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prismatoxic · 7 months

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okay, shipping brainrot from my last post aside, i'm still thinking about the shapeshifter arc. the other sites i use don't have inline posting or do but it's clunky, so i guess i'm theorizing here. some of this may seem obvious; bear with me, i'm not trying to be patronizing, just working through things. this will probably be long.

(edit: i've since learned there's canon explanations for all of this. regrettably i don't like them. enjoy my ideas of what would be better maybe? but keep in mind i wrote this before i knew it had been explained anywhere else.)

(edit again: i've done a 180 and come fully around on the canon explanations! i have a lot of thoughts about them but this isn't the post for that. anyway i'm disabling reblogs, sorry. you can still look at this if you want)

laios reveals what he knows of shapeshifters, and that they function on memory:

no one ever really suggests in chapters 39 or 40 who thought of which fake except in the case of which ones laios must have thought of, but i want to posit who i think each one came from, and what it means narratively if i'm right. so, mostly a thought experiment/character study that i could be wrong about or that was never meant to be clearly defined in the first place. but maybe fun to think about? (i'm sure other people have done this before too, but i think it'll be fun to write up.)

from the outset, i think it's worth mentioning that chilchuck knows all three laios fakes are, in fact, fakes. two chilchucks say this, but the one on the right is the real one. senshi and marcille immediately corroborate this, though we can't tell which of them it is except that it's not any of the really obvious fakes.

what i think this suggests is that, brought to the surface, the warped perceptions of the rest of the party that chilchuck, senshi, and marcille have can be easily discerned when compared with the real thing. each of these laioses is from one of them, but they immediately figure out none of them are right with the real laios right there in the room. this is important.

as for who's who...

i think it's fair to assume that giant laios is from chilchuck. laios is the tallest member of their party, at six feet; while chilchuck sees marcille and senshi as their correct heights, laios is a giant to him, and his bulky armor doesn't help. that's why, even if this is his perception, it's glaringly obvious that it's wrong as soon as it's made physical. it's the only big one, and easily falls into the camp of "doesn't seem to know much about monsters" that the others also do.

stupid laios is, i think, from marcille. because the giant one is so likely chilchuck's and i don't think senshi sees laios as someone who stupidly wants to eat everything (even if senshi's opinion of him isn't stellar right now, "i have to eat it" wouldn't be paired with being an idiot to senshi), it tracks that marcille would be the one to remember him this way. to someone who doesn't appreciate their monster eating and otherwise thinks he's an idiot just as much as the others do, dumbly muttering about eating things seems like a reasonable portrayal of laios.

feminine laios, then, is from senshi. i think his physical perception of the other party members is the most off-base; this is likely because he's known them for the least amount of time, and his idea of what they look like is based more on their races than anything else. i think the resemblance to falin might not be intentional--someone suggested to me the other day that the dwarf perception of tall-men is probably more feminine in contrast to how Macho dwarfs are. i think that makes sense (if it ever comes up canonically, i haven't seen it yet). laios and falin do just... look like gender-swapped versions of each other, also. so if senshi sees laios as a feminine person, well... that just winds up looking like falin.

so this leaves us with only the real laios. confronted with their perceptions of him, his friends can immediately tell all three are incorrect.

moving on, we eliminate the three most obvious fakes from the rest of the party, starting with marcille:

if we take into account what i just said about senshi, i think this is his. racial stereotypes about elves being what they are, him not knowing the party as well as the other members do... she stands out, and that's why.

now this is where things start to get interesting.

the next two fakes to be eliminated aren't so blatantly incorrect that they can be struck right out at a glance, but it's not hard to notice the flaws when you look closer, and chilchucks A and B are the ones to point it out. chilchuck is naturally observant; most of his fakes seem to emulate this. (the one who addresses the fakes is A, the real one, but B is proving himself able to pick up on the things A notices. this is important.)

notably, chilchuck and senshi assume these must be laios's versions of them.

we can assume this is correct, if we want to. we can take the framing of this as being an intentional reflection of the truth.

or... or... we can look a little deeper. we can wonder if, perhaps, this isn't a reflection of laios, but a reflection of his friends and what they think of him. laios may not immediately notice the problems, but i don't think it's because he doesn't remember these details. i don't think laios sees much of anything in vague terms; he's observant in his own right, but in ways he doesn't really recognize, nor does anyone else. i think he was so focused on their faces and mannerisms that he didn't notice the bigger picture, glossing over something because so many other factors are at play.

senshi and chilchuck think laios doesn't take notice of things, but the vast majority of the shapeshifter arc is about them and marcille not trusting laios's judgement as it is, given how things went recently. is it possible there's more to their assumptions here than what the text explicitly says? i think so!

so then who do these two belong to? marcille, i think.

if we assume dumb laios is hers, then we can also assume her perceptions of the others are kind of broad and vague. she doesn't think poorly of them, necessarily (at least not in as obvious a way as she does with laios, who, i'll remind you, she's currently upset with), but she doesn't commit unimportant details to memory, like chilchuck's neck band or the damage to senshi's helmet.

we've got three more "obvious" fakes to get through, and laios offers another lore tidbit on how the shapeshifters work:

anyway, the first of the next round is marcille again, setting the stage for how these three next fakes are eliminated.

marcille changes her hairstyle all the time, so this isn't a surprise. the last one pictured here winds up being our next fake, as indicated by her grimoire:

so the fake marcille in this section is the one with the most visibly different hair texture (who even draws attention to this), and the spellbook that's woefully incompetent. i think she's from chilchuck.

he's observant, as i said before; even if he didn't commit her hair to memory, he did remember the stuff she's said about how important hair is to magic. maybe that's why the texture is so striking. more importantly, chilchuck isn't wary of magic quite the way senshi is, but he also doesn't understand it. the general tone of the low-quality grimoire also just... sounds like the way he'd frame something like that. (plus, the "how to turn back time" bit is a thing he specifically called her on when she suggested it a few chapters ago.)

so the next fake chilchuck and senshi are revealed via their tools:

i think the chubby-cheeked chilchuck with the simple lockpicks is from senshi, and i think the ordinary-looking senshi with the simple cookware is from chilchuck. the former speaks for itself--senshi sees chilchuck as a child, and knows absolutely nothing about picking locks. as for the fake senshi, chilchuck has a decent mental image of him but knows nothing about cookware.

so now we're down to the final three fakes, and there's only one person left who they could be from: laios. nobody thinks this, not even laios himself, but i want to explore the concept because i think it has extreme merit. the three remaining fakes have some key similarities between them, namely in that they're all close enough interpretations that making a distinction is difficult. they look a tiny bit different, but both the real people and their fakes make plausible cases for why they're the actual person. i want to talk about why i think laios is the one who made that so, and what that means about him.

chapter 39 ends with all his companions--real and fake--doubting his skills. seeing a pattern?

chapter 40 opens with laios determined to regain his friends' trust in him...

...while his friends (and their fakes) talk about how he's liable to like the fakes more, because they're monsters.

this is a needlessly cruel interpretation of laios, but after how things went post-falin-rescue, it's not a surprise. they see him as reckless and single-minded, more interested in the things he's weird about than in the people around him.

laios is really bad at talking about what he's thinking--not because he's hiding it, but because it doesn't occur to him that it's important. meeting the lunatic magician in the paintings is a prime example of this, but he does it a lot. they likely have no idea why he told toshiro about falin and the black magic; to them, laios was being flippant with sensitive information, not worrying about their safety. to laios? he was trying to get help. he trusted toshiro, and his perception of their friendship made him think the information would help them gain an ally who cared about falin as much as they do. he wasn't trying to put falin or marcille in danger--far from it, in fact. but he didn't tell his friends about his thought process. he didn't think it was important to share.

(he's autistic but we all know this. moving on)

so, we have laios's plan: the pairs cook together, while he watches for behavioral differences to discern who's who. it doesn't occur to him, or anyone else, that the people he's watching for mistakes are his own perceptions of his friends. and now we get into the meat of why i wanted to write this post.

assuming i'm correct... let's talk about laios's view of his friends, and how he challenges those perceptions.

starting with my favorite, chilchuck:

chilchuck A, of course, is in fact the real one. this is a pretty significant character moment for him too, in my opinion; we know he has difficulty expressing his emotions, and that a lot of his conflicts so far have stemmed from that. the fact that "chilchuck B asked for help with a menial task" is a gotcha moment to him is... telling. not only because it's so obvious to him, but because it's not obvious to any of his companions. he thinks they know this about him, but he's never openly expressed anything to make them think this is an issue he'd have, in addition to having sought help in the past.

his "convictions and pride and all that" seems to them like someone trying to convince them of something, not someone reminding them of facts he assumes they know.

anyway, back to laios. if we accept that chilchuck B is made from his memories, this suggests several things. first of all, chilchuck B is, despite his softer eyes and willingness to ask for help, still a fairly accurate portrayal of chilchuck. he's easily annoyed and he's observant, two traits chilchuck is known for. i think the reason chilchuck B has the kinder eyes and the more gentle disposition is because to laios, those things are indicative of someone being a good person, and he very much thinks chilchuck is a good person.

we know laios isn't especially good at reading people in general. thus, his idea of who his friends are is skewed in broad strokes, but not in the ways they think. he knows who chilchuck is, but he also associates chilchuck with his own ideas of what makes someone "good", which results in a chilchuck who's less rough around the edges. confronted with this--the real chilchuck asking him if he can tell--laios compares the two and thinks, reasonably speaking, the nicer one who trusts him has to be the friend he respects so much.

senshi and marcille also want to accept this chilchuck, likely for similar reasons. they also respect and care for him; they've seen him go through a lot. laios's ideal of him is just that, ideal. in a roundabout way, it's only their deep fondness for who chilchuck really is that makes them want to see him this way.

next up, we have marcille.

the fake, marcille A, is a radical departure from what makes chilchuck B a fake. laios notes that the real marcille is exactly the same as she always is. the reason, then, that marcille A confuses him--and the others--is that after everything they've been through, their perception of her has changed radically.

if we look back to senshi and chilchuck's marcilles, it's readily apparent when they're eliminated that both interpretations hinge on the knowledge that she performs black magic. senshi's tries to use it to prove herself; chilchuck's has a grimoire loudly proclaiming it's what she does. contrast this to marcille A: she doesn't mention black magic at all, and her grimoire looks strikingly similar to the real one.

that's because laios doesn't think her performing black magic changes anything about who she is. her doing so proved her to be just as dedicated to falin as he himself is, and the knowledge that her goals involve it doesn't faze him. (additionally, marcille has been teaching him magic, and falin had tried in the past. though his image of a grimoire is flawed to someone experienced, to anyone else it looks fine.) thus, marcille A isn't a flagrant black magic wielder; she's someone who's been fundamentally changed by what they--and falin--went through.

let's go back to chapter 27:

chilchuck and senshi are appalled, and will continue to be. while they ultimately don't prevent marcille from doing this, and care enough about both her and laios (and in chilchuck's case, falin as well) to be in tentative support, this changes their view of her in a negative way. she's dangerous now, in a way she wasn't before, but she's still marcille--goofy and a little reckless. thus, their views of her, and the illusions that result.

laios's opinion of her changes for the better.

she is, all at once, both competent and loyally dedicated. she will stop at nothing to help falin. whatever goofiness she exhibited before now is gone, replaced by the cold demeanor of someone who is doing something extremely dangerous for reasons that are inherently selfish, but ultimately too important to reject.

thus, we return to marcille A: cold, sharp, dedicated. not reckless or goofy, but methodical and haunted. she may have returned to "normal" since they left the castle town, but laios's opinion of her, and understanding of her love for falin, has been forever changed.

so faced with the real marcille--still silly, still whining, still frequently annoyed with him--he's confused, because that's deeply familiar, but it doesn't line up with what he knows about her now.

the truth, of course, is nuanced--these things are true about marcille, but only under duress; it's similar to how laios becomes a competent leader when the going gets tough. she has this within her, but it's not her default state of being. still, the shapeshifter picks up on the strongest memories laios has of her, this new interpretation of someone he thought he knew.

now then--onto senshi, the punchline of this particular joke about the differences between the copies. i still think it says a lot.

i think this one speaks for itself, though i find chilchuck's agreement interesting. senshi is the newest member of the team; little is known about him. laios happily notes that senshi "always looks cool" while chilchuck says he looks normal (and chilchuck B insults the real one). laios sees senshi this way because he thinks senshi is cool as hell, and this manifests in an idealized version of a face he's not as familiar with as he is with chilchuck and marcille.

this is clearly comedy, but it also speaks to the same desire to see the best in the rest of the party. marcille is the only one who notices likely because her opinion of senshi isn't so romanticized. chilchuck's senshi, of note, wasn't a perfect replica: we don't see much of him after the obvious fakes are hauled off, but he's a little squashed (he's the top one):

which indicates that chilchuck's visual memory of senshi is already flawed. if we compare this to giant laios and the marcille with the unique hair texture, it tells us chilchuck's attention to detail is more specific than the others'; he can remember the hole in the helmet, the importance of hair, but he doesn't quite see the bigger picture. giant laios is also surprisingly... rugged? which i imagine has to do with chilchuck's perception of him as a tall-man. (or maybe how he clearly has trouble seeing laios's face half the time, lmao...)

anyway. laios thinks senshi is super cool and chilchuck has an imperfect idea of what senshi look like as it is. (i wonder if chilchuck is some degree of faceblind? not enough to not recognize someone at all, but can't pinpoint specifics.)

and so, we arrive at the moment of truth.

so let's go over what i'm theorizing here... all the remaining fakes are illusions based on how laios sees his friends. the illusions manage to make mistakes that reveal the truth to him, but i think the reason for that harkens back to what laios said earlier... the illusions are being updated over time.

laios isn't considering any of the things that give the fakes away until this moment. if it had taken a little longer to resolve things, maybe they'd have started course-correcting, but they aren't given the chance. laios makes sure they aren't--he acts very quickly. even as he presents the three pairs with his findings, he's aware that everything will fall apart as soon as he does... and he's banking on that. while the shapeshifter illusions defend themselves from being killed, he gets right to the heart of the matter in the only way he knows how: confronting the actual monster involved.

when all's said and done, laios reveals how he figured it out:

potentially of note, all of these details happened before the red dragon fight. chilchuck fighting a mimic and revealing his history with them, senshi gushing about the dungeon's ecosystem, and marcille being attacked by the undine weren't super recent memories. when laios brought them forth in his mind, he had a delay before the shapeshifter updated its illusions.

well... except with marcille. marcille A actually didn't show her hand so easily; it was the real marcille's carelessness that proved her identity.

but what this suggests is that, when confronted with the realities of marcille versus his idealized version of her, laios had to make a choice: did it make more sense for her to have been radically changed by the revival and subsequent loss of falin, or was the presence of a marcille he knew so well proof of an illusion? she was the one who was the most different, and as such, the contrast was the same one that eliminated all three laioses at the start: with the real thing in the room, the fake became apparent.

so, to reach a conclusion: one again, laios has proven he's not as scatterbrained as his companions think, but this time he did so on a more personal level than usual. to them, he reveals that he knows their quirks enough to define them by such when they're otherwise faced with convincing copies. to us, the readers, if we accept what i've suggested here... he's revealed a lot more. he respects, admires, and idolizes his friends, all out of fondness: he wants to see them in an ideal way, whatever that means for each of them as individuals.

anyway thanks for coming to my TED talk

#dungeon meshi #extensive spoilers for chapters 39 and 40 but also a little bit 27 too #I REALLY LIKE WRITING META SORRY. THIS IS LONG #tox.txt

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mazikeenhyde · 15 days

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Oh Baby... Pain is Pleasure - Part 6 TEASER

POLY JUDGMENT DAY X READER (WRESTLER)

Y/W/N – Your Wrestling Name

Y/W/N/F – Your Wrestling Name Finisher

WARNING – THESE WARNINGS COVER ALL PARTS OF THIS FICTION/ IMAGINE STORY- THEY MAY NOT BE SPECIFIC TO THIS PARTICULAR PART! -

SMUT, GIRL X GIRL, MAN X MAN, POLY RELATIONSHIPS/SEXUAL, BDSM, BLOOD, SPANKING, VIOLENT REFRENCES, INJURY, ABUSE (CONSENTUAL) CHEATING, STALKERS/ STALKING, SMOKING/ CIGARETTES

TAG LIST - @babybatlover @p0is0nl0ve @babiidee28 @darlingnikkisixx @commandershepardofthedas

Oh Baby…Pain is Pleasure - Part Six Teaser -

“LET ME IN!”

My voice echoed throughout the stadium, the floors shook, and the crowd went wild as tens of thousands of fans lept up to their feet and screamed. The ominous wooden door slammed open revealing a brightly lit spotlight, an empty rocking chair, blown out candles and a smashed lantern...but no one was there. Colorful lights began flashing all throughout the arena as every walkway and set of stairs was drowned out with smoke. Within seconds every inch of the floor had disappeared and all that remained in sight was the four L.E.D posts of the ring, each panel illuminated with grey tv static.

Uncle Howdy grimaced and threw his arms up and towards the Witch who was still stationed above the fake mannequin doll in the centre square. The remaining Wyatt family members all made their way through the ropes and reconvened in the center of the ring, scanning every corner in search for where I could be.

A high pitch whistle came through the sound system followed swiftly by a loud boom from above. This set off a course of flashing white strobe lights and the sounds of screeching alarms as an enormous steel cage was lowered down and around the ring, quickly being locked into place by multiple ring crew.

“Howdyyy” a playful voice sounded out once again from above them as the alarms softened and the strobe lighting faded sightly, giving way to a single spotlight. There I stood, on top of the steel cage twirling around the suspension rope that was locked onto that dreaded frame.

“You want to play games, huh?” I mocked him as I crouched down, smiling at their angry faces. Like rats caught in a trap, they were vulnerable… and they did not like it. Not one bit. Continuously slamming my foot down onto the cage I broke through one of the emergency clips used to hold a part of frame in place and dropped down into the ring, swiftly being caught in midair by an usually tall member of the ring crew.

There I stood, face to face with my demons. All five of them, and they were enraged. I took a step back to create a small gap between myself and the Wyatts, raising the microphone up once more.

