll end up setting this whole place on fire or something.”

Your head was pounding as you woke up, wrapped up in the arms of not one, but two men. As you shuffled around, you realized one was awake, and you mumbled a good morning. The events of the night before weren’t very clear, once you left Javier’s apartment (you still weren’t used to the fact that it was your home, too) you had gotten as drunk as possible as quickly as possible. It was a blur of neon lights and hands around your body.

You could remember leaving the disco in a haze, arms wrapped around you. Remember moaning as you rode someone. Remember being held by your waist. By your hair. Remember Javier’s face flooding your mind as you came. Remember biting down on a pillow to keep from shouting out his name.

You looked down at the two men surrounding your body. You weren’t sure if they were together. They might have been? Most men wouldn’t dare sleep in the same bed as another unless they were involved.

You thanked them, wanting to make your leave before it got awkward. Maybe they wanted to have breakfast with you. Debrief. Talk. Sometimes that was custom. You didn’t want to do that. This wasn’t a normal threesome. Not that those existed. But this was you, trying to forget someone, and if that came up in conversation you would feel guilty.

So you gathered your things, got dressed, and left.

Walking the streets of Bogotá in the morning was nice. The fresh air on your skin felt amazing and the smell of fruit wafting through the air was refreshing. You loved the way the city breathed. It didn’t sound or smell like any other city you had been to. You knew you were falling in love with the city itself.

You opened the door to Javier’s and startled at the empty apartment. He was an early riser, and he liked to work in the living room. There was no one there. He must’ve still been asleep.

You entered the kitchen, collapsing into one of the chairs at the table. You grabbed an apple from the bowl and started eating. You didn’t really want to talk to Javier today. Sleeping with someone else hadn’t exactly helped the way you thought it would.

“Javi didn’t mention he had a roommate,” said a voice from behind you, accent thick. English wasn’t their first language.

You turned around, taking in the woman standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She was probably around your age, wearing nothing more than her underwear and one of Javier’s button-downs. She was beautiful. Your stomach flipped.

“Um, yeah. Hi,” you mumble. “And you are?”

“I’m Elena,” she said, smiling. She entered the kitchen like it was her own home and sat down across from you, grabbing another apple from the bowl.

You knew what she was here for. They didn’t usually spend the night. But there was a first for everything, you supposed. You told yourself you had to get used to it. You were roommates, and this was who Javier was. That was something you’d have to learn to accept. It just hurt so much more given the events of the last twenty-four hours.

“Nice to meet you, um—”

“Did Javi not tell you I would be here?” she interrupted you. Her brow furrowed a bit and you wondered how long she had been planning to sleep with Javier. 

“No, he, uh,” you stuttered, “He didn’t mention anything.”

“Elena,” called Javier from further back in the apartment, out of sight. “Do you want to have breakfast before my roommate gets back, I don’t really want her to know someone was...”

He had wandered into the kitchen, trailing off as he saw you. He at least had the decency to look guilty.

“Hey, Javi,” you said, swallowing back the pain.

“Y/N? Hi,” he said, “Sorry, I, uh, I didn’t realize you were here.”

Of course he didn’t. You stared up at him. He had on pants but no shirt, and damn if you didn’t want to walk up to him and feel every square inch, trace the side of his neck, feel the rise and fall of his chest. You glanced away, hoping futilely he hadn’t caught you staring. You looked over at Elena, knowing that she had gotten to do exactly what you wanted.

And you were sitting in between this couple, ruining their morning after.

“It’s fine,” you said, pushing back your chair and ushering Javier into your seat. “It’s your place, you should have breakfast.”

“I should go,” Elena said, standing. “I think you two need to work out whatever is going on.”

“No!” you and Javier said at the same time. He looked back at you.

“Stay,” you said, not wanting for Javier to say anything that would completely screw over your day. “I need to take a shower, I’ll make myself scarce.”

You turn around and walk away, knowing that the two are starting at your back, still wearing the skimpy outfit you had on as you left the night before.

Upon entering your room, you closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling shakily. You squeezed your eyes shut, praying that the tears wouldn’t fall. This was exactly why you didn’t stay in one place for too long. When you were traveling, there was no time for feelings to develop, anything that happened was casual. You didn’t have to deal with pining in silence for months as someone flirted meaninglessly back at you.

You had dug yourself into this hole, agreeing to the job at the school, and now you wished you hadn’t. Getting to be around Javier was a blessing, some days you couldn’t believe how lucky you were to get to meet someone so perfect. But nothing made sense. Why did this guy, years older than you, offer to spend his time with you, even give up his privacy and let you live with him, but stay so painfully distant? What was it about you that he didn’t want?

The sound of laughter erupted from the direction of the kitchen and you sank to the floor, wishing you could go back to when you said yes to living here and stop yourself. You’d rather be back at a shitty hostel than feeling this.

next part

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[bcwallin]

One Nostalgia Later

Zero barely talks about his great lost love. As the “aged proprietor” of an “enchanted old ruin” known as the Grand Budapest Hotel, he tells his life story by skipping around her presence, touching on the existence of his “darling Agatha,” but avoiding falling into the pit of despair. Beautiful things don’t get to be completed in his world, where poems are always cut off, nice sentiments are interrupted, and the dark specter of war and disease cuts short any hope of living long, living with love. The man who “struck one as being, deeply and truly, lonely” knows what it is to lose.

For a brief time, Zero and Agatha shared a love. They were outcasts, ignored, working in service jobs that required self-abnegation—he as a hotel lobby boy; she, the pastry girl at a bakery. We see them in their bedrooms; it’s not much. “We did not have 50 Klubecks between the two of us,” recalls the older Zero. They worked long, demanding hours and had few moments to spare. Zero’s meals were held with the rest of the hotel staff. Agatha suffered the overbearing, watchful eye of her boss at the bakery, Herr Mendl. Being together was difficult, but the few moments they shared were rapturous. Their courtship felt like young love feels: furtive, secretive, and bursting with flushed emotion.

That young love never gets to mature. Agatha dies too early. “An absurd little disease,” the older Zero says parenthetically of the cause of death. So, every moment is preserved in amber, but never lingered on for too long. “She is a nearly absent presence in the story, by Zero’s choice: a narrative door marked ‘Do Not Enter,’” writes Matt Zoller Seitz, in his book about the movie. “He won’t speak of her. It’s too painful, and he’s too private.” But the aged Zero can’t tell his story without including her, try as he might. And we get glimpses.

On one good day, Zero and Agatha go to a carousel. They’re accompanied by Herr Mendl, but they barely notice. Zero gives his love a gift. He’s so anxious for her to like it, he can’t even wait for her to open the wrapping before he bursts out with what it is. He can’t contain his love in the inscription, either: “For my dearest, darling, treasured, cherished Agatha, whom I worship. With respect, adoration, admiration, kisses, gratitude, best wishes, and love.”

Throughout their courtship, the world around Zero and Agatha bursts at the seams with the portents of war, as newspapers tease, armies gather, and the brightly colored, idyllic world of the fictional state of Zubrowka teeters on the brink. The start of the war, after all, sees the appearance of black-clad death squads, and eventually, the draining of color from the film itself. Darkness and death loom quietly, but no matter what’s going on in the world, a first love is a first love. And it’s all encapsulated in a single image.

Agatha’s face takes up the center of the boxy frame—her gaze is transfixing. She stares lovingly, straight through the camera. We’re Zero, locking eyes with her. The colors shift over her face as carousel lights turn behind and around her. She is radiant, then shadowed, then red. She has the slightest hint of a smile, her head tilted, just so. Agatha stares with her deep blue eyes and it’s near-impossible to look away. But who would want to?

In this single moment, the music fades as if it’s playing somewhere else, the lights haze, as the focus can only be directed toward Agatha. Time is frozen, if only for a moment, as we experience the ecstasy of loving and knowing you are loved. Of early love, with its rushed heartbeats, tingling limbs, empty stomachs, stuttering lips, and sweaty brows. We hold onto this eternally familiar moment. As Italo Calvino once wrote, describing a different, frozen moment in time: “The suspicion that has gripped me is precisely this: that I have come to find myself in a space not new to me, that I have returned to a point where we had already passed by.”

* * *

The Grand Budapest Hotel continues a literary tradition that’s stretched from Dante to Moulin Rouge!: women die tragically and their lovers memorialize them in their writings. Agatha is an ideal, an image. Like Madeleine to Scotty in Vertigo (but less creepy), like the woman of an aged Mr. Bernstein’s tale in Citizen Kane (but more meaningful), Agatha exists as a memory or a reference.

With its frames within frames of shifting perspectives and aspect ratios, The Grand Budapest Hotel is distinctly literary. Its opening monologue is lifted nearly verbatim from Beware of Pity by Stefan Zweig, an author whose work is credited with inspiring the film, whose mustache seems to appear on more than one character’s face, and whose disappearing world is fictionalized as the setting. Zweig’s non-fiction is a great example of the longing for a lost place; his fiction for lost people. In his novella Journey into the Past, Zweig chronicles the long-awaited reunion of a man and a woman who had once been deeply in love, years ago. “How much time, how much lost time, and yet in the space of a second a single thought took him back to the very beginning.”

Zweig’s stories are often framed as recollections told over, as stories shared with strangers because of their absolute meaningfulness—much like the memorializing by grieving lovers of literary tradition—because these memories needed to be stories, to be remembered by somebody else. Zweig’s framing characters look to create the literature of their own lived stories. Journey into the Past sees two characters, Ludwig and an unnamed woman,  returning to their own story, with one seeking to consummate his unrequited love of nine years’ distance. They had had an emotional affair, tucked into passionate glances and tacit communication, years earlier, while her husband was alive. They kissed where they could, but they had to hide from the servants who always seemed to be around at the least opportune time. Ludwig’s desires were never fully satisfied and he was called away on business so he could build his fortune. And he and his love made a promise to be together once he’d return.

But the trouble with remembering love is that its amber glow sets up dangerous expectations. After being away far longer than he’d have liked to be, Ludwig is greeted fondly by the woman’s staff. He joins his love to the literary tradition and wonders to himself, as Zweig writes, “Odysseus…the household dogs recognize you, will the mistress of the house know you again too?” He’s been away for nine years. He’s gotten married, but he still returns for a rendezvous with the woman he loved and lost, to fulfill a promise she had made him, but which she realizes she cannot keep. Ludwig recalls a couplet from a French poem by Paul Verlaine: “In the old park, in ice and snow caught fast / Two specters walk, still searching for the past.” The poem, which cuts off there in Zweig’s story, imagines a dialogue between lost lovers:

—Does your heart still surge at my very name?

Do you still see my soul when you dream?—No.

—Ah, the beautiful days of inexpressible bliss

When our lips met!—It may have been so.

—How blue the sky, how hopes ran high!

—Hope has fled, vanquished, to the black sky.

Like Jay Gatsby or Mr. Bernstein or Lemony Snicket, wondering what might have been, Ludwig and Verlaine’s narrator and an old Zero romanticize their visions of love as time goes by.

“Any adequate view of nostalgia will acknowledge that it involves a felt difference between past and present: the very irretrievability of the past is salient in the experience,” wrote philosophy professor Scott Alexander Howard. We may seek to stay in the past through memory, Howard tells us, because the present seems worse, because we didn’t realize how good life was, or because we’re spontaneously overtaken by nostalgia. Nostalgia may mean that we see the past as a time that was better, and while that doesn’t necessarily mean that our vision of the past is false, it does mean that things get amplified to a whole other level:

The nostalgist knows the past in question was unpleasant at the time, but in memory it is altered by certain effects: for example, the memory has acquired a gold patina, or it seems to be an uncanny distillation of a whole time period. Neither effect strikes the self-aware nostalgist as true to the quality of one’s experiences at the time when those memories were encoded. Yet they are part of what is targeted by nostalgia. The emotion seems to be directed precisely at the “fictional” features of the memory image—things which one recognizes to be not inside the scene on the other side of the window, but drawn onto the glass.

That amber glow or gold patina grows as we distance ourselves from a disappeared world. Zero’s story, his world, his love are by definition irretrievable.

The carousel (in reality, a wood frame built around a camera setup) is irretrievable. The lights (in reality, constructed to be evocative more than representative) are irretrievable. The shared moment—stolen between long shifts of service as Herr Mendl looks on—is gone, and its memory is a fictionalized, amberized construction of nostalgia and longing.

As the elder Zero looks back, the once garishly pink and red hotel now looks like a holdover from Soviet-era architecture, its colors a drab collection of beiges and oranges. The grand ballroom holds few diners and the place, in general, is empty. Guests push their own elevator buttons, serve themselves from vending machines, and, at times, even retrieve their own keys.

And Agatha. Zero holds onto her memory, but reveals very little of it. She has 15 lines in the film’s screenplay. The first time we hear of Agatha, the older Zero avoids saying much, and talks of her only when he has to. It’s all gone and irretrievable. Sort of.

* * *

One cold November night at Penn Station, the poet Alandra Markman, then going by the pseudonym Allan Andre, wrote a poem for me and a friend (we missed our train, but the delay was worth it). “One nostalgia later” gave a compelling portrait of family meals, “as winter nights dissolve into warm / recollection and company we’re still keeping.” The way the poem goes, we create our nostalgia as we live through moments, readying our stories to be told and remembered some time later on. “Let every glow, mechanical or felt, be one / with the shadows we’re still casting, / and guide our bodies into greater light.”

The story of Zero and Agatha’s love was created on the carousel. In that moment, we see their love blossoming, deepening, exploding with the soft-focus lights of ecstasy. The elder Zero tells us he’s exercising restraint, avoiding talking about Agatha as much as he can, but if he were truly offering a utilitarian telling, there’d be no need to include this gaze frozen in time. In that moment, we never see Zero head-on, never see the reverse shot of adoration. It’s only Agatha and light. And us.

The elder Zero tells the story to a writer, the writer remembers it long enough to write it as an older man, the older man’s book becomes important enough for him to become a beloved national author, and through the eyes of a devotee, we read this book. When Stefan Zweig incorporates listeners into the story, it’s not just for the purpose of framing. The value of a memory is in how it feels to the rememberer, but the value of a story is in how it feels to the one who hears it. It is the storyteller himself who seeks out the opportunity to tell his story—the older Zero needles the writer into admitting his curiosity and offers, of his own volition, to tell it  in full. The telling is not for the benefit of Zero himself; he is giving something to the author, creating an experience for his audience. With its multiple framings, The Grand Budapest Hotel tells us that we are the viewers, the listeners, the readers. We are part of the experience, and we create our nostalgia as we experience it, so we can tell the story later of a place with bright reds, dark blacks, and swirling lights.

I remember The Grand Budapest Hotel, and I remember those swirling lights and the clutched breath and the deep longing. I think about that one frame of Agatha, frozen in time, holding her lover’s gaze—holding our gaze—as the darkness briefly clouds her face. Every time Zero and the writer and Wes Anderson tell me the story, I see that darkness and I face the irretrievability. I don’t feel nostalgia; I feel regret. For Zubrowka and everything it represents. For the grandness of the Grand Budapest. For Agatha.

* * *

When Calvino wrote about his frozen moment, it was in the story “t zero,” in which the narrator, a hunter, faces a lion L, the arrow A just fired from the hunter’s bow at the time tx. The hunter considers the possibility that A will collide with L at point X and he will be saved, or that A will miss the target L, which would then sink its very sharp claws into his chest in the less preferable of situations. It feels familiar, the narrator tells us, though not because of a comparable lion he’s fought or some feeling of ancestral memory lodged in his DNA. “If I say this moment I am living through is not being lived for the first time by me, it’s because the sensation I have of it is one of a slight doubling of images, as if at the same time I were seeing not one lion or one arrow but two or more lions and two or more arrows superimposed with a barely perceptible overlapping, so the sinuous outlines of the lion’s form and the segment of the arrow seem underlined or rather haloed by finer lines and a more delicate color.” He is experiencing a sense of timelessness, as if he’s lived through this moment in time and space, again and again. “What, after all, is the use of continuing if sooner or later we will only find ourselves in this situation again?”

While the elder Zero withholds a lot, rewatching The Grand Budapest Hotel can feel like a slight glimpse into the heart of an old man, thinking about his lost love and the potential of bright colors and bursting emotion that could have continued for the rest of his life (the internet loves a revisionist theory about a movie—what if the Grand Budapest Hotel of the past only looks that way because of how Zero remembers it?). Calvino’s hunter is doubtful. Zero seems assured. He memorializes his beloved with the hotel that stands for their love. With the story he tells of her. And he lets us see a little.

And we see the near-imperceptible smile, the tilt of a head, the unblinking eyes, the brightness and the dark. We see the warm glow of memory that says how great this was and the hint of sorrow asking how great this could have been.

Originally published on Bright Wall/Dark Room

[clan-sayeed-fic]

Do you love the blood on my hands? (Kamilah Sayeed & MC)

Reposting because of the issue with tags.

Book: Bloodbound (property of Pixelberry Studios)

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed & MC: Amy (I do not own those characters, they’re the property of Pixelberry Studios as well)

❗ Warnings: angst, strong language, illustrative descriptions of situations full of violence and brutality, might cause distress ❗ Rating: Mature (no doubts about that) Author’s note:  I’m not a native English speaker, I’m sorry for any mistakes (feel free to correct me).

As usual, I might have exaggerated a little bit in the warnings, but I want you to think twice before reading, rather than be responsible for your anxiety later.

This whole one-shot is focusing on Kamilah Sayeed. My main goal was trying to understand the work she had to put in herself and struggles that she faced along with it. To show her transformation from a person that was under Gaius's influence, to the one we get to know when our character meets her in Bloodbound for the first time. Pixelberry Studios showed us our MC's impact on Kamilah throughout the story, but the question remains, what was before that?

I mean, who else would try to write a whole character development in the one-shot fic haha geez, I'm a joke to myself. But at least you have the answer to why this story is so long, and I hope it'll keep you interested from the beginning to its end 💕

~ 3000 words

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

Do you love the blood on my hands?

"You never talk about it."

Words slipped out, getting caught by the air in a flash. As if the world feared that the owner would change her mind, trying to take them back.

The sentence managed to fly ahead, led by the wind in this marvelous evening. Finally, it reached the woman in a burgundy suit standing on the shore. She turned her head a little on the sound of the hushed tones. The brightness of the sun hit behind her, making her figure cut out in comparison to the picturesque sky. She was like a goddess captured by the artist with brush strokes on the background of a peaceful ocean.

"Have you just read my mind, love?" corners of Kamilah's mouth curled up hardly noticeable, her posture full of dignity.

She didn't get to hear the answer, because at that moment the sky absorbed their full attention. Rays of sunshine won their fight between the clouds, reaching the Earth as they desired it all along. The intensity of the light made water shine as if it was covered in millions of diamonds. Both women got lost in that view, admiring it in silence.

Admiring it together.

"I..." Amy smiled, her cheeks took one of the colors straight from the sky. "Sometimes, your thoughts scream so loud, it's hard for me to not listen to them."

