#he has a whole wardrobe of business suits for the specific purpose of business trips in rome and you cannot tell me otherwise

[wallwriterstuff]

Her Reflection ||Marcus Volturi x Reader||

Warnings: Angst city central, descriptions of grief and depression

Words: 2741

Taglist: @royalvolturisblog @thelastemzy ​ @ferb13 ​ @raindancer2004 ​ @a-avaunce @broskibowser ​ @alecvolturiswifeforever ​ @college-is-coming @perfectcolortreestudent @volturidoll13 ​ @vamp-army

Summary:

A request for @like-rain-or-confetti

Marcus is resolute in his grief, so much so he has refused Corin’s gift many a time. When you show up, he can’t help but realise that perhaps his centuries of suffering were enough, that the contentment you offer is far more permanent than Corin’s. Maybe,  just maybe...Didyme sent you to him to give him one last chance at the happiness she loved to spread about.

You were a wonderful find.

Aro had been delighted to see you in his thoughts. He had been forced to leave the safety of Volterra for a business trip, the accounts of their business front needing attention every few decades to keep up the ruse of a modern, evolving company with changing leadership and new blood in its crew. The journey to Rome had been uneventful until they found the rogue little newborn tearing holes in a small residential area they had had to pass through. Demetri had quickly found the little fiend and as Aro took his face in his grasp, the images had raced through his mind, the regret he hadn’t taken your offer to help him strongly resonating through his body as it was mercilessly torn apart.

“Oh…Demetri…find this one.” He had murmured. Demetri did, and you had been amongst the guard now for eleven months. It had been a surprise to Marcus when you showed up with his brother as you didn’t seem to fit the Guard’s image – he wasn’t sure you knew how to be intimidating. It was clear you hadn’t come of your own volition, you were far too intelligent to be deceived into thinking Aro’s offer to join was real and clearly saw you actually had no choice at all, but still you came with a gracious smile, like you’d rather be nowhere else. After so many centuries of living and travelling as nomad you had confessed to Marcus a place to settle was nice, and despite so much time on your own you had a warm and welcoming nature that just drew the others to you.

It was all too easy to find your place when your place seemed to be everywhere and anywhere. As bitter and cautious as they were, even the twins seemed to warm to you rapidly after a few discussions. Marcus was mildly intrigued at first, but he didn’t really see enough of you to form any solid opinion on you. He only knew what he had heard, and what he had heard was that you were helpful and kind, quick to soothe pain and anger in others even if it festered in yourself. It sounded so awfully familiar to him that the raw ache in his chest, one that had never really gone away, throbbed so badly he was forced to turn his face to avoid your visage when you entered the room. Still, your voice was sugar sweet, melodic and soothing, it was a balm somehow to that pain. Months later he couldn’t say he was rid of it, he never would be rid of the pain he was sure, but it had dimmed somewhat.

His intrigue had turned to infatuation quickly when he finally let himself cast a glance at you. You were attractive to him, very pleasing to the eye though not in an exaggerated way. What made you beautiful was your personality, and it was what brought so many to your side in their efforts to win themselves a chance at capturing your affections. You turned down one after the next, the bonds you chose to make with the rest of the Guard purely founded on friendship and nothing more. Even when you grew those you coveted most it never came close to anything romantic and he was somewhat glad of that. He didn’t want to be the reason you never knew happiness, but he couldn’t help but wish that perhaps you might find it in him. There were other complications with that of course, because how could you ever give yourself to someone so broken? Was he even capable of love? How did you find happiness in someone devoid of it? He had felt it once before and this was so similar…

You had shown up more and more in the throne room, guarding them as they read. If you ever noticed his stare you didn’t say or make it obvious, but you did catch his eye once or twice and the smile you gave him warmed him inside. It had felt awful the first few times because how could he betray Didyme like that? How was it right, how was it fair, that he might get to feel any semblance of joy after his mate had gone unavenged? Was it even possible to fall in love again? Perhaps the centuries had worn away that original bond, but even that felt like a disservice to Didyme’s love, her kindness. It was enduring in ways that nothing else was. Then it hit him, you reminded him of her. The bond he could form with you was not so different to the one he had shared with her, you were too similar for it not to be.