“We can play a game… in fact. Let’s play one of my favorites.” I smirked, holding back the humor in my voice as I clung on to the upper hand for as long as possible. As well as the fact that, well knowing Hunter was backstage, I needed to try and keep these promos somewhat PG.

“Welcome… to my little house of horrors!" I motioned around the ring set up before continuing, "See you destroyed my home once; you took everything that was pure and insightful about it. You took all the good that it could have done, and you burnt it… you burnt it to the ground Howdy.” My eyes glared into his, no one yet dared to move a muscle, the battle was set but the war had not yet begun.

“You took every single person that he could have rescued, every life and soul he tried to protect. You stole the light from the fireflies to ignite your own pathway of Hell. You took those who were pardoned from their sins, those who had paid their debts... and threw them back into the flames. But now… Once friends turned to foe, Once a sense of loyalty now enemies by blood. I see you have bought your family with you into battle?” I looked up into each of their eyes as the crowd fell silent and the lights all dimmed throughout the arena, only the ring hidden within a steel cage remaining in sight. I opened my arms out as the ring crew surrounded me, discarding their hoodies.

“Let me introduce you, to mine”

Behind me stood Rhea Bloody Ripley, Damian Priest, Finn Balor & Dirty Dominik Mysterio. Each one dressed in full ring gear attire; each one fueled by the hatred for the nightmare these monsters have bestowed upon their girl. Each one fully prepared to go to the darkest depths of war.

“It’s now or never Howdy, it’s all or nothing. My Championship or my secrets, your family or your legacy. I’ve always been a gambling girl, gotta say I’m rather pleased with the hand ive been dealt, how’s yours looking?”

Howdy took a step forward, followed by each member from opposing family sides standing face on to each other. It was Damian vs Rowan, Finn vs Dexter, Dominik vs Joe Gacy, Rhea vs Nikki & Uncle Howdy vs Y/W/N.

“You are starting a war, a war you can never win Y/W/N” Howdy laughed to himself, grinning at me as everyone else held their emotionless death glares.

“I’m not so sure about that” I smirked looking up and around the steel caged cell, the numerous weapons of torture and mysterious objects hanging from above the rafters on lifelines. I won’t lie, it kind of resembled our bedroom back home.

I smirked and held the microphone up to my lips, “You’re in our world now… and we’ve had loads of practice” I winked before dropping the mic and landing a right hook straight to Uncle Howdy’s Jawline.

The Bell rang.

The stadium erupted.

This. Was. War.

TBC?

#the judgement day #the judgment day #tjd x reader #the judgement day x reader #the judgment day wwe #the judgment day x reader #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley #damian priest x reader #damian priest #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #finn balor x reader #finn balor #wwe #wwe raw #poly!judgement day #wwe x reader

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reidslovely · 1 year

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Hi Bambi! Sorry this is late, but I’m always down to talk about Peter 🕸️❤️ How do you think he’d handle a “there’s only one bed” situation?? I can’t decide if he’d be cocky or awkward lol, but probably both

So glad you’re getting back in the swing of things! (Pun intended)

abby always a joy to see you in my inbox!! and it is not at all late (if anyone is late it is me hehe) requests will be open for quite a while!! i think that this is a very complex question i feel like peter would be too cocky about it to cover up how excited he'd be to share the bed. but at the same time your friends sooo it would be weird right??? let me walk you through it.

please reblog or comment when you like!!<3

Peter Parker ever since you had known him was very shy, and couldn't talk his way out of a wet paper bag around girls. Not in elementary school or middle, and definitely not in high school. Maybe that's why you found the boy next door to be such an interesting person. Nearly six foot tall, eyes that could win any girl over, yet anytime he opens his mouth...pure word vomit. Peter Parker in college was the same, yet by this point he had done the whole boyfriend girlfriend thing and learned to hide his nervousness behind shitty flirting and the cockiness that seemingly flew out of nowhere the middle of senior year.

However that shield broke the moment you checked into the beachside hotel.

It was a gorgeous hotel sitting on the beachfront of Ocean City. Peter had booked the first hotel that popped up, and got the cheapest room they had moments after planning the impromptu spring break trip. However, opening the door he realized why a four night stay was so cheap for two people. A single bed sat in the middle of the pale blue room, the duvet a soft yellow with flowers sitting on the bed.

“Oh I fucked up.” Peter mumbled laughing, tossing a quick glance at you. Hopefully you hadn’t thought this was a part of some long pawn he’d been playing to get you to fall into bed with him after all these years. Making a mental note to have May or you book a hotel for the next trip if there would ever be another trip after this. “Mhm, big time” You teased back sitting on the soft memory foam of the king bed. Peter rolled his eyes playfully, sticking his tongue to his teeth shaking his head.

“You mean you don’t want to sleep with me? Could have fooled me.”

Peter felt like his skin was on fire, he was praying you couldn’t see how red his face was.

You scoffed, eyes following him around the room. “Hey you’re the one who looks like you’re about to burst into flames.” Mhm he was not hiding it well. “Well you’re passing up the chance of a lifetime, there are plenty of girls who would be dying to be where you are right now missy.”

Peter states smugly, placing his hands on the back of his neck, making his torso a perfect target for you to hit him with the pillow you were holding on your lap. “Okay okay I’m serious.” He defends throwing it back, the pillow landing at your feet. “I don’t have the money to afford another room and still be an active participant on this trip so…” He thinks for a moment looking at the couch resting at the foot of the bed. “We can share a bed Peter.”

The words made him want to giggle and kick his feet like a cartoon character. He hid a smirk forming on his lips, clearing his throat. “I mean I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” “We used to share beds as kids.” You stated like it was no big deal. The two of you did share beds a lot until around middle school. Peter remembers being scared of sleeping on your floor so you’d let him into your bed at sleepovers, or Peter insisting that it was ungentlemanly to let you not have the bed at his house so the only explanation was to share.

“Yeah but we were kids, now we are…”

He was getting shy, and he felt so silly over it. Would sharing a bed really change nearly twenty years of friendship?

“Fine, since you’re begging me to sleep with you. I’d be so evil to deny you.” Peter sighs like it is the most annoying situation ever. Hours at the beach took his mind off of what tonight would bring. He got excited and flattered at the thought of sleeping next to you, and felt like he was a kid in the science museum again. Once you both returned to the hotel Peter let you shower while he tried to figure out the best way to go about this. He turned the TV on to kill his mind a little bit, he lies in multiple different ways trying to make it seem as normal as possible yet he felt silly.

Nothing felt natural.

Until you got in the bed with him. Your head on his shoulder as you scrolled on your phone, Peter watching the TV glancing at you occasionally. His hand rubbing your side slowly makes his heart flutter, instinctively he buries his head in your wet hair smiling at the videos on your phone.

“What are you doing weirdo?”

“I love you..I love this.”

He whispers, nudging his nose against your head, it falls out so perfectly. It makes the moment even more perfect. You laugh, not out of disgust or shock but it is a laugh of relief. He sinks down into the bed pulling you with him, holding you closer. Pete hums awaiting a response watching you put your phone down.

“If I knew getting you into bed with me would be what made you finally confess I would have used that years ago.” “Mhm well..y’know what they say.”

“What do they say?”

“Usually I love you too” He snickered, pushing hair from your forehead kissing softly.

“Go to bed” You laugh smacking his chest. Peter hums holding you closer, closing his eyes, head still in your hair. Against his skin hears and feels your soft reply of

“I love you too.”

🩵

hope that tickles your itch abby

forgot to do the taglist on the last few posts but doesn't really matter because some of those I tag never really interact with the fic lol.

@helloheyhihowdyheya @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @megmehz @sincericida @andrews-lovr @eevylynn @a-lumos-in-the-nox

#tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm andrew garfield #tasm peter #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm peter smut #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x reader #tasm spiderman #tasm spiderman x reader #tasm fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #peter parker blurb

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simpingland · 1 year

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Who is Higgins?// Jamie Tartt x neutral!reader.

Being new at Richmond is always complicated no matter how many times you have been there. One lonely Jamie Tartts grows font of Rebecca's new assistant.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You'd rarely been to team parties, but if your boss insists you go, when she's six feet tall, in heels and a smile she rarely gave you, you have to accept. The team had won after a tough period of defeats, and although it may sound childish, you had been through an even worse period. No, you hadn't lost a game, but you'd spent the same hours as the players around the stadium, chasing Rebecca wherever she went. Being new to the building had been harder than anyone could have expected, with Rebecca getting frustrated with the team and equally frustrated with you. She barely left you time to socialise, although at least Keeley had been there every day to give you a smile. You could also add Ted to that short list, of course, who always stopped by to ask you about your day, never mind that you always responded with the boring routine of the day. Coach and Nate gave you little more than a pleasant greeting, and the players...well, to each his own. When you got to work, you had no idea why the arrival of a former player had put all the teammates in such a disgruntled mood. Even good old Dani Rojas didn't agree with the arrival of this Jamie Tartt. At the first meeting with him, you understood everything.

"And who the fuck are you supposed to be now?" he blurted out the first time he saw you enter Ted's office.

"I could ask you the same question." Your sentence was typical of a confident person, too bad that wasn't the case. You could hear the nervousness and surprise in your voice.

"Sure... playing dumb..." Jamie was smiling, laughing at you. He stood there waiting for you to blush, biting his lip flirtatiously and putting his hands on his hips, almost posing. But you did nothing but stare at him in confusion. He was cute, yes, but you needed Ted, not him. "You genuinely don't know who I am...wow."

He went from that pose to that of a normal person and just as confused as you. You were amused then and couldn't hide a smile as you shrugged.

"I'm Rebecca's secretary, if that answers your question. I'm...new."

"Didn't Rebecca already have a secretary?"

"...no. Higgins is the communications director, not secretary."

"Who's Higgins?"

This made you laugh, and although Jamie had been totally serious, he decided to take that as an accomplishment and stood smiling as he waited for you to stop laughing.

"I'm Y/N," you held out your hand.

"Jamie Tartt," he accepted it.

"Oh... you look so familiar..."

"Well, I played for Chelsea until recently."

"Nah, I'm not much of a football fan. Must be something else..."

"Well, I'm quite popular." He put on that star pose again.

"I don't doubt it. It's just that lately I've been a bit... scattered. This job is more stressful than it seems. And I'm new in town, so...I'm going to shut up now, I'm being a pain, aren't I? Yes, I am. I'm sorry."

"Well, it's okay to overshare once in a while. If it's any consolation, I didn't get the best welcome either..." his tone was tender. All that cool guy stuff was behind him. He had hidden his hands in his pockets.

"Gee, I'm sorry. I guess things always get better...at least I'm making some serious dough! God, I'm going to enjoy my retirement so much..."

You watched as Jamie smiled and was about to say something else when Ted walked in with his trademark accent and cheerfulness. You immediately resolved your doubt and said goodbye to both of them, giving Jamie a shy smile.

"Higgins is a cartoon...that's the description I'd give him. He looks like a cartoon." And you walked away.

From that day on, when you passed him, you only had time to say good morning, good afternoon or good evening. You rarely had more than a three-minute walk together, and if you hadn't been so busy synchronising schedules and events for Rebecca, you would have noticed that Jamie was always late at his trainings to walk with you wherever you went.

During the match in which the boys had emerged victorious, two goals (out of three) had been scored by Jamie Tartt, and you noticed at once that in none of them had he been as congratulated by his teammates as Sam had been on his one goal. It was true that Sam was a spectacular boy, but the detachment of the teammates from Jamie was all too palpable. When the game was over, you congratulated Ted, taking advantage of the fact that he had stayed behind, and the smile you received from him was like a fatherly hug, happy to be seen socialising for the first time.

It was Keeley who solved the clothing question, and thanks to her, you were able to avoid the ridicule of wearing office clothes. So a quick visit to your tiny flat and you were ready to have some fun. By the time you got to the club, half the guys were already drunk out of their minds. The first drink was passed to you by Dani Rojas, and you barely spoke to Rebecca because she was too busy dancing with a friend of hers and Keeley. As usual, everyone fell back into their groups, with Ted and the coaches (and Higgins), Rebecca with her girls, and the players. You had no confidence in any of them, though they were too close to you as they danced drunkenly, and coordination was starting to fail them. It didn't take you long to pour your own drink over someone you hadn't seen.

"Sorry!" You turned around and started to swipe your hand without even looking at who it was.

"Relax, it's these wankers who aren't careful." It was Jamie, who had just arrived. And you'd stained his whole shirt with your San Francisco. "I'll forgive you if you buy me a drink."

Before the drink, you went down to the toilets, and wetting one of the towels in that posh place, you tried to get the stain out of the shirt. You watched in the mirror as Jamie enjoyed his look, a shirtless blazer.

"I've always looked good in this outfit," he declared.

"For some reason, it suits you to have worn that outfit to a funeral..."

"And all the little old ladies would faint, and with a little kiss, I'd bring them back to life." He winked at himself.

"I know where I know you from!" He stood expectantly, glad that he could finally pose as a hero. "You were on that couples show! Oh, my God! My grandma had the biggest crush on you!"

Again he turned red, and dropped the pose. He nodded his head as he let you laugh at him.

"I'm not proud of it..."

"Well, you can do a lot of other bad things, Jamie." He smiled warmly at you, still blushing. "You were amazing today. You were a star."

"Thanks, even though I don't feel like one." He leaned against the faucet, leaning closer to you as you finished drying his shirt.

"I've already noticed that the boys... they're still a little stubborn. These things take time."

"I don't really have anything to make up for either, I was never a good team player. And I think the idolatry they had for me has completely disappeared. And now it's totally the other way round. They hate me now."

"Hate is not the word. It's important for you to know that. People hate bad people, and being a bad team player doesn't make you a bad person. Besides... you made them win. That's not so easily forgotten."

"They like you... The boys. They like you. And I like you too."

"Well, I'm glad, and if I'm being honest, I like you the best out of all of them."

"Really? Better than Dani?"

"Yes. I swear."

"Why?"

"Well, you don't overshare your life with just any stranger. I guess you're still special beyond the field."

He was silent for a second. It was obvious then how sad he always felt. As if he had to hold back that insecurity because he had no one to leave it with.

"Thank you for saying that."

"I mean it."

"I know. You're special too."

"Thank you. It's been too long since I've felt like this. I can have my friends and family a phone call away, but over time, they become things that only exist on the phone, nothing more."

"I live here. If you need to talk, just knock on my door."

"So invite me over."

"Whenever you want."

To you he meant it as a joke, but not to Jamie. He had rarely let people he knew (and liked) stay at his house for more than a day. The only exception had been Keeley. And he had never had the urge to talk that much with anyone else. But in that bathroom of pink lights, with your hair tousled and smelling of vanilla and cocktails, your company was all Jamie wanted.

When the t-shirt dried, you were encouraged to go upstairs again. You tried to pay for the drinks, but Jamie spoke to Isaac, to whom he explained that he had spilt your drink on him. And the captain apologetically invited you both to the next round.

"Propose a toast!" You shouted in Jamie's ear, the music was too loud. "To Sam and the team! That's a nice gesture!"

Jamie looked surprised at the idea but nodded and got the attention of the whole team, the coaches, and even your boss.

"Oi! A toast! For Obisanya, you're a fucking champion! WE'RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE!" once he started singing, everyone sang along with him. The euphoria made them sing the song assigned to Jamie and sooner than expected, the footballer was pushed into the group. You smiled at him from afar, lonely but happy to see him join the group. Jamie was quick to gently take your hand to include you in the circle.

Everyone was dancing, and the first drink began to rise gently, just enough so that you could let yourself dance. And although you weren't particularly good at it, you could tell you were enjoying it, and the usual glow of enjoyment began to decorate your cheeks. Jamie didn't miss that glow for a second. He had gone only because Ted had mentioned that you were going to the party, and he was glad (for the first time in his life) that he had listened to the American.

The night went on like that, as did your walks in the stadium, with meaningless but fast and funny conversations, Jamie teaching you his "captivating" dance steps while laughing at your "captivating" steps. Neither of you ever got drunk because the drinks were slowly running out. You were too entertained by each other. He ran his hand around your waist, and every time he spoke to you, he put his lips to your ear as you put your lips to his ear. So most conversations were held with our faces too close together, but his breath smelled of cocacola and some mint. Jamie's eyes were lighter than you'd think, and he had a laugh that was easier to get out than the journalist would think.

Nothing happened that night, he just kissed you on the cheek, but you, being the most awkward person in the world, were clumsy enough to kiss him too close to the mouth. And if that wasn't enough, the reaction was similar to that of a child seeing a spider, with a compressed scream and jumping backwards. Jamie just laughed at you.

The following Monday, he came back to Rebecca's office with you. He was already showered from training and seemed to be in a hurry. When you got to one of the corridors with stairs, which was deserted at that hour, Jamie stopped you and put his hand on your arm.

"I know who Higgins is!"

"Jamie, you scared me." You started to laugh, between his look of delight at having understood who Higgins was and at the fullness of having described him so well. "He's a fantastic man. He told me the other day about his wife, they're so cute, they've been together for like twenty years--"

Jamie's hands moved to stroke your hair, and you let him kiss you. Slowly but intensely, you leaned against the wall as you kissed him back. You'd been looking forward to it all weekend, and you could tell he had too. When you pulled apart, Jamie looked a little embarrassed.

"Sorry...it's rude to interrupt. It's just that the other day I couldn't sleep, the kiss you gave me was right under my left nostril...or right, whatever. And it smelled like lip balm. And it smelled fucking great. And I haven't stopped thinking about you all weekend."

"I spent all weekend thinking about how your face stung a little, but it was still strangely soft..."

"Thank you..." he smiled confidently and kissed you again. You weren't being very professional, but after all that stress, you deserved some fun at work. Jamie tasted like mint and smelled like cookies and leather. He broke the kiss for a second. "Oh, no..."

"What's wrong?"

He smirked again, and you were reassured by that mischievous look he wore whenever he knew he was going to score a goal. "Your grandma's going to be jealous..."