The woman turned around fully, facing her beloved one. Warm shades of sunset brightened the dark brown tones of her hair. Her skin shined along with the ocean, making the view truly breathtaking.

"Care to tell what do they scream?" Kamilah sent the girl a soft smile, trying to ease the tension.

They were scratching the surface of her past like the sun that was teasing their skin. It was their favorite part of the day since Amy was turned into a vampire. And that weekend, they were grateful to admire it on the beach while listening to the soothing sounds of water.

"How badly you hate yourself," Amy whispered in response.

Kamilah sighed slightly at those words, at the issue she was avoiding for a lifetime. The one she was keeping inside, not showing her true feelings to anyone. But something about this scenery made her lower her guard as her mind escaped to former times.

"One thought keeps coming back to me since the day I've refused to follow Gaius's orders," Kamilah's stare was empty.

She made her way toward the girl sitting on the ground. Blond strands of her hair were gleaming on top of golden tones of the sand. Her green eyes were standing out among this refined game of colors.

"What thought?" Amy asked, watching her wife closely.

"That there is a huge difference between creating a monster..." She sat down and looked at the clouds as if she prayed that they would cleanse her soul. "And letting someone make a monster out of you."

The guilt took over her body as the words were spoken aloud for the first time. The moment she wanted to close inside herself again, she felt a hand on her back. It was moving slowly up and down, easing woman's pain and adding courage at once. She turned her head at this gesture to look at the girl sitting beside her.

The most powerful ray of sunshine locked in the form of a person.

"I killed people, Amy," her tone was speaking by itself as if she already passed herself a death sentence. "I killed innocents... men and women... old and young... adults and... children."

A single tear flowed down her cheek. And before anyone could catch it, it fell on the sand, burying itself between grains, ashamed of the world to notice it.

To spot this sign of absolute vulnerability.

"I know," Amy's voice cut through the silence. "I know you did all of that, Kamilah," she placed one of her hands under woman's chin. "But I chose my side a long time ago," their eyes met.

The sky above them was slowly losing all the values. As if along with the tones of pinks, blues and brighter, oranges and yellows, all the hope disappeared.

"Amy, don't..." her voice broke. "Don't act like you see the chance for redemption for me," she moved her face away, avoiding her wife's gaze.

"Why not?" Amy's voice was like the opposite of Kamilah's, full of faith.

"Because I don't deserve it," a whisper in response with growing outrage in her tone. "Because you can't possibly comprehend what a cruel person I was back then," she looked at those green, light eyes, with the darkness inside her own.

They were left alone on the shore. But there was much more to both of them than to the entire crowd of people.

"Exactly, so let me see it by myself," Amy lifted her hand for the woman to take it.

"I can't," Kamilah shook her head in despair. "I can't take you there."

Her voice grew weaker with every word. As if the last piece of her spirit was shying away from her body. It was making its way on the sky, resting there in the form of stars, gleaming from above.

"Just let me in," Amy said, keeping her hand lifted, the offer still open. "And I'll do the rest."

Despite the previous hesitation, the moment her eyes met again with Amy's, Kamilah had no doubts left. It felt so natural. To entrust her memories and darkest secrets with the love of her life.

So she placed her hand on top of hers. And a spark traveled through both of them right after their skin grazed.

Some indefinable power took them inside Kamilah's mind. On a journey, leading them toward the darkness that was impossible to avoid there.

***

Taste of blood.

Liquid of the intense shade of red was slowly running down from the corner of the woman's mouth. She pulled back from her victim, just to admire the sensation for a tiny bit longer. To cherish the feeling of his mortal body weakening in her embrace.

She felt more powerful than ever. The life of innocents in her hands. The same ones from which the blood was dripping on the ground at her feet.

It was up to her how many of those villagers died that night. How much pain they did suffer before that happened. How loud their screams were when she was ripping them apart.

Her creator Gaius enjoyed them screaming loud. He absolutely loved performing a show for those who dared to enter the village during the attack. Who considered themselves strong enough to fight back.

And finally, for those who ended bowing before him and begging for mercy.

Mercy that they were never about to get from this man. Because hope was like a toy in his hands. Known as the greatest weapon of all times.

"How does it taste, my queen?" man's voice echoed behind her.

But the woman that Amy was observing on the side didn't answer. Instead, she dipped her fangs in the neck of the young man, sucking the life out of him. For a second, his body moved in convulsion, just to lay down still on the ground after she was finished.

Just to join the rest of the dead bodies that were spread all over the village.

"It tastes like fear," Kamilah stood up, looking at the victim with disgust. "I hate drinking the blood of cowards."

Amy lifted her hands to her own mouth, trying to hold back a scream. The scenery around her seemed to be cut out straight from the horror movie. And yet, it was the past of her beloved one.

The intensity of the pain that she sensed from this place outgrew her worst expectations. The whole memory was filled with darkness and cruelty, which she was able to experience by watching the death of innocents.

"I'm aware that's not up to our standards," the man moved closer to Kamilah. "But we will get what we deserve," he cleaned the blood around her mouth. "We will take over the world," a sly smile appeared on his face.

"Together."

***

"No, please," Kamilah cried out, trying to push the girl away. "You were supposed to look at this, not me."

"Kamilah," she kept her eyes closed, trying to maintain the connection. "I don't want to force you into seeing this, but I really think you should."

The woman was drowning in the ocean, filled with guilt and embarrassment. The walls she built around herself for hundreds of years were slowly falling apart as she was left with no other choice than to give up.

"I can't face him. I can't meet the people I've murdered," she wept in desperation once again.

"Trust me, please," tears started flowing down Amy's cheeks as her own feelings linked to Kamilah's. She managed to keep herself focused when the command left her mouth, "now, we're going to walk."

They stood up slowly on the sand, while their spirits jumped into the next memory.

***

Bloodshed.

A stranger flew over the tables, landing on the other end of the bar. Loud coughing filled the room along with the pungent scent of blood, which hit Amy's nose rapidly. She looked around, taking in the surroundings of the scene.

Wooden chairs and tables were broken, spread all over the floor in the place she found herself in. She spotted an enormous amount of shattered glass. Alcohol was flowing down of the broken bottles, dripping on the floor.

Getting mixed up with the blood that once was running in the veins of those people. Humans that were stiff on the floor in unnatural positions, lacking any form of life.

"Just get it over already!" a loud scream echoed inside the building.

A throaty voice was coming from a middle-aged man, probably a bartender. He was the owner of this cursed place that unluckily happened to be the next destination of a Vampire Queen's crusade.

The woman moved forward, getting rid of the tables on her way with just one hand as if their weight meant nothing for her. Her eyes were flashing with the intense shade of crimson at anyone who dared to look at her directly.

"What are you?!" the bartender managed to lift himself up with difficulty, spitting out blood. "Who the fuck kills so many people in just a few seconds?!"

He was staying upright in front of her. As if the image he witnessed, the woman with red eyes and fangs, made no impression on him. As if seeing the death of his friends and customers was enough to make him believe in anything.

To make peace with the upcoming end.

"I believe it should be the last of your concerns," Kamilah whispered in her icy tone.

Amy watched the woman moving closer to the victim. She quickly recognized her fully prepared for attack posture.

"You kill me, and then what?" Thoughts escaped to his family, "you will deprive my wife of a husband, my children of a father," his voice broke along with his spirit. "You will be the one to bear the guilt of this for eternity."

Amy noticed a tiny difference in the expression on Kamilah's face. At the same moment, she sensed the change that occurred in the whole memory. The darkness associated with it seemed to fade away as the lightness peeked into it.

Her wife's features softened like those words moved something inside her. As if Kamilah didn't even consider this possibility before. As if the idea of suffering the consequences wasn't meant for her.

But as soon as the metamorphosis appeared, the equally fast it vanished into thin air.

"Maybe I will," she said, tilting her head to the side, licking her lips. "But as you so rightly pointed out," she reached the man, tightening the grip on his throat. "You're going to be long dead until then."

***

"I can't," the woman kept begging, sweat on her forehead.

Their feet touched the water that appeared to be salvation at that very moment. The ocean was cooling them both down, strengthening the connection as they were falling further into its grasp. The sky above them became dark far sooner, and the moon stayed as their only companion in this journey for forgiveness.

"One more," Amy's voice slipped away, wandering on the surface of the water.

It was fading away little by little, the same as her presence until darkness fell on them this one last time.

***

Blood lust.

She tried her best to regain control, to follow Adrian's rules. To cut down drinking blood to just from those who agreed on it. And never to the point of killing a person.

Humans are our priority, we need to protect them.

Those were Adrian's words that kept flashing back as she was holding the woman pinned against the wall in the dark alley. All weak and miserable, not able to struggle, to fight back. The only thing left was to kill her, to take the sip of the blood she desired so badly.

Kamilah lost her battle once more.

She remembered going outside for a walk as she always did after the sun went down. And it must have happened again, she must have blacked out. And as every time before, she snapped out of it right before causing another death.

At the very moment, she wasn't able to control herself anymore.

She needed to feed, she wanted to kill.

Amy was standing on the other side of the alley, watching her in silence. She was so sure that this memory was crucial in the journey on which she took Kamilah with herself. She wanted to believe that it was the moment of her change.

An actual call for redemption.

"Mommy?" a faint voice reached them from behind.

"Sweetheart..." the woman managed to cough up, her vocal cords were struggling under the grip. "Don't...please...run...away!"

But her attempts went to waste since Kamilah turned around immediately, facing the little girl. She let go of her previous victim, not bothering about the intensity of the fall that fractured her ribs. The vision went blurry before the woman's eyes, but she gathered all the strength she had left and focused on saving her daughter.

"Stay away from her!" a heartbreaking scream traveled through the alley.

But Kamilah kept getting closer to the child, moving smoothly and quietly like a predator approaching its prey. But this time, something seemed wrong. With each step, thirst for blood was weakening, along with the realization that was forming itself inside her head.

"Mommy?" the same word, followed by growing fear.

The little girl in front of Kamilah might have been six years old at best. She was too young and innocent to understand what was happening there.

But at the same time, old enough to stay by her mother's side. Old enough to show loyalty and understand love.

Love...

"Please, don't harm her," the woman cried out, unable to move.

That's when something moved inside Kamilah's heart.

The guilt spread all over her chest. Years of killing... thousandths of victims...

It all hit her at once, forcing her legs to bend. Her body to fall on the knees before this little human being.

She got lost in the view of those teary eyes of the child. The ones in which she saw something she had never considered before... a future.

A life that she had the power to end,

to step on,

crush it completely, leaving nothing behind.

And this power frightened Kamilah for the first time.

For the first time, she showed mercy.

***

"It's over," Amy held the woman sobbing in her arms.

The ocean was reflecting the beauty of this starry night in its smooth like a mirror surface. Accepting all the tears, letting them mix with the water, to pass into oblivion.

"You saw me there," Kamilah said, pulling back. "You saw what a monster I am," she swallowed, feeling the blood of the people she killed in her throat.

The girl moved her hand slowly to Kamilah's face, choosing silence. She caressed her cheek with tenderness, feeling the tension leaving her wife's body under her touch.

"I saw much more," Amy's voice was shaky, but she knew what needed to be said. "I can't deny the truth, Kamilah. You caused the suffering of many people," she found woman's hands under the water. "But their deaths must not be in vain. You can make them mean something, and you're already doing that."

"How..." Kamilah's eyes were letting go of all tears that she held back for such a long time.

"You've changed," Amy lifted their hands above the water, fingers entwined. "You've saved a lot of people, you've saved me. And those hands," she lifted them higher. "The blood will keep showing up, reminding about itself," their eyes met, shining like stars. "But I'm here to help you wash it off every single time it happens."

Amy kissed the knuckles of her wife's hands. She moved on the top of it, leaving the path of soft kisses on her skin. Her tears were flowing down as if they were the key to wash away all the guilt.

To bring peace, even for a moment.

"We can do this," Amy looked at her with eyes full of understanding and patience. "Together."

Kamilah took in what she had heard hundreds of years before. The letters that preached to be the beginning of her dream life but in the end turned out to be poisonous.

That time she knew it would be different. She trusted with all her heart that her wish would be fulfilled.

So a single word slipped out, drifting on the surface of the ocean to reach her beloved.

"Together."

[skylcrks]

∘⡊❅ ˚⊹ RHIANNON NANKOVA — TAG DROP

∘⡊❅ ˚⊹ beauty less striking than the loneliness in her eyes — visage ∘⡊❅ ˚⊹ I don’t do anything with my life except romanticize and decay with indecision — aesthetic ∘⡊❅ ˚⊹ an iron will to walk the walk ` a glass jaw can’t be moved to talk — musings ∘⡊❅ ˚⊹ freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose — answers ∘⡊❅ ˚⊹ watch out the world’s behind you ` there’s always someone around you — mentions ∘⡊❅ ˚⊹ she rings like a bell in the night ` wouldn’t you love to love her — music ∘⡊❅ ˚⊹ girls grow into women ` by locking secrets inside themselves  — past ∘⡊❅ ˚⊹ I touch the clothes you left behind ` that still retain your shape and lines — family ∘⡊❅ ˚⊹ players only love you when they’re playing — memes ∘⡊❅ ˚⊹ whiskey in a teacup ` a diamond that wants to be coal — edits ∘⡊❅ ˚⊹ flowers grow back even after they are stepped on and so will I — headcanons ∘⡊❅ ˚⊹ a portrait of a young girl waiting for a new year — art ∘⡊❅ ˚⊹ your love is not a cage for wild hearts ( i don’t know what i’m using this tag for yet, but i know i want it so whatever ) ∘⡊❅ ˚⊹ I’ve begun to mistake frostbite for warmth — vasiliy burlakov

[shanikin]

Forbidden

Hey guys! I have been sitting on this story for a while. This is my first post on tumblr, please let me know what you think. Feel free to send me requests in my submission box 😊 Bucky/You

Summary: The hatred between the Russian Mafia and the Italian Mob in New York City has always been strong. But things are quickly getting worse. In order to save themselves the innocent daughter of one gang is married to the empty Captain of the other. Their marriage is toxic, full of anger, hatred, and lust. Will they survive it? Arranged Marriage AU

The Italians and the Russians never got along. It went way back, the distaste springing from their mother countries original hate for one another. What caused the original spark? No one really knows. They spoke different languages, held different customs. It was likely they just hated one another because they were different. As much as we would like to think we are advanced, that we've come so far since the beginning of time, we really haven't. We still fear the unknown. It was sadly human nature to hate what was different from you.

It didn't help when both peoples came to America, only to find that they hadn't escaped each other. It was made even worse when the separate mobs began forming. Two violent, cruel gangs whose people hated each other right from the start. Both wanted to control New York City, but could never truly because the other was in the way. The only thing that both could agree on was that they hated one another.

And that hatred went deep. They had been killing each other off for nothing short of fifty years. Men, women, even the children had been taught to hate and kill. They didn't discriminate. This life was to cut throat for anyone to be soft. They were just getting better at it to. The police had no idea what was going on right under their noses.

Many rumors circulated about where the feud truly began.

The most popular said that the deep hatred began when a man and a women, one from the Italian mob the other from the Russian Mafia, fell in love. They kept it a secret for years, running back and forth to each other and avoiding their family's scrutiny. To make a long story short, the girl's father found out and shot her. Right between the eyes. The Russians didn't tolerate disloyalty. She was supposed to be married to one of his high ranking members, but she was impure. He had to make an example out of her. The Italian man swore vengeance.

He shot his lovers father, rather publically. The two gangs had avoided each other since then, each constantly plotting how to destroy the other. Or so the story goes. Many people don't believe it. A Russian women and an Italian man, both from the mafia, would have never fallen in love. It just didn't make sense.

It had been a long time since the hatred began. Now no one cared why it started, they only cared how they were going to finish it.

In a mansion just outside New York City, the head of the Russian mob, Alexander Pierce, stood staring out the window. Pierce knew that he was a cruel man. He did what he had to do to stay in power. That often meant sacrificing the weak for the strong. Many didn't approve of his methods, but he did what needed to be done. He didn't lose sleep at night and that's all that mattered to him.

Pierce was pleased with himself. He had been giving himself an imaginary pat on the back for the past few months. He had failed at the same task so many times, he had been about to give up. But Pierce never took anything sitting down. It had taken years of work and fake documents, but he had finally gotten a man on the inside. The Italians had no idea that the mole was present.

Sam Wilson seemed like an average guy to the untrained eye. He was ex-military, mid-twenties, looking for money… He was the perfect stereotypical guy who would be looking to enter the mob to make more money. He was a good guy, but when times get rough even good people did bad things. Pierce wondered why someone like Sam had gotten so desperate, he didn't seem like a criminal. But he didn't really care enough to ask. This man was a means to an end.

Getting him inside wasn't easy. Pierce had to pick the man carefully. If he had been too involved within the Russian Mob, the man would be caught. But if the man wasn't loyal enough, they would simply switch sides and give the Italians intel.

Don Salvador did extensive background checks before employing anyone new, so it took no small amount of effort to get Wilson in. Wilsons all around wholesomeness is probably what got him in. Salvador probably didn't expect an ounce of dishonesty from that man. He hadn't been assigned to anything important, just protecting one of the boss's daughters. But being so close to her, he was inside the mansion itself. He would be able to hear things that went on in private meetings. At least that was the goal. Wilson came back to report every other week.

So far, he had come up short.

"What can you tell us about them?" Pierce demanded. He didn't bother to mask his irritation anymore. He was growing frustrated with the constant lack of new knowledge Wilson was bringing back. It had been at least two months since he brought any information worth listening to.

"They're good. Getting better." Wilson responded, standing behind him. "They've been taking a new backroads route to transport their weapons. The transports have between six to eight men. Two sit in the front of the truck, the rest in the back with the goods."

Finally something useful.

That's why his men couldn't get hits anymore. Pierce had to come back from Russia because the American side of the business was falling utterly short. They hadn't managed to steal weapons or drugs from the Italians in months. It was causing some tightness in their funds. It also turned Pierces attention to the lack of strong leadership. After he figured out a way to take them down, he was going to send Barnes to run the show.

The Winter Soldier was cold, empty, and cruel. He had no problem doing the dirty work that lesser men shivered thinking about. He did what needed to be done to make money and further Pierces agenda.

"Interesting" He said.

That still didn't explain how they were managing to avoid them at every turn. Every time his men seemed to be getting a lead, it would slip right through their fingers. They would come up empty. Maybe it was time they simply obliterate the competition.

Something needed to be done. The Triad was beginning to become more and more bold. They couldn't fight both the Italians and the Triad. They would lose ground quickly. A full blown street war between the Russians and the Italians would be catastrophic. The winning side would be weaker, allowing for The Triad to come in and simply wipe out the survivors.

"What about the mansion?" Pierce mused. "The grounds? Would we be able to sneak men in to get rid of them?"