Didyme’s gift had been happiness, the aura so inviting she had infected everyone around her with it, and while you didn’t share that gift you shared that personality. Marcus understood then, why the colour had returned to the halls as he walked them, why the sunshine seemed warmer on his skin as he passed by windows. It was you. Yet more complications came with that revelation because he was growing ever more restless (in his own lethargic way) and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hide it. How did he tell you he had grown to love you for the very same reasons he had loved her? It was like looking at her reflection distorted in a mirror, a different face and different person but the same kind of heart. You had different passions and opinions and a slightly lethal edge to your physical prowess that he found gave him comfort, for it reminded him you were not her and you were able to defend yourself in ways she hadn’t been able to, but it also finally gave him the courage to admit that yes, he did love you, he did love you and he loved you because though you were like her you were not her.

Marcus didn’t want you to think about Didyme though when you spoke to him, he didn’t want you to see yourself as a replacement for a great, epic love. Unbeknownst to him, you had enquired about the sad king the moment you arrived. Marcus’s entire being radiated such grief and pain that it had been impossible not to ask about him, and given your easy to talk to nature (and the fear of what would happen to you if you unknowingly stuck your foot in your mouth) many a guard had happily told you the reasons for his depression.

“Didyme was beautiful.”

“Didyme was always so kind.”

“She made a whole room light up when she walked into it.”

“It was the greatest love story our kind have ever seen.”

Every statement had only made your heart hurt for the man more and more. His pain was so palpable, but his interest was also obvious. For a man so broken by the loss of such a momentous love it was surprising to say the least, but you also weren’t complaining. You had no desire to see anyone feel like he did, to be so trapped in darkness, and you had made it your mission to make the throne room feel a little lighter whenever you walked into it. Marcus was rather attractive in his own way, even with the corners of his mouth pulled down and his eyes so devoid of light. You were sure with a real smile he would look radiant as his eternal youth dictated he should. The day you got to see that first wisp of a smile was the day you became more determined to see it more often. Most people had gotten so used to overlooking Marcus unless he was called upon that you were able to share subtle looks and smiles from across the room with nobody really noticing – you smiled so often it wasn’t an unusual thing to see.

It was getting close to an important anniversary, important in Marcus’s mind anyway. You had been with the Guard for almost a year and people had started to notice the effects on the quiet King. Marcus had taken to wandering the halls more often than before, enjoying the library and the music room. The Gardens would be off-limits for a while yet, the tree planted in Didyme’s honour still blooming strong every year due to Aro’s careful upkeep and too much for his heart, his eyes. It was while admiring a painting in the hall that he came across you.

“Surely, after the length of your stay with us, you have seen this piece before?” his voice was soft, a slight rasp from the disuse and lack of satisfaction in his life that had lasted so long it was difficult to get rid of it. He felt like a schoolboy when you smiled at him, and for once he embraced the feeling rather than trying to shun it.

“I have, still it amazes me.” You confessed.

“There are larger pieces.” He mused.

“Size does not guarantee quality.” Your response was accompanied by a cheeky smile that made his own lips twitch upward, that ghost of a smile upon on his lips making you sigh contentedly. Twice in one day? It must have been vampire Christmas. For a while, you stood in silence and contemplated the painting before you. It was a simple piece of artwork, the Tuscan countryside interrupted by a quaint little cottage.

“What do you see?” Marcus asked you quietly. Head tilting, you hummed thoughtfully.

“I see peace.” You voice was decisive and he couldn’t help but frown. Peace? He had studied art a lot over the centuries and he had to admit, he had never once looked at this piece twice as something he could profoundly evaluate. It was a field, it was a cottage, it was…something that felt very literal in what it was.

“Peace?” he questioned.

You hummed. “The colours are so warm, and the hills just keep rolling. This landscape stretches forever, an endless path of golden light. There is always something to look forward to ahead but so much beauty around that cottage that you would be equally as happy to stay in that moment. To be able to see the beauty in what’s around us…that is the key to peace to me.”

Marcus could only stare at the painting, trying to see what you saw. He had seen nothing but grey for so long that the warm colours still felt faded. He couldn’t really remember what true peace felt like until he became brave enough to stand beside you. You radiated it. You were so content in life it was impossible not to feel the peace of mind you carried with you everywhere you went.