#jamie tartt reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x neutral!reader #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfiction #phil dunster #jamie tartt fluff

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goodqueenaly · 5 months

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Hello Good Queen Alysanne, I have a few questions about Gerold Lannister. Why do you think he and Rohanne Weber eventually got married, given that the latter didn't initially consider him as a suitable suitor?

Do you think Gerold had a hand in the death of his niece Cerelle?

Is there any textual evidence that suggests he had an influence on Tywin, given that both of them appear to be politically astute?

Long, more under the cut:

With respect to why Rohanne married Gerold after Eustace’s death, I think it’s important to keep in mind that Rohanne was already attracted to Gerold during the time of “The Sworn Sword”:

[“]Were I given to wagering, I should place my gold on Gerold Lannister. He has yet to put in an appearance, but they say he is golden-haired and quick of wit, and more than six feet tall … [sic]” "… [sic] and Lady Webber is much taken with his letters." The lady in question stood in the doorway, beside a homely young maester with a great hooked nose. "You would lose your wager, good-brother. Gerold will never willingly forsake the pleasures of Lannisport and the splendor of Casterly Rock for some little lordship. He has more influence as Lord Tybolt's brother and adviser than he could ever hope for as my husband.["]

Now, during the events of “The Sworn Sword”, I could see where Rohanne might have thought Gerold was not ideally suited to be her husband, especially given what she needed on a politico-dynastic level at that moment. Rohanne’s primary concern was not simply to marry, but to marry a husband who would help her maintain the delicate political position she occupied. As both a ruler in her own right and the heiress of her father’s very specific will, Rohanne needed a husband who would be both willing to serve as consort to her as lady regnant of Coldmoat and available as a spouse when the second anniversary of Lord Wyman’s death passed. Gerold might have inherited all the Lannister wit and good looks, and might have written Lady Webber some charming letters, but as Rohanne wryly noted to the septon, Gerold seemed to have little incentive to leave Casterly Rock to become her lord husband, especially in the short time she had left at that moment to remarry. If Rohanne believed that she could not lure Gerold Lannister away from the Rock, much less in a very timely fashion, then I think she concluded that Gerold was not a good choice to be the next Mr. Webber, so to speak, no matter how much Rohanne might have personally liked him.

However, after Ser Eustace’s death, Rohanne may have felt quite differently about her position and her nuptial future. The terms of her father’s will dictated that Rohanne be wed by the second anniversary of Lord Wyman's death, and by strict definition, Rohanne had done just that: with the second anniversary of her father's passing occurring within “the next new moon” of the septon’s conversation with Dunk, Rohanne had definitively become a married woman by the deadline of the will. If Ser Eustace had then died sometime thereafter, there may not have been much cousin Wendell or Lord Rowan could have done to assert the will’s provisions in their favor; after all, nothing in the will, so far as we know, said Rohanne’s husband on the day of that anniversary had to stay alive for a set amount of time after that date. Rohanne was now (seemingly) unquestionably, (seemingly) irrevocably, Lady of Coldmoat for the rest of her mortal span - still subject, of course, to all the sexist and patriarchal prejudices of Westerosi society, but free to marry without the shadow of the will hanging over her.

In that sense, a romance with Gerold - and I do tend to think it was a romance, Septon Sefton seemed to catch onto a real and mutual sense of personal attraction there - might have appealed to Rohanne at that place in her life. She who had been married five times, never apparently (or certainly primarily) for love, now could think first of herself, as a person, when it came to the question of a future marriage, secure as she was (or ever would be) in the question of her ancestral holding. If one of the richest and most powerful lords of the realm still wanted to marry her after Eustace’s death (and Gerold was probably Lord of Casterly Rock himself by that time, given that his niece Cerelle died in 213 AC, within two years of Rohanne's marriage to the aged Eustace), perhaps Rohanne believed he must have been truly in love with her, rather than just her title and castle. No longer as anxious, perhaps, about keeping a firm grip on Coldmoat lest it be wrenched away from her, Rohanne may have felt more free to consider a marriage that would inevitably take her away for significant periods of time from the Reach (and may have felt consoled by the fact that Gerold as a lord husband would be a pretty intimidating figure for her ostensible Rowan overlords). Already having been attracted to Gerold for some time, finally free to marry as she chose, secure in her holding (or, again, as much as she could be as a woman ruling in her own right) and perhaps believing that Gerold loved her for herself, Rohanne I think was ready after the death of Eustace Osgrey to marry Gerold in a way she hadn’t been when the events of “The Sworn Sword” occurred.

As far as Cerelle goes, I tend to think no, Gerold did not murder her. Unlike, say, Viserys II, who I definitely believe murdered nephew Baelor (in what GRRM may portray as an internal character conflict for Viserys), I don’t see the motivation for Gerold to do the same to his niece. As regent for a toddler lady regnant, Gerold already held all the power in the Westerlands, and would do so for at least the next decade, if not considerably longer. Where Prince Viserys was, perhaps, constrained, and frustrated, by the will of an adult, male, very much self-assured kingly nephew, Gerold had a free hand as Lady Cerelle’s regent for every legal, military, and diplomatic decision made in the Westerlands, and would for the long foreseeable future (and indeed, there would be aspects to Cerelle’s rule as Lady of the Rock, that Gerold, as her nearest male relation, would likely always have (until and unless she had a husband or son), like the position of Warden of the West). Rather, I think we are supposed to see Gerold and Rohanne as parallels here: just as Rohanne was wrongly suspected for the deaths of some of her husbands and her children (although two of those deaths were very naturally explained by Rohanne herself), so Gerold was, I think, wrongly suspected of the deaths of his brother and niece for what may have been (especially in the case of his niece) the simple bad luck of a physically perilous pseudo-medieval world like Westeros. I certainly could see that shared unhappy experience drawing Gerold and Rohanne together; conversely, I cannot see Rohanne, who fought so hard to assert herself as Lady of Coldmoat in her own right, falling in love with a man she might have reasonably suspected murdered his liege lady-niece to become a lord himself.

As far as Tywin goes, it’s important to note that Tywin never knew his grandfather in the latter’s own lifetime: while baby Tywin supposedly bit grandfather Gerold’s finger upon their first meeting, Gerold died when Tywin was only two. Consequently, Gerold was probably more known to Tywin by his reputation, and perhaps increasingly by his legend. As the rule, or misrule, of Tytos Lannister continued, and Lannister authority in the Westerlands imploded, perhaps Tywin looked back nostalgically to the days of “Gerold the Golden”, the intelligent, shrewd, able lord who “greatly increas[ed] the wealth of House Lannister, the power of Casterly Rock, and the trade at Lannisport” (much as, say, I think various generations of Targaryens have looked back to Jaehaerys I as a sort of ideal king presiding over a golden age for the dynasty). This, so Tywin may have thought, was the sort of lord the Westerlands needed - not his, Tywin’s, weak, genial, overly generous father, but his strong, confident, capable grandfather. Too, with young Tywin serving as a page and cupbearer at the court of King Aegon V - a king who had ascended the throne in no small part thanks to the arguments, and the gold, of Gerold Lannister - I could see where Tywin might have seen his grandfather embodying a much better relationship between House Lannister and the crown than his father did: while in the west Lord Tytos was bungling the rule of his domain so badly that King Aegon V had to send in his own knights multiple times to keep order, at court Tywin might have been hearing courtiers’ nostalgic stories of the great Lord Gerold who had not only kept peace in the west but whose generosity with word and coin had given the king his crown. While we don’t know much about the specifics of Gerold’s rule, and so don’t know what he did in particular that Tywin may have sought to echo or recreate, I can certainly believe that Tywin wanted to model himself, to some extent, on his grandfather for his, Tywin’s, rule as the future Lord of Casterly Rock.

#asoiaf meta #gerold lannister #rohanne webber

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wardenparker · 1 year

Text

The King's Queen - chapter 2

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Prince Javier of the Balearic Islands has always known that one day he would have to follow in his father's footsteps to be the caring and steadfast king that his people deserve. What he did not know is that he would be stepping into the next phase of his life alongside a woman he has never met before - and amidst a rocky sea of unusual circumstances of every kind.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 16.2k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: arranged marriage, age gap, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, mentions of American politics, deceased parents* Illness/cancer, not the world's best father/son relationship, absolutely pure fucking fluff 🧡 Summary: Your first encounters with the king are somewhat less successful than you hope, but every moment spent with Javi seems to be more and more wonderful. Notes: I have nothing to say for myself...I just really, really love these two 🥰💖👑

Ch 1

“Welcome home, Princess.” He uses the title that will be yours for only a few days between the wedding and the coronation.

Princess. It’s that fairy tale that so many little girls all over the world harbor in their hearts and imaginations. For you it’s been a mixture of dreaming and anticipation over the years. Now that it’s so close, and he is the one calling you by the title, it feels more surreal than ever. “Thank you, your Highness.”

“Come.” Javi decides that he will show you to the throne room to greet the king before showing you the suite he had picked out for you. “My father will be waiting in the throne room.”

“That sounds very official.” The two of you walk side by side, and the way people pause in their step to bow or curtsy to him as you pass by is like something out of a movie. Keeping your head high, you do your best to keep in step with his long strides as he moves confidently through the halls. Turn after turn and hallway after hallway until he stops in front of a broad set of ornate double doors and a pair of footmen in elaborate uniforms open them to admit him – and you by proxy. It’s smaller than you expect, this grand throne room with its dais on the other end that has one great chair in the center with an older man sitting there at attention. The uniform and crown are as imposing as they are obvious, and you’re suddenly shaking with nerves as you stop in the middle of the hall to curtsy as deeply as you can manage.

“Just breathe.” Javi can sense the change in you, knowing you are nervous to meet the man who had arranged your marriage to Javi along with your parents and his mother. “At the end of the day, he’s just a man.” He murmurs quietly.

"He's my father-in-law." You whisper back, shooting the man who will soon be your husband a pointed glance even with your head bowed. In your general experience, fathers-in-law can be more troublesome than any other person in a relationship.

"You may stand." The king's formality is front and center as he sits up rail straight on his throne. When you obey him, you hold your head up tall and square your shoulders: the picture of a daughter who is used to being inspected. He will have to commend your father for that. "Come here," he instructs, motioning to the space in front of him. It takes everything in you to just breathe as you walk, stepping forward maybe six feet to stop at the foot of the dais. You've met multiple presidents, had dinners at the White House and outings with First Children. Photo ops with First Ladies and other Congressional children. You can do this. It's only terrifying because these people – this place – are the rest of your life.

Javi wants to huff and roll his eyes, because formality should be dispensed with, but he doesn’t comment. Instead, he comes to stand beside you as the king stares at you. Wanting to ask if you pass inspection.

“How did you find the flight?” A little small talk never hurts anyone, and the king indicates with one finger that he wishes for you to turn in a circle.

“It was very comfortable, your Majesty.” When you turn you glance up at the prince and try to give him even a momentary glance of reassurance. “The staff was wonderful and kind.”

“And how do you find the prince?” He is pleased with your looks, although he doesn’t care for the dress you’re wearing. He’ll have to have a word with your maid about wardrobe choices.

“I look forward to getting to know him better.” This time you don’t have to make the smile small or glance short, and you look to your side with a glowing smile. “He has been a wonderful guide. And, again, very kind.”

“Yes, Javier was quite insistent on meeting the plane to show you in himself rather than our formal introduction.” Miguel’s tone is disapproving, and he doesn’t spare his son a look as he stares at you. Wanting to gauge if you whither under pressure or if the calm look of confidence is genuine.

“With respect, sire, I can appreciate the prince’s preference.” Maybe more people would grovel – maybe you should grovel and cave to a king – but that’s not your style. Your father taught you to obey, of course, but also to be confident in the face of new situations. “Formality and tradition are admirable, but the relationship between a couple, any couple, must have room for some kind of comfort. Especially in the beginning.”

Miguel’s brow raises minutely, fully aware that his willful son is practically beaming beside you. Years of bearing are the only things keeping the riot of pain that flashes through him to run across his face. “Very well.” He grunts a long moment after the pain passes. “We shall dispense with formality tonight at dinner.” He nods and then motions to Javier. “Show your queen to be her rooms, Javier.”

Unsure of what would be correct to say, you simply curtsy and murmur a polite, “Gracias.” Before standing and following the prince out of the throne room. It’s stifling in there, appropriate since it is a room constructed for the sole purpose of being imposing, and once you’re out in the hall again you breathe slowly. “How much does he hate me?” You ask quietly, looking up at the man beside you for some kind of gauge of how you did. It was only a few sentences and the king’s expression inscrutable.

“He is impressed with you.” Javi chuckles. “Less with your dress, but with you? Very impressed.”

“My dress?” With all the thought you put into it, you still managed to make the wrong decision and you close your eyes momentarily against your disappointment in yourself. “I don’t know how you figured that out from just him looking at me, but I’ll change before dinner.”

“Do not change.” Javi implores you. “It will be perfect for a non-formal family dinner. The king is just…proper at all times.”

“I can’t imagine anything in a palace being informal.” With a shake of your head and another deep breath, you nod. “Alright. I won’t change. Since you don’t want me to.”

Guiding you through the palace, Javi starts pointing out different wings and areas. Mentioning where the kitchens and the dining rooms are, alongside the ball room as he makes his way to the family quarters. “Here is where we live, keeping away from the working side of the house. We have another set of kitchens and a movie room over here.”

It’s unbelievable to hear him call this building as big and busy as two city blocks a house, but of course that’s what it is to him. He lives here – his whole family does and probably always has. “Are we ever allowed to cook, or is that considered rude?” The question seems simple, but nothing about your new life is simple. “I mean…you have a screening room. Would it be improper for us to make our own popcorn?” You know he loves movies, so you lean into that to try to give him some common ground to tread on.

“There is a kitchen in our section of the house.” Javi nods. “If you like to cook, no one is going to tell the queen she cannot.”

“It may take me a little time to adjust to all of this, but I assure you I won’t do anything to embarrass you. That’s partly why I’m asking now…so that I don’t misstep.” The titles throw you off kilter more than you expected, but you nod in reciprocation and try to be confident in your smile. He is leading you toward an elaborately gilded set of white double doors that seems to be guarded - or at least watched - by yet another of the endless amounts of footmen in the palace.

“I have chosen your suite myself.” He admits, biting his lip and hoping that he had chosen well. “I made sure that you are close to me, a view of the ocean outside your balcony.” You would stay separate until your marriage of course, but if you wanted to continue to keep your own rooms, he would not object. It would be wrong of him to force intimacy.

“Which way are you?” There is another set of doors at the end of the hallway and a set almost directly across the hall from you, but after passing so many similar closed doors on the way here, you wouldn’t presume to guess which set is his. “I mean…” you stammer, realizing that might sound too eager. “In case you…send for me…or something.”

Javi decides that he will show you his room first, slowing down to the door that leads to his room. “Here I am.” He offers, opening the double doors and motioning for you to enter if you want.

You hadn’t meant to ask for a tour, but when it’s offered you step inside carefully to take in the surroundings. It is elaborately decorated, of course, with a colour scheme of blue and white and dark woods that makes the already high ceilings feel like they reach clear into the sky. Plush upholstered sofas around a low table and a large desk occupy the front room, and the open door to the bedroom allows you just a peak of the four-posted bed in the same dark wood with blue bedsheets and fresh white flowers on the bedside table. “I think I would never leave, if I were you.” You offer him a smile, seeing the books left strewn on his desk while everything else is immaculate. The staff must be instructed not to tidy that particular piece of furniture.

“There are days I would love not to leave my room.” Javi promises, biting his lip when he realizes how it sounds. Your room is mirrored to his, although the color scheme is green. He hopes you like the color. There is also a connecting door to the suites, although it is currently locked. “Shall we see your room now?”

“Please.” You don’t call out the comment because there’s no chance in the world that he would flirt with you after just meeting, but that doesn’t stop your smile from growing when you follow him – back out of the front room of his suite and to the set of gilded double doors right next door.

“This is your home now.” He assures you with an excited grin, looking over his shoulder at you before throwing the doors open and stepping back so you can see the space he had arranged for you.

“Oh…” A small gasp escapes you when he steps back, letting you see the entirety of the beautifully decorated space for yourself. The dominant colour is a beautiful spring green, with white and gold accents to keep it from being overwhelming. The effect, along with the dark, walnut coloured furniture and beautiful paintings on the walls is to be both welcoming and luxurious in a way that steals your breath. “It’s…it’s beautiful.”

“Besides my room, this is a favorite.” Javi admits, striding into the room so he can open the double doors that lead out onto the large balcony. “Coffee out here in the mornings is wonderful.”

The view is of the cliffside that you approached on your way from the docks, but since you’re currently on the second floor you feel like you’re floating in the air as you look out over the scene. “If you ever lose me, I’ll be right here,” you joke quietly, coming up next to him to admire the view. There are no swimmers this evening but a few boats on the horizon, and the trailed purples and pinks of the setting sun to tell you that you are in the east wing of the palace. “Sunrises here must be stunning.”

“They are.” Javi nods, looking out over the beautiful scene for just a moment before he looks back at you again. You’ve gone dreamy eyed and soft as you lean against the railing of the balcony and look out over the water. “I used to jump off the cliffs right over there.” Javi points past your left where the island sticks out at a point. “Normally trying to do it right as the sun broke over the horizon. Thinking I could become a merman and swim away.”

“If any place in the world has the magic to make it happen, I think it might be here.” Yet you can just imagine the heart attack it must have given his mother to discover that her little boy was cliff jumping of all things. The tenacity of it almost makes you laugh when you look back at him. “Thank you.” The words are soft but you mean them. “For not disliking me on principle. I know neither of us asked for this, but I will try my hardest to be good to you.”

“I did not react very well at first.” Javi admits, frowning as he looks out over the water again, ashamed for the first time. “Nothing against you, I was born with my future set. Nothing mattered but the crown. Becoming king. I could not write movies or become an actor. Fly planes or go to the moon.” He sighs. “But I could choose my queen. Or so I thought.”

“I’m sorry.” You are no more to blame for the circumstance than he is, but you hate to see hurt in his eyes. Or any kind of regret. It hurts your heart in the most unexpected way. “I have had my future set for me, as well. But at least I knew who you were. You should have been told, and I am very sorry that you weren’t.”