If they cut the heads of the snake, they wouldn't be able to organize a counter attack. Making it simple to sweep in and destroy them in the middle of the night.

"Not likely." Wilson snorted. "The Salvador's mansion is locked tight, a small army patrolling the grounds constantly. The mansion is a fortress as well. You'd never be able to get inside, even if you did kill the men guarding them. You're losses would be too great for the mission to be worth it."

Useless.

"Not even with a man on the inside?" Peirce asked raising an eyebrow.

"I don't think so Sir." Wilson responded honestly.

"Well what do you think then?" Pierce said, visibly irritated. "What useful information do you have?"

"I don't have access to much. I've been assigned to guard his daughter for months." Wilson responded. He wasn't trained to hide his emotions. Not like most of Pierces men were. He could see a flicker of fondness in the ex-soldiers eyes.

"Which one?" He asked uninterested.

"The youngest." Wilson responded.

"The most useless you mean." Peirce deadpanned. His test had worked. He saw a flicker of irritation flit through Wilson's eyes. He liked her. But enough to betray them? Probably not. Just enough that he would hesitate if Pierce's command was to shoot her between the eyes. Not a threat. Not yet.

"…Yes, Sir."

He wanted to laugh at his sentiment. The girl would probably have him skinned alive if she found out who he was working for. It had surprised Pierce when Salvador had used someone with a skill set like Wilson's to guard his youngest daughter, rather than do something more useful. Wilson wouldn't have had to have any training because of his military experience, been able to jump right into raids… Instead he had chosen to assign him to his youngest daughter.

Sentiment. This is why Pierce didn't have children. They made for clouded judgement and foolish decision making. Having strong men constantly guard his children is probably necessary. His enemies constantly trying to destroy what he loves.

That's it.

"If we can't destroy them, maybe we can control them." He thought out loud. "Tell me, how many children does Don Salvador have?"

 "Five." Wilson responded automatically. "The oldest is his son, four daughters follow after that."

"I bet you he's trying to find suitable husbands for the girls." Pierce said, a wicked grin slowly forming on his face.

If they could control the Italian Mafia, make an ally out of them for a short period of time, they could take out the Triad together. Pierce wasn't a fool. He knew that the Italians would never in their right mind make an alliance with the Russian mob. He didn't want to be anywhere near them either. But if they take out the Triad, it would no longer be a two front war. The Italians would feel a false sense of security, then he could strike.

Even if they didn't help willingly, Pierce didn't need an ally. He needed a puppet. Love is the easiest way to control someone. Perhaps this could work…

Pierce looked up to see Wilson with a sour look on his face. Pierce thought that maybe this could be done.

But Wilson didn't seem convinced. Salvador may not be overly found of most of his children, but he would never give the Russians a mean to control them. Salvador wasn't a soft man. He had his son, his heir. Girls were only useful when rewarding men with beautiful wives in this world. The only child the mob boss was fond of was his youngest daughter. The rest he could do without. Salvador certainly wouldn't allow himself to be controlled. If Salvador gave one of his daughters to Pierce and the two mobs clashed, that daughter would certainly be dead. Then Salvador would have to retaliate or look weak to the people he leads.

"Salvador isn't a stupid man." He explained, saying each word slowly. "He wouldn't give up any of his children, not even his least favorite, to the Russians. Not willingly at least."

"It'll take no small amount of charm, but any man can be fooled." Peirce said. "I already have a plan in the works."

"What can I do?" Sam questioned. He wanted to be involved. He knew that Salvador would never give Marina up willingly, but he owed it to her to at least try and help her avoid that fate.

"Does Salvador own anything that he would be willing to trade for one of his children?"

"I…" Sam wanted to say no. But he knew that wasn't true. "Yes. A weapon. It's just recently been designed. It's deadly. He may consider it then."

"How would we get it?" Pierce asked.

"I can take care of that…" He mumbled. This wouldn't be an attack, it would be a stealth mission. One man. If he could get that one man inside unnoticed, than the plan would be a success.

"Good man." Pierce said. He chocked his head toward Sam slightly. "How long have you known about this new design?"

Shit. Sam really didn't know about it until recently. But he didn't want to say anything to Pierce. He hadn't really known what he had gotten himself into when he signed up to be a double agent, but betraying them didn't sit right with him. Sam didn't report it when Pierce originally asked, so he knew he had to tread very carefully.

"Not long." Sam sighed. "I wasn't sure if it even existed until a few days ago."

"And you didn't think to report back sooner?" Pierce said raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't want-"

"Cut the shit, Wilson." He interrupted. "I'm not a stupid man either. I know what it looks like when a man wants to protect someone. Remember where your loyalties lye or you'll regret it. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir." Sam said.

Sam knew that he wouldn't ever be able to truly keep anything from Pierce. He was trained in deception and cruelty. He was trained to see when a man was lying or trying to hide something. But Wilson still felt that guilt. Don't make the mistake of thinking he cared about the man he worked for. He didn't have any loyalty to Salvador. The man was cold and cruel and everything that was wrong with the world. He was a lot like Pierce.

It was the person under Sam's care that made him hesitant.

"And what man would want to marry a member of the Italian mob?" Sam asked, changing the subject.

"Leave that to me." He said, waving his hand dismissively. "Tell me about the women."

And Sam did. He told him about the oldest girl, Vera, she was twenty seven. She was harsh and cruel but had deep knowledge of strategy. He had seen how she tried to pick on Marina. Sam always did his best to avoid her and keep Marina away from her. Vera knew the inner workings of the Italian mob, so she would be useful if they could fool her somehow. But same knew she was the least likely to be controlled. If she didn't have an older brother, Sam was positive she would have inherited the entire show.

The second was Alana. She was twenty five. The girl, for lack of a better word, was a whore. Images that made Sam want to gag flew through his mind. He had caught her more than once in closets with guards in compromising positons. She spent most of her time flitting around the mansion trying to seduce the guards. Her father had a hard time keeping them away from her. She had even tried coming after him when Marina slept. She didn't have much of a brain, but she made up for that with her other assets.

The third was Selena. She was the intellectual, twenty four years old and utterly dull. She spent most of her time reading or working on designing weapons. She would be the most useful if they could convince her to make weapons for them. For someone with such a large brain, she lacked in personality. The girl sounded more like a machine than a person.

Finally, there was you. You were the youngest, a few months shy of your twentieth birthday. You a had a different mother than your older sisters. Your father had remarried after his first wife died in a tragically suspicious fire. While all of your siblings were bitter, you were sweet. You saw the good in everything and was far too innocent to be forced into a marriage with a man you had been raised to hate. So he tried to make you sound as useless as possible. But it was no secret that you were your father's favorite.

 Later

That night, Sam had left the front door of the expensive home unlocked. It was long after darkness had fallen over the city, a shadowed and silent figure sat motionless in the trees. He watched and waited, his focus sharp and unbreakable and all the more deadly for how undetectable it was. The guards had no idea he was there. He had easily jumped silently from tree to tree, making his way closer and closer to the house completely undetected.

This was no easy task. Slipping in and out of the Italians mansion was going to be difficult. But he was the best. He heard those beneath him. The rumors about how he had an unnatural devotion to his job. Some of the rumors made him want to snort. Some made the cold emptiness in his chest deepen. They talked about how he had lived up to the fearsome reputation that he had gained over the years. How he would kill simply for thinking of doing something wrong.

But none of this fazed him. He knew what he was.

He was going to jump down from the tree and make a run for the house. He hadn't seen anyone in hours. It had to be almost 3:00am. He just needed to slip inside, acquire the weapon, and then finish the mission. The back door opened with a loud creak causing him to pull out his knife. He would make quick work for them, a hit to the jugular and he would be good to go.

He paused. A girl. Young by the looks of it, with wild chocolate brown hair. You looked troubled. You were humming some irritating repetitive tune while walking down the stone pathways.

Damn. It was one of Salvador's daughters. He couldn't kill you, so he'd just have to wait for the stupid little thing to get bored and leave.

He watched you follow the stone path, to a small comfortable looking chair. You were so small, standing face to face you would barely reach his chin. But he didn't let that fool him. He could tell you were strong. The way you carried herself told him that. You looked around for a few more seconds, before settling in the chair and pulling out a book.

He didn't understand what a spoiled little mafia princess could be so troubled over. The women in this life had is easy. The hardest thing they had to do was marry, sometimes to men they didn't know. But even then the men in this life were rich, powerful, and could give them everything they could ever want so long as they keep their husband happy. They had no idea the horrors they were being kept safe from. They should be grateful for the safety that they're provided.

Every Italian women he had met in this life was spoiled, stupid, and a pain to be around. Most of them were prisoners. One's he couldn't execute fast enough. The Russians didn't raise their women to be so weak. He wondered what this girl was so upset about. Did her father not buy her the shoes she wanted? If not that, it was probably something equally as vain. She probably wasn't even really reading that book.

He hated them. More than anything. The Italian mafia was the reason he had turned out this way. So empty and cold. They had taken everything from him. He wanted nothing more than to take that weapon and kill every person in that damn house. It took so much not to jump down from his hiding spot and throttle you were you sat.

After a few more minutes of waiting, you seemed to be pretty distracted. He could sneak past you easily-

"Pretty little Y/N." A sharp voice interrupted his thoughts. A massive girl, nearly as tall as him, was stalking towards the chair. She looked foul, but not because she was ugly. Her face was scrunched up, like she was constantly frowning or like she was smelling something bad. She looked like she was coming to pick a fight. This was going to be very interesting.

"Leave me alone, Vera." The girl, Y/N, soft voice responded. Your voice fit her small frame, timid and musical. You sounded resigned, trying your best to avoid the massive female. You didn't seem like you wanted to fight this girl, your attention remaining solely on your book.

"Why?" She snorted. "Are you gonna run and tell Daddy?"

Salvador. He's not surprised that he produced the foul creature yelling at the tiny girl in the chair. He was a disgusting man, so it only made sense for him to have disgusting children. He had seen men who take pleasure out of hurting other people. Vera had the same smirk on her face. He could hardly believe that the two girls were related. They looking nothing alike. Their temperaments also seemed very different.

"No." You said, still focusing on the book in front of you.

 "This is a joke to you." Vera said, crouching down to your level. She was trying to get a rise out of you. It didn't seem to be working. "It's been so easy for you. We've all had to sacrifice. Everyone but you. All you have to do is bat your eyelashes at him and he gives you anything you want."

You sighed, closing the book and letting it fall to your lap.

"I don't want anything." You said.

"Maybe not." She said, sick smile still in place. "But he's protecting you from that savage."

"Antonio is hardly a savage. I've seen how he treats you. Like an equal. That's much more than you could ever hope for in this life." Y/N was trying to show this girl the bright side of a situation, when her body language clearly was screaming she wanted to crush the tiny girl. You picked the book up again. "He's fairly handsome to."

"Hope for? What do you know about that? You'll never have to marry anyone. You wish for anything and it's yours." She hissed in your face, trying to snatch the book from your lap. The girl seized your wrists in her hands and began squeezing, her words coming out faster and faster. They were being fueled by anger. "Our father will keep you locked up here forever. He doesn't really love you. No. You remind him of his dead bride that he killed my mother for-"

A sickening crack and Vera's howl interrupted the silent night. Did she just…

"Enough." Your quiet voice came.

"Stupid girl." Vera hissed, cradling her arm. "You're lucky father adores you. I wish someone would take you, kill you, I don't even care! I would snap your little neck if-"

"Hello little one."

Sam Wilson. The rat. He had interrupted Vera's threat. She had silenced her incoherent rant when she had seen the body guard come to Y/N's aid. He could see the veins in her neck pulsating from her anger as she stormed back into the house, still cradling her dislocated arm.

He sat next to her with a sigh. Wilson grabbed Y/Ns's wrists, flipping them over to reveal dark purple bruises already beginning to form on her forearms. He looked pained. Pierce was right. He would report this back. Wilson cared about the young one.

Idiot..

"I can get your dad-"

"It's okay Sam." You interrupted with a small smile, withdrawing her arms. "Her bark is worse than her bite."

"Alright." He sighed. "I'll be right inside if you need anything."

"Thank you."

He completed his mission quickly after that. Wilson had made it easy for him to sneak past the guards.

The manor was quiet when he returned from his mission. He knew that Pierce would be up and waiting for him. To hear if he had succeeded in taking the weapon. He left the motorcycle in the garage and silently walked inside.

He thought back to the small girl in the garden. James Barnes hardly ever found himself surprised. That little girl had snapped an arm out of place like it was nothing. He didn't want to say he was impressed. But that took strength and skill.

Interesting. Very Interesting.

The Next Night.

The Salvador's had discovered that their prized possession was missing in the middle of the night. They weren't even sure what its capabilities were yet. If the Russians decided to use it on them, he was sure that they would be wiped out within the month. All they knew was that they needed it back.

It hadn't even been an hour since they discovered that it was missing that they had received a call. Their price, no doubt. His man had given him the phone quickly with an urgent nod of the head.

"You took the tesseract." Salvador said coolly after taking the phone.

"We did." Alexander Pierce replied. Salvador wasn't surprised it was that snake behind the robbery. He saw no point in dragging this any longer than it needed to be. He would give this snake anything he wanted for that weapon back. There was no doubt Pierce knew that already.

"Get on with it then." He said. "What do you want for it?"

"It seems to be worth quite a bit. Maybe we'll keep it?"

"You wouldn't be calling if you didn't want something." He sighed, growing bored of this false banter.

"Fine." Pierce said. "One of your daughters."

One of his daughters? That hadn't been what he was expecting. He wanted to say no, but Salvador knew his men wouldn't allow this weapon to be in the hands of the Russians because of something as simple as sentiment. Saying no would make him look weak. He had four daughters. He could spare one. Maybe Alana. The girl was useless. But not without knowing the true reason.

"Why?" He asked slowly.

"Insurance." Pierce lied simply. "You won't use this against us."

"Really?" Salvador scoffed. "If you were so afraid of that you would just keep it. My daughters are beautiful, but not worth the weapon. Tell me the real reason."

"Either you give me what I demand, or I destroy all of you were you stand." Pierce snapped.

"Fine." Salvador bit out. "Which one?"

"My Captain will decide which he wants for his bride." Pierce said, before the line went dead.

Your POV.

"Y/N. Please come down." Sam called up into the trees. He couldn't see you, but he knew this is where you retreated to when you was trying to get away. Sam could tell you didn't enjoy being the daughter of a gangster. You didn't enjoy the money or the guns or the glamor. Not like your sisters did. You often hid up in the tree's to get away from it. He had told you countless times not to climb, but he knew trying to tell you to do anything was useless.

"Why?" He heard you call down from the trees. He heard the playfulness in your voice. It was so hard to be stern when you sounded so sweet and good.

"You're father requests your presence." He said sarcastically. He saw a blur and before he could blink you had landed gracefully on the balls of your feet directly in front of him.

"Oh?" you gasped, putting her hand on your chest in mock surprise. "What does my father want pray tell?"

"You could break your leg falling out of that tree." He mumbled. He saw you roll your eyes and continue walking. He spoke louder when you laughed at him, "I wouldn't have a job after that."

"You worry too much Sammy." You said turning back and smiling at him.

"How many times am I going to have to ask you to stop calling me that?" He sighed more to himself than anything.

"At least once more." You shot back.

"Girls. Come in." Her father said seriously.

You looked up and felt unease come to you. Your father's face was pinched tight, something was very wrong. Not many things made your father anxious. He had seen many awful things, so nothing small would make him squeamish. You hadn't seen that look on his face. Not since your mother was killed. If the look on his face wasn't a dead giveaway, the white-knuckled grip he had on the door was.

"What's wrong?" Vera deadpanned, as she pushed past him and walked into the office. Never one to beat around the bush. You could see the bruising near her elbow. Whoops.

"You all should probably sit down." Her father said, gesturing for the luxurious sofa near his desk. Your mind raced. What was going on that required all four of them to be there? You weren’t involved with your fathers… less legal activities. So this couldn't be that kind of meeting. You had no relatives besides your sisters that you knew of, so no one important could have died.

Your mussing could have gone on and on but your father had beat your mind to the punch.

"The Russians. They got in here last night."

You wanted to punch herself. She had known. There was someone in the trees. You knew it. You had felt eyes on you while you sat out in your chair, you should have listened to your instincts. You should have told Sam, should have said something. If you did, maybe they wouldn't be in this situation.

"What?" Alana said, her red stained lips forming an O.

"We don't know how yet." Her father continued. "There didn't even seem to be any sign of forced entry. But they took something. Something valuable. "

"How are we going to get it back?" Vera asked. She was ready to jump into action, storm the field right then and there. But she noticed her father stiffen further when she asked that question. Something wasn't right. Your sisters didn't notice how tense he was.

But you knew your father.

"That's what we're here to discuss." Your father said each word slowly, drawing them out like he was trying to soften the blow.

"Just tell us." Vera snapped.

"One of their terms." He said. "One of you is going to marry one of their men."

Your jaw nearly hit the floor. You had expected something entirely different. You had thought up some really impossible things throughout your life. Things to escape the reality of her situation. But this was something you had never imagined. How could your father expect one of you to marry a Russian? You didn't know very much about life inside the mafia, but did know the two gangs did not get along.

You also knew it was a Russian Mobster who had shot your mother.

You never expected her father to trade one of their family members for something so expendable. They could rebuild a weapon, replace it, or steal it back. They could never replace family. You couldn't believe he would give up a daughter to one of them. Everyone knew that your father adored your mother. He went on a rampage when he found out what had happed to her. This was so unlike him. You didn't understand.

 "You expect us to marry one of them?" you asked. You sounded genuinely concerned. "For a weapon?"

"You're not going to marry him." Her father scoffed, like the idea was completely absurd. "You're only in here because this is family business. He'll prefer one of your older sisters-"

"Hold on." Vera said, a sarcastic laugh bubbling in her throat. "This man won't even get the chance to prefer her. Let's not pretend you are going to let little precious Marina anywhere near him. She's going to be tucked away somewhere safe, so it's guaranteed to be one of us."

Silence. Her father didn't look guilty, he just rolled his eyes. His irritation with Vera was evident. You knew that he didn't care for your sisters feelings. You could tell he thought she was just wasting his time with their accusations. This was something he thought his sisters should know. One of them would be marrying this man. Not you. He would never willingly give you up to any man. He would tell them to their faces that he loved you more.

You knew you would pay for this later. They would probably all gang up on you this time so you wouldn't be able to get away.

"Own up to it." Vera commanded, after a period of silence.

"Do you think I care for your petty insecurities?" Her father snapped. "Learn your place. Y/N is too young to be married. She'll be staying here."

"Of course she is."

You flinched as your sisters glared at you, storming out of the office.

The Next Day.

"They hate me Sam." You said, sighing wrapping your hands tighter. The tape you used around your knuckles would always come loose when you were sparing. You didn't really mind though. You wore the bruises on your knuckles like a trophy. It showed how far you had come. Your father had insisted you learn to defend youself from a young age, but he had no idea you would take such a liking to it.