“What do you see?” you asked him. He didn’t dare stare into those wine-red eyes, sure his words would flee him. Marcus cleared his throat slightly, contemplating what to say. The truth was, he hadn’t seen anything in art ever since he began to study it. He had never seen metaphors or symbolism. Art had the potential to be beautiful and breath-taking but he had lost his ability to see it, until recently. There was…something, he realised, the more he stared at it.

“I see a cottage,” he said slowly, “But it is plain. Plain yet…surrounded by warmth. Isolated, and yet beautiful…it is…it feels as though, it could be home.” There was a deafening silence after he spoke, his words carrying more weight than he had first realised, weight you clearly felt. Marcus had lived in darkness, in agony and despair, in shadows, but with you there was light, joy, and beauty. He could live that way again if you allowed him the chance to. He could find that beautiful home in you. His hand was slow, reaching for yours. For a while the tip of his little finger touching the side of your hand was all he felt, not brave enough to go any further but so desperate to. When your fingers twitched, curling around his own to link your pinkies and hold his hand loosely, he knew instinctually that you wouldn’t let go. You would help him take that last step into the light. He didn’t need to be afraid.

“Master-“

“Marcus,” he amended softly, “I wish for you to call me Marcus.”

You nodded. “Marcus, then.”

A startled little laugh escaped him, because Didyme had once said the exact same thing to him. Unknowingly, you had replicated their very first exchange. Surprised red eyes stared up at him – you had never heard him laugh before. He seemed just as shocked since he wasn’t sure he was capable of such a sound anymore.

“You…you are so like her.” he sighed wistfully. In an ideal world she would be here, but…wasn’t this ideal? A second chance was unheard of amongst their kind and he was desperate to grasp it with both hands, but he feared holding too tight and shattering the hope he was unknowingly placing in you.

"Her? I...oh...Marcus..." you trailed off. Marcus finally met your eyes, the depth of sadness in his expression something you knew now you would never be able to fully alleviate, but you could meet him in the sea of his despair and keep him afloat, couldn’t you? This kind man deserved better.

“Forgive me. I had no wish to startle you, but you remind me so much of…of Didyme.” He whispered. Your expression softened, but there was no pity there, no sympathy, only gratitude. His honesty was applaudable and the courage it must have taken to say her name, that he felt safe enough to attempt such a feat with you of all people…you were grateful. Grateful to share this quiet moment with a man you had come to greatly admire, grateful to be held in such high esteem by him.

“That makes me truly happy to hear.” you confessed. Marcus frowned, looking confused.

“It does?” he questioned. You smiled, giving your interlocked fingers the slightest squeeze. Marcus slid his palm against your own, fully taking hold of your hand now he was more confident his affections were not about to be rejected.

“The day I arrived you looked so sad. I asked around, not wanting to say anything I shouldn’t and upset you further. The tales I heard, the descriptions I was given…it is an honour to think I might remind you of her in even the smallest of ways.” Your reassurance was like a warm blanket. Feeling cocooned and safe, he lifted your intertwined hands to brush the lightest of kisses against your knuckles. The tender gesture would have made you blush if you still had the ability.

“She was truly a miracle in my life, yet for all the ways you remind me of her, you seem to have just as many differences between you two,” he murmured, “I confess…I admire the reflection of her I see in you, but I love the little things that mark you as separate from her. It felt wrong to do so, yet I could not help it.” Pursing your lips, you tried to calm your racing thoughts as Marcus watched you for any hint of reaction. He had been open and honest, taken a brave step, and he needed you to meet him halfway lest he retreat back into the shadows. Living in hope was no foreign thing for you and you didn’t just meet him halfway, you anchored him in that hope so he might never retreat again.

“It would be a privilege to help you remember what it is like to be loved.” You assured him. Marcus gave you another small smile. Over time, those smiles grew and grew until they crinkled his eyes at the corners. Some days he laughed. On one rare occasion you had gotten him to dance with you in the music room to the record playing on the gramophone. Bit by bit the light returned to his eyes until he beamed so brightly when he saw you that it was obvious to everyone the Marcus they had once known had been partially revived. Grief was a constant companion but it no longer crippled him, and in the safety of your embrace Marcus felt so far from the shadows he was certain for the first time in centuries that he was finally free of them.