“My father knows I would have tried to contact you.” He hums. “To find out what you are like. My parents were arranged.” He explains. “They knew each other for one year before they married and he thinks that it is best to not know about the other until we are able to live together.” It didn’t make sense to him, but he doesn’t know if his opinion would have been different if his mother would have lived.

“We don’t have the luxury of a year anymore.” A fact which benefits no one and probably hurts him much more than it seems at first glance. All you can do is what you’ve been told is now your job for the rest of your life - support him. “Well…I’m here now. We’ll make the very best of everything that we can.”

“Do you want to marry me?” He asks suddenly, feeling that is the most important question. Beyond being told to, if you aren’t willing, he will defy his father’s wishes. “I am not— I do not force my will on others.” Ironic since his will becomes law when he is crowned king.

When you pause, it’s not because you dislike him. Or because you necessarily dislike the situation you have found yourself in. “No one has ever asked me that before,” you admit, seeing fear flit behind his eyes when you don’t answer him immediately. “It’s not an easy or simple question. Just like this life is not easy or simple.” Taking a deep breath, you imagine every day of your childhood where you had false friends and assigned playmates. College with its challenges and misunderstandings. The last few years of a career you knew was doing good work but felt empty at the end of every day. All the short relationships that seemed never to mean anything. Here, with him, there might be a chance for meaning. There is hope, at least, and that is surprisingly more than you’ve felt in a long time. “But I’ve spent my whole life preparing myself to do this. To support you, or help you, or even to stand back and be a silent shoulder to lean on if that is all you wanted from me. I—I want you to succeed. And I think that I can help you with that. So…yes. I want to marry you.” But you won’t ask him to love you. That would either come or it wouldn’t, and to force it would be even worse.

“Do you want…love?” Javi asks softly, not expecting your thought-out answer. You had been trained for him. Handpicked by his parents and educated to be his partner, probably even encouraged to adopt passions he enjoys. “Between us? Or do you not think that possible?” He pauses. “Do you resent me?”

“I did. For a time, when I was younger.” You simply can’t see lying to him as having any benefit at all, even if the truth isn’t pretty. Lies are what you’ve seen your father spin time after time, campaign after campaign. They never last and they certainly don’t make a good foundation for a relationship of any kind. “I…” Your eyes drop nervously. “I wish for love. Everyone does. Or at least I would hope that they do. And I don’t think it’s impossible that we could have it, just because we were arranged. I just…I would never ask you to pretend or to force yourself. If we spend our lives as friends, that’s still more than a lot of other people get.”

“I wish for love too.” Javi admits quietly, leaning both arms against the railing. “I did love.” He knows you need to understand the sometimes ugly dynamic of his family. Especially if you are going to be queen. “Gabriela, I asked my father for permission to marry her.” He looks over at you apologetically even if he had not known about you at the time. “He refused for reasons I now understand, but I was heartbroken. My cousin Lucas married her. For spite, to taunt me, who knows? He had never been interested in her until I asked.”

“Forgive me for saying so, but I don’t think I like your cousin very much.” If that’s the sort of way he behaves, you can’t see liking either this cousin or Gabriela very much. The two of you have inched closer to each other at the balcony railing without realizing it, but when you look up at him again he is closer than you last remember. “Do you…” Breath sticks in your throat nervously. “Do you want to marry me? I know you said it would be dishonorable according your father to step away from this, but I won’t force you.”

“My mother chose you.” He looks down at his hands for a moment before he looks back into your eyes. “I don’t know much about you, but I don’t believe that she would choose someone who she didn’t believe would fit me.”

“I was barely out of diapers when our parents agreed to this,” you remind him quietly. “But…my father says I’m like her. And our mothers were good friends.” It doesn’t necessarily signify anything, but it seems to comfort him, and there’s value in that. “Before she died…your mother used to send me a birthday gift every year. Your father continued the tradition after she passed. I don’t…I assume you don’t know that.”

“No, nothing.” Javi frowns, turning towards you and tilting his head curiously. “What kinds of gifts would he send you? Please tell me it wasn’t the political books he would gift me.”

“No.” It actually makes you laugh a little, knowing you would have devoured whatever was sent no matter what. “Sometimes it was books or films. Other times it was art. Twice it was jewelry. I think…I think they may have been things that you like, but there was never an explanation or letter than came with them. Just the gift and a card each year.”

“I love movies.” His eyes flash with excitement and he leans towards you. “What is your favorite movie?” He asks eagerly.

He lights up with the question, giddy and excited, and it’s possible that he’s never looked more handsome to you than right now. “Moonstruck.” You tell him honestly, wondering if he might find the choice of a love story to be a little silly.

“Nic Cage.” His smile widens and he leans in. “He is my favorite actor. I love all of his works.”

That does explain the heap of Nicolas Cage movies you were sent for your sixteenth birthday. But instead of pointing it out, you nod and return his smile to encourage him. Maybe if you can open up to each other, you can find that common ground that you need. “What is yours?”

Javi bites his lip and shakes his head. “You will think it is silly.” He admits, but your eyes are begging him to tell you and it’s only fair that he return the sentiment since you had told him your favorite movie. “Okay.” He leans into you even more. “My favorite movie is Paddington 2.”

Surprised to not hear a Nic Cage title, you tilt your head in consideration before admitting, “I’ve never seen it. Would you…want to watch it together? Maybe?”

“You’ve never seen it?” Javi shakes his head and looks completely flabbergasted. “Of course we can watch it. As soon as possible. You have to see it.”

“As soon as you want.” Anything that could make him smile like that will be worth it. The magnetism of his happiness is rather remarkable.

“Tonight will be too soon.” He frowns, as if he is reminding himself. “You will be jet lagged, so we will do it another day, sí?”

“I slept on the flight.” You promise him, hating to see the light leave his eyes. “We can watch it after dinner if you want to?”

“I will not blame you if you fall asleep.” He promises, nodding. There is a discreet knock on the door and it is pushed open, the butler for the family quarters bringing in your luggage.

A woman around your own age comes in with your things and glances out at the balcony before directing herself into the suite’s bedroom with your belongings. “Who are they?” It might be ignorant to ask, given that both people seem to be wearing a uniform, but this is your very first day of palace life.

“That is Frederica.” He murmurs softly. “She is your lady’s maid. She is here to assist you. Her mother served mine and now she will serve you, if you approve.”

"I can't see any reason why I wouldn't." Short of having the woman actively sabotage you, which would seem like a terrible choice for everyone involved, all you can think is to be grateful to even have the help. "Is it alright if I go and introduce myself? Or would that be...odd?"

“It would not be odd.” Javi chuckles quietly and thinks that it’s cute that you are so worried about mistepping. “It will be very good. Frederica knows that you are important, but she does not know yet that you are here to be my queen.”

"If I say so, then word will get around." There's a seriousness in your eyes when you look at him again, and you try not to give in to the nervous habit of biting your lip. "I don't really know what I would say of myself, but I won't mention it if you don't want me too." If you're not sure, says the anxiety in the way your shoulders tense.

“No one knows about the king yet.” Javi cautions. “I am sure there are rumors, but I see no problem letting her know that you are my intended. Since we are to be married so soon.”

"I'll be back in just a moment." It's funny to you how you actually don't want to leave his side. You've become attached to him so quickly that you have to acknowledge that it's actually lucky, in a way. But you offer him a smile before slipping away, looking both ways in the suite before you see through the giant double doors that open into your bedroom. Frederica is carefully unpacking your clothes into an armoire when you cross the doorframe and you clear your throat gently to get her attention. "Perdóname." Don't be timid says your father's voice in your head. "Hablas ingles?"

Turning, the young woman sends you a polite smile, standing and the curtseying formally. “Sí, yes, I speak English, madam.” She offers quietly.

“I wanted to introduce myself.” Your name seems so simple and almost small considering there is a prince on the balcony, but you offer it anyway and with a smile. “It must have taken you a lot of hard work to be able to work in the palace. I—I’m grateful to have someone knowledgeable to help me.”

It takes a moment for her to make the translation in her mind and when she does, her smile grows wider, friendlier. “Thank you, madam.” She nods again. “I will help you whatever you need. You just tell me what you what and I will help.”

“Gracias, Frederica.” If you were at home you would shake her hand, but here that isn’t really the same sort of option. You take another step forward out of nerves and bite your lip, knowing that this woman will be the one who lays out your clothes and cares for your things and keeps your life in order as you get busier and busier with things to come. “I will need lots of help very soon. There will be plenty to do before the wedding.”

"Si, madam." She ducks her head and there is slightly straightening to her shoulders in pride. "You will have to meet the potential ladies in waiting. They will assist you with the majority of the planning. I will do whatever you need of me." Her eyes slide towards the wardrobe. "Including assisting you in choosing clothes that are appropriate for events."

“I am more than sure that the king will have opinions on what is most appropriate.” If he is anything like your own father, he will likely try dictating things outright. At least at first. “But the prince’s opinions will weigh more heavily on my heart.” A small smile comes to your lips that you simply can’t stop. “Any gifts from my husband-to-be or things that he indicates he likes best will likely be worn more often.”

Frederica nods quickly, making a mental note of that for you and smiles and whimsy of it. "Yes madam." She agrees. "The prince does have exquisite taste." She offers, glancing back at Javi before looking back at you. It's hard not to admire the prince, or develop a crush on him since he is so kind, but she also knows her place and that it would never be by the prince's side.

“I’m very grateful for your help.” Following her eyes out to where the prince is still standing on your balcony, your smile widens just a little. There is already a kind of pull in you that wants to be at his side. “Muchas gracias, Frederica. Perhaps tomorrow we come have a more lengthy discussion?” For all the things you do know to be prepared for, there will certainly be ones that are a surprise, and for this young woman to be your ally is so, so important.

She is surprised that you would like to talk to her, to perhaps sit down but she nods again. "Yes madam. I will finish unpacking your luggage and getting you organized." She offers before she turns back to her tasks.

“Gracias,” you nod once more and decide to let her get back to work, slipping out of the room to return to the balcony. “She seemed to take that positively in stride,” you sigh with a little bit of relief.

"Our staff is used to dealing with me." Javi explains with a small, sheepish grin. He knows that he has broken them in with his antics and his nonconformity. "I admit that I have been a handful."

“I can’t imagine you ever being unpleasant.” That’s the furthest from what you know of him so far, but you shrug your shoulders a little and glance at your watch nervously. It’s been hours already since you landed and it feels like only minutes. “How long does it take to walk to the dining room?” It’s such an odd question but you feel certain that you’ll be walking miles upon miles every day just navigating the palace. “I get the feeling that your father would not like to be kept waiting for dinner.”

"Only three minutes." He chuckles. "When the elevator is being slow." He had brought you up the stairs, but there is a small elevator that is tucked away in the front of the wing to make it easier to get from floor to floor. He knows that it will take you some time to get used to the palace but he. is not anticipating hiding away from you. Instead, he finds himself drawn to you and he offers you a shrug. "I can leave you to freshen up if you wish? Or we can start to walk towards the dining room?"

“I would rather walk with you.” Being left alone sounds oddly terrifying and you’re glad - not for the first time - that he is the one who came to pick you up today and was so willing to talk with you. It has made things infinitely easier.

“Yeah?” He grins and offers you his arm so you can walk together. “If we get there fast enough, we can manage a drink before my father arrives.” He teases. “I am feeling a good stiff cocktail is in order?”

“What is your favorite?” Taking his arm makes butterflies flood your stomach in the most unexpected way.

"A good gin and tonic is underrated." He admits as he feels you curl your hand around his arm and he knows that it feels...right. There will be thousands of times where you take his arm just like this. This is the beginning. "However, I have fallen in love with an 'old fashioned."

“Have you ever tried a gin and tonic with pink gin?” It had become a favourite cocktail after an event you attended a few years ago and the idea of being able to share something like that with him makes you feel a little giddy.

"Pink gin?" Javi shakes his head and looks over at you curiously. "I do not know if I even know that pink gin existed. What does it taste like?"

“It’s fruitier. Like…strawberries and raspberries along with the juniper flavour.” God that smile. When it’s aimed at you it’s brighter than the sun. No photograph ever could have captured that. “I had it at a White House garden party a few years ago and went out to buy myself a bottle the next day.”

"We will have to keep some on hand then." Javi makes a note of it and tilts his head. "Is there a brand you like? So we can order it if needed?"

“I think I probably buy the low end,” you admit with a laugh. “I’ll write it down for you, or…for whomever does the ordering, I suppose. I hope you like it, too.”

“Hopefully they will have a bottle somewhere in the palace.” Javi muses. “We normally keep all kinds of different liquors on hand for visiting dignitaries.”

“Do you have any favorite visitors?” Turning the conversation away from yourself and back to him, you want to focus on getting all of those little details that can’t be conveyed in a press release or a birthday gift from one of his parents.

“The Americans.” Javi admits with a grin. “There is something about it. I would have loved to visit your Hollywood.”

“Can you not?” That he wishes for it makes you want to find a way for it to happen instantly. “I would think a prince could do whatever he wanted.”

“It would not- I have not left Mallorca.” He admits. “Not since I graduated university.” He shakes his head. “It is tradition that you do not start traveling as a Royal if you are in line for the crown until you are king.” It’s backwards to his own way of thinking, but his father had insisted that he needed to learn how to run the country here. His suspicion was that his father was afraid he would never come back, if he were honest with himself.

“Not even if your brand new American bride-to-be suggested a honeymoon in Los Angeles?” It’s a slightly unconventional choice considering you could go literally anywhere, but it sounds like it’s his dream. He looks soft and starry-eyed at the mere mention of Hollywood, and you know that your job from now on is to make sure he’s as happy as he possibly can be.

“Our honeymoon is supposed to be spend on a yacht along the coast and make informal visits to our islands.” He explains. “Not quite a royal tour but a royal tour.”

“Then we’ll find another time to make your dream come true.” Gently squeezing his arm with your hand, you offer him a soft smile and try not to make too much notice of how muscles the bicep under your touch actually is. “I promise.”

He sighs softly and nods, not quite sure if he would ever be able to make that particular dream come true, but it's a nice thought. "For now, we should focus on pulling off a wedding in just two months." He chuckles.

“I’m sure your father will have a grasp of how to get things done.” The two of you make it to the hall where the main dining room is and he leads you into a drawing room nearby with a footman inside the door and a bar cart at the ready. You seem to have arrived before the king, but the man standing near the cart wastes no time in springing into action, apparently anticipating being asked to make the prince’s preferred before-dinner cocktail.

"What would you like to drink?" Javi asks, curious to know what you prefer drinking over pink gin. "And—" He swivels his head towards Geralt. "Do we have pink gin in the palace?"

The man’s even and professional face hides any hint of emotion, but he nods deeply and politely to the prince. “If not, your Highness, it will be acquired,” he assures Javi. “Should it be found immediately?”

“That isn’t necessary.” The last thing you want is to be seen as demanding or high maintenance. That almost gives you anxiety just to think about. “Whatever the prince is enjoying tonight will be wonderful, I’m sure.”

"Perhaps if it could be available tomorrow?" Javi asks, looking to you for confirmation. He wants to make sure that you are okay with that, although you just said that it wasn't necessary for it to be immediately available. "I was just informed that it makes the best gin and tonic and we must all try it."

“Sí, príncipe.” The man – Geralt – nods accordingly. “I will inform the steward.” He is about to ask if the younger royal would enjoy his usual old fashioned tonight when the king strolls into the room looking like the stroll might have been a heavy effort. “Cava, Geralt.” He instructs without even sparing the servant a glance. “We are celebrating tonight.”

Javi's brows lift in surprise but he nods towards Geralt and pats your arm as he leans in. "We shall have another drink after dinner then." He murmurs conspiratorially. "We might need it."

Stifling a giggle behind a bitten smile, you just nod to him and make a mental note of the name and face of the staff member in the room to lock away for later.

Drinks are poured and served quickly, and the king raises his glass from the plush upholstered loveseat he chose at the center of the room. “We will discuss your future tonight,” he informs you unilaterally, clearly not willing to hear any conversation otherwise. “There is much to do.”

"Of course." Javi nods, aware that his father would want to commandeer the conversation and steer it towards the upcoming wedding. "Although perhaps before we start planning a wedding, I might have a date with the woman I am supposed to marry?" He asks before he takes a sip of his cava. "Or at least present her with her choice of wedding sets from the royal collection?"

“Appropriate choices are being brought to your suite for you to select from in the morning.” The king tells him smoothly, as though it were obvious. “Although I do not know why you want to date a woman who has been chosen and bred for you, I did expect it.” He very nearly rolls his eyes, but manages not to. “You have two weeks to acquaint yourselves with each other and to present her with a ring. I assume that will be more than enough time.” It has to be, but he doesn’t say so. Servants talk and his illness isn’t public knowledge yet.

Javi frowns, shaking his head. If his father is pressing for two weeks, he would rather it be one. Less, if he thought Javi would go along with it. "While I appreciate your very generous terms, I would just like one date." He looks to you. "Unless you would like the two weeks?"

If you were being honest, you might admit that the swift pace of this whole thing has you on edge, but you understand that there isn’t really any luxury for comfort. “I wonder what the people will think,” you say instead, taking a small sip of your drink. “To hear their prince is going to marry a woman they have never even heard of before. The two weeks seems prudent not for our comfort, but for theirs.” Image is everything, that is the lesson you learned being the daughter of an American politician.

“The people have come to expect an arraigned marriage from the crown.” Javi’s father dismissed your concerns with another sip of his sparkling wine. “A press release has already been drafted, highlighting the family connection between your mother and the late queen.”

“Then I see no reason to hesitate.” The feeling of disappointment that your idea was useless is not one you relish at all but you paint on a placid smile and try to get at least one point back with the man you’re supposed to marry. “I am sure the prince will plan a wonderful date for us.”

“I will.” Javi nods, unhappy that his father is so casually dismissing your concerns about introducing you to the people. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” Seeing as you’ve both agreed to go through with the arrangement, you’ll happily have whatever time with him you can get. “The sooner the better.” The king dismisses, rising when a middle-aged man in a crisp uniform steps into the room to announce the meal.