At first he tried to discourage it because it wasn't lady like, but he didn't have the heart to deny you something you truly loved. It was a plus that you fought better than most men twice your size. You could tell Sam struggled to keep up with you sometimes.

"It's not your fault." He said, trying to comfort you and whipping the sweat from his forehead.

You knew it wasn't your fault. But that didn't make you feel any better. It didn't make your sisters love you. They looked at you like you were a demon summoned from their personal hells. You were an outsider in your own home. You always had been. It got even worse once your mother died. You wanted a family. You wanted to live somewhere away from the crime. Maybe even be normal. What you wouldn't give for your father's favoritism to be placed elsewhere.

"I remind him of my mother." You said finally. "That's why he's so…. Protective."

"What about your sister's mother?" Sam asked. "Do none of them remind him of her?"

"Yes. I think that's the problem." You wanted to laugh at his innocent question. You hadn't been born yet, but it was a well-known fact that your sister's mother was a wretched women. "It was an arranged marriage also. From what I hear from the staff that remember her, she was a horrid women."

"Jealousy is an ugly emotion." Sam sighed.

"Your right." you said shrugging her shoulders. "I shouldn't blame them. I wish he didn't favor me so obviously."

You had finished tapping her hands.

"Now come on." You said, holding up her fists. "And stop holding back."

You stood there, waiting for him to strike. For such a large guy he barely made any noise when he was walking around. You knew he was waiting, trying to get you to let your guard down. When he finally lunged at you, he gripped her wrist with crushing force. You managed to whip around and break the hold easily.

He had swung at you, but you were faster. Gripping his wrist, you used your momentum to kick off from the back of his knee and swing her legs around his shoulders. Your elbow slammed into his head. Sam fell straight on his back, with you triumphantly sitting on his stomach.

You stood and straightened your clothes carefully.

"Why do you fight in a dress?" He asked, as you reached down to help him up.

"Why don't you fight in a dress?" you asked, your tone sarcastic.

You fought in a dress because when you truly needed to fight, you weren't going to be in a little sports bra and leggings. You were going to be in your everyday normal clothing. You preferred dresses to pants, so that was what you would be wearing if you were going to be out and about. The logic made sense to you.

"That'd be a sight." Sam snorted. You saw a giant bump forming on Sam's head, right were your elbow had connected.

"Oh God! Sorry!" You squeaked.

"It's fine." Sam chuckled, swaying a little when he stood. "That's- That's just enough for today."

"Come on then." You said, laughing a little at his stuttering. "Let's go to the kitchen for a snack."

They walked through the house, chatting about nothing. He would always ask about what books you were reading, even though you knew he wasn't actually interested. It was sweet. He actually listened to what you had to say and didn't turn his nose up at you. When you thought about it, Sam was your real friend.

Which was sad because he was paid to be around you.

You walked past your father's office and sighed. You knew you should go in there and see what he wanted to eat. When he was working, he would often go without food for an entire day without even realizing it. He worked himself nearly to death and he wasn't getting any younger. Just because you was angry, didn't mean you should avoid him.

You pushed the wooden door open.

"Papa. Let me get you something to-"

Your words stuck to the roof of your mouth and your tongue felt like sand paper. You saw your sisters first. They were all dressed in their very finest. Tight dresses and make up. They looked nothing like themselves. Then you saw a man standing near her father, stiff and regal looking. Alexander Pierce. You recognized his face.

"Y/N." Her father whispered in horror.

"Papa!" You said, whipping your head around. "What's….going on?"

You saw movement behind your father and your gaze followed.

Your eyes locked with a man standing in the corner. You looked around. This must be the man that was picking his bride. But he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but that room. He was young, somewhere in his late twenties. Certainly not the decrepit old man you and your sisters had been imagining.

You could feel your eyes go wide as saucers when you stared at him.

He was handsome. You didn't want to admit it, but it was frighteningly so. He was tall and strong, the suit he wore stretched over his chest. He had long dark brown hair, one side tucked behind his ear and the other hanging in his face. His jaw was sharp and covered in a thin layer of stubble that made him that much more beautiful. His skin was lightly tanned, his mouth was pulled tightly into a scowl. He stared at you with dead, strikingly blue eyes.

That stare. You could feel that this was the man in the trees by his glare alone. It was so intense you swore you could feel in burning through you. But you were drawn to him. That was wrong, wrong, wrong. Your attention was drawn when your father gripped your shoulder and attempted to shove you out the door.

"Y/N, leave." Her father all but shouted. Before you could recover, the beautiful man was speaking.

"Eta devushka" He said to the other man, his voice rough like gravel. He mustn't talk very much. You couldn't help but be fascinated, the Russian language was fascinating. He didn't have time to wonder what he said before Pierce was staring at you.

"Her." Pierce said, nodding towards you.

He couldn't mean her her, as in you. You looked behind you, but you were the only one standing on that side of the room. Your heart rate was beginning to speed up, but you couldn't move from where you were standing. This couldn't be happening.

"Not her." Your father tried to argue. "She isn't old enough."

"Her." He confirmed.

The Russian men that Pierce brought with him had begun advancing on you, but your father stepped in front of you. They were holding automatic weapons much too close to them for comfort.

"I said not her." He tried to reason. "Take any of the other girls. Not her. Please"

You were shocked. You had never heard your father beg before. You thought he would always be too proud for anything like that. But his pleading didn't seem to have the desired effect. Pierce simply smiled, nodding his head. Your father showing his weakness did nothing but solidify that you were the one who would be going.

"Our deal was he could pick which one he wanted." Pierce shrugged "He chose. Take her."

"You're not taking her anywhere!" your father insisted, pulling out his small hand gun. He pointed it between Pierces eyes. But you heard the clicking of five automatic rifles being aimed at your father's chest.

"Enough!" Pierce snapped. "We'll kill everyone in this house, starting with her, if you don't give her to us now."

"I won't." He said shaking his head. Pierce sighed.

"Barnes. Grab her." The handsome man moved forward, shoving your father out of the way. He grabbed one of your wrists and all but dragged you to the door.

"Don't touch me!" you yelled, snapping your arm down and breaking his hold. His shock bought you some time. You turned to run to your father but he had easily caught you around the waist and pulled you to him.

"Let me at least say goodbye to her!" your father finally snapped, silencing the chaos.

"Fine. Two minutes." The man dropped you to your feet.

"Y/N, listen to me." He said, gripping your chin to get your attention. "Listen! It's going to be fine. I won't let them do this to you. I'll figure something out. We have the tesseract back, it'll only be a matter of time before we get you out of there. We'll destroy them all. They can't force you to marry him either. They can't do it without your consent. Do you understand? Don't let them trick you into signing your life away. No matter what they tell you."

"I understand." You said, trying to regulate your breathing.

"Good girl. Now be calm. Don't let them see-"

"My weakness. I won't." You nodded again, letting your father's words harden your resolve. You knew it was hardly as simple as not showing weakness. You were going to be taken to these monsters home. You were going to live with them. You wouldn't be able to break, not even in the solitude of your own room. You prayed that your life wasn't over and your father truly was going to find tou a way out of this. You prayed you weren’t going to spend the rest of your life tied to a man you despised.

 You really couldn't see a positive outcome. Each scenario that played in your brain was worse than the last. You told yourself you would survive. For your father. For yourself.

"You're strong. You'll be fine." He said, gripping her shoulders. You could tell he was trying to convince himself, not you. He turned to the man next to you.

"Can she take her body guard with her?" your father asked.

"Fine." Pierce said waving his hand. "Blind fold her and take her to the car."

He watched as they dragged  away, for the first time feeling helpless.

[mikauzoran]

LuXY/Lukadrien/Lukadrienette: Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Two

@luxyweek

Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Two: Heroics

Things got weirder.

The party was scheduled to go until three in the morning, so Bob Roth had booked rooms at Le Grand Paris for those in attendance so that they didn’t have to drive themselves home or find taxis or worry about public transportation shutting down for the night.

At two o’clock, Luka dragged himself out of the ballroom and up to the fifth floor to room five-seventeen, swiping his keycard and practically stumbling in.

He’d had too much to drink, and he was already regretting it.

The lights were on, saving Luka the trouble of having to fumble about in the dark to find the switch. He made his way down the short entrance hall with one hand skimming along the wall for support. He passed the bathroom and went out into the main area where he found XY lounging on the far bed in his boxers and a bathrobe.

Luka paused, evaluating the situation, wondering exactly how drunk he was to be having this hallucination. He decided that he was, in fact, not that drunk, so that had to be the real XY in his actual boxers on a bed that did, in reality, exist.

XY smiled and waved. “Hey.”

“I am so sorry I must have the wrong room,” Luka spit out in one breath, not leaving space for punctuation, as he turned on his heel and marched out.

Once safely in the hall, Luka looked down at his keycard. The little paper holder distinctly had the numbers five, one, and seven written on it.

He looked up at the plaque on the door and found that it also read five-seventeen.

Come to think of it, the keycard had worked when he’d scanned it.

Luka gave the door a perfunctory knock and waited a moment in case XY actually wanted to tie his bathrobe closed before Luka entered the room once more, announcing, “Actually, it seems like I don’t have the wrong room. Do you have the wrong room?”

XY had not bothered with modesty and was still posed on the bed, bathrobe hanging open. “Nope. Five-seventeen. I’m where I’m supposed to be. I bet they double booked, thinking that not everyone from the party would use their room. My dad’s thrifty like that.”

Luka pursed his lips. “Oh. Okay. I guess…I’ll go down to the front desk and explain the situation?”

He really didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to drag his carcass down to the lobby, wait for them to assign him a new room, and then trudge his way there. He wanted to collapse onto the soft, comfy bed next to the one which XY was currently occupying and fall asleep.

“Or we could just share,” XY suggested pragmatically. “I mean, there are two beds, and you look wiped, Dude.”

Luka took a very short second to consider this proposition. “If you don’t mind.”

“It’s fine with me,” XY assured. “There’s another bathrobe in the bathroom, if you want to get out of those clothes. Leather pants don’t look like they’d be comfortable to sleep in.”

“Trust me, they’re not,” Luka snorted, turning around and heading for the bathroom off of the entrance hall. “I’ll wash up real quick, and then I’ll be unconscious and out of your hair.”

“Take your time,” XY urged, enjoying the view of Luka’s backside as he trudged off.

Luka came out about ten minutes later in a bathrobe, his clothes folded neatly and tucked under his arm.

“I’ve never seen you without makeup before,” XY noted, intently taking in Luka’s features.

Luka hummed noncommittally, setting his clothes down on the dresser before making his way over to the spare bed.

“You’re still hot,” XY reported matter-of-factly.

Luka paused in the act of turning down the covers.

He hadn’t said it in a flirty or suggestive way. It was more like XY was just making a conversational statement than hitting on Luka, but Luka couldn’t help but think of the way XY had been flirting with him earlier.

Unless Luka had been completely wrong about XY’s motives for waxing poetic about how insanely gorgeous Luka’s eyes were.

“Thanks,” Luka replied politely, deciding that he was too tired to deal with this, so he simply wasn’t going to.

He got into bed and curled up on his side, back to XY and the light affixed to the ceiling in the center of the room.

“So…do you, like…have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?” XY tentatively ventured. “I mean, are you seeing someone?”

Luka couldn’t decide if this was an awkward attempt at getting to know Luka or an awkward attempt at flirting with Luka. He wasn’t really sure which he preferred at two in the morning after three glasses of champagne and two glasses of whiskey. His alcohol tolerance was down, and he was too exhausted to figure the situation out.

“I’m not seeing anyone exclusively,” Luka allowed.

“But…you’re with that Adrien guy?” XY verified, fishing.

“We sometimes have threesomes together.”

It felt freeing to finally say it aloud. For so long it had felt like a dirty secret he had to keep locked inside, unable to acknowledge. Sometimes he woke up in the arms of the two people he loved most in the world…and then he had to go home to his own life while they went back to theirs. It was like a cloud of smoke, slipping between his fingers and disappearing before he could grasp it.

“And…who’s your third?” XY wondered, morbidly curious.

“Adrien’s wife.”

“Oh,” XY whispered, mentally piecing together the puzzle that was Luka. “But…you’re not exclusive? Like, they don’t mind if you sleep with other people?”

Luka snickered bitterly. “I’ll put it this way: they’d be jealous and hurt if I saw other people, but it’s not like they have any right to stop me. They are the ones who’re married. I’m just a fun addition sometimes. I don’t have to be faithful to them. What about you? Seeing anybody?”

Luka didn’t really want to be having this conversation. He wasn’t terribly interested in XY’s love life, but he felt like, if he had to answer these questions, it was only fair that he submitted XY to them as well.

“Nah,” XY sighed. “I’m not seeing anybody…unless my dad really does set up a publicity stunt and make me date that Poppy girl. It’s kind of hard to meet people you’re actually interested in when you’re famous.”

Luka considered this statement. Luka had been famous for the past five years, and, during that time, he had found it difficult to find a romantic partner not interested in him for his fame or money. Luckily, Luka had known plenty of regular people back when he was just a regular person, so, when he wanted to try to date (during the periods when he was actively deluding himself about being able to make a break from his feelings for Adrien and Marinette and have a fulfilling relationship with someone who wasn’t them), he had options.

Xavier-Yves Roth had been famous since his early teens, and, even before that, he’d been his father’s son, exposed to the limelight secondhand. Had XY ever had the chance to meet regular people and experience a normal relationship?

“But…So, you like both guys and girls?” XY prompted.

“Yeah,” Luka answered softly, wondering why he was letting XY in like this.

XY pursed his lips and continued to press, “Do you like either better?”

Luka snorted. “Honestly, Adrien and Marinette are pretty much the only two people in the world to me in that respect, and I love them both equally. Differently, but equally. I don’t really have a male/female preference. You?”

He expected XY to snort and laugh and swear up and down that he was one hundred percent male, so of course he liked women because that was probably the toxic masculinity and homophobic attitude that his father had filled his head with.

He was very, very surprised when XY answered quietly, “I kinda like guys better.”

Luka blinked and sat up in bed to turn to look at XY incredulously. “But…at events, I only ever see you with girls.”

XY shrugged. “Dad thinks it’s better for my image if I date girls. That way, girl fans will think about what it’s like to be with me while guy fans think about what it’s like to be me. Gay people are in the minority, so it’s more popular to be straight and market to straight people.”

Luka’s list of reasons to loath Bob Roth just kept growing and growing.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. But…what about what you want?”

“Well…” XY replied thoughtfully. “I want my stuff to sell because my music’s good now, so it would super suck if people didn’t hear it, but, especially lately, I kind of want you too, so…”

XY shrugged.

Luka stared at his roommate, trying to rehear the words that had just come out of XY’s mouth so that he could attempt to make sense of them.

“You…You want me?” Luka choked in an odd mixture of terror, delight, aversion, and intrigue.

XY nodded eagerly. “Yeah. So…what do ya think? Do you wanna get drunk and have sex?”

Luka’s eyes widened as a figurative bucket of icy water was thrown upon him. “What do people usually do when you ask them that?” he couldn’t help but wonder.

XY just shrugged, unwilling to admit that Luka was the only person he’d ever asked. “Or we could just have sex, if you don’t want to get drunk. I brought some really legit tequila from Mexico, though, so you’ll be missing out.”

Luka considered for a moment whether or not XY would understand the term “demisexual” or if that would only lead to unnecessarily complicated misunderstandings and stupid malapropisms that Luka wasn’t really in the mood for at two AM.

Luka cut to the chase: “I’m really flattered that you would ask, but I only sleep with people I’m in love with.”

XY stared at Luka intently for a minute. “Okay. Challenge accepted.”

Luka’s head tipped to the side as he leaned forward and frowned. “Wait. What?”

XY steamrolled right ahead: “So, if you don’t want to have sex, do you want to maybe make out and snuggle?”

He looked at Luka expectantly, a hopeful eagerness in his eyes.

“Have you ever kissed a guy before?” Luka had to wonder.

A pouty expression came to XY’s face, suggesting that he was not happy to be found out. Regardless, he shook his head in answer.

Luka took a deep breath, realizing that this was XY experimenting with his sexuality and trying to understand himself and find out what made him happy, irrespective of what his father told him he had to do.

That left Luka feeling a little stuck. It would be kind of crumby of Luka to shut the guy down after he’d opened up to Luka and shown vulnerability. Something told Luka that, even though XY had seemingly come a long way since the last time their paths had crossed, the guy didn’t regularly show weakness or vulnerability to anyone. What if Luka said no and XY never opened up to anyone again and ended up alone forever because Luka was feeling tired and a little too drunk to be making these decisions.

A voice in the back of his mind told him that he sounded like Marinette with all of his what ifs, but…

Suddenly, he remembered a night on The Liberty, sitting on the couch with sixteen-year-old Adrien in the early hours of the morning, snuggling and watching…Luka couldn’t even remember what anime it had been now.

Adrien looking up through drooping eyelids, asking in a scared, bare voice, “May I kiss you?”

After that, Luka had vowed never to be anyone’s sexuality experiment ever again, but…

“…Okay,” he decided.

XY’s face blazed with excitement. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Luka confirmed, kicking off the sheets and making his way over to XY’s bed to sink down on top of the covers.

“Killer!” XY cheered.

“Shot of tequila first, please,” Luka requested. “Then making out. Then snuggling. Clothes stay on.”

XY nodded enthusiastically, going to fetch the bottle of tequila and two shot glasses. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Sounds dope.”

XY filled both of their glasses and then handed one to Luka, careful as he climbed back up onto the bed.

“Cheers.” Luka raised his glass, and XY clinked his own against it before they both downed their shots.

Depositing the glasses on the nightstand, Luka looked back to XY.

XY studied Luka expectantly, nervously.

Luka reached out slowly, gently taking XY by the jaw and pulling him in for a soft, closed-mouthed kiss.

XY quickly got the idea, and their lips began to move together, the kiss deepening fast.

All things considered, XY wasn’t a bad kisser. A little too eager at times, a little too excitable, but that was okay because Luka could tell that this kiss meant so much more to XY than to Luka. After all, hadn’t Luka been a little overeager the first time he had kissed a boy?

After a few minutes, Luka carefully maneuvered so that, without breaking the kiss, he could lie down, carefully guiding XY down after him so that XY would be on top and not feel trapped or overwhelmed if he decided he wanted to stop.

In the back of Luka’s mind, a voice that sounded like Adrien asked, “Yeah, but what if you decide that you want to stop?”

Strangely enough, Luka didn’t.

Fifteen minutes in, it was actually shaping up to be a pretty good kiss. Luka could feel the alcohol blurring his mind again, making him forget the messy state his love life was in at the moment and allowing him to just enjoy the sensation of someone’s tongue down his throat.

Gradually, the pace slowed, winding down as XY settled in beside Luka, snuggling up and pressing gentle kisses to Luka’s cheek, chin, neck, shoulder.