[icefire149]

27

Hey there anon! 

SPN ASK GAME:

27. Make up an episode of spn and give specifics

[You either were galaxy brain for picking this at random or you’ve been reading my tags where I go off on fanfic ideas /spn takes in general / my tags referencing the season 16 fic I’m working on]

Okay so I decided on an episode that would have taken place during the Mark of Cain arc when we had the Cas - Dean - Crowley shenanigans at play. I think I’m gonna place this after Dean gives the first blade to Cas over Crowley. So this is a last hurrah of Crowley being mad at not being Dean’s pick.

This ended up being ridiculously long so....enjoy~

///

It’s day, and the episode opens with Cas leaning against his car. It’s pulled off to the side of an old country road. Eyes narrowing, Cas crosses his arms. “This better be important.”

“Always good to see you too, angel.” It’s Crowley. He comes walking up, hands in his jacket pockets. A devilish smile pulls at his lips. “I wouldn’t have called you out here if it wasn’t of the utmost importance.”

///

Cut to Sam and Dean walking back to the impala. It’s night and they’re both exhausted and nursing bruises. They’re both holding machetes, which they deposit into the trunk.

Sam watches Dean like a hawk. His eyes keep trailing to the mark. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine, Sammy. A little vampire blood isn’t going to push me over the edge.”

“Okay, fine.”

They drive back to the motel to clean up. Some time has passed. Dean starts pounding on the bathroom door. “I’d like to get dinner this century.”

We move to Dean walking in the parking lot, mumbling his annoyance at Sam for taking so long. Just as he get to the car, he’s jumped by a group of people. Bag over his head, tied up, dragged away. He end up at an abandoned warehouse. 

Luckily Sam caught the last bit of that kidnapping and he gets in the car, speeding after them. 

They pull the bag off of Dean’s head. The mark is screaming at him. It’s the rest of the nest of vampires. Turns out the nest was bigger than him and Sam thought. Their plan was to divide and conquer making the boys suffer long, agonizing deaths for revenge. They didn’t expect Sam to burst right in. He passes Dean a machete during the fighting.

Still, they’re horribly outnumbered and they’re getting their asses kicked. Dean gets knocked back onto the floor. His machete gets tossed another direction. Sam takes out the last vamp in his reach. Dean is fumbling for a gun or knife, anything he might have on his person. The vampire gets closer, about to lunge. Sam yells. And then the vampire’s severed head hits the floor. 

“I don’t know what you boys would do without me.”

Dean blinks and stares up. “Cas?”

Dean gets up and Sam jogs over. They’re both staring oddly at Cas. “What happened to you?”

 “I went shopping.”  Cas shrugged. “What? I’m not allowed to update my wardrobe?”

“No..uh..” Through Dean’s perspective we get a good look at Cas’ new look. He’s wearing a new black suit. Finely tailored. Blue gem encrusted cuff links. Hair trimmed and styled in a purposely messy look. Dean’s eyes close in the tiny hoop earring. “Dude, did you pierce your ear?!”

“What!” Sam steps between them and bobs his head around looking at Cas. “Holy shit.” 

“Are we done yet?” Cas rolls his eyes. “I didn’t realize this was going to be such a big deal.”

Sam steps back to stand by Dean. 

Dean started stuttering. “No, uh, it’s fine. You look.....uh, you’re looking real good.”

“Smooth,” Sam leans in and teases. Dean shoves him a bit.

Cas takes a step forward towards Dean. “Thanks.” He winks.

Dean gets massively flustered. 

///

Cut to Dean, Cas, and Sam at dinner. It’s a sports bar location; busy Friday night crowd. They were lucky to snag a table. The waitress is taking their food and drink orders. 

Cas takes one look at the drink menu and tosses it aside. “Just get me what I normally order.” He rubs at his eye.

Sam shot him a weird look.

“What?”

“You don’t normally order anything,” Dean said leaning in close. “You okay? Did some rogue angel scramble your brains while you were gone?”

“Ah, yes. I’m just always as interesting as a wet paper towel I see,” Cas grumbled. “I don’t always order nothing.” He looked at the waitress. “Just get me something sweet. Anything, really.”