Javi winces in apology at the abrupt way the king is handling this ‘informal’ dinner. Hating that he is not being honest about why he is insisting this happens so fast to you.

The smile you offer him in return is sympathetic, and you take his arm again when he offers it to you to go into dinner. The grand table is anything but informal, and the three chairs clustered at one end don’t afford you the comfort of sitting next to the prince, but you’ll manage just fine. Nothing can be as tedious as a constituent fundraising dinner…right?

Once you are sat down, your pre dinner drinks are whisked away and a fresh glass of wine is placed in front of each plate. “Thank you.” Javi murmurs to the silent staff as they move seamlessly. Setting the first course in front of him.

“There is little time for you to get settled.” The king turns his eyes to you, watching you carefully as you begin to eat. He has already had his first bite so at least you knew to wait for that. “Appropriate candidates for lady in waiting will need to be interviewed tomorrow. You will choose two at most.”

“I understand.” Well, you sort of understand. Interviewing ladies in waiting sounds like taking applications for best friend – an idea that sounds completely off the wall to most people.

“Good. Once my son has presented you with the royal engagement set, we will announce the wedding day. The coordinator will be in to expedite the guest list, have your list ready.”

“I will.” If this is the king’s version of informal, you can only imagine what a formal meal will be like. Even your house growing up had allowed for a little laughter here and there. The prince looks beside himself across the table from you, and you decide to take a chance. Stretching out as far as you can under the table without having to change how you’re sitting in your seat, you just barely manage to tap the toe of his loafer with the point of your heel. It makes him look up at you and you flash him a smile while his father’s focus is on his meal. It’s little more than a friendly gesture, but at least it’s friendly. So he doesn’t have to feel like the two of you have been separated across an ocean at the elaborate dinner table.

Javi nearly jumps when you touch his foot, his eyes darting up to meet yours. Finding the playful light in your eyes refreshing and he nods slightly. Thankful that you are not already screaming that it is too much, or insisting for more detail. “Perhaps we can have a less traditional honeymoon?” Javi asks. “Since we are not well acquainted with one another?”

“How much less traditional?” His father clearly isn’t pleased with the question, but wants to know how much leeway his son is attempting to bargain for.

“Perhaps my bride can show me her favorite places in America?” He offers, looking over at you and nodding. “I think that would be a good experience for us to bond as a couple.”

“Is one of her favourite places California?” The way the king asks is exasperated, fully expecting to know the answer. “Only one of, your Majesty.” The whole idea of going to the States together was yours, and you really don’t want him to get in trouble for it. “But the United States has many beautiful places and cultural sites to visit.” You swallow your nerves, willing yourself to sound demure and hopeful instead of like you’re on defense. “The prince explained that a traditional honeymoon would be a tour of the islands to make appearances and greet the people. It could be an educational and unique experience to tour America as well.”

“It would be good.” Javi insists. “I wish to get to know her, without the press, without the speculation. You had a year with my mother before you married, and you took that from us.”

“Not intentionally.” The king sighs, knowing that it’s true but not liking the accusation. “I will consider it.” Is the concession he makes after a pause, and you’re sure you see him wince. “As long as each location can be made secure. Safety cannot be ignored.”

“Really?” Javi’s brows shoot up and his voice pitches up slightly in hope. “Yes, sí, we can have it secure. It can be planned out.” Hope flares in his chest that perhaps his father might give him something that he had wanted forever.

“I will consider it,” he repeats, stressing that he could still say no if he chose to.

Javi swallows and the light dims in his eyes. “Yes, papá.” He murmurs quietly and looks back down at the plate in front of him. He hates how he is 35 years old and still feels like a small boy being taken to task for misbehaving.

Something like fury ignites in the pit of your stomach, taking away your appetite and making you ache for this man you only just met. A grown adult with a world of responsibilities and being treated like a small child by his father. Right there and then you swallow all your own fear and apprehension. “I will ask the First Lady’s secretary for a list of places that the Secret Service has vetted,” you offer, knowing that making that phone call will be interesting. You’re known to the First Lady but only marginally, and this constitutes a favour. “If that will please your Majesty, of course,” you add, thoroughly sucking up, but with a backbone.

Javi shakes his head, knowing that the more that the idea is pushed, the more the king is most likely to say no. Even after doing everything he wants, Javi still falls short of his expectations. He looks down at his plate and pushes a bite around. “There is no need for that.”

The rest of the meal passes in virtual silence. The king gives instructions occasionally or criticisms, but mainly focuses on his meal. He dismisses the offer of dessert and it is whisked away as he stands.

Javi stands, regardless of if he wanted the dinner to be done. You stand when the king does. Pleased when you do the same as he waits for his father to say something.

“Buenas noches.” He looks down at his hands when he says good night, barely acknowledging the two of you until he finally looks to his son. “Javier, come and see me before breakfast.” He instructs, as though his son would ever be up and functional at such an early hour. “And you, señorita,” he turns his gaze to you appraisingly. “I expect to hear your choice of ladies before noon.”

"Buenas noches." Javi watches as his father turns and stalks out of the room, proud even though he can tell that the older man is struggling to keep his gait steady. He wonders how bad the pain is and wishes that he would have just relaxed some. It might help to not expend so much energy trying to maintain a strong facade.

“Buenas noches.” It’s too little too late, murmured as the king walks away, but you look to the prince across from you with concern written on your face. “If I said something wrong, I apologize.” You must have, otherwise what could have made the monarch so ill-tempered seemingly out of nowhere?

"You did nothing wrong." Javi sighs and looks at the servants as they come to clear the table. "Would you please serve dessert for us on my balcony?" He asks, turning towards you after getting the affirmation. "I figured we could talk some more unless you are too tired?"

“Not at all.” Ending the night now would leave an awful taste in your mouth, and the prospect of spending more time with him actually sounds relaxing, even if things are still so new. “Dessert and then our movie?”

He loves that you are still anticipating the movie and he nods. "That sounds like a perfect ending to a very...different day for both of us." He acknowledges.

"What is different now will become familiar in time." Hoping that his father's irritability won't be included in that, you know that at least your time together will become easier as the days go by.

"Yes it will." Javi sends you a grateful smile and motions towards the door. "Shall we go have dessert then? Perhaps the conversation can be a bit more...relaxed." He knows his father didn't set a very nice tone for the meal and you hadn't eaten much.

"That sounds nice." Relaxation, if it will be possible tonight, sounds heavenly.

"Almost as relaxing as a bubble bath with a very large glass of scotch." Javi chuckles. "Or a lot of champagne in the pool."

No. No. No. Don't imagine him in a bath or the pool... You bite the inside of your lip as you follow him out of the dining room, taking the extra moment to compose yourself. "Have you always liked the water?" It's a natural and innocent enough question, considering he is from a nation of islands.

"Since I could remember." Javi grins. "My mother used to say I could swim before I could walk. I used to sneak out so often to swim that there was a guard at the pool all hours of the night for safety."

"At home we would have called you a 'water baby'." It's a charming image, one that makes you smile when you look up at him. "I promise you won't have to worry on my part. I've been swimming since I was a little girl and I can keep up."

"Then we will have to swim sometime." He suggests, watching as you continue to smile at him. Feeling his stomach drop pleasantly and he wonders for first time what it would be like to kiss you.

"Perhaps an unofficial, very relaxed second date?" You raise an eyebrow at him and smile again, feeling butterflies again. "Just because we don't go out and do something fancy doesn't mean it can't be a date."

"Would you—" Javi stops for a moment, slightly flustered and starts again. "Would you like to be with me tomorrow morning?" He asks. "When I pick out the rings?" He feels like you should have some kind of say in the what you wear for the rest of your life. "Help me chose something you like?"

"If you want me to be, I absolutely will." Some men feel it's their duty to make the choice themselves, but you have to admit that you like that he is asking. That he isn't making decisions for you like your fathers have done for the two of you since you were young. "I might...ask you about some things that you like? For wedding planning? I have a feeling that I will be expected to make decisions about things quickly and I want you to be happy with the day as well."

"I am fairly easy to please." Javi shrugs slightly. "It will be a royal wedding so there will be limited options but I do love anything with honey in it. For the menu."

"Honey." You nod, committing it to memory. "Is there anything that you maybe don't like? Or that I should avoid?" Looking down at the parquet flooring as you walk, you decide to open up a little bit about something personal to show him that you're really trying to connect with him. "For instance...when my parents were married, my mother carried a huge bouquet of flowers and always laughed about how heavy it was and how, when she did the bouquet toss, it went about two feet and dropped right to the floor." Thinking of your mother makes your smile go a little wider and your express a little dreamier. "So whenever I imagined my wedding, I always imagined a smaller bouquet."

"I will have to wear my royal uniform, but I've always imagined that my bride would have two gowns." It's silly to think about, but he had imagined it. Oftentimes with Gabriela, but now he could imagine it with you. "One for the ceremony, beautiful and regal. And another for the reception afterward. Something, uh, sexy." He admits before he realizes how that sounds. "Not that I— I don't expect, uh, sex. Not— I—" he fizzles out and just stops talking.

"Javi." It's the first time you've actually called him by his name, and you reach out instinctively to put your hand on his arm. "Please don't--" You clamp your mouth shut momentarily as two women pause in their journey down the hallway to curtsy to the prince before continuing on. "Please don't be embarrassed." Lowering your voice seems prudent, so you step closer to him. "We're going into a marriage, and we were both very clear about wanting a life with love. To me, sex comes with those things naturally."

"I just don't— uh—" Javi sighs, looking into your eyes sincerely. "I don't want you to feel that just because you are married to me, that I expect you to-" He lowers his voice even more. "Consummate our marriage until you are ready." He finally finished, his skin slightly ruddier with nerves. "I'm not— it's not like I'm inexperienced but it's never been expected of anyone."

"Why don't we talk about this in private?" You suggest, nodding toward the small hallway behind you where you now know that a small elevator is artfully hidden. "It's important to talk about, but it's...it should just be for us."

"Of course." Javi shakes his head at himself and guides you to the elevator. He knows the staff put up with him and are used to his antics, but he doesn't want to make things embarrassing for you.

Up in the elevator and down the hall, the two of you are completely alone once you step inside his suite and let the door shut behind you. "I think it's really important to talk about," you clarify quietly, feeling a little self-conscious about how silent you've both been on the way upstairs. "I just...we met only a few hours ago. So talking about having sex with you with you, with a lot of other people around seemed...less personal."

"I agree." Javi can see how it would be unnerving to talk when others were around to you but he's grown up used to those people. "I guess the entire conversation about sex right now is a little ridiculous but the circumstances we find ourselves in means we need to discuss it."

"We do." Even as you nod, the two of you sort of move automatically toward the balcony off to the side of his bedroom at the back of his suite. It mirrors your own rooms in a comfortable way. "But if you want to talk about dates, or the engagement, or the wedding, or anything else instead I fully understand." Who knows? He may be the sort of man who feels much more comfortable diving in to the deep end of things. You're just trying to give him the choice.

"We are going to be discussing nothing but that for the next two months." Javi jokes, rolling his eyes. "I did not mean to sound so abrupt. I just wanted you to know that I don't expect you to sleep with me now, on our wedding night, or - well, ever if you decided you did not want to."

"I really don't think that that will be the case." You might answer a little too quickly to be proper, but the idea of you never wanting to have sex with him is ridiculous. He's drop dead gorgeous and in just a few months he's going to be your husband - those things alone add up to sex. "That is..." A deep breath hopefully hides the way you fluster at the quick response. "As far as physical attraction goes...it won't be an issue."

Javi frowns for a moment, surprised by your answer. He's never been overly self-assured, but he knows he's reasonably attractive. At least his crown got him laid in the very least. "Me?"

"Yes, you." A flurry of emotions cross his face that you can't read but you tilt your head in confusion. "That surprises you?"

"Is it— is it because of the—" he gestures helplessly for a moment. "The crown? The fact that you are 'supposed' to want your spouse?"

"I—" He holds out your chair for you at the little table that has been set up on his balcony, and it seems the staff took it upon themselves to pour out more sparkling wine for the two of you to enjoy privately. "I don't expect you to jump into my bed right away, either." After all, you had expected it to take much longer to warm up to each other. "I would like to think that it might happen...organically? Since we're actually attracted to each other?"

“Organically.” He nods in agreement after he comes around to sit down in front of you again. “I like that. No pressure. Sí.”

"Some things shouldn't have a schedule." Of course, if that smile stays on his face as bright and beaming as it is right now, you'll be shocked if it takes the whole two months before the wedding.

“So you know,” he picks up his wine glass. “There is a door between our rooms. It is locked on your side, so I cannot open it.”

"How very scandalous." Yet it warms you through that he had enough optimism to want to give you an adjoining suite. It means that he wasn't against the idea of you getting along - otherwise he would have chosen rooms for you clear across the east wing. "You mean I could just unlock it and come say hello?"

“If you wished.” Javi nods and sends you a sheepish smile. “I promise I do not sleep in the nude, so I will not surprise you.”

You grin at the way he blushes and pick up your fork, ready to follow him into digging into the elaborate little tarts that were prepared for you tonight. "I hope it won't take us long before we can feel comfortable leaving that door unlocked," you admit, knowing that the hope is for emotional intimacy as well as physical.

It's almost unnerving, the way that things seem to be organically progressing between you. As if his parents had inadvertently found a person who was perfect for him personally rather than to be his political ally on the throne. He wonders what an American thinks about a monarchy and if you have been taught to believe in the ceremony of it all or if your Senator father had just agreed for his own political ambitions.

Eating in relative quiet isn’t unnerving with him the way it had been with his father present, and you’re not ashamed to be grateful for that. You had thought you would be nervous around him. Anxious or afraid to trip over your own two feet. But the truth is that he is a sweet and endearing man, and that spending time with him in these early stages is no hardship at all. Lost in your own little world of thought, you almost snap back to reality in one very particular thought. “Forgive me,” you put your glass down and shake your head at yourself. “I haven’t said ‘happy birthday’ and it was just two days ago. I hope you had a wonderful day.”

Javi freezes, surprised by the unexpected well wishes and he sends you a small, genuine smile. "Thank you. We had a party, and it was very entertaining." He muses. "I am sure my next birthday will be quite different." He frowns, knowing he will be king by then.

“I’m sure there will be protocols to follow, but we’ll still make sure you enjoy it.” You will make sure of that, knowing that he will have plenty of difficulties adjusting to his new title and that he shouldn’t have to lose out on everything he enjoys because of it.

"I never wanted to be king." Javi admits quietly, furtively looking up at you and then back down at his dessert. "I still don't want to be king."

“People who want to hold power rarely make good leaders.” You offer, thinking of the way your father so keenly wants to be president. “Craving power makes you greedy and ruthless once you have it.”

His brow pulls together as he contemplates your words, knowing that it is a fresh perspective and an honest one. You will be crowned queen no matter what you say, so you have no reason to lie. "You are right. I have no interest in greed or ruthlessness." It's easy to not be greedy when you've lived a life of luxury that most could never even dream of, but the things that he has always wanted were relatively simple.

“And you’ll be a better king than many others could be because of it.” The soft smile that brings out in you is honest, and you shrug your shoulders a little when you realize you’re just looking at him. “And I—I’m here to help you as best I can.”

"What are you passionate about?" Javi asks, leaning in. "I want to know more about you. I am sure that you have been told all about me, but please, tell me something no one else knows?"

“Oh—I—” There’s a sort of horror in realizing that your life has been an open book except for him. Your arranged marriage has been your biggest secret, since they’re not commonly accepted in America, and moreover he might be the first person to ask you about you in years. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I…I miss being called by a nickname. I know that doesn’t seem…intimate or anything. But my mother used to call me Daisy. They were her favourite flower and she…she said I was the only thing she loved more than daisies.”

“Daisy.” Javi smiles softly at the idea and he knows that he will have to come up with a nickname for you. Something that wouldn’t tread on the toes of your mother’s nickname for you. “You should include that flower in our wedding.” He suggests. “Include her in the day.”

“You don’t think it’s a little…informal? For a royal wedding?” His father will likely think so, which is a disappointment. Your own father’s dislike for the flower is because it reminds him of his first wife. “Maybe it could be included in the flowers in my suite sometimes?”

“Hmmm.” You are right, the flower would be considered ‘too quaint’ He will have to come up with something for you, instinctively knowing you would appreciate it. “You can have daisies in your room every day if you wish.” He promises. “It is your private space to do with what you wish.”

“She would have liked you.” Memories of your mother are precious, but since both of you lost your mothers as teenagers you hope he can understand. “She’s the reason I value kindness.”

“I hope so.” Javi chuckles nervously, unused to compliments of that nature. Most of them are obviously surface level and meant to flatter, yours touches emotions he’s been told to ignore for doing what is best. “Considering she agreed to send her daughter to marry me.”

“When I asked about you once, she said that if you were anything like your mother then we were sure to get along well.” That thought had stayed in your mind for years as you wondered what the man would be like when you finally met him.

“I hope you don’t regret it.” He murmurs softly. “I know I am not…what people expect of a prince.”

“With all due respect to your title?” Hoping not to offend him with the way you have been looking at this situation for years, you fold your hands in your lap and twist your fingers around each other instead of shrugging. “I’m marrying you as a man, not a prince. We’re still people. Not only our jobs.”

Javi frowns, never thinking of things that way. He had never had any kind of disconnect between him as a person and his title. It was always an inextricable part of him. “I- I’ve never thought of it that way.”

“A good man can be a poor leader, and a good leader can be a bad man.” Of course someone could be successful at both, but that is infinitely more rare. “My first impression of you as a man has made me think that we could actually be very happy one day. I—I hope that’s not to forward.”

Javi stares at you for a moment, speechless. Nearly not even breathing in shock of your nearly immediate faith in him and what could be between you. “I want to be both. A good man and a thoughtful, good leader.” He admits quietly. “Maybe that is possible, but I wish to be happy.”

"I'll do everything I can to help you." Right now it's the biggest promise you can honestly make to him. You can't know for sure that you'll be happy together. Or that you'll find love. Or that he'll be a brilliant and caring king. None of those things are certain. But you can promise him that you will try - and give it all of your best effort to help him succeed.