“How was that?” XY asked nervously even as he tried to keep up a confident façade. “That was pretty ballin’, right? Hella sick, yeah?”

“That was good, yeah,” Luka confirmed. “A good kiss.”

“I thought I’d be good at it,” XY preened. “I’m pretty dope myself.”

Luka stilled. “…Was that…your first kiss ever?”

“Yeah,” XY replied a tad defensively. “Why?”

“I just thought that you’d have kissed girls before, so…I’m a little surprised. It’s not bad or anything, though, that that was your first kiss,” Luka rushed to assure.

XY shrugged, snuggling in closer and nuzzling Luka’s hair. “I’ve just never been interested in kissing any of the girls my dad had me date.”

A stray thought crossed Luka’s mind: “Maybe he’s demi too”.

That didn’t explain him wanting to sleep with Luka so soon, but…

“Why don’t Adrien and Marinette keep you around permanently?”

The question caught Luka off guard, leaving him taken aback.

“I mean, you’re really dope,” XY explained in a logical, reasonable fashion. “And you obviously love them. Do they not love you?”

He didn’t mean it cruelly, but it still hurt.

The pleasant buzz of the tequila instantly drained from Luka’s system. “They do,” he replied, voice cracking. He swallowed and tried again. “They do love me. It’s just…Adrien and Marinette are a complete universe unto themselves.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They don’t love me as much as they love one another, so sometimes I feel like I don’t fit with them, like there’s not enough space for me even though…”

XY lifted his head to gaze questioningly down at Luka. “Even though…?”

Luka sighed, pushing himself up and sliding out of bed. He went over to the dresser where he’d left his clothes and dug out his wallet, bringing it back to the bed. He fished out a photo and handed it to XY, setting the wallet down on the nightstand and slipping back under the covers.

“That’s Marinette and Adrien’s son,” Luka explained with a sigh.

XY studied the picture of a beautiful young woman and handsome young man holding between them a toddler with lovely black hair and clear blue eyes.

It could just be that the boy resembled his mother, but…XY knew those blue eyes too well to mistake them. He’d been seeing those same eyes in his dreams since the day Luka had stopped in the hallway of the television studio to give XY a speech that changed his life.

“He looks just like you,” XY muttered reverently.

Luka’s lips pulled into a sad smile. “His name is Hugo. I see him fairly often, at least once a week unless I’m out of town touring. I babysit a lot, but it’s not the same as really being a part of his everyday life…of their everyday life.”

“You’re not happy just being in a part-time relationship,” XY surmised softly.

Luka nodded, gently taking back the picture and carefully replacing it in his wallet. “They love me, but I’m not number one to either of them. Most of the time, it’s fine. What I have is enough because it is love, and we are a family, and I am happy, I really am. Sometimes, though…I want to pound my head against a wall because it’s not enough.”

“You deserve to be somebody’s number one,” XY whispered soothingly, as if validating Luka’s frustration and hurt and emptiness.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” Luka laughed ironically.

“You’re a little drunk and sad,” XY explained so that Luka didn’t have to.

“Yeah,” Luka sighed. “Yeah, I am.”

XY lowered his lips to Luka’s for a languid, lingering kiss, and Luka didn’t protest, letting it happen.

He decided not to worry about it or judge his behavior. After all, didn’t everyone, at some point, get sad and lonely and end up making out with someone they barely knew just to get a taste of human warmth and intimacy?

It was just kissing, and Luka could do a heck of a lot worse for a partner.

 Luka stirred several times during the short night, and each time he briefly thought that he was at Marinette and Adrien’s. Each time after he remembered, he wondered, “What the hell am I doing?” and contemplated getting up and going to sleep in the other bed. Each time, he ultimately decided against it and snuggled in closer to XY, letting himself enjoy the feeling of another person’s presence as he shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

At a little after half past nine, Luka woke with a throbbing headache, and the sunlight streaming in through the window would not allow him to get back to sleep.

If the sound of running water in the bathroom was anything to go by, XY was in the shower.

Luka contemplated his next move.

On the one hand, he kind of wanted to slink out and never see XY again because Luka had been a little drunk, and he vaguely remembered talking about Marinette and Adrien and Hugo, and that was never a good thing when Luka was in one of his melancholy moods (which had definitely been the case the previous night).

On the other hand, he also kind of recollected XY admitting that he had never kissed a guy before, never kissed anyone before, and even though the blonde was kind of dumb and seemingly indifferent about most things, Luka was betting that XY was experiencing some sort of feelings about the make out session and snuggling. It would be a jerk move for Luka to just run out after that.

With a sigh and some effort, he leveraged himself out of bed and onto his feet, grabbing the notepad and pen from the bedside table to write a quick note: “Sorry I had to dash. It was nice talking with you. I’ll call you soon about the collab.”

That accomplished, he put the note underneath XY’s phone so that it visibly stuck out but wasn’t in danger of being blown away.

He dressed in the clothes he’d worn the night before, made sure he had his wallet and his phone, and headed out.

He dropped the keycard in the return box next to the elevator and strode through the lobby of Le Grand Paris toward the front doors, coming to a halt as he noticed the flock of reporters buzzing about the entrance like a murder of crows, hoping to snap photos of celebrities from the party the night before taking the walk of shame.

Luka really didn’t want to go out there. He was hung over, tussled, and not in the mood for anyone to ask about his supposed affair with Adrien Agreste-Dupain-Cheng. He was kind of afraid of them asking with whom he’d spent the night at the hotel, afraid of them accusing him of cheating on Adrien on top of being a homewrecker.

He decided to wait it out a bit in the sitting area, hoping the crowd would thin and he’d be able to make his escape unmolested. He waited fifteen minutes, but the mob showed no signs of dispersing.

“Oh, hey! I’m glad I caught you,” XY called out, hustling over to Luka. He looked slightly out of breath, a little flustered.

“Oh, hey,” Luka greeted, feeling awkward. “Sorry for running off. I have a meeting this afternoon that I really wanted to get some things done before, so I was hurrying home, but there’s kind of a herd of reporters out front, so…”

Luka looked hopefully towards the entrance only to have the optimism kicked out of him when it appeared that the pack had only grown.

“I was hoping they’d go away if I waited them out a bit,” Luka sighed.

XY frowned in confusion. “Why don’t you just go the back way?”

Luka blinked dumbly. “Back way?”

“Yeah. Come on. I’ll show you.” XY motioned for Luka to follow as he headed back to the elevators and pushed the down button. “Tell your car to pull into that alley behind the hotel.”

“Uh…” Luka bit his lip. “I don’t have a car. But it’s fine; I’ll just get a taxi.”

XY clicked his tongue. “Dude. Don’t you have money now? I thought you weren’t poor anymore.”

Luka’s brow creased slightly in annoyance at the resurgence of a flash of the old XY. “Just because I have money doesn’t mean I spend it recklessly. Normally, I drive a motorcycle, but last night I got a cab to drop me off.”

XY shrugged, completely missing Luka’s defensive tone. “Meh. No sweat. You can just borrow one of mine.”

Before Luka could protest, XY pulled out his phone and shot off a text. “My driver will be there in, like, two minutes. Pretty dope, huh? I’ve got three drivers,” he boasted.

Luka was not impressed. Maybe it was the hangover, but XY was starting to rub Luka the wrong way again…except…he was being rather nice, showing Luka the way out and getting Luka a ride…even if he did it so obnoxiously.

XY started to prattle on about his miniature fleet of cars, and Luka sort of tuned out, mostly missing the substance of what XY was saying but still nodding along to the words and adding “oh, really?”s and “wow”s in the pauses. That seemed to satisfy XY.

Thankfully, they reached the back door in under ten minutes, and the car was ready and waiting to take Luka home.

It was then that he felt a little bad for being so short with XY. The guy really had done him a favour…and was a good kisser.

“Here we are. George will make sure you get home.” XY motioned to the car as if he were unveiling…well…a car, but as if he were on a game show or something.

“Thank you,” Luka replied with genuine gratitude. “I appreciate it. You really saved the day.”

“All in a day’s work, Citizen,” XY assured as he flexed comically, showing off his muscles in a cartoonish way that made Luka wonder whether or not XY were serious.

Luka gave a soft chuckle, thinking, “What a dork. At least he’s cute.”

The thought kind of caught him by surprise.

XY’s expression transitioned into what could probably qualify as serious for him as he turned back to Luka, asking hopefully, “I’ll see you again soon, yeah?”

Luka was a little taken aback by XY’s sincerity. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll give your music a listen and call you about a collab. For sure.”

XY’s face exploded into a firework of joy.

“Rad!” he cheered, leaning in and planting a sloppy kiss on Luka’s cheek. “I’m super stoked!”

Luka could only nod and wave as he went over to the car, climbing into the backseat in a daze as he tried to sort out what exactly was happening in his life.

In his distracted state, he accidentally gave the driver the address of The Liberty instead of the flat he lived in half of the time.

He didn’t stress about it. He had bigger issues to deal with.

[chispas-and-broken-bindings]

I’m posting a preview of the next chapter of Know The Love - Part II. This chapter is taking me longer to write than I anticipated, and I have a crazy busy week coming up at work, so it is looking less and less likely that I’ll have the full thing posed to Ao3 as soon as I would like. 

So, I thought I’d share the WIP to anyone who follows me on Tumblr, below the cut: 

Sansa relaxed into the hot, spring-fed bath, settling back until only her lips and nose breached the steamy surface. She closed her eyes, remembering.

Jon, what are you trying to tell me? That there's another secret Targaryen, vying for the Iron Throne?

(Not a trueborn Targaryen…)

Stars danced behind her lids.

(And he has no interest in ruling the Seven Kingdoms, I promise you.) What are you saying?

Slipping completely below the water, she let the weight of his secret pull her down.

(I keep telling you…I'm not a Stark. I'm not your brother, Sansa. Trueborn or half.) Stop, Jon. You're the very image of father. (It is not uncommon for a nephew to resemble his uncle.)

Days had passed since Jon's revelation, but her blood still pounded in her ears, hot and heady, like he'd only just told her. It had taken her a foolishly long time to understand what Jon was trying to say as she stared at him across his solar, her eyes flitting helplessly to Lord Reed, who only gazed back, stoic as ever.

(Lord Eddard was my uncle.) But you're too young to be Uncle Brandon's, and Uncle Benjen was too young to be a father…

Jon looked pained as understanding reached her at last. Her chest strained, painfully.

You're Lyanna's...Winter's rose. (Yes.) Stolen by the Dragon Prince. …and Rheagar Targaryen's… (Bastard.)

When he said it, she had been too thrown, too off balance to hear the loathing Jon bit into the word. The ground had shifted beneath her feet, the sky slanting so she was sliding down once more, drowning, and all she had the sense to ask, in a keening breathless voice, was, Who else knows?

"Sansa!" Her name came, muffled, through the water, but when hands disturbed the warm void, grasping at her arms, she woke from her reverie and resurfaced with a gasp. "For heavens sakes, Sansa! Are you trying to scare me witless! I'm already frantic over Theon's trial." She blinked into Jeyne's concerned, fire agate eyes, as rivulets raced down her brow and into her heavy lashes.

"Sorry Jeyne, I was only daydreaming," she sighed.

"I implore you, dream with your head above the water, please." Jeyne stood, shaking her head and frowning at her now soaking sleeves. "You're as bad as Arya used to be when we'd swim in the godswood. She'd challenge the other girls to try and hold their breath as long as she. Once, long after the others had given up, she floated to the surface, face down. When I turned her over, with tears burning my eyes, mind you, Ayra sprang to life, spouting water in my face, cackling like the Crone."

"I was just wetting my hair, not attempting a lark." Sansa squeezed her heavy locks, before twisting them together over the tub's edge, to dry.

"Be that as it may, you are not a fish, Sansa. You won't sprout gills beneath the surface if you stay down too long. You'll drown."

"Duly noted." She closed her eyes again, trying to recall her train of thought, but Jeyne continued prodding.

"Are you feeling well, my lady? You're flushed."

"Of course I'm flushed. I'm poaching in a steaming bath." Irritation seeped into her voice, and she glanced at her friend, contrite. Jeyne did not deserve her sullen mood. Theon's trial was only a few hours away, and Jeyne had stayed awake half the night, fretting over him. Now, she was fretting over Sansa.

"It's only, you haven't seemed entirely yourself, the past few days. You've been-"  Spinning like a top into oblivion? "-distracted."

When Sansa rose, Jeyne and one of her maids came to either side, wrapping her in a robe and helping her step from the copper tub. She laced her fingers through Jeyne's, relaxing her face into an easy smile. "I suppose I'm just tired. In the songs, they always leave out the verses where Jonquil spends her days mediating the lords' petty disputes or counting sacks of grain." Jeyne squeezed back.

"Well, when your Florian returns, you must beseech the king to appoint someone else to those duties. You and your knight will need time to reacquaint yourselves." She winked, playfully, and Sansa's belly dropped. She had no Florian; only an over-eager, impatient heir with more ambition than advantage, and a trail of ruined women behind him…and ahead. He was due back to Winterfell any day, after a decisive victory at the Dreadfort. Her stomach roiled at the thought, but she mustered a smile, nonetheless.

"Alas, the king works harder than us all. He does not deserve a princess who eschews her duties for any knight, especially while she is still wed to another."

Jeyne pushed her to her vanity, where her maids began to dress her. "Where is the romance in that, princess? Think on it. This may be your only chance for a true love affair." Sansa gaped at her friend, scandalized. "And wouldn't it be sweet, to be lovers first, before you are man and wife?" It would not be sweet. She'd had a glimpse at what an affair with Harry would entail, and she saw no appeal, with him.

"I must stay a maid, to annul my marriage to Tyrion," she reminded her friend, who only pursed her lips a moment, before responding.

"There are ways to take a lover and still preserve your maidenhead." Jeyne whispered, and Sansa marveled at the young woman's coy suggestion. After all she had endured, Jeyne had a spirit as hardy and irrepressible as the yellow yarrow that spread across the North in the summer, sprouting wherever the sun kissed the earth, from barrow to marsh, ditch to crag, no matter the quality of the soil or the quantity of rain. It stirred something within Sansa, and her cheeks burned at Jeyne's bold words. She pressed her eyes shut, but it was not the Young Falcon she imagined, standing before her. Grey eyes caught her. A kiss, searing and too brief, whispered across her lips.  See? What consumes you, devastates me too.

I'm not your brother, Sansa.

Her eyes snapped open. She was being foolish, to conflate the Jon she knew before with the Jon she knew now. The Jon who chased her smiling lips with his own down a dark corridor, and burned through her restraint over darker waters, was wooing a different woman. The Jon she knew now had only meant to convey essential information to the only family left to him.

Who else knows? (That lives? Myself. Howland. Now…you. Your father was the only other, as far as we know. Sansa, this is a dangerous secret. The kind that starts wars and kills thousands.)

As if she didn't understand. Only minutes before, the northern lords had packed Jon's solar, railing against two unknown Targaryens, half a world away. She knew how the North viewed the disgraced house. Madmen. Rapists. Inbred Dragonspawn. If they learned that their own king, already holding together a fragile kingdom, was the son of the man who had kidnapped and raped the beloved Lyanna Stark, sparking the flames that led to Brandon and Lord Rickard's deaths and a rebellion that changed the face of Westoros…why, they would turn on Jon like rabid dogs.

Then, why are you telling me? She had asked him, eyes flying again to Howland in desperation.

(No more secrets, remember? We promised.) He had looked at her with such intensity that she was forced to look away once more, imploring Lord Reed for assistance.

If anyone else finds out, you'll lose the North! She turned to Jon. You must remain Ned Stark's son. The lords will never back a Targaryen. The look in Jon's eyes was positively mutinous as his advisor nodded back at her, and she continued to shake her head, in horror.

(You think I don't know that! That's why I'm telling you. You, of all people should know whose claim you are actually backing. There is still time-) No! You are still a Stark. This changes nothing.

But it changed everything. She had fled Jon's solar a short time later, her thoughts too jumbled to handle more than an awkward pledge to keep his secret safe and a hasty word of gratitude that he had entrusted her with his true identity. Only now, after days of strained interactions, and painfully polite run-ins with the king, did she begin to understand. She had asked the wrong questions and offered only the weakest absolution. You are still a Stark. This changes nothing.

-----

Later, she observed him, from a distance, in the Great Hall, as the lords and ladies filtered in for the upcoming trials. The king stood apart, head bowed in discussion with Val, who had returned with the Ironmen held in Torrhen's Square. Though Sansa had never seen a Targaryen in the flesh, Jon had none of their oft-recited characteristics. In the dim light, his dark brown hair and grey eyes appeared as black as the cloak resting on his shoulders, his face as long and drawn as the stone kings of winter standing sentinel deep beneath their feet. It would be easier to believe Ned Dayne was a secret Targaryen, for whatever Prince Rheagar had left Jon, it was buried deep inside.

Now, questions burned at her lips. What really happened to Lyanna? How did Jon come to be raised by Howland Reed? And how long had he known the truth of his birth? And how did he feel about it? How did her father feel about it? And why had he not shared the secret with her mother? Perhaps, these were the questions she should have asked when Jon first told her the truth. Perhaps she should have asked them at any point in the past few days, when the revelation was new and her curiosity would be expected. But, whenever there was a moment where they found themselves alone, her body would rebel with unknowable emotion and her heart would beat in her like a caged bird in her chest, her tongue heavy and thick in her mouth, and she would flee the room before whatever was growing within her, had an opportunity to bloom.

"Princess, are you well?" She startled at Baelish's words, too close, before tilting her eyes away from Jon to the lord beside her.

"Quite, my lord. And you?"

"Quite. They make a stunning pair, do they not?"

"Hm?" She asked, distractedly as Baelish's lips twisted in a knowing smirk.

"Why the king and the wilding princess, of course. Were you not just watching them?" His eyes narrowed, and she flashed Jon and Val another glance, before smiling faintly back at the lord.

"I hadn't noticed where my eyes has settled. I was lost in thought, my lord."

"Hm. Well, still, my questions stands. Would not the wilding princess make a fine wife for your half-beast brother?"

"Half-beast?" She raised an eyebrow. "Be careful with your words, Lord Baelish. There are those that would take offence to you speaking of your king so." Her voice was mild, though, and his green eyes glinted slyly back at her.

"I meant no harm, my Princess. The north will need a fierce, beastly leader to keep its hard-fought independence. Eyes in King's Landing may be turned inward for now, but that cannot last forever…And you still evade my question. What do you think of my match?"

"Val is no princess and Jon has already more or less gained the wildings support. He needs a wife with more to offer."

"Ah. In that case, here comes another enticing option." Sansa followed Baelish's eyes to Lady Wynyfryd Manderly, gliding into the Great Hall in a gown of deep blue, offset by a string of rose pearls gracing her slender neck. She stopped before the king, falling into a graceful curtsy and Sansa watched Jon's eyes sweep down her form with a sour taste in her mouth. "As I understand it, the king in the North has still not fully won over his wealthiest, most well-connected lord. There can be no argument against the advantages in him marrying the Manderly maid."