She nodded and took off away from the table.

Dean turned to completely to Cas, who was sitting next to him. He studied him. His gut was telling him something had to be off.

Cas meanwhile leaned an elbow on the table, and rested the side of his face in his hand. “What is it?”

“There’s something going on.”

The look in Cas’ eyes brightened. “Oh, you like what you see?”

Dean gets flustered and trips over his tongue again. He turns away when Sam coughs loudly.

///

Cut to Jody’s house. It’s earlier that same day. Claire’s bedroom. She sitting in the middle of her bed with piles of books and papers scattered around her. The lights start flickering. She looks at it sternly and jumps to her feet. The flickering gets worse, and then her expression softens. Then it looks confused. “Cas?”

They have a conversation, but we can only hear Claire’s end of it. 

“Slow down, I’m listening. Okay hold on. Let tell Jody so she doesn’t have a stroke.”

Claire finds Jody in the kitchen getting some pans washed. “Hey, I’m gonna need a rain check on dinner.”

“Why?” Jody turns around to see Claire with a duffle bag slung over her shoulder. “Where are you going?”

Before she can answer, the lights start flickering. 

“Damn it,” Jody mumbles.

“We gotta go! The king of hell took my dad’s body.”

“What?”

The flickering gets worse and Jody puts a hand on her head like it hurts.

“Back off!” Claire yells up at the ceiling. “It’s hard to think with all your worrying. I get it.”

The flickering stops. Jody looks at Claire like she has three heads. “Wanna explain what’s going on.”

“It’s Castiel.”

“Dean’s guardian angel friend?”

Claire laughed at that.  “Yeah. The lights, that’s him. And he’s pissed.”

“Why is he here?”

“He needs to borrow me to get his...my dad....remember he’s wearing my dad as a vessel? The king of hell blasted him out and took his body.”

Jody crossed her arms. “And where do you come into play here?”

“Angel vessels are specific. He took my dad for a reason. I apparently work as a substitute.”

“So you’re gonna let an angel go joyriding with your body?”

“Yes.”

“While he goes to get his revenge on the king of hell?”

“Yeah.”

Sighing, Jody glares up at the ceiling. “I swear to God you better bring her back safely.”

Claire winced. “He says if anything happens he’ll give you an angel blade to finish him, yourself.” Claire looked up at the ceiling. “You’re insane. Don’t be so dramatic.”

///

Move to Claire outside her car. She goes to get in, but then she stops. “Fine I’ll let you drive.”

That’s when we see the angel glow and burst of light. She let Cas in. The light dims and Claire’s expression and posture changes. Cas gets behind the wheel of the car and floors it.

///

“I’ll go get us another round,” Crowley said getting up. Sliding past Dean, he ran a hand lightly across Dean’s shoulder.

Dean grinned and watched with puppy eyes. Not that he’d admit it, but he was enjoying the view.

“Dude,” Sam leaned in. “Seriously, what’s going on with Cas? Did he snap? Witches?”

Dean shook off the feelings he had moments ago. He leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know. He’s been through a lot lately.”

“Yeah, we all have. I don’t see anyone else changing their whole...persona.”

“Fine. We’ll just have to keep an eye on him.” Dean turns and stares for too long at Crowley talking to the bartender. 

Sam sighs.

///

It cuts to the three of them getting back to the bunker. Dean keeps eyeing Crowley, who keeps taking every opportunity to wink or smile when he catches Dean looking. Sam gives up and goes off elsewhere. 

Dean trails off to the kitchen and soon enough realizes that Crowley is following him. “Need something?”

Crowley shrugs. “Nope. Just figuring out how I should be spending my time until morning.”

A shiver shot down Dean’s spine. He quickly opened the fridge and guzzled a bottle of water.

“Thirsty?”

Dean held up the bottle. “A bit.”

Crowley leaned back against the counter. He was fiddling with his cufflinks. “Are you sure that’s enough to satisfy you?”

Dean choked on his next sip of water. He started coughing like crazy. 

“Dean!” It was Sam’s voice from somewhere down the hall.

“Cas, what is up with you? What are you talking about?” Dean stepped closer, ignoring Sam’s calls.