“Now that we’ve discussed the non-important issues….” Javi jokes as he forks up the last bite of his food. “What shall we talk about?”

"Whatever you'd like." He had said he wanted to know about you but there isn't really much to tell. Since you are here to support him, your focus is on him entirely.

“What would you want to do?” He asks curiously. “If you could do anything in the world?”

"I've always thought that I would do this." Looking around you, the world that you envisioned is slightly different than what your reality is quickly becoming, but only slightly. The inside of the palace looks slightly different, the people are not exactly the way you imagined, and it is much more beautiful in person than in photographs. But largely...since you always knew that this is the life you would lead, this is what you had always dreamed of. Any childhood fantasies have gone by the wayside. "Come here and be a partner to you. Be a wife and a mother. Whatever you need me to be."

“So you’ve never been able to dream about what you want?” He is the same, his dreams squashed, but he hates that for you. “Do you like animals? Children? Charities?”

"For a lot of girls, my reality is their dream." You point out quietly. "Hallmark movies, like we said before. But...yes. I like animals and children. I used to babysit when I was younger to earn pocket money and I would walk dogs or check on cats for our neighbors when they went away. And I—I worked for a charity. Until yesterday." The visit to your office had been quietly devastating, but your boss hadn't fussed or given you grief. She had just been sad to see you go.

“As a Royal, as queen, you will be able to determine your own focus for your time and effort.” Javi explains quietly. “Often the queen will involve herself in charitable works for the country.”

"I helped organize fundraisers and events for a charity that bought instruments for public schools in New York City." It was good for your father's image, that was the original reason for the choice, but you had quickly started to meet some of the children and teachers who benefited from the program's work and their happiness made you work much harder for them than any Washington press release could. "I admit that I don't know as much as I could about the educational system here, but I enjoyed every moment of helping those students and teachers."

“Then if you would like, you could focus your effort on education.” Javi suggests. “Our education ministry would love the attention of the crown. Especially if it is a subject near and dear to the new queen.”

"If there is something you would rather have me put my efforts to, you only need to say so." He might know something that was close to his mother's heart, or something that needs more attention than the education ministry does. Or he may have a plain and simple preference. If that is the case, you would rather do what will make him happiest.

“I want you to be happy.” Javi says simply. “I want you to enjoy the work that you can and makes the heavy weight of the crowns we wear tolerable.”

"Then I'll educate myself on the Balearican education system before I speak to someone in the ministry." The placid expression on your face cracks to a smile, and you pick up your glass again to have another sip. "It would be good to know about the schools that our children will attend anyway."

Children. The way you say it so causally makes Javi nearly choke in surprise. That it was just a foregone conclusion that you would have his children. In a way, it was, but he had never thought of it quite like that. “Yes. The children all attend public school until they are ten.”

"I'm sorry." His face morphs through a riot of expressions and you panic slightly, thinking you've overstepped when you were only trying to think practically. "I didn't mean to—to startle you."

“No— immediately he is shaking his head, understanding that you think he is upset. “I had just- it’s - I had never thought I would be - it’s just that you’ve accepted that you will have my children so easily. I did not expect that when I learned of the arranged marriage.” He explains. “Some people take years to come to that way of thinking.”

"Except..." you tilt your head slightly, knowing that your experiences coming into this arrangement have been so different. "I have had years already. So if you feel that I am pushing you, or rushing things, please tell me. Because I don't mean to. Everything can be at your pace."

“I had hoped that I would be allowed to chose my queen.” Javi admits. “Just like I assume you have wished you could choose your husband. But I knew, deep down, I knew that I would have an arranged marriage.” It’s probably the first time he’s admitted that to himself. “I know what is expected of me, and I will not shirk my duties, but it is my hope that we will fit well together. Not just for political reasons, but privately.

"I loved fairy stories when I was a little girl." Your mother had read them to you as bedtime stories and you always begged for as many as she would consent to read. "I...I guess maybe it's a peculiarity of American girls. Because we have no royalty, we romanticize it. But when I was little I dreamed of having a Prince Charming." Since he had known Hallmark, he no doubt had seen some of the Americanized romanticism of royalty - and how over the top it can be portrayed. "So when I was told, at seven years old, that my parents had found me a prince for when I was grown up? It...it was actually something wonderful."

“When did you start to hate it?” He asks, knowing there must have been some point where you wanted to rebel against it. His was one day ago. When he learned about it, so he understands.

"When I was a young woman." It feels shameful to admit to him, but you want to be honest. "High school. College. I did date other people for a while. To have those experiences, and...and partially because I was afraid to come into this completely inexperienced and disappoint you." That is the first time you've ever admitted that out loud and you look away so you don't have to see him judge you for it. "When I found dating to be bitterly disappointing, I actually started to think of this arrangement with relief."

“Dating is horrible, isn’t it?” Javi can laugh about it now, but there has always been a sense of wondering when the other shoe would drop. When they would start to make demands. “I- I don’t blame you for wanting experience.” He promises. “I don’t judge you for that or expect- you know. That you are a virgin.”

"I am. Technically." Something about the truth of it - perhaps because it is the truth - makes you want to bury your head in all that beautiful sand on the beach below you. "I wanted experience, but it never felt right to have that experience with someone else." Realizing how that might sound, your head shoots up in distress. "Not—not that I expect the same of you. At all. Especially when you didn't know about me."

You’re gorgeous when you are flummoxed and Javi grins. Reaching out and touching your hand where it is resting on the flute of your sparkling wine. “It is okay, Margarita.” He assures you softly. “I will not judge or embarrass you. I may not please you, but I would like to try.”

"Margarita?" With your heart jumping up into your throat, you find yourself trying to both stare at his hand touching yours and bask in his smile simultaneously. It makes you seem even more flustered, and you can feel your cheeks burn over it. Over maybe because he's touching you. You can't tell.

Javi bites his lip. “Is that okay?” He asks softly.” La margarita…Daisy.” He explains, while you have show you are fluent in Spanish, that might not be something used in the slight Colombian accent you carry. “If not, I will not use it.”

"Oh." Allowing yourself to feel silly for not translating the word immediately, you find yourself smiling broadly and letting your fingers stretch out slightly to touch his. "No, it--it's beautiful. I just...it's silly. A Margarita is also a cocktail, and it's very popular in America. So I was confused at first. But please...please don't change it?" His own version of what your mother called you makes you want to laugh and cry with joy simultaneously. "I love it."

“Okay.” Javi nearly giggles in relief and nods. “Then with your permission, I will call you that privately.” He agrees, rubbing his thumb over the back over your hand as you touch him. “Just between us so it is special?”

"I agree enthusiastically." The soft, tentative way that your fingers tangle together with his is nothing like when you wring your own hands in anxiety. It's gentle and explorative and sparkling with excitement and attraction.

The moment seems to linger in gorgeous silence. Not uncomfortable but seeming building into something memorable between you. Both of you hesitant to stop smoking softly at each other.

"Thank you for suggesting this." The table between you is empty of its treats now, but the candles burn bright in the moonlight and lend an appreciated air of romance to the evening. "And for...for being open with me. And to me."

Javi’s smile turns shy and he squeezes your hand just a little tighter. “It helps that you are nothing like I imagined.” He confesses softly. “I was afraid that you would be cold, rigid and unwilling to look at life as an adventure. As much as royalty can, that is.”

"To be royal is an enormous adventure." At least, that's how you've always looked at it, but your smile quirks into a smirk. "Cliff diving to become a merman is not the only way to have an adventure, you know."

“Huh.” He frowns and then takes on a thoughtful expression. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

"Not growing up with royalty may have given me a different view of it than you have." With your fingers still intertwined, the candlelight flickers on your skin and casts shadows that sparkle off your nail polish whenever it hits just right. "But that might not be such a bad thing."

“No, I don’t think it will be a bad thing.” Javi agrees and the thought of what it would be like to kiss you filters through his mind. “Would you like to watch the movie now, or are you tired?”

"I think it's just the right thing to end our night, if you're still up for it." For you, although it might not technically be a date, this night has had all the hallmarks of a wonderful one. Drinks and dessert with good conversation, a little flirting, a lot of honesty, and a shared experience. Not all dates have to be fancy, after all.

Javi smiles and nods, giving your hand another squeeze as he stands and moves to help you out if your chair. “I love the movie room.” He admits, excited to share his favorite movie with you. “I know it is a movie for children, but it is just so…heartwarming.” He offers, not wanting to cloud your judgement on the movie too much before you experience it for yourself.

"The best children's movies have something for everyone." When he doesn't let go of your hand to lead you back inside, it's a thrill in a way that you didn't quite expect. "National Treasure is technically a family movie, but it's wonderful."

“It is so fun. And some of the facts from your Declaration were real.” Javi adds knowledgeably.

"It's my comfort movie," you admit, walking with him back through his suite to the eat wing's main hallway. "Both of them. When we one day make it to America, I'll take you to see the Declaration in person."

“That would be interesting.” Javi’s eyes light up happily and he motions towards another set of gilded doors. “This is the theatre room.” He explains. “There are not a lot of televisions in the palace, but this is my favorite one.”

The title theater room doesn't quite do the large auditorium justice. There are plush recliners and sofas to seat more than a dozen people inside, with a full-sized movie theater screen and all the accruements of snacks and drinks in clean-looking modern refrigerators and cabinets that extends even into a bar on one end. The other end is spectacular: a large, vintage style popcorn machine with all the necessary supplies in a cabinet underneath. "Oh my god," you gasp, eyes as big as saucers when you walk in. The plush red velvet and gold trim all around you reminds you of an old-fashioned movie theater in the very best way. "Of course it's your favourite. It's mine now too!"

“You like it?” Javi is delighted and points out the speakers. “Perfect Dolby surround sound and it sounds like you are in the movie!” He tells you excitedly. “The recliners have the massagers build in, and heated so it is cozy to curl up.”

He lights up from the inside when he gets excited, and for the first time since meeting him you wonder if a kiss would light him up like that as well. "You didn't tell me when I asked about popcorn that we could make our own right in here."

“Surprise.” He chuckles and moves over to the machine. “There is nothing like theatre butter popcorn.” He grins as he opens a cabinet below the machine and pulls out a jar of kernels. “And the butter? It isn’t really butter. But it’s liquid gold.”

"There's always room for popcorn, isn't there?" If you could always keep him smiling like this, you would do it forever. He positively shines. "With gold, of course."

“Always.” Javi appreciates how you are game for his silly treat. “It’s magic, like you have another stomach for popcorn.”

"I think I actually might. Maybe you do, too. We're medical marvels." Moving over to the refrigerators, you find bottles of soda brands both classic and local, water, and then a plethora of half bottles of all sorts of wine to go along with the liquors in the bar. "What would you like to drink?"

"I think—" He pauses for a moment and then nods. "I think water will be good. I have had a lot of alcohol and I would not want to misstep when tonight is going so well."

"Of course." Two bottles of San Pellegrino come out of the fridge when you decide to follow suit. Although you wouldn't blame him if the bubbly made him a little enthusiastic, you certainly don't want to make him think that you were pushing for something to happen faster than he was comfortable with.

“I don’t want to kiss you if you wouldn’t be open to it.” Javi blurts out, hissing when he realizes he hadn’t just been thinking but had spoken the words aloud.

Pressing your lips together to keep from giving yourself away with a grin, you put the two bottles of water down to look at him. "Would you prefer I pretended not to have heard that?" Never wanting to push, you're actually ecstatic that he's warming up to you as quickly as you are to him.

“Only if you are offended.” Javi huffs to himself mostly but he turns to gauge your reaction. He had told himself that he wouldn’t try to pressure you and here he is doing just that.

"Not at all." The worry on his face doesn't belong there, and you let the grin you were hiding unfurl across your face. "I would be very open to it as soon as you're ready, to be completely honest with you."

“Then you kiss me whenever you want.” Javi offers, the worry giving way to a small smirk.

It tightens in your chest, the way you want to spring forward and take him at his word right now, but hesitate. Your own fear of seeming too eager gnawing on your self-consciousness. "Perhaps it will happen organically," you tease instead.

Javi chuckles and the two of you continue to get ready for the movie. Before you know it, you are seated beside him in a recliner with a bucket of buttery popcorn between you as the movie starts. "If you cry, it's okay." He promises. "I cry too."

"I do cry at movies sometimes." He assurance seems almost conspiratorial, and you naturally lean in to him a little in the massive seat. "If we do, we'll cry together."

“Why do you think I have tissues ready?” Javi asks, motioning to the box on the other side of his chair. “It is coming.”

He is, of course, completely right. By the time Paddington is arrested you are sniffling beside him, smiling sheepishly as he hands you a tissue with a knowing nod.

"See?" Javi loves that you are emotional, wishing that he could hold your hand while you are wiping away your tears. "I love this movie."

"It's so sweet." Little by little, the more you have sat beside him, you have ended up leaning in to him until you are shoulder to shoulder. "I never disbelieved you." It's after you dab your eyes that your head leans against his shoulder, and the intimacy of the moment is that much sweeter.

It’s almost natural to lean his head against yours and he sighs softly. “It makes me want to be a better man.”

If that is the case, you might want all men forever to see this film and be inspired the same way, and you decide instantly that stuffed Paddington bears will be appropriate gifts for any children the two of you have together. You shiver slightly and Javi grabs the blanket that is on the other side of him. Wanting you to feel comfortable as the two of you continue to watch.

The longer you sit together the closer you get, until your heads are leaning neatly on each other with your hands tangled together again by the time the credits roll. Everything that was between you is forgotten or pushed aside and it's just two people together, feeling that rush of quiet excitement that comes from something new.

"I think that we can probably count this as a movie to watch together again?" Javi asks quietly, turning slightly to look at you despite your heads still touching.

"Absolutely." He's so close like this that you could kiss him with almost no effort, but you reach your free hand up to dab away the dampness on his cheek. "It's wonderful."

"Are you tired?" He whispers, still not ready to really give up time with you. He's just met you less than twelve hours ago but with as fast as everything is moving, he wants to spend every moment he can getting to know you. Really know you.

"Not if you aren't." You will happily swallow an occasional yawn to spend more time with him. Also, if he is a night owl then you want to make sure that you adjust to a schedule that he is comfortable with.

"There is a place I would like to show you." He whispers again. "You can see every star in the sky, hear the ocean waves crash against the cliffs."

"Okay." Almost before you can say it, you're nodding. "Show me. Anything. Everything." There's something magical building here that you can feel tingling all the way through your body. Something you want to see through to wherever it will go.

Flashing you a grin, Javi jumps up, reaching for your hands to drag you up out of your seat. "Come, we will take the Jeep." He tells you conspiratorially.

"We're driving?" It's unexpected, but your aching feet still in their heels will thank you for it.

"Yes." Javi's head bobbles quickly. "Up to my special spot. It would kill your feet if we hiked there."

"Well, alright." His energy and excitement are contagious, and you give him your other hand so easily. "Lead the way."

Javi sneaks you out of the palace, even though the two of you could walk out the door and no one would question either one of you. It just adds to the air of adventure as the two of you hustle out of the doors and down to the garage where his topless jeep is waiting.

"How far is it?" He says there is no adventure in his life and yet here he is whisking you away from the palace under the midnight moon to some secret location where you know in your heart you're going to have the world's most perfect first kiss with your literal Prince Charming in a Hallmark-style fantasy that is beyond even your wildest dreams. This is such a beautiful adventure to have together that you wonder if he has any idea how exciting it really is for you.

"Just a few miles away." He plans on taking you to that cliff. The one that he had shown you earlier. The one that he had jumped off of when he was younger. It was the best spot to stargaze around the palace and you can see every star in the sky. He wants to show it to you. Share it with you.

The drive is a chance to see more of the island, even at night and even as he drives quickly through the landscape, it's all breathtaking. Everywhere you look are beautiful plants and bright flowers, at one point there is even a grove of olive trees to the left of the road. The unbelievable trees thin out as you get closer to the coast, giving way to bushes and dustings of wild botanicals as opposed to the manicured gardens close to the palace. "Javi..." you breathe his name in awe when he stops the Jeep. "It's gorgeous..."

"We aren't even there yet." Javi jumps out of the doorless Jeep and grabs the blanket he had tossed in the back. "It's better up ahead." He holds his hand out for you as you climb out of the vehicle.

"How could it possibly be better?" Even through asking the question, you trust his judgement. It's just so much more beautiful than you had expected already. And to see him with so much happiness and that blanket in his hand while he holds his other out to you. "Lead the way," you tell him again, feeling another riot of butterflies erupt in your belly.

He grins, sending you a small wink before he turns to rush up the small hill with you. The adrenaline of the excitement thrumming through his system and making his heart pound in his chest. Hoping that you love the nighttime view as much as he does. The trees block the cliff face and he turns to watch your face the moment you break through the brush.

"Oh my..." It's literally breathtaking, this view that looks out into the Mediterranean Sea with the vastness of starry night surrounding you entirely. It's as if no one could reach you here and yet you can see everything and you cling to his hand as a soft breeze wafts over you from the south. "It's--" You're on the verge of tears, sniffling quietly when you finally tear your eyes away from the view to look at him. "It's magical."

Smiling, Javi stares into your eyes, feeling connected to you in ways that he will never understand but realizes this will be the moment where he knows that everything will be alright. He will be strong and resilient as long as you are by his side.

"Do you want to lay the blanket down?" You're both clinging to each other a little tighter than before, holding that gaze and swallowing with what you realize are honest to goodness nerves. After expecting this moment for twenty years, to finally be here is both terrifying and elating, but your heart has gotten involved. Like it or not – intended or not – you're much more scared to fuck this up than you want to admit.

"Right." Javi jolts, grinning sheepishly as he spreads the blanket out along the rocks. It won't do much to cushion the ground, but it would keep your pretty dress from getting dirty.

The moment makes you both giggle, not breaking the spell of the moment but maybe making it a little less serious. When he gets the blanket set he helps you settle down comfortably, and all at once you're leaning against each other again just like you were in the theater room in the palace – watching the sea this time instead of the film.

"There is so much to see out here." He whispers. "It's like...the world is all right here and endless at the same time."

"I can see why you thought mermen were within reach if you came out here as a boy." There is no reason to whisper. You're completely alone out here and no one could interrupt you if they wanted to. But it's as though the wind could hear you if you raise your voices too loudly, so you both instinctively whisper.

"They are out there." Javi hums. "In the whitecaps of the waves." He grins into the darkness. "Do you see them, Margarita?"

He's so playful. Whimsical and dreamy in a way you never could have expected, and it may be because of that that you look out over the waves and point to one cresting way away from the rocks near the edge of the island. "Right there," you hum, watching the foam dissolve as the wave washes out again. "He came to say good night to us."

"Or he came to say hello to his future queen." Javi offers, turning to watch you as you look out over the water as the waves relentlessly beats against the shore.

“Maybe he’s gone home again after having a look at us.” Your hand finds his on the blanket easily, fingers naturally threading together now like they belong always intertwined. “To tell his family that—” When You turn to look at him, his eyes are already on you, with adoration painted in their depths. It mirrors your own expression so strikingly. “That the prince has a bride-to-be who already adores him.”

"I do?" Javi barely whispers the question, almost fearful of the answer. Also eager to have you tell him again. To feel the burst of pleasure in his chest that seems to completely encompass him.

“Oh, yes. And it happened so very organically.” It takes everything you have to nod solemnly as you lean in a little, wanting him to meet you halfway. To take this step together. “I never…” The breath you take is shaky, wondering if being honest with him right now is too much too soon. But if you can’t be honest with him, who can you be? “I never thought it would be so easy to let myself begin falling in love with you.”

There’s a chance that you are flattering him. That you are telling him what you think he wants to hear. However, he doesn’t believe you can look at him like that and not mean it. The stars are literally shining in your eyes and Javi’s breath catches. Reaching out and stroking your cheek with the back of his knuckles before he cups your head as he leans in. “Then it makes our first kiss under the moon and stars very organic, mi Margarita.”

He doesn’t shrink from it, or startle, or accuse you of embellishing like so many others would. He meets you softly, finding that your lips mold to each other as easily and naturally as your fingers twine together. You hum softly when he presses into your space and moves his hand to the back of your neck, encouraging you to come closer. Right now he could encourage you right over the edge of that cliff like a siren and you would go with him willingly – all for the taste of his kiss.

Javi sighs, pouring himself into the rather innocent, yet completely consuming kiss. Unable to believe that he is very willingly kissing a woman he had been furious was coming even a day ago. Yet now he doesn’t want to stop kissing you. He doesn’t need to breathe, he just needs to kiss you.

Your own hand finds the curls at the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss but not pushing past any boundaries yet. It’s the most remarkable feeling – attraction seeing your body alight like stardust but the moment staying fairly innocent regardless. It’s not until you both find you need to breathe that you part, but it doesn’t seem destined to last for long.

It lingers, until Javi pulls back so slowly that it takes forever for his lips to separate from yours and his eyes open with a flutter to watch you. “That was…perfect”

“Better than a movie.” The breath that finally catches in your lungs is heavy, keeping you anchored to him securely.

Even though you are still looking up at him with stars in your eyes, you can’t quite smother a yawn. Making Javi smile. “Do you want to lay down?” He asks softly. “Stargaze for a minute before I tuck you in?”

“I am afraid of falling asleep on you,” you admit, though you don’t stop him from leading you down to laying on the blanket.

“I’ll make sure you get to bed.” He promises, knowing he should take you back, but there are always shooting stars and he wants you to see one.

“Lay with me.” The space beside you is empty but for wanting him to fill it, and you pat it with one hand.

With the invitation, Javi lays beside you and nudges closer, looking up at the sky. “Majestic, isn’t it?” He asks softly.

“It’s stunning.” You stand by your description of the place as magical, as the stars seem to dance above you.

Javi hums, watching the sky while he tries to look at you from the corner of his eye. Finding you even more stunning.

“What are you thinking?” It’s an intimate question, but the moment is intimate, and you find yourself curious as to what he could be thinking of so calmly when your mind and heart are rioting for you to kiss him again.

"This is a perfect moment." Javi whispers quietly, turning so he looks at you fully. "There are so few of them in this life, but this one, with you, is one of them." He swallows and licks his lips. "You are even more beautiful than the view above us."

“Tonight has been amazing.” Turning to face him, you’re nearly curled into his side. “I know that…that it’s not big or flashy or anything like that. But dessert on your balcony, the movie, and this?” When you smile it splits your face in half. “It’s the perfect first date.”

"Hmmmm, our first date happened before I could plan it." Javi's arm wraps around you easily, his hand spread across your back. "Does that mean our next one should be flashy?" He asks teasingly.

"It should be whatever you would like." With your head on his shoulder and his arm around your waist, you're more comfortable than you have been in ages. "Public or private. Flashy or humble. I don't care as long as you're there."

Javi thinks about it for a long minute. Holding you as his head turns back towards the sky. Wanting to make it something good for you, something special.

The quiet lingers between you, comfortable and warm, until he hears your breathing even out on the blanket beside him. Sleep has always come easily to you when you felt safe, and somehow you just know – instinctively – that Javi would never let anything happen to you.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanficition #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javi Gutierrez #Javi Gutierrez x reader #Javi Gutierrez x you #Javi Gutierrez x female reader #Javi Gutierrez x f!reader #royalty au #arranged marriage

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sweetprfct · 5 months

Text

Written in the Stars

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are a believer in fate but after getting your heart broken, you had stopped believing it. Until you met Joe. Suddenly, it got you questioning if fate is real or not.

Author's Note: Okay, this was published in my old blog before and I'm going to be re-publishing it again here per requested from some of you. :) This is actually one of my fave series I wrote.

Wordcount: 4.9K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten - epilogue

“According to an ancient Chinese myth, a red string of fate connects those who are destined to meet regardless of time, place, or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but will never break.” - Chinese Proverb

AUTUMN 2021.

Joe was ready. He had been preparing this for about a year, and he was so ready to do this. He had everything prepared that he even had his best friend help him out to make sure everything was perfect. He got up early in the morning and immediately showered and got ready. He stared in the mirror for a moment before nodding his head and telling himself that everything was going to turn out perfect tonight. Exiting the apartment half an hour later, he was greeted by the Autumn New York air. He walked down the sidewalk, stepping on the crunchy leaves that were falling from the trees as he made his way towards the subway station.

“Hey.” Joe answered as soon as he saw his best friend’s caller ID.

“Are you ready, mate?”

“Yes, everything is going to turn out great tonight. I could feel it.” Joe smiled, exhaling a sharp breath.

“Okay, well, let me know how it goes. You still got filming today, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’m heading there right now.” Joe replied, entering the subway car. “I’ll be done early today though. She already knew what time and where to meet me, so it will just be perfect timing.”

“Okay, well, good luck, mate! It’ll be great.”

“Thank you. I’m a tad bit nervous but that’s normal, innit?”

“Absolutely! Just take a few deep breaths, everything will be fine. She’s mental if she doesn’t say yes.”

Joe couldn’t help but chuckle at his best friend’s comment. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Hanging up the phone, Joe smiled to himself, repeating what he was going to say tonight over and over again in his head. He wanted all of this to be perfect. He wanted to do this right. So, as he walked out of the subway, he made his way down the street and into the movie set. For now, he needed to focus his mind on the movie script. He shouldn’t have to worry so much about tonight, especially when he knew that everything was ready and prepared.

You were awakened by the sound of your alarm. You stretched on your bed before swinging your legs over and letting your feet touch the cold wooden floors of your apartment. Pulling the strings to open your curtains, you were greeted by the view of the city. The skyscrapers stood tall in front of you, and you could see the leaves on the trees turning yellow and orange. The sky was a bit gloomy today, but Autumn was one of your favorite seasons, and you always thought it was beautiful because it was like a sign of a new beginning. The old and the past leaving and a new beginning was starting. It was almost like your life at the moment. You could feel that something new is starting, and it could be tonight.

“Good morning.” You smiled brightly at your roommate, Sara, as you poured yourself a cup of coffee.

“Someone is chirpy today.” Sara smiled, taking a sip of her tea.

Sara had been your best friend since you two met in college. She was an exchange student from Germany. Ever since you two met, you both had been inseparable that you both immediately decided to be roommates as soon as you both graduated college. You always believed that meeting Sara was fate. You both got along so well. The both of you were almost the same person. You never had such a healthy friendship before until you met her and that says a lot because even if you had friends then, it was never the same with what you have with Sara.

“Well, that’s because today might be the day.” You wiggled your eyebrows.

“Really?” Sara’s eyes widened. “How do you know?”

“Maybe. Who knows.” You shrugged. “He had been giving hints, and he was the one who specifically asked me to meet him tonight, which is weird because usually, we don’t meet up ‘til Friday nights unless it’s something important.”

“Well, tell him that I’m a little upset that he didn’t even ask your best friend to help him out or even tell me about it.” Sara teased.

“I will, but I’m sure he didn’t say anything because he wanted to do it himself.” You shoved a piece of toast in your mouth.

“Right...” Sara elongated her words. “Just like how he only shows up in your life during the weekends and until now, never even tried to get along with your friends?”

“Sara,” You tilted your head and gave her a look. “He’s just… busy. You know how he is.”

Work was always an excuse that you managed to tell her because you knew she was telling you the truth, but you were too stubborn to admit it. Too blind because you were too in love.

Sara took a sip of her tea and didn’t say anything else.

“He said that it’s fate.” You added.

“Really?” Sara raised her brow. “Fate is when you meet someone and then a few years later, you see each other again. Someone that you just know is meant for you no matter what the circumstance is. Even if you don’t see each other after however many years, the universe always brings you two together. Not someone that you meet in a bar and become friends with and decide to hook up one night and then be together after that.”

You knew how Sara was against this relationship in the first place because of how you two got together and even then, you always tried to make sure that your best friend and your boyfriend got along. However, for Sara, he never tried to make an extra effort for you or even try to actually be nice to her. Sometimes, she would even tell you that you weren’t his priority.

“Just… Just be happy for me, okay? I think that he really is the one.” You sighed.

Sara shook her head. “I am happy for you, but I’ll be happier if he actually treats you right.”

Your eyes caught the sight of the clock across from you and said, “I gotta go. I’ll see you later!” You drank the rest of your coffee before grabbing your things.

Sara scoffed, shaking her head as she watched you walk out the door before muttering, “Have fun.”

The day couldn’t go any faster as you sat in your office doing some paperwork, staring at the clock from time to time to see if it was almost time to leave. You just couldn’t wait to get out but no matter how hard you tried to make yourself busy, time was just going by slowly. When the clock finally hits 5pm, you immediately packed your things and grabbed your coat and walked out the office building. You pulled your coat closer to your chest, trying to fix your hair from the cold night air that was blowing. You hailed yourself a cab and as you made your way to the restaurant, your leg shook nervously.

Arriving at the restaurant, the place was packed with people, and you immediately got a table for the both of you as you waited for him. You tapped your nails nervously on the table and asked the waiter for a dirty martini to calm yourself down.

“Hey babe.”

You looked over your shoulder and gazed up at him. His blue eyes sparkling along with his smile that always made you melt on the inside.

“Sorry, traffic.” He gave you a kiss on the cheek, which surprised you because he would usually kiss you on the lips. Ignoring the unusual move, you smiled as he sat across from you.

“It’s okay. How are you, babe?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink. “You said you wanted to talk?”

He let out a sigh and hung his head low for a moment. “Yeah, listen… I just…” He stuttered for a moment as you waited for him to finish his sentence. “We had such an amazing adventure together, you know? We have gone through so much.”

“Yeah, I know. Six years. Time went by so fast. It feels like it was just yesterday that we met.”

“Yeah…” He played with his fingers nervously and let out another sigh. “But… I just feel like this isn’t working out.”

You felt your heart shattered into a million pieces the moment those words came out of his lips. Was he breaking up with you? Six years of having this relationship for nothing? Why? Your body froze, and you felt like you were going to scream, but you forgot how to find your words nor even move your body. You were just paralyzed.

“W…What?” Your words stuttered the moment you finally found your voice.

“Listen, I know we have been together for a while, but I just feel like it’s not working out anymore. We both like different things, and I just feel like I’m in the stage of my life where I just don’t want to be in a serious relationship right now.” He explained, trying to reach for your hands.

You scoffed as you shook your head, immediately pulling your hands away from him. You couldn’t believe the words that you were hearing right now. Was he fucking serious?

“Six years, Carter!” You exclaimed in frustration. “We were together for six years and you’re gonna tell me you don’t want to be in a serious relationship? What’s the real reason?”

You watched Carter look around the restaurant when you raised your voice at him. You grabbed your purse and coat, ready to leave. You couldn't even look at him anymore. You were furious and angry and heartbroken. You couldn’t even explain all the mixed emotions that you were feeling at the moment.

“I’m trying not to be a dick here, but I’m just not happy anymore.”

“You said we were fate.” You argued, holding back your tears.

Carter opened his mouth for a moment with no words coming out before finally saying, “I only said that because I knew you were a believer of those things.”

You scoffed as you got up from your chair. You were so angry. You hated every fiber of his being right now, and you needed to leave because you didn’t want to hear what else he was going to say.

“Don’t act like this.” Carter got up from his chair also. “Did you really think we were going to last long?”

“You’re such a fucking ass!” You exclaimed. “We were together for six years! Of course, I did!” You shook your head and started walking away from him.

“Wait!” Carter held you by your forearm, stopping you from leaving. “Please don’t make this hard. We could still be friends.”

Tears were welling up in your eyes as you let out another scoff. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing right now. Friends, really? After acting like an ass? After all the shit that he just said?! Was he fucking insane?

“You’re such a fucking dick, Carter!” You exclaimed again, pulling your arm away from his grip. He looked around the restaurant again as some of the guests were now looking at the both of you.

But you didn’t care. He deserved to be humiliated from the way he was acting towards you.

“Please don’t make a scene.” Carter muttered.

“I’m not making a scene.” You argued back. “This is making a scene!”

You grabbed the glass of the dirty martini that was sitting on the table and splashed him with it before scoffing and turning away from him, walking out of the restaurant.

“Well, that was embarrassing.”

Joe watched you from across the place as you walked out of the restaurant before turning to Rue, who was sitting across from him. Her little comment over the situation made Joe feel a bit uncomfortable since he thought that was a dick move for a man to do something like that to a woman. Though, his mind needed to be somewhere else because this night was important.

“So, babe. What were you saying?” Rue asked, reaching for Joe’s hands.

“Um…” Joe cleared his throat and played with the small box inside his coat pocket. “Rue, we have been together for a while, and you have made me a better person. You make me so happy, and I want to make you happy and be there for you for the rest of our lives. You are amazing and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Joe got up from his chair and went down on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

Rue sat there, a small gasp escaped her lips. Her eyes fell to the ring that was sparkling inside the box before she looked around the restaurant for a moment. Some people were staring at them, and she couldn’t help but feel the blood rush to her cheeks before helping Joe up to his feet.

“Oh, honey.” Rue pouted. “This is the sweetest thing ever, but I’m sorry. I’m just not ready for all of this. I mean… marriage? I have my whole career before me. I don’t want to start a family yet. You know how it is.”

Joe swallowed every bit of his feelings as Rue continued to reject his proposal. He didn’t expect this. He thought their relationship was going really well. He thought they were both ready. Joe stood there in front of her, feeling a bit embarrassed and at the same time, feeling a bit confused.

“I… I thought we both wanted this.” Joe muttered. “We always have talked about it, and I’m ready, Rue. I want to be with you.”

“I’m so sorry.” Rue gave him a sympathetic look before grabbing her coat. “Yeah, we always talked about it, but I didn’t think that you were going to propose to me now. This is not what I want right now.”

“So, when is the right time to propose then?” Joe asked.

“I feel like we’ll know when we are on the same page but right now, this isn’t what I want.” Rue leaned in to give Joe a kiss. “I’m sorry.”

Joe exhaled sharply as he watched Rue walk out of the restaurant.

What the fuck just happened?

Joe stood there frozen as the server came by with the champagne and all Joe did was shake his head at the server. He needed to go fight for this. He had to go and find Rue and have a serious conversation about this because this was all a surprise to Joe. It made his heart shatter, hearing the fact that his long term girlfriend had just told him that she didn’t want to marry him.

You weren’t the only one getting your heart broken tonight.

“Fucking bullshit.” You cursed to yourself outside the restaurant, leaning your back against the brick wall.

God, you were such an idiot.

You cried to yourself, wiping the tears that were rolling down your cheeks. You were still trying to process all of Carter’s excuses as to why he didn’t want to be with you anymore. You kicked the brick wall with your foot and ran your fingers through your hair.

You were such a mess.

Your attention was caught when you heard the restaurant door opened and saw Joe running out of the restaurant. He looked around for a moment until he caught your eyes. Feeling embarrassed, you turned away from him and wiped your tears as you sniffed.

“Have you seen—”

“A strawberry blonde woman? Yeah, she took a cab and went that way.” You murmured, pointing at the direction where the cab went.

Joe let out a sigh and tilted his head as he walked towards you and asked, “Are you alright?”

“Does it look like I’m okay?!” You exclaimed, watching Joe in front of you take a step back.

Joe knew why you were crying. He saw that whole thing go down inside the restaurant. He knew why you were so angry, so he didn’t say anything else. He understood what you were feeling at the moment because unfortunately, he was also having a shitty night. Not trying to anger you even more, he took out a handkerchief from his coat pocket and handed it to you. For a second there, you paused and just stared at it.

Why was this stranger being nice after you just yelled at him?

Though, you accepted it anyway, thinking about how you probably looked ridiculous in front of him with your mascara running and your eyes all red and puffy.

“Thanks.” You muttered, your voice almost a whisper.

Joe watched you wipe your tears and then unfold the handkerchief to blow your nose. He couldn’t help but pursed his lips, holding in his smile as he watched you. Then, his mind directed back to Rue and the reason why he was running out of the restaurant in the first place. He still wanted to talk to her about everything that happened because he loves her, and he wanted this to work out. Maybe she was right? Maybe he did this too soon.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” You interrupted Joe’s thoughts. “Why are you running after that woman anyway?”

“She’s my girlfriend.” Joe replied. “Or… ex. I don’t know right now. I just proposed to her, and she rejected it and ran off.”

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Here you were thinking that Carter was going to propose to you tonight and instead, he broke it off with you. Meanwhile, the man in front of you proposed to his girlfriend, and she had the audacity to reject it? How could someone reject that, especially if they loved each other? Looking at Joe in front of you, you surely could see it in his eyes how much he loves her. Who would still run after a person after they rejected their proposal? This man in front of you surely would.

How lucky she was.

“I’m sorry.” You told him.

“It’s okay.” Joe hailed a cab and turned to look at you. “Are you gonna be alright?”

“Yeah, thank you.” You nodded and watched him give you a small smile.

“Here, take this cab. I’ll get the next one.” Joe opened the door for you as you muttered another thank you before getting inside.

“If it makes you feel any better, you dodged a bullet.” Joe said before closing the door.

You couldn’t help but think about that comment on the way back home to your apartment.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe you did dodged a bullet, and Sara was right.

Carter was an asshole.

You tried your best to hold back your tears at the back of the cab but it just wouldn’t stop falling. You could see the cab driver’s eyes looking at you through his rearview mirror, and you couldn’t help but think about how many times you were going to embarrass yourself in front of strangers tonight. You were just glad that the cab driver didn’t say anything to you. The moment he stopped in front of your apartment building, you paid the man and quickly exited out of the vehicle.

The apartment was dark and quiet when you entered. You figured maybe Sara was still out on her date. So, you headed to the bathroom and slid your clothes off. Entering the shower, you sat on the bathroom floor, hugging your knees and just cried your eyes out. The hot water ran down your skin as you sat there and sobbed on your knees. You couldn’t even tell anymore if it was the hot water that was making your body numb, or it was just because you were just done with everything.

When you slid under your bed covers that night, your eyes were all red and puffy, and you could barely breathe from your stuffy nose. Your skin was all pruney because you had spent probably an hour in the shower and letting the hot water just run down your body. You stared at the ceiling for a moment as tears started rolling down your cheeks again.

Your chest hurts.

Everything hurts.

You didn’t stop yourself from crying anymore. You let everything out as you hugged your tear soaked pillow tightly until you were just so exhausted that you finally crashed.

The sound of loud clattering woke you up the next morning. You fluttered your eyes open and stared at the ceiling for a moment. You felt numb. You didn’t even want to get up and go to work today. After all, it was a Friday. Maybe calling out sick was a good idea for today. You weakly got up from your bed and made your way out the door and saw Sara putting away the plates in the cupboard.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you? I accidentally dropped one of the—” Sara paused as soon as she glanced up and saw your face.

“Ohmygod.” She immediately set the plates on the counter and pulled you into an embrace. “What happened? What the fuck did he do?”

You buried your face on your best friend’s shoulder and sobbed as you hugged her tightly. Sara softly rubbed your back, and you both stayed like that for a few minutes. Sara didn’t say anything. She just let you cry in her arms. She didn’t want to push you until you were ready to talk.

“He…He broke… it off.” Your words stuttered. “He said.. he didn’t want to be in a serious relationship at the moment.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” Sara retorted. “Six years together and he says that shit?”

You nodded your head as Sara gave you a glass of water, while you wiped your tears with the back of your hand.

You felt exhausted.

“He’s such a fucking asshole.” Sara cursed under her breath. “I’m so sorry.” Sara rubbed your back softly again. “He doesn’t deserve you. Someone like that doesn’t deserve your love and you know it. He’s stupid and an idiot for letting you go.”

“It feels like… it was so easy for him.” Tears rolled down your face again. “It was as if the six years we had together was just nothing to him. Like it didn’t mean anything to him.”

“C’mere.” Sara whispered, pulling you into a hug again and embracing you tightly. “You don’t have to go to work today. You can hang at the bookstore with me.”

“It’s okay. I… I need to go. They need me there.” You sniffed. “Plus, I need a distraction after all of this.”

“Okay, but if you need me to rescue you, just give me a call.”

You let out a small smile. “Thank you.”

“Hey,” Sara softly set her hand on your forearm, “Don’t push yourself too hard today and please let me know if I could help you with anything.”

“Thank you. I will.”

Drinking the rest of your water, you left the kitchen to get yourself ready for work. Sitting at the subway later that morning, all your mind could think of were the memories of Carter. The way how you both started off as friends and then started dating just because you two had hooked up one night. Carter had told you then that he had feelings for you all this time, and he didn’t want to say anything because he thought you didn’t like him back. You felt like maybe you were too over dramatic and that was why he broke up with you. It made you question every single thing that you did to really know the reason why he broke up with you. Sara was right. His excuse wasn’t genuine. The way he lied to you just so he could be with you? Just because you believed in fate?

Now, you don’t even know if you even believed in that anymore.

You spent your day trying to focus on your work and told yourself that you weren’t going to cry because why would you cry over some piece of a shit of a man? Why would you waste your tears on someone who couldn’t even commit to you even after six years? But you failed because by the time it was your first break, you had found yourself in the bathroom upstairs. You sat in the stall, your palms on your face, and you just sobbed quietly. Then, on your lunch break, you found yourself in the bathroom again, and you didn’t even eat your lunch because you spent the next half hour just sobbing in the bathroom.

You were so tired of crying. You felt like there was nothing left inside of you anymore.

By the end of the day, you had tried gathering yourself and decided to spend the afternoon in the mall to get your mind off of things. You needed a distraction, and it was a Friday. Carter would usually come and pick you up from the office, and you two would spend the night together at his place but this time, you were alone. There was no more Carter picking you up from your office, no Carter cooking dinner for you on a Friday night, and no more Carter who would hold you in his arms when you had a long day at work. Thinking about those memories pulled your heartstrings a little bit too hard, and it made your chest ache for him. Snapping out of your thoughts, you sighed as soon as the subway stopped and you exited and made your way to the mall.

The place was crowded, and it was all decorated ready for Halloween. You didn’t know exactly what you wanted to see or buy, but you just wanted to get your mind off of Carter. You bought yourself some coffee to give yourself a bit of energy and a piece of pretzel since you were hungry. After all, you didn’t eat your lunch today. You took a deep breath and walked down the mall when suddenly, everything happened so fast. You found your coffee spilled on your white button up and your pretzel that you were holding was now on the floor.

Oh, just fucking great.

“Jesus.” Joe whispered as you stood there with your mouth open in shock, soaked with your drink.

“This is just fucking great!” You exclaimed sarcastically.

“I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” He asked, that English accent slipping through his voice.

You glanced up and saw him. That British man that you saw last night outside of the restaurant. This was the second time you had yelled at him and this was the second time you two had bumped into each other. His chocolate button eyes staring into yours were full of guilt and worry, and you couldn’t help but study him from up and down. He definitely looked different from last night. His brown curls were all disheveled, and falling down perfectly on his forehead. He was just wearing a white shirt and jeans unlike last night with his button up and fancy trousers.

You couldn’t blame him.

His girlfriend—or ex— rejected his proposal. You couldn't help but think about how her decision was still ridiculous and stupid. But then again, you didn’t know the woman. Who were you to judge? You were just basing it off from your own experience and point of view.

“Wait, I know you.” Joe said.

You let out a sigh and said, “Yeah, I’m the one who yelled at you last night outside of the restaurant.”

Joe chuckled softly and nodded his head, all the pieces falling into place in his head.

“I’m sorry about that.” You said. “You just found me at my lowest point.”

Joe shrugged, “It’s alright, I understand. You weren’t the only one having a shitty night.”

“Right.” You pursed your lips. “I’m sorry about your proposal.”

“It’s alright. It’s life. We’re still trying to work things out though.”

You nodded your head and couldn’t help but think again how lucky that girl was because even if she rejected his proposal, he was still trying to make things work. Carter, on the other hand, just gave up on the both of you so easily. Threw away everything that you had like it was nothing.

“Well, good luck.” You gave him a small smile before walking away.

“Wait, are you sure you’re alright?” Joe asked. “I could get you a new shirt. You’re… soaked with your coffee and maybe a pretzel since I made you drop that one.” His eyes fell to the floor where your pretzel was now laying on.

“It’s okay. I’ll manage. Thank you.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind.”

“I’m sure. It’s nice to see you again.” You gave him a small wave as you walked away.

Letting your feet drag you in the opposite direction of him, you let out a sigh and couldn’t help but look back at the man that you kept bumping into for the last 24 hours. He was walking away in the opposite direction and his back was turned to you. For a moment, you wished there was someone that could fight for you the way he does with his girlfriend. The way he didn’t give up even if she had rejected him.

You just wished someone wouldn’t give up on you so easily.

**********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @browneyes8288 @bylermaxmayfield @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joseph Quinn Fics #Joe Quinn Fics #Joseph Quinn Fanfics #Joe Quinn Fanfics #written in the stars #part one #sweetprfct

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madstronaut · 2 months

Text

TATS TATS TATS TATS (to the tune of Shots by LMFAO ft. Lil Jon)

tattoo au tattoo au tattoo auuuuu my beloved, one of my favorite AUs to read about!!!!!!!!!!!!!

alright I’m throwing a bunch of these fic rambles out now as I’ve got a busy season coming up for traveling off-site/pulliing long hours for work for the next few weeks but rest assured I have read all these july (and june…and may..april..march…etc etc) fanficowrimo fics a disturbing # of times and I will continue to do so during my mini work-related hiatuses

Reading: Skin Deep by @rememberwren

first off the A/N at the beginning said “at least three nipples” and for some reason my brain went straight to chandler from friends havin a third nipple and thought i would also see a reader with a third nip 😂

also now that Ive seen this gif I can't help but see ghost+soap as military brit chandler & joey lmao

Her silky little tank top is drooping off of one shoulder, so you reach out and tuck it back into place.

i love this lil sisterly/affectionate gesture 🥰

“Oh no. No, no, no. Not Kevin. Not Kevin. Why, Kevin?”

IT’S ALWAYS A FUCKIN KEVIN ISN’T IT (no shade to good kevins out there but most if not all the IRL kevins I know are little shitbags)

You deflate like a balloon, going limp and letting her drag you to the nearby free seats at the bar where you sit heavily.

nooooooooo I want to hug reader and pep talk her so bad here rn

...sipping at it and keeping your hand curled over the top of it protectively.

I both like and hate (that the need for this exists) this inclusion; club/bar survival 101

There is a personal instagram linked @GHOST89 but it is private when you try to click on it.

hehehehe me also giggling as an 89 baby

The phone number your friend gave you rings straight through to voicemail…Groaning, you contemplate dialing him back when the phone in your hand rings—and it’s him.

i guess my millennial is showin at the horror i felt at reading about answering a call from a strange #/stranger lol

All at once a shadow appears on the other side of the door. The shadow is enormous: well above six feet tall, and broad shouldered.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. And Ghost.

aHAHAHAHA FUCKING SCREAMING AT THEIR IN PERSON MEETING I LOVED ALL THE DETAILS OF HOW THE READER & GHOST PERCEIVE EACH OTHERRR

He doesn’t laugh. “Everything. Is someone putting you up to this? This smells like Soap.”

“What? No, of course not. I want this, I’m just, I’m an anxious personality. I promise.” You hesitate and then add: “I probably smell like soap because I showered this morning.”

His mouth twitches. He leans back in his seat and sucks on his teeth, and you get the distinct feeling that he is trying very hard not to laugh at you.

LMAO I LOOOOOOOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS AWKWARD READER GIVING YOU A LIL MEDAL FOR THAT SOAP JOKE WRENNY

You do your best to express your idea, but your words feel halting and silly.

ah *pats reader’s arm* we’ve all been there lovey

pausing only once, when you say that you want this to be a sternum piece. Only then does his pencil seem to hover over the paper, his dark eyes seeking you out and pinning you in place on the armchair.

He reaches for his tea to take a generous sip and then continues writing.

first off I looove that ‘dark eyes pinning you in place’ line, if you have been on the receiving end it feels like being caught in a tractor beam just absolutely arresting knowing you’re at someone’s center of attention! but also fucking caaaaaackling seeing ghost attempt to keep his cool and be profesh imagining himself touching reader’s…sternum yes her sternum of course what else could he have been imagining- this is a christian blog writing about a 100% christian tattoo shop au you sick fuc-

How do you take pain?” “I mean, it hurts?” you offer. He stares.

😂😂😂

He’s handsome, in an odd sort of way. His brow is a little too low, his gaze a little too intimidating to be considered conventionally attractive, but you find him fascinating to look at, especially when he is so clearly in the throes of something he enjoys doing. It’s almost like watching someone have sex. The thought makes your face go warm.

oh I love this whole section…I think everyone is most attractive when they’re doing what they love/were born to do/fully themselves and in their element, and yes reader, it IS indeed so intimate to witness, akin to watching someone have sex indeed dw you’ll get your turn 🤭

He made them so the image would better fit the contours of your body. He made them because the ink will spread over time, and he wants the look to stay clean.

His thoughtfulness touches you.

🥹🥰

You didn’t tell me this guy was cute, you text to your friend. GHOST? Cute? I’ve never even seen his face lol. He’s always wearing one of his masks.

sidenote shoutout to this bestie for connecting reader and ghostie🥰

Did it mean something that you wanted it to mean something?

i am half in love with how relatable this reader is and her part curiosity bravery awkwardness cluelessness is absolutely endearing to meeee

Fuck the tattoo artist!!!! she says. Maybe he’ll ink you for free.

lmao the feral bestie energy is immaculate (speaking as an IRL feral bestie)

Two days later, you squint blearily into the darkness at your phone after it vibrates on your nightstand. The time reads twelve past one in the morning. It’s from GHOST.

hahahaha I would love to see this whole story from ghost’s perspective working his ass off to impress his clientcrush and texting her in the middle of the night GOD I LOVE BOTH THEIR ENERGIES

“Your tits are cute. Let Ghost see them.”

#FREETHENIPPLE2024

You felt reasonably safe with Ghost, but still a degree of embarrassment about your own body. Or perhaps that was too strong a word—it didn’t embarrass you, but it felt private. Baring your breasts to a near stranger (especially one you had a grudging attraction to) made your anxiety reach epic level proportions.

so valid, reader, so valid! I loved their exchange discussing her anxieties as well

but his blond hair, cropped short to his scalp is riotous in a way that is adorably charming, like he hasn’t been able to keep his hands out of it.

looks like reader wasn’t the only anxious one 👀👀🤭🤭

You fight the arousal that blooms in your belly at the sight of him doing such benign things as washing his hands, putting on gloves, opening fresh needles, preparing little wells of ink and sticking them to the movable cart with Vaseline. There’s just something about a person who knows exactly what they’re doing and who is able to do it with efficacy.

yes, yes, yes, and (checks notes) yes

Finally, you sit in front of him in only the pasties, the shirt lax around your shoulders, and your sweatpants, socked toes curling in anxiety in your shoes

ghost nervously aroused by reader in this outfit (SWEATS, SOCKS. BUTTONUP???) is so endearing to me lmao

“Yes,” he says. Then his eyes flicker to yours. “Everyone is. Everywhere. It’s normal.”

I know somewhere, ghost’s bestie soap is facepalming at his answers here LMAO

“Very good,” you answer, sitting back down, hoping he ignores the way your breasts bounce a little as you do

HAHAHAHA DENIAL, THY NAME IS READER

His gentleness and thoughtfulness go straight to your cunt.

me, reading: “is this reader…me?????” 🧐🤔🧐🤔

He pauses when this happens, eyes flickering up to your own, making sure you are alright even though he can likely feel the pounding of your heart beneath his hand. That hand on your chest, wrist just brushing the top of your breast, is a solid warm weight that seems to tether you back down to the earth as he lines you.

ah i love this sm. there’s a special tenderness (and sexiness) in getting on an intuitive/anticipatory/reading body language/unspoken cues level of communication🥰

“Alright. Break,” he says, abruptly turning the gun off. He covers your exposed breast with another towel. “Take ten.”

LMAO READER BROKE HIM FIRST I AM CACKLING I *KNEW* HE WENT TO RUB ONE ONE OUT EVEN BEFORE WREN CONFIRMS HE DID INDEED LATER ON

It had almost weeded out you, you think about telling him, but in the end you decide against it.

almost..but you made it!!! *strong urge to pep talk reader and boost her confidence intensifies* CMON GIRL YOUR BEST ASSETS ARE RIGHT OUT FRONT WORK WITH WHAT YA GOT

“I need breaks too,” he says stonily.

yes cos hes rock hard rn get it *badumtss* sorry I’ll stop here

His face is stoic—what bits of it you can see from behind the mask—as he washes his hands thoroughly and preps his work station again.

the amount of screeching/cackling I made while reading this was really unhealthy

This time his hand keeps a very respectable distance from your breasts—a fact which you both lament and appreciate all in one.

sigh I feel you reader, the paradox of A Good Man indeed

a happy trail you’d give your life to follow

this...is some A GRADE PROSE RIGHT HERE WREN MWAH MWAH MWAH

“Eager to be done?” you wonder. He stares at you, expression flat, and says nothing. Nothing needs to be said.

what good is yearning without some delicious tension arising from some misinterpretation?!?! btw having some curiosity/courage/humility to talk things out can NIP so many conflicts in the bud before they start… (I know I said I'll stop well I lied)

After he takes the photo, he posts it and asks for your handle to tag you in it…You get home to find that Ghost’s personal account has requested to follow you.

🤭🤭🤭🤭again gigglin madly

You find yourself staring at his fixated expression for longer than is respectable.

awwwWWWWWWWWWWWW-[audio cut off, voice reached inhuman decibels]

What sort of ink did Ghost use? Was it reputable? What if the infection reaches your bloodstream? You were too young to die! Your anxiety spirals like a plane with one wing, trailing smoke as it soars straight down, determined to take you with it.

omg reader reader WHY ARE YOU SO RELATABLE I HATELOVE IT the anxiety tailspin’s so real

You don’t bother with a bra, not when it irritates your tattoo so