Satin caught Sansa's eye across the hall, gesturing for her to take her place. "Excuse me, my lord, it looks like the trial will soon commence."

Before she could extricate herself, however, Baelish leaned close, whispering, "Careful little bird. He is your brother. Unnatural relations have toppled kingdoms more stable than his." She pulled away, her heart racing and legs weak.

I am not your brother, Sansa.

He should never have told her.  

----

She barely registered the accusations against Asha Greyjoy, Theon's sister, and the leader of the Ironborn who invaded Deepwood Motte and were defeated by Alyssane Mormont. Beside her, the king sat, just as in the previous trial, but this time his hand did not bridge the distance between them, nor did she reach out for him. Instead, she sat, staring out at the accused, yet seeing nothing. She was frightened. Littlefinger already watched them with suspicious eyes, and now she suspected Jon's secret was writ across her face every time she looked at the king. He should never have told her. It was hard enough to see him as her brother when she believed it to be true. Now, she didn't know how to meet his eyes.

She was snapped to attention when Asha Greyjoy was given a chance to answer to the charges against her.

"I'll take the black." She called out, with a wry smirk.

Sansa felt Jon's eyes light on her, but she stared straight ahead, so he responded. "There are no women in the Night's Watch."

"Well then, I choose freedom." The crowd chittered, and once again Jon tried to catch Sansa's eye before Asha continued. "I heard you let the Frey men, men who aided in raping women and mutilating children, choose the black, yet I, who simply held a castle that had been abandoned by its lord, and kept my men from harming a single hair on an innocent's head, am not afforded the same opportunity? Because I don't have a cock between my legs?"  Gasps from the crowd. "Where is the honor in that?"

"And if we banish you from the North, you'll only return one day to raid our lands again. It's a tired tale. The Ironborn's broken promises." Jon called.

"Well then. I suppose you'll have to take me as a thrall…though again, I thought the North was too honorable for an arrangement so close to slavery." Her tone was mocking, and Sansa looked closer at the Ironborn woman. She was lean and long legged, in black breeches, her short black hair, tied loosely at her neck, revealing a thin face and a hawkish nose, tempered by a wickedly impertinent grin. "I suppose you have only two options left, Wolf King. Take off my head or take me to bed."

Again, the crowd chittered, and Sansa burned. The Greyjoy captive was making a mockery of their justice.

"As fascinating as your offer is," Jon answered, "the wolf is not tempted by the squid." The crowd truly laughed this time, but he rose, cutting them off. "Asha Greyjoy, you are hereby fined five thousand gold dragons. Until which time the debt is paid in full, you are forbidden from leaving our lands. You are free to live and to earn your repayment by any lawful means, though if you should break our laws again, I will be taking your head."

The Hall stood silent now, and Sansa hazarded a glance in the king's direction. His face was calm but stern, and there was no uncertainty to find on his face. After a moment he nodded to Maege, who prodded her men-at-arms to action, cutting away the Greyjoy's wrist binds.

"And what of my men?" Asha asked, before she could be fully dismissed from the Hall.

"I suggest they choose the black," was all Jon offered before holding a hand out to Sansa. "Bring the other Greyjoy. We'll resume shortly." Sansa stood, and let herself be led into the privacy of the gallery.

"Are you well, my Princess?" He asked, as soon as the door closed behind them.

"What…yes, of course. Why does everyone keep asking me that?" She couldn't meet his eye. He was standing too close. She could feel herself flushing. Everything was flushing. She tried to step away, but his hand was at her elbow.

"You lie." He murmured, low, and why was she so warm? "It upsets you. That I'm not a Stark."

"You are a Stark." She snapped, still trying to pull away subtly, but he only led her closer to the checkered windows.

"Sansa," His words came out in an anguished flood. "My grandfather murdered your uncle and grandfather. My father raped your aunt. You have every right to be upset. I'll give up the crown. Just say the words and I'll make you queen. I'll leave the north. Just tell me what you want me to do." He didn't understand anything, and he was standing too close.

"Jon!" She hissed. "You are not my enemy. Your grandfather murdered your uncle and grandfather as well! Your father…" Why must he be so obtuse? "Lyanna Stark was your mother. You are a Stark, regardless of who your father was. I've already told you, this changes nothing. You are King in the North! I want you to be king." It felt like her veins were lifting from her body.

"Then why can't you look at me? Why do you flinch every time I draw near? You hate that I'm a Targaryen. Admit it. It is I who should be standing before you in the Great Hall, to answer for the crimes of my family." A shiver ran down her spine and she pulled away once more, trying to think of anything that wouldn't reveal her true thoughts.

"You are mistaken." She blinked up at him, trying to disprove his point, and it would be so much easier if he weren't looking at her like he was; like her words mattered, like her opinions mattered. And it would also be easier too, if he didn't have so much power over her, she admitted weakly to herself; if she didn't notice the breadth of his shoulders as he leaned closer, or the way his lashes seemed impossibly long around his smoky grey eyes.

[robbyrobinson]

Doctor Sleep: Birth of Evil

Everything has its origin.

Hundreds of years ago in the country of Hungary, a young girl found herself in a tight fit. A foreigner from another country orphaned at an immature age, she snuck her way onto a ship heading for this new land. She got in through the goods shipped for Hungary. She hid in a box of rice and remained in the box until the ship officially made land at the docks. As the box was getting lifted out, one of the crew members noted how the box felt lighter. "Sir, do you feel that there is something peculiar about this box?" a crewmate asked another.

"This is just a box of rice, nothing more, nothing less."

The girl kept herself deathly quiet. She was able to breathe through the small holes in the top of the box. The two men inquired more on the now lightweight box until they were informed that the nobles were waiting impatiently for their deliveries. Lest they faced spending a night evolving to weeks in their "torture chamber," they had better forget their complaints on the box and go. The girl was tossed here and there around the empty box. She felt herself getting picked up and tossed onto the back of a carriage. With a whipping of the rope and the horses' neighs, she was off.

The journey was long and bitter. The post-digested rice within the young girl's stomach sloshed around, compelling her to almost vomit up the contents of her bowels. There were a few pitstops on the way. While the men were distracted, the girl quietly abandoned the box to steal crumbs of food and to relieve herself. There was a time when she was so blocked up from the non-nutritious food, she almost missed the carriage's exit. Sleeping inside of the box was bothersome and discomforting, but to her, she thought it was better than sleeping in the dead of winter in alleyways with hardly anything to cover her for warmth.

The time for the permanent delivery came short of 1 PM in the evening. Sunlight peaked into the minuscule holes, tickling the young girl's eyes. During one of their pitstops, the girl had collected a small knife and tentatively carved a hole through the box around a time the traders were distracted. The sights fascinated her. In front of her was a castle. It was one of the Gothic build popular at the time and unspeakably massive. It had a long history behind it: before its remodeling, it had a horseshoe shape and a Romanesque style. The men stopped at the entrance of the castle and began unloading their massive hauls.

"About time you had gotten here" a feminine voiced rang out with a clear hint of malice.

The men gulped nervously and placed the packages in front of the woman. Their fingers flailed around from the anxiety, but they started to open each one. One box contained silk. Another one contained tea that was shipped in from one of the neighboring countries. The last one was the box of rice. The men wrapped their fingers around the lid of the box, pulling on it slowly. The girl reacted immediately firmly holding onto the bottom.

"What is this!?" one of the crewmates yelled. He and his partner wrestled with the lid, but the girl refused to allow the box lid to budge. They both situated themselves on opposite ends of the box and gave it one, bold heave-ho. The girl was forced out of the box, landing on her face. The men and the noblewoman stood there in surprise.

"You!" the second crewmate yelled, "you ate her rice, hadn't you!?" He took hold of the girl's black hair, bending her neck backward. She writhed from his grip.

"No, no, please, sir," the girl begged, "I was just so hungry!"

The noblewoman held her hand up, alarming the men. She gave them a deadly glance as toxic as the worse of known poisons; worse than any cyanide. They shivered and released the girl. The girl was frightened by the noblewoman as well. But when the woman made a motioning gesture for her to get at her right hand, she obeyed her order wordlessly.

"I relieve both of you from your duties."

She sent them away back on horseback. She gazed at the young girl, eyeballing her curiously. The young girl felt violated by the noblewoman, even if she was simply observing her. After what felt like endless sessions of quietly interrogating her, a half-smile formed on the woman's face. "You must have come from such a far land," she finally said. Some of her servants walked into the room, and she ordered them to stage a grand feast.

"Do you have a name, if I may inquire of you?" she asked again.

"My Mom named me Rose after her favorite flower," the girl said. She was being directed into the dining room by the servants.

"Delighted to meet you, Rose," the woman said, "you must be starving after such a long journey." She sat Rose at the foot of the dining table. Huge slabs of meat were flopped down in front of the young girl alongside large vegetables like potatoes and beets. Rose found herself salivating at the mouth. "Well, eat up; I'm more than happy to have you in the family."

The woman identified herself as the countess Elizabeth Bathory and throughout a few months, she raised Rose alongside her other children. Rose found herself playing along with her stepsiblings in the courts of the Čachtice Castle and growing to enjoy the good life. Oftentimes, she saw Elizabeth send for peasant women to attend her massive feasts or to become employees at her castle. But for the faintest of reasons, Rose never saw these women again. Dozens of young virgin women would be invited to the castle with the promise of employment that they hoped to use to provide for their families. And yet, Rose never saw them during the day nor did Bathory's staff ever acknowledge that they were missing, Hundreds of women couldn't have just vanished overnight? Could they? It lasted for about a year until Bathory decided to fill Rose in on her secrets. Rose was around 12 at the time. She was fondly looking out of a window at the water across when Bathory entered the room. Rose's eyes lit up.

"You're saying that there's a secret room that you wanted to show me?"

Bathory nodded. "I believe that you are ready for it."

She took her down into the basement; a rusted lock was firmly placed on the door, forbidding entrance into it from anyone other than Bathory. She moved her hair back and drew out a key from a necklace. She held the key in front of Rose's face. It was a golden instrument. Bathory inserted the key into the keyhole of the lock and turned it clockwise. A small click emitted, and the room droned open. A putrid smell leaped out of the room assaulting Rose's nostrils. Bathory smiled. "Welcome to my personal playhouse."

Inside the room, several of the peasant women that were promised jobs were hanging from chains. Multiple women were strung up, getting vivisected with their guts and entrails being exposed. One such woman was a 16-year-old whose lower intestines were wrapped around a spinning wheel. Attached was a crank that from the slightest push, the woman's entrails would be ripped out painfully and as slowly as Mrs. Bathory pleased.

Other women had the skin of their backs ripped off because of nail-laced whips. The crudely placed nails glistened in the sunlight from the remnants of blood that did not dry. The faces of 10 women were grotesquely removed along with other segments of their bodies. Rose looked at Bathory with closer inspection. A tinge of red was on her bottom lip.

"Rose," Bathory began, "what if I were to tell you that there was a way to live forever?"

Live forever? Everything felt like a dream sequence from here on out. The women were moaning in pain, with some strange vapor rising out of their mouths. Bathory walked over to one of the women. Seeing that she had a wound on her arm, Bathory knelt and pushed the wound in. The woman screamed again in pain. More ghostly vapor flowed from her mouth. Bathory hungrily lapped up the substance as the woman's eyes illuminated. The woman's cries gradually faded before she crumbled down into a bloodied heap. "This, Rose, is the secret to a long life."

Rose was intimidated at first, but she was also intrigued by the whole notion of living forever. Bathory beckoned her to lie down on the floor while she walked across the room with a jar in hand. It also contained that gaseous substance. She got on top of Rose and opened the jar.

"You see, Rose," she said turning the jar counterclockwise, "I delight myself in torturing these women because my society devalues them making it easier for me to spirit them away and indulge in my sinful habits. When one of my servants got her accursed blood on my hand, the blood reverted my aging body. From that day onward, I devoted myself to achieving eternal beauty."

She tipped the jar onto Rose's lips. "These women had this strange mental power when I killed them. I found myself accidentally ingesting the vapor and my body felt alive. To my knowledge, no one else made this life-altering discovery, and I proudly call it 'steam.' " Rose breathed in the steam. The pain was excruciating as she felt her body contorting between the past and the present. She felt younger while she was still mentally 12. Lady Bathory was right: she felt invigorated. "Repeat after me, Rose," Bathory said. She recited some cryptic words apparently; she came up with on the spot:

"Lodsam hanti, we are the chosen ones. Cahanna risone hanti, we are the fortunate ones. Sabbatha hanti, sabbatha hanti, sabbatha hanti. We are the True Knot, and we endure. What is tied may never be untied."

And then it was over. Bathory removed herself from Rose allowing her to regain composure. As they exited the room of horrors, Bathory grabbed hold of Rose's arm and leaned her close to her face to meet her at eye level. "I want you to succeed me, Rose, but I will inform you that if you as much as to share what I have done with anyone else, I will not only call you a liar, but I will condemn you to the same pain and torment those women downstairs have faced at my hands. Understand?"

Rose gulped and nodded fervently at her demand. She and Bathory spent years luring women into the torture room and killing them in ways indescribable. There was one that was like Rose in that she was also an orphan who was strapped to the spinning wheel.

"Please, let me go," the orphan sobbed, "I just want to live."

Rose looked at the woman in observation. She knew what it was like to be alone and having to rummage for scraps. It was something that she would dear not to even consider reliving that nightmare. And yet, Rose slashed her throat with a brandished knife. The blood gushed out like a geyser. Fresh blood spewed in her face. Rose licked the blood around her lips. "Cherry," she thought.

While most of her assisting Bathory was largely under the threat of death, Rose found herself enraptured by the idea of living long and eating well. Soon, she found herself being elevated above mankind, much like in Bathory's case. It remained that way until one eventful day.

Rose was in the town when news got out about Bathory's actions. She had gotten lazy with her murders and in her hunger, she targeted noblewomen. In 1611, Bathory was found guilty of over 80 murders yet escaped execution by getting locked away in a room of her own castle. Rose had vanished during the sentencing, remaining gone for three years. Bathory was slipping away because of her deprival of steam. Food was still being served to her, but nevertheless, her dreams of eternal life were botched.

Sitting in her empty room, Bathory's eyes grew heavy and she began to drift off to sleep. A clicking stirred her awake. The door opens, she saw her adopted daughter Rose standing there. At first, she was relieved. "I've been waiting for so long, Rose," Bathory exclaimed, "free me and together we will rule all."

Rose shook her head. "Sorry, but I have better ideas for you."

A scream sent the guards running up the stairs. When they got there, they saw Bathory as a pile of dust. Rose had since vanished back into thin air.

(More to come)

[mystic-kitten-writer]

Limerence [M] ︳11

Pairing: Zuko x OC

Genre: Romance, mainly fluff with future smut, and if you squint hard enough - you’ll find some angst.

Rating: SFW

Words: 4100+

Notes: So this chapter doesn’t focus too much on Zuko and Yue as much as it focuses on someone else’s perspective - I wonder if you guys guessed right as to who this ‘secret woman’ was throughout the chapters - the next big mystery is figuring out who the male is. Enjoys  <3

Masterlist ︳10 ︳ 12

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤ 

Limerence: (English/n.) the state of being infatuated with another person.

The moment their eyes locked they knew - the flames within him twisted while the water within her turned. It was a connection, a connection that would lead to love, adventure, and drama.

Tacenda

(Latin/n.) Things better left unsaid; not to be mentioned to the public.

~ Unknown ~

            “What do you mean by ‘sent two messenger hawks back-to-back?’” She hissed with narrowed eyes towards the skittish man in front of her. He was already cowering away, fearful of who she might unleash her wrath upon. With a large gulp, he managed to find his voice again, “The-the maids! They said the first letter was a notice that Fire Lord would be arriving in a week from today, with a woman, some consort or something. But the next day he sent another letter that said the Earth King would be arriving here, so expect his arrival for tomorrow.”

            The man quickly looked down at his feet, knowing that this was how he was going to die. But when a few moments passed, and she didn’t unleash her anger, he looked upwards to see her standing still in thought. ‘This’ was not what she expected when she arrived here. She already had her plan ready, and all she had to do was make sure that everything was ready for implementation for the arrival of her ‘friend.’ Clearly, that plan went to shits.

            Yet another curious thought ran through her mind as she observed the sky, for the past few hours, since the moment they arrived yesterday, messenger hawks have been flying back and forth to the sea, most likely to his ship. But why? What could be so important that he feels the need to pass along documents in such a risky manner? Why was the Earth King showing face to the Fire Nation? There was an overwhelming amount of questions that seemed to be unanswerable.

            “Continue blending in and get as much information as you can, all of you.” She said quickly, before turning on her heels and blending in with the greenery around her. She knew what she had to do, and with a tremendous and overwhelming hesitance, she made hast. It has been almost four, maybe five, years since she had last step foot in the Fire Nation after they finally found their mother. The very thought of seeing her mother again made her blood boil. She hated them, hated them all with a passion that just made her flames grow bluer by the second.

            Mother never loved her, not like how she loved him. She always favoured him over her. ‘I was a monster in her eyes’ she thought as she found the secret path that led behind the palace. But that was the purpose of this whole plan, to make everyone realize that he was not any different from the rest of the family. That he was just as messed up and as monstrous as her. The thought of him losing everything, his position, family, friends, sent a euphoric rush to her that no amount of liquor, bloodshed, or drugs could do. It was never about killing him; it was always about seeing him fail.

            So caught up in her thoughts she failed to realize that she was already at the edge of the palace walls, and with much ease, found the next hidden entrance inside. To her dismay, most of the entries were sealed off or left to collapse on its own, so she would be lying if she wasn’t a tad bit surprised to find such a route still in relatively decent condition. With ease she slipped through and in moments found herself back in the palace hallways, adorned with precious gems and artworks. Despite the same coat of paint and rugs, everything felt different.

            Carefully she hid behind a statue, as she observed a few maids and servants waltzing along the hallway, laughing and smiling, enjoying life. “So I found out her name; Ying Yue Jiang!” squealed a maid as she tightly snuggled onto another girl’s arm. They all looked at her in disbelief, “H-how did you find out her name already!?” The group said in unison. She simply shrugged her arms before continuing, “I have my ways, but I can’t wait till we meet her, rumours say she is a sweetheart.” She gushed, while the other two women giggled in unity. The man amongst them smiled and nodded along, “Anyone is better than Mai; she is such a grump.” The maids gasped and slapped the male’s shoulders, “It’s Countess Mai and don’t say stuff like that out loud! What if Fire Lord Zuko was here and heard?”

            “Not like he would care, I think he hates her the most.”

            They all looked at each and tried their hardest to wipe away the smiles on their faces as they chuckled to themselves. “I'll see you guys later, I have to drop this off at Fire Lord Zuko’s study, or else Iroh will bite my ear off.” Said the male before they all turned the corner.

            She frowned listening in onto their conversation and at the mannerism of the servants. Never during her stay did the servants have such a privilege to just gossip. If they had so much free time on their hands they should either find more work or be dismissed. Yet, she knew that wasn’t the real thing that was bothering her; it was Mai.

            Sure, her and Ty Lee betrayed her trust to protect him and the Avatar. As angry as she was, that didn’t hinder the secret soft-spot she had for them. To think, that after all this time, he had the nerve to date her former best friend and now he leaves her to the dust for some other woman, some woman named Ying Yue Jiang, what an ass. She hissed under her breath before following the gaudy group; they were going to be her ticket of information; especially if they were going to lead her to Zuko’s study.

            Skillfully, she trailed behind the group, before finally stopping at a study, the same study their father used during his reign. She was grateful; she knew how to sneak in. Within minutes, and much patience, she unhinged the back window and with a gentle thud, slid right into the study. It was dim, no lights lit, but it was clear under the blanket of darkness that everything was neatly stacked or locked away.

            With a flick of her fingers, she let one lone blue flame balance on her fingertip, as she scanned around for anything unusual. It was those neat and organized tendencies that made it easy for her to spot the pile of documents resting on the extensive study in the middle of the room, and without hesitation, she quickly began rummaging. She smiled to herself at the ease of finding the information; it was like taking candy from a baby. As she promptly searched through the documents, she couldn’t help but let her eyebrows pinch together as she studied the reports.

            Why would he need so much documentation about the Fire Nation colonies at the Earth Kingdom? All the information was scattered; information about Earth Nation boundaries, currency exchange policies and even agreement forms about funding and dual ethnic passports. “What in the world is my lovely brother up to?” She muttered under her breath as she kept scanning through the papers; he was too much of a baby to engage in a war, that she knew for sure. But finally, her eyes drifted upon the uppermost corner of the folder ‘United Republic of Nations.’

            Rumours were circulating about the possibility of a new Nation being built, but to think that he had the power to go through with it, something not even their father had the ability to do; the creation of a new Nation. ‘You’re full of surprises brother’ she thought amused. But her eyes slowly began drifting to another document, well hidden underneath the pile of paperwork. ‘General Axe,’ she let her free hand slowly trace the words. There was a giant ‘x’ inked on top of his name in red, and a small doodle of a skull.

            The ‘x’ was the sign of a traitor, and the skull; the symbol of assassination. Curiously, she opened the thin folder. It was bizarre for such documents to be up here. Any employee paperwork was usually neatly stashed away in the library, but for any records of a traitor, there were hidden underneath the palace. As she looked through it, she couldn’t help but wonder why would he want these papers.

‘General Axe

traitor due to leakage of private information.

Assassinated; 100 AG – body not retrieved.

Potential threats/targets – Wife: Kasa Jiang, Northern Waterbender, body located and discarded 100 AG.

Daughter – name unknown, unconfirmed Waterbender, not located during the attack, assumed dead.’

            She scanned through the papers, looking for any more information, but it bore nothing of interest besides his family history and his other occupations and ranks. Carefully she started putting the documents back, but she was still in her thoughts. The Earth Nation documents made sense, but this, this was random. Why would he need such paperwork, unless...

            Her eyes widen at the thought, starting to put the puzzle pieces together;

            Jiang…

            Jiang…

            Jiang…

            Ying Yue Jiang. Kasa Jiang.

            He wouldn’t, would he? Marrying a non-bender was scandalous enough, but someone of another Nation, a Waterbender, and on top of that, the daughter of a traitor; that was just treason on a whole other level. But the last name Jiang wasn’t the only thing that triggered a memory: Kasa. It was so familiar to her as if she heard someone say it before.

            It was light footsteps outside of the study that caught her attention, and she stood still, taken off guard — so preoccupied with the new found information she let her guard down.

            “A-Azula? Wh-what are you doing here?” A lady said in disbelief, as she stared at someone whom she thought was gone, gone forever. But Azula just stood there with a large grin on her face, as she pushed back her long black hair behind her shoulder, “The real question is; what are you doing here, Mai.”

~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

            Magnificent, divine, gorgeous; all words that failed to capture the beauty of the Fire Nation. No longer representing a war-based Nation, the land was covered with vast flowers and vertical architect, but more importantly, the enormous mountain that towered above all; Royal Caldera City, the Capital of the Fire Nation.

            “Beautiful isn’t it? Wave, they are excited to see you.”

            I looked upwards to see Zuko baring a soft smile, still tightly gripping my arm, as he waved at the masses that crowded at the Royal Plaza. Nervously I began waving at the people, Zuko was right, they seemed delighted to see me, especially when I started waving. I flushed, and I could feel my palms getting clammy, I was overwhelmed, I thought the Southern Water Tribe was crazy, this is just insane!

            “What the hell Yue, you're taking the spotlight away from me!” I could hear Sokka grumble behind me. I could hear Aang laugh while Zuko scoffed, “Weren’t you the one who said that you underdressed on purpose?” Zuko said sarcastically, all the while maintaining his perfect smile. I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh hearing the way Sokka said ‘awe man’ as we began walking down the ramp. I could start seeing figures standing in the center of the pathway that lined the plaza, guards controlling the growing crowds at bay. I could see Zuko’s smile grow into a broad grin, that must be his family up ahead!

            An older man began eagerly walking forward, he wore flaming red robes, almost equal match to Zuko’s. His hands rested on his ample belly as he bore such a wide smile that only accentuated the happy lines on his face, I think I know who this is… “Fire Lord Zuko, my son, you're back!” The man cried out happily. Zuko smiled and nodded his head, “Uncle Iroh, the Nation seems to be in one piece.” Iroh sheepishly grinned as he rubbed his long beard before he finally turned to me, “More importantly, who is this beautiful lady you have on your arm?” Iroh said with a curious smile, although I could tell he was also teasing.  

            I blushed and politely bowed, “Pleasure to meet you Iroh, I'm Ying Yue Jiang.” I said a bit softer than I attended. Iroh smiled sweetly before bowing back, “The pleasure is mine, it's an honour to meet my nephew's partner. So do tell me, what was it? His smile?” Iroh said with raised brows. I could feel Zuko tense up, and his face gave away the fact that he was embarrassed, although he hid it well. “Uncle-” I could hear Zuko scowl lightly under his breath.

            I giggled and shook my head, “His smile was what caught my eye, but what made it official was the golden twinkle he gets in his eyes when he gets excited about something.” I said.

            Zuko looked down at me, a bit surprised at my blunt honesty, but based on his warm smile; he seemed happy. “I like her already! I always told Zuko since he was little that the spark he gets in his eyes is what I love the most,” a woman’s voice said. My ears perked up, only to see a mid-aged woman walking up from behind Iroh. To say she was beautiful was an understatement; her long black hair was neatly pulled back, highlighting the tender smile that painted her face and reached her eyes. “Pleasure to meet you, Ying Yue, I'm Ursa, Fire Lord Zuko’s mother.” She said her voice like honey. So this is were Zuko get’s his good looks.

            I smiled and bowed once again, but she quickly dismissed the bow, “Don’t worry dear, I'm not too fussy on customs-” She started, that was until a loud squeal cut her off mid-sentence and was instead replaced with a high-pitch yell, “ZUZU~!” My eyes widen and before I could even process what was happening a petit girl dashed towards Zuko, crashing into him with such impact that even Zuko stumbled backward, knocking the air out of him.

            “Kiyi! We talked about this!” Ursa said before rushing to Zuko’s aid. Although the laugh that erupted from Zuko was music to my ears, he quickly embraced the girl, holding her so tightly in his arms. I thought he was going to squish her. I believe this is the first time I’ve seen Zuko with a kid before.

            “I’ve missed you so much Zuzu~! Did you bring gifts? Oh, I have to show you the turtle ducks, I took care of them, and they had their babies. And I made Mommy mad, remember how I hid the toads in my rooms, well- she found them. Hey, is this Yue? I like your name Yue, wait. Zuzu, does this mean that you're going to have babies like the turtle ducks?”

            Kiyi said everything so fast I struggled to keep track of what she was spewing out of her mouth. Zuko was right, Kiyi was indeed a hyperactive child with a love of animals. But my eyes widen at the mention of having babies, how could a child bring forth more embarrassment than what I have experienced for the past weeks? I flushed a dark red, and Iroh seemed to notice because he chuckled. Zuko, on the other hand, looked posed entirely as if he didn’t hear anything about babies.

            Zuko gently patted her head, still crouched down on one knee, as he lovingly brushed her short brown hair back behind her ears, “I missed you too, and yes, Ying Yue and I brought you gifts, she picked them out just for you. And you can show me after dinner the turtle ducks, and I warned you that Mom was going to get mad if you kept the toads in your bedroom-”

            “You knew?!” Ursa said in disbelief as she crossed her arms and left out a huff. Zuko grinned and shrugged his shoulders, “And no, I'll not be having any turtle duck babies of my own. At least not anytime soon.” Ursa sighed heavily before gently grabbing Kiyi by her shoulders, “Kiyi, your brother just arrived here, give him a break?” She insisted. Kiyi pouted but nodded, before giving me a giant smile, “Yue, do you want to see the babies too? They are super cute, and we can feed them together. A friend of Zuzu’s is my friend too.” She said gleefully.

            I smiled before nodding, “I would love to join you and Zuzu.” I said although I would be lying if I said I wasn’t laughing saying Zuko’s nickname. Zuko grumbled under his breath, and I swear his cheeks got a bit pinkish the moment I referred to him by his nickname. Iroh grinned, knowing very well I said Zuzu to annoy Zuko, and I smiled back, I had a feeling me and Iroh were going to get along quite well.

            A guard walked up to us and with a quick nod began speaking, “Fire Lord Zuko, the palanquins are ready for departure to the Royal Palace.” Zuko straightened up and nodded before the guard left. Ursa grabbed Kiyi’s hand and began tugging her away to sit on the palanquins that were being set up a bit farther down. Iroh nodded, before walking off as well. It was after they left I noticed there was still a small group of people off the side, waiting patiently.

            I gazed over the people, curious. They were obviously of noble status, dressed nicely with lots of layers and beautiful shades of red and gold. “Zuko…who are those people?” I asked quietly. Zuko looked at where I was looking at, “Those are some other nobles, here to greet us. Although the rest of the council will be waiting at the Royal Palace.” I nodded my head, but I couldn’t help but notice that Zuko seemed abnormally tense. As my eyes wandered amongst the crowd, I couldn’t help but feel drawn to one person in particular.

            Her hair was placed into two well-kept buns, as she stood tall amongst the nobles, her face stone cold. She held a different type of beautiful, while Zuko’s mother had a warm radiance about her, a sweet beauty, this lady had a spark that commanded attention, much like Zuko’s presence. To be honest, it was like looking at Zuko, but just in a female form. Her body was not curvy at all, but slightly lean that complimented her sharp features. When her cat shaped eyes finally landed on me, it was like a bolt of electricity ran through me.

            “We should go,” Zuko said sternly, his grip on my hand suddenly tighten. I looked up at him confused, that was until the same lady I was staring at began walking forward. Zuko’s eyes narrowed in annoyance, and for the first time, he seemed genuinely upset. Could she be who I think she is? When she finally stopped in front of us, she inhospitably glared at Zuko with such venom, “Seems like you proved me wrong Fire Lord Zuko, you did find someone else who would put up with your family soap opera.” She hissed out.

            From someone else’s perspective, one would have thought they were having some traditional conversation, but my eyes widen hearing her sharp words, and I could see Zuko’s jaw clench. “What’s wrong, jealous Countess Mai?” Zuko growled back. Oh my god. This is Mai? Mai’s eyes were livid, as I could see her hands start shaping into fists. Before she could say anything else I knew I had to intervene, or else they were really going to duel it out. Ever so gently I placed my hand on Zuko’s chest, a bold move, especially out in public, but I had to catch his attention somehow.

            Zuko’s eyes widen, taken aback by my sudden gesture. I smiled largely and batted my eyelashes innocently, “Sorry for interrupting Countess Mai, but Fire Lord Zuko, our palanquins are waiting for us.” I said gently, but right away the fire in Zuko’s eyes relaxed, and he smiled, although I could tell it was forced. “You’re right. We should get going.” He said flatly. I nodded my head before gazing over at Mai with a smile, even if she didn’t return such, “It was a pleasure meeting you. Hopefully, we can get to know each other better, I heard amazing things about you. See you in the palace.” I said swiftly, proud that I managed to diffuse the situation.

            Mai just lifted her chin before scoffing, “You’ve made a mistake. Both of you.” But I couldn’t shake off the eeriness that was laced with her words. It was easy to miss, especially with the given hostility between these two ex-lovers. But I couldn’t help but notice a slight waver in her voice as she said mistake. It was as if it was a warning, indeed, a mistake. Before I could even think beyond, Mai turned on her heel and disappeared.

            I let out a sigh of relief, realizing that I was holding my breath in for a large chunk of that time. Tightly gripping Zuko’s arm, we began walking to the palanquins. It was evident Zuko was pissed, given how tense his arm was and the way he clenched and unclenched his fists in thought. Gosh, how did such a relationship get this sour?

            “Well, …that’s Mai. Nice, isn’t she?” Zuko said sarcastically as he helped me sit on the palanquin. I let out a dry laugh as I watched Zuko settle down beside me. “A real steal. I think she likes me; I could see us being best friends.” Zuko looked up at me, and finally, he broke into a large smile as he laughed at my lame attempt of a joke. He let an arm wrap around my waist and pulled me close beside him, “Oh really? I think she likes me too.”

            I giggled but found myself gripping on Zuko’s hand as the palanquins began moving, signalling we were now on route to the Royal Palace. “I should have probably given you a heads up about her,” Zuko said apologetically. I rolled my eyes before I finally realized something, “Where did Aang and Sokka go?” I asked. Zuko shook his head before finally pointing up the pathway, “They left a while ago, some sister you are.” Zuko teased. I raised my hand to slap Zuko’s arm and Zuko already flinched, but before I could slap him, I brought my hand down, “You're lucky we are in public or else I would have hit you.” I grumbled underneath my breath.

            Zuko laughed, “A rain check for a slap, wouldn’t ask for anything different.”

            I gave a look that meant that I just added another slap to that rain check. Zuko just knows how to push my buttons. Although my mind was once again distracted when I began noticing the greenery around us. No amount of stories that Dad told me about could prepare me for the beauty of the Fire Nation. Without thinking twice, I began pointing aimlessly around our surroundings, “What is that over there? Or that, is that a city?” I said as I gazed around. Zuko chuckled before describing everything I would point out, who would have thought that Zuko would be a fantastic tour guide?

Copyright © 2019 Mystic-Kitten, inc. all rights reserved. No reposting, modifying, or translations of any kind allowed. Thank you for your cooperation.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters portrayed in this story besides Ying Yue Jiang, Lia, Kima, and any future creations.

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

[they-call-me-peaches]

The Devil I Know

Pairing(s): Roger Taylor x f!Reader // Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor x f!Reader

Summary: you can’t quit him, and you’re gonna regret it

A/N: This fic was inspired by the song “Quit” by Cashmere Cat and Ariana Grande, but also @astroherogirl, whose post got me out of my minor writer’s block haha. enjoy!

Word Count: 5,058 

Warning(s): angst, light smut, light fluff, brief mention of suicidal thoughts, swearing

It didn’t matter what anyone else said about your relationship, their opinions were bullshit anyway. You knew in your soul that Roger really did love you, despite the mess he made of your thoughts and emotions. Anyone else would’ve believed that you were just another one of Roger Taylor’s numerous groupies, but you were nothing like those other women because they never got his call a few days later. He never asked them out to lavish dates or brought them back to his bed more than once a month. You weren’t his groupie, you were his secret.

August 19, 1972

The smell of sweat, smoke, cheap beer was familiar to you: the bars where Queen performed were always filled to the brim with heavy partiers. You had been following the band for weeks, desperately trying to get the attention of any of its members. It didn’t really matter who, just as long as you had a story to tell the next time your mates when out clubbing. Brian had come close to acknowledging you one gig, after you two locked eyes for a few moments before he went into his solo, but he quickly forgot you.

Rolling your eyes at the memory, you attempted to pull your shirt lower again so that your chest would be shown off nicely. You scanned the stage as the concert slowly started to begin, making the assessment that John and Roger would be your targets tonight. You had a near-perfect vision of Roger through the gaps in his drum set, and Deaky was hovering close to your section. As the songs began lighting up the bar, you swayed to the music and began your attempts to seduce at least one of the boys.

As one song melted into another, then another, you began to feel the sinking feeling in your stomach once again that a hookup was just not meant to happen. The alcohol helped to numb the pain, but you couldn’t deny how exhausted you were of failure. You began to just stare at the man raging behind the drum set, praying that your intense glare would somehow cause him to throw you a glance. And it did. His piercing eyes locked onto your gaze, and the corner of his mouth rose into a knowing smirk. Electricity jolted through your veins at the thought of Roger taking you to bed later that night, at it only encouraged you to keep dancing.

The gig simply couldn’t be over fast enough for the two of you. Roger was visibly antsy on stage, practically jumping out of his seat the second Freddie finally finished hanking the crowd for another amazing concert. You shoved your way through the drunken crowd, desperate to find Roger and finish what you started by the side of the stage. Watching as strangers came and went from the hallway leading backstage, you finally spotted a mop of blonde hair bouncing into the bar. The number of girls that had already swarmed around Roger was almost unbelievable, but you elbowed your way through and eventually landed right next to him.

His arm instinctively began to coil itself around your waist once he had realized who was pressed into his side. A lopsided smirk drew warmth into veins, and you could feel the icy stares from the other girls surrounding you. You faintly heard him mumble something about buying you a drink before you felt his grip dragging you towards the bar. A stool quickly made itself available once the other patrons realized who was approaching, and Roger pulled you to sit in his lap without hesitation. The sensation of his hot breath against your ear was making your head spin, and you could hardly remember your name when he asked for it.

After three rounds of shots, Roger’s hands began to feel like flames, licking your skin as he moved them up and down your body. The longer the two of you spoke, the more comfortable you got; your hand began sliding down his partially exposed chest and lingered dangerously close to the band of his jeans. His voice sounded like the growl of a tiger getting ready to pounce, and God you could not wait any longer for him to ravish you. He apparently couldn’t stand the teasing much longer either, and he hastily swept you towards the door. As you slipped out of the back exit of the pub, the warm summer night air enveloped the two of you.

Moments began to blur as Roger signaled down a free taxi, hastily jumping inside and drawing you near. He mumbled his address to the driver and made quick work of your exposed neck. His tongue glided along the delicate skin and was overwhelmed by the musky scent of your sweat mixing with your sweet perfume. He left a trail of faint purple bruises in a trail towards your cleavage, occasionally traveling up again to nip at previous marks. Your hands buried themselves in his golden hair, which was knotted and greasy from his industrious performance. Silent moans fell from your lips, and you almost felt ashamed that you were subjecting the poor lift driver to this display. Almost.

You were so absorbed in the pleasure he was drawing from you that you barely registered him leading you out of the cab and up towards his flat. His hands never left your figure, although he occasionally had to pause his feverish kissing to guide you in the right direction. As soon as the door to his apartment had been shut and locked, clothes began to shed at lightning's pace. You could have sworn you heard the sound of fabric tearing as he tore off your skirt. Roger briefly paused to drink in your body once he had managed to get you in just your bra and panties.

His stuttered breath as he stared gave you a boost of confidence, and you pushed him back into the couch a few feet away from the entrance where you were standing. Your thighs straddled his, and you ground your core into the thin material of his underwear. His fingers clutched onto your hips for dear life, feverishly grinding you against his growing erection. Roger continued his path of bruises down your bosom from before until he reached the lacy material of your bra. You quickly undid the clasp behind your back and threw the garment somewhere behind the couch: you couldn’t care less about anything except his mouth right now. Lips trailed down your chest until he reached the hard bud on your right breast. You watched as Roger swiftly brought the nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking until you threw your head back and released a blissful moan of his name. “God, Rog! Fuck- need... More..”

“Such a needy little minx, need my fucking cock that bad you little slut?” his tone was so desperate that you thought your orgasm may just hit you right there, but you simply whimpered in response before yanking his head up towards your own. As you passionately began kissing him, you felt his hands slide from your hips to beneath your thighs, lifting you up to head towards his bed. You almost couldn’t believe you were finally about to fuck one of the men you had spent so long lusting after.

The bright sunlight trickling through Roger’s curtains woke you up the next morning, and it only made your pounding headache feel that much worse. The sensation of warm skin under your hands brought the memories of last night soaring back to you. You had never had a partner quite like Roger, all your past lovers paled in comparison to the blond coiled around your naked body. He laid flat on his back and he slept, with you draped across his chest and trapped in his embrace. You gently moved closer to him, nestling your face into the crook of his neck and smelling the sweet scent of menthol and pine: probably from his cologne. Peppering featherlight kisses along his jaw, you nearly felt guilty about waking him until you heard his breathing become uneven. His usually bright eyes were clouded with sleep as he slowly woke up, but he became much more alert at the presence of you beside him. A faint smile played on his lips, and he leaned down to press a sweet peck onto your forehead.

You let yourself imagine what it would be like to wake up next to this man every morning, but waved the thought as reality reminded you that this affair was just one night of fun and that he would likely forget it before the week was up. The two of you gradually made your way out of bed in between sweet pecks and small talk of the night before.

“I’d be shocked if I don’t end up dealing with at least a handful of noise complaints after you leave, love.” he teased as he began making his way out of the bedroom.

“Oh please, Taylor, you could hardly count yourself as being quiet!” you yelled as you followed him into the living room, picking up the trail of clothes left behind last night. As you started to messily dress, Roger snuck up behind your and gently wrapped his arms around your waist. You instinctively leaned back into his touch and felt weak as his warm breath ghosted over your neck and shoulder.

“You better be planning on leaving your number behind Y/N, I thought I might have gone to heaven last night you were so wonderful,” he mumbled into your skin. You sighed as you reached up to run a hand through his messy locks. “‘Course Rog, you better be planning on calling me though, or I may just end up in a living hell,” you whispered back.

The two of you stayed that way for a few more moments in a comfortable silence. After you scribbled your number onto some random crumbled paper laying on his counter, you both delayed your departure for as long as possible. But your roommate would begin to worry if you didn’t return soon, so you regrettably made your way out between soft kisses and promises of another meeting.

As the door shut behind you however, small cracks began piercing your heart. The pain worsened the further you went from his flat, and hot tears began to leak from the corners of your eyes. You never meant to get attached to the man you were leaving behind, he was only meant to be a fun story to tell to your friends, about how you slept with a rockstar. Roger had made his mark on your soul, however, and you had finally let the reality of your situation into the forefront of your mind. He would never call you, he would stare at you again with the hungry gaze you had grown fond of. One night with him had ruined your life, and you felt the sinking feeling that you were going to regret ever meeting him.

October 2, 1972

The clock’s endless chimes had begun to cloud your conscience with doubt. It was nearing one in the morning and you hadn’t left your position on the loveseat near the phone in almost two hours. Roger was supposed to ring you at eleven, but the receiver hadn’t let out a single noise since you had arrived home from work. He had called you a few nights after your first encounter to invite you back to his apartment, and the two of you had been meeting every Friday night since. You knew it was only a casual fling, and still fairly new, but you couldn’t help but be disappointed that you wouldn’t see him tonight.

Just as you had finally begun to drift off on the arm of the couch, the phone blared its ringtone throughout your small flat. Only one person would be calling so late into the night, so you quickly willed your drowsiness away and picked up the call.

“Hello?” You asked out of habit, and the greeting was met with a soft chuckle from the other end. “Hi Y/N, how’ve you been?”

“Well, my week was going wonderfully until some bloke decided to leave me waiting all night for his bloody call.” Huffing as you waited for his excuse, you listened to his quiet sigh before he began his explanation.

“Figured you’d be a tad angry about that, but I really didn’t mean to love. I was about to call when Josephine showed up from her business trip early and-“ the blood in your veins started to boil as you cut off his last sentence. “I’m sorry, who showed up at your flat?”

“Josephine, she’s my, um, girlfriend.” He mumbled in response. You suddenly felt like a million bricks had settled into the pit of your stomach due to the guilt you felt. “Roger, how could you? I can’t believe that you wouldn’t tell me you were seeing someone, that I’ve been your fucking mistress for two months!” The tears pricked at the edges of your eyes, and the feeling of betrayal overwhelmed you.

“Y/N please hear me out, I’m begging you to listen,” he pleaded, “I’ve been meaning to break things off for a while now, but I just can’t yet. She’s Chrissy’s best mate and Brian will have my head if I break her heart. She’s going through some shit right now though and I have to wait, but I promise you’re the only one I want to be with right now.”

The line went silent as you absorbed this new information. Did he really not love her anymore? You couldn’t deny the fluttering feeling in your heart as you heard Roger confess his feelings for you. If what he’s saying is true, then a few more weeks of waiting for him to commit fully to you wouldn’t be so bad, right?

“Okay.” You said quietly into the receiver. “Okay?” He asked, his voice flooded with relief with your reaction.

“Okay, Rog. I believe you, but promise that you’ll break up with her soon though. I don’t think I can live with this guilty conscience forever, alright?”

“I promise Y/N, just give me some time to let her down easy. How about lunch tomorrow? Jo is going to visit her parents for the day out in the country and we can spend the whole afternoon together.” He sounded genuinely excited to take you out, and you could hardly deny him the pleasure. That and, of course, you became giddy with the thought of your relationship evolving into more than just weekly hookups.

“That’d be lovely, babe. Call me tomorrow with the time and place after she leaves, yeah?” You bit your lip in anticipation. “Of course, can’t wait to see you again. I gotta go, but get a good night's rest alright?” Roger said in a borderline whisper.

“I will. Goodnight Rog.”

“Goodnight Y/N”

The sound of the phone latching onto the receiver brought you back to reality. You never imagined yourself to be the kind of girl to sneak around with another woman’s boyfriend, but Roger was everything you had ever wanted in a man. Plus, he’s already planning on breaking it off with her, you just had to wait it out a little while longer. It felt as though you were floating when you walked across your home towards your bed, the guilt already beginning to slip from your mind as you drifted off to sleep.

February 14, 1973

The scalding water which filled the bathtub felt as though it was burning through every layer of your skin, but it was nothing compared to the pain Roger had caused. You had given him four months already to call it quits with his lousy girlfriend, but still, nothing. It honestly felt as though he was never really planning on ever leaving her in the first place. The further you sank into this pit of depression, the further you allowed your body to slip into the blisteringly hot bath.

The telephone had been ringing nonstop since you had bolted home hours ago. You were itching to just jump out of the tub and rush to his call, to hear his voice drip from the handset like sweet honey as he professed his apologies. Instead, you kept a death grip on the bathtubs walls, willing yourself to stay strong and burn the scene you had witnessed earlier from your memory.

During your lunch breaks, you often just took a prepared meal from home rather than make a fuss about going out to eat. But due to a romantic dinner with Roger last night, you didn’t have any time to prep your meals. The cafe where you and Roger usually ate after a late night was right down the street from your office, so you decided to pop in and grab your usual. What you hadn’t anticipated was Roger also being there when you arrived. A grin spread across your cheeks as you approached him, but you stopped once you realized he had another girl wrapped in his arms. They were sitting on the same side of a window booth; she was practically on his lap as he buried his head into her neck and hair. You could see her giggling and whispering to him, and he had the same look of love on his face as he did when he spent time with you.

Josephine, your mind reminded you. In a flash, there were hot tears trailing down your cheeks, and you placed a hand over your mouth to prevent letting out any pained noises. You spun on your heel and sprinted from the cafe, passing by the window where Roger was cuddled with her. He almost certainly saw you pass by, but you honestly couldn’t give a shit about what he saw. Let him get one last look at you because you swore you would never let him anywhere near you again after leading you on for all those months.

You spent the rest of the walk to your office attempting to make yourself look somewhat presentable, but despite looking put together you were falling apart inside. After telling your boss you were feeling ill, you took the rest of the day off and quickly left the building. Somehow you managed to keep yourself composed enough to make the drive home safely, but you were inconsolable the second you entered your flat. Loud sobs wrecked your body as you sunk to the cold hardwood floor, a harsh contrast to your heated body. You didn’t move for nearly half an hour until you had shed every single tear in your body. Slowly, you pulled yourself up and into the kitchen, filling a kettle with water and setting it carelessly on your stove. You almost forgot to turn on the burner because of how fogged up your mind was.

You had just sat down with your mug of chamomile tea when the first phone call came through. Your mind felt numb as you glared at the landline, wondering if it always rung so long or if it was just because Roger was on the other line. A minute passed once it had finished, but then the incessant ringing picked up once again. Allowing it to be the background noise to sounds of you preparing your bath, you nearly forgot that the receiver was making noise at all.

Once the bath was properly set up however, you decided to bring your record player into the bathroom from the living room so that you could drown your heartbreak with some depressing albums. On your way to grab the machine, you tried to make your way past the bloody telephone, but stopped in your tracks. You bit your lip as you watched the phone rumble on the stand, begging to be picked up. Your curiosity got the best of you and you finally allowed yourself to answer his calls.

“What?” you hissed into the transmitter, already regretting your decision.

“Jesus Y/N, what’s gotten into you? I was just calling to ask if you were feeling any better since you left work so early?” you quickly recognized the soft, feminine voice to be Amy, one of your coworkers and a dear friend.

The sound of her caring tone brought all of the pain back to the forefront of your mind, and so the waterworks began again. You confessed your affair to Amy; about how you carelessly allowed yourself to sleep with Roger Taylor and let yourself get attached, and how you kept sneaking around with him even after he let it slip that he had a girlfriend. You confessed how he had slowly slithered his way into your heart, and now you couldn’t give him up.

“I wish you would have told me sooner Y/N, you know I would have been there for you so you wouldn’t have had to go through this alone.” her sympathetic words provided a small sliver of comfort to your aching heart, but you still felt so awful.

“I’m not sure what to do Amy, He’s been calling the house nonstop since I caught him. I was prepared to talk to him, but when I finally gave in and went to pick up it was you on the other side. I’m still not even sure how you managed to get your call in between all of his.” You weakly laughed, but Amy didn’t seem to find the situation very amusing.

“I’m going to be bluntly honest here Y/N,” she stated, “It’s crazy to me how the two of you have lasted this long. He’s suffocating you from moving on with your life, and I think this is the best opportunity you will get to leave him.”

“But I don’t know how, that’s my problem. Every time I start to drift away from him, he tells me he loves me and lures me back in. I can’t quit him even if I wanted to. Especially when he won’t stop phoning me twenty-four seven. I need help.” you were exasperated at this point, and you had no idea what your next move should be.

“Well, you haven’t answered him yet, right? Then don’t pick up the phone, let him think there’s nobody home. Deal with this at your own pace and don’t let him force you into making any snap decisions.” you slowly nodded your head at her words, and thanked her profusely before wishing each other a good night. Almost immediately after you set the handset down, it resumed its endless ringing. Feeling a bit more confident than before, you made a beeline for the record player and rushed back to the bathroom to set it up.

Now here you were, burning your skin in lavender scented bathwater while allowing the dark thoughts to creep back into the forefront of your mind. Amy had kept them at bay for a short while, but now, in the crushing loneliness of your bathroom, they returned with a vengeance. Your eyes drifted around the dim room, seeking out any form of distraction from your own mind when you spotted the calendar. It was February 14. It was Valentines Day. How ironic that Roger tore your fucking heart to shreds on the most love-centric day of the year.

At this point, you wanted to stop existing. It would only take a moment to slip your head beneath the water’s surface, to stay there until all the pain had slipped away. Your nose had just touched the water when a harsh banging erupted from the hallway outside your flat. Quickly resurfacing, you listened closer and realized that the telephone was no longer ringing. How long ago it had stopped, you had no idea, but the incessant pounding at your door suggested that it was however much time it took for Roger to drive here.

You jumped out of the tub and quickly wrapped your plush red robe around you, which thankfully reached down to your mid-calf. The less temptation either of you had, the better. Creeping through the hallway into your living room, you stared at the shuddering door frame and wondered whether calling the police would be a better choice than letting him in. you didn’t even give yourself the time to debate the choice, seeing as your feet instinctively led you towards him, and your hand slowly turned the lock and loosened the deadbolt.

His eyes were the first thing that you noticed when you finally came face to face. They were severely bloodshot and looked like glass due to the tears which poured from them. The ice blue of his irises created a contrast which was almost beautiful in a sick, twisted way. His usual smell of pine and menthol was replaced by the burning stench of hard liquor as if he had poured the entire bottle of whiskey over his body instead of actually drinking it. His slumping posture straightened out once he finally grasped that you had opened the door, and he engulfed you in a suffocating hug.

As tempting as his touch was, you forcefully pushed your hands against his chest, struggling to rip his strong body away from your own. The voice in the back of your mind screamed to get away, but with the feeling of his heart beat against your chest, you could barely hear it. You needed space, desperately; because every second that you spent wrapped in his arms made it harder to keep your head on straight, to remind yourself of the real reason you were both in such pitiful states of being.

Finally, you were able to pry him off your body, and he stumbled back into the wall. Roger was so hammered he could hardly stand up straight, and how he even managed to find his way here you had no clue. You marched across the living room in an attempt to get as far from him as possible; when you once again turned to face him, a lump formed in your throat at the sight of his doe-like eyes. For almost a minute, both of you stood there staring, daring the other to make the first move. Roger’s voice eventually broke the deafening silence.

“You know none of that meant anything to me, darling, you’re overreacting.” His excuse held no emotion; he sounded just like a robot. His nonchalance about the whole scenario only made your fury stronger. You balled your fists and stormed over to the asshole, ready to give him hell.

“I cannot believe you have the nerve to come into my home and tell me that I’m overreacting! After all the shit you’ve pulled on me? Why don’t you go back to your whore of a girlfriend, huh? I’m done with your shit Roger; the sneaking around, the lies, everything.” He opened his mouth to comment, but you quickly cut him off.

“Get out Roger, now,” you demanded through gritted teeth. He took a large step towards you and crossed his arms over his chest. “No.”

“Excuse me? The last time I checked this was my apartment, not yours, and I told you to get the hell out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you Y/N, I’m not quitting you. After you ran, Jo turned on me. Asked me all about what the hell had just happened and I was forced to tell her everything. She’s gone now, and this time I mean it. I need you, love, please give me another chance.”

His words conflicted your judgment. You wanted to hate him so badly, to curse his name and throw him out of your life; but the fuzzy feeling in your chest betrayed your mind. It was as if your body was under his spell, slowly inching your way across the room until you stood right next to him. Roger’s fingers twitched, itching to reach out and pull you flush against him and never let go. He inhaled deeply before speaking again, this time his voice came out in a low mumble.

“Please, baby, just say something. Anything.” he pleaded, and before you could process your actions you were pressing your lips against his own. The kiss was brief, but enough to spur a spark of lust between the two of you. Roger bent his head down and took your bottom lip between his teeth, firmly biting until you let out a desperate moan. Smirking, he whispered a final sentiment in your ear, and it was all it took to make your dam break.

“I love you, just lay me down and we’ll fuck the pain away, darling. There’s no one else I want but you beside me; better the devil I know, right?”

As you impatiently dragged him to the bedroom, your mind couldn’t stop screaming at itself to put an end to this relationship, that you were going to regret this. Your body refused to listen though, because how could something that feels so right be wrong? The feeling of his hands on your skin felt so familiar, as did the burning desire they left in their path. And while Roger may have been too intoxicated to recite the alphabet, he knew exactly what to do to turn you to putty in his grasp.

February 15, 1973

You didn’t dream last night. It was unclear if that was a bad omen or not, but all you knew as you awoke in Roger’s arms was you felt mind felt numb. You were nowhere near forgiving him yet, but you couldn’t bring yourself to truly hate him anymore. Now that she was out of the picture, however, your heart told you to let him in again. Despite the hell he put you through, the man was heaven personified in your mind. He even looked like a cherub for Christ’s sake, with those baby blue eyes and his soft golden hair.

Roger stirred behind you, tightening his grip around your waist. He nuzzled his face into your messy hair, leaving tender kisses at the nape of your neck. The domesticity of the moment melted your heart, and you knew in your soul you would never be able to quit him.

Gonna regret it,

Yeah, I’m gonna regret it...

thanks so much for reading this far, any support/feedback is appreciated! xxx

[skylcrks-archive]

∘⡊❅ tag drop 2.0

∘⡊❅ beauty less striking than the loneliness in her eyes — visage ∘⡊❅ I don’t do anything with my life except romanticize and decay with indecision — aesthetic ∘⡊❅ an iron will to walk the walk ` a glass jaw can’t be moved to talk — musings ∘⡊❅ freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose — answers ∘⡊❅ watch out the world’s behind you ` there’s always someone around you — mentions ∘⡊❅ she rings like a bell in the night ` wouldn’t you love to love her — music ∘⡊❅ girls grow into women ` by locking ( secrets ) inside themselves  — past ∘⡊❅ I touch the clothes you left behind ` that still retain your shape and lines — family ∘⡊❅ players only love you when they’re playing — memes ∘⡊❅ whiskey in a teacup ` a diamond that wants to be coal — edits ∘⡊❅ flowers grow back even after they are stepped on and so will I — headcanons ∘⡊❅ a portrait of a young girl waiting for a new year — art ∘⡊❅ we were never meant to make it home ` never meant to be alone — kit veatch ∘⡊❅ your love is not a cage for wild hearts ( i don’t know what i’m using this tag for yet, but i know i want it so whatever )