Crowley took a step forward. “Why don’t you find out?”

“Dean! Where are you!” Sam’s voice got closer. “THAT’S NOT CAS!”

“What.”

The kitchen door slammed shut and Dean flew backwards, back against the fridge. 

Crowley laughed. “Oh, that was fun while it lasted. Dean you are way too easy.”

“Who are you?” Dean snarled.

Cas’ blue eyes were obscured with a smoky, demon red. “Miss me, darling?”

“Crowley.”

“Yes,” he gestured down his body with a hand. “Like my new look? I think I’m starting to see the appeal.”

“Get out of him,” Dean lunged forward. 

“Oh, are you sure? You seemed quite pleased all night. You can’t tease and not follow through. That’s just rude.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. He didn’t have any weapons besides basic cutlery. He could try an exorcism, but Crowley would shut him up before he could get anywhere.

Crowley laughed again and took a few steps around the kitchen. “It’s such a shame Cassie doesn’t know how to use his assets. He could have had you tied down in bed ages ago.”

And just then the door flew open. Both Dean and Crowley turned to look, but then Crowley was slammed into the floor.”

“Cl-claire?”

Cas turned to look at him. “Hello, Dean.” His eyes glowed a brilliantly, grace fueled blue.

“Cas!”

He nodded and then turned back to Crowley. “You abomination, what did you do to my body?”

Cas kicked him several times, despite that he was damaging his own vessel. He then threw Crowley into the wall and shoved him in hard. The wall was damaged and cracked. Cas groaned internally knowing that Dean was going to make a fuss about it later.

“I gave you a few upgrades.”

“He pierced your ear,” Sam called standing next to Dean now.

“Among other things. How did you get that other tattoo to stick? I couldn’t get the new one to stay.”

Cas slapped him. “Get out of my body.”

“Oh piss off and make me.”

Sam started the exorcism, and Crowley shrugged under Cas’ force. 

“Whatever, I had my fun. Tested a theory. See you all soon.” And Crowley swirled out of Cas’ body and left. 

Cas laid the body carefully on the floor. He turned to Sam and Dean. “Close your eyes.”

They did, and in a brilliant light Cas left Claire’s body for his own. His vessel was healed of all the injuries he had caused moments ago. 

Claire, a bit woozy, stumbled a bit. “Hey guys.” She looked at Cas. “You should have kicked his butt harder.”

He was busy looking down at his new outfit. “Don’t worry, I’m planning on tearing him into tiny strips of flesh.” He looked up. “It was just...a bit awkward while he was in....”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to damage you either.”

Cas looked at Dean. “What did he mean about, testing a theory?”

Dean averted his eyes, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”

“Hey, Claire,” Sam cut in, changing topics. “Does Jody know you’re here?”

“Yeah, I should call her now though.” Claire went to dig for her phone. It wasn’t there. “Must be in the car.”

“I’ll get a room ready for you to stay the night,” Sam said leading her out of the kitchen.

They leave Dean and Cas alone in the kitchen. They sit at the table. Cas scowls, lost in thought. 

“Are you okay?”

Cas sighs. He looks at Dean. “Yeah.”

“You sure? How did this even happen?”

“He jumped me with a banishing sigil. I’d never seen it before, but it tore me right out of my vessel. He jumped right in before I could do anything.”

Cas’ frowned. “I feel disgusting. Who knows what else he did.”

Dean got up and stretched. “Come on. I’ll show you where Sam hides the good stuff.”

“Dean, I don’t see how alcohol is going to make me feel better.”

Dean laughed. “No. The good body soaps. So you can scrub until you feel like you again.”

“Oh.” Cas got up and followed Dean out. He looked down at the clothes again. “How stupid did he make me look?”

Dean stopped dead in the hallway. Cas collided into his shoulder.

“He didn’t make you look stupid.” Dean’s eyes trailed over Cas again. The knot in his gut was gone. He looked even better than earlier, because he was Cas. “It’s a nice suit.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I miss my coat.”

Dean slapped a hand onto Cas’ shoulder. “No matter how you’re dressed, you look nice. You look like you and that’s what matters.”

Cas nodded and followed Dean down the hallway.

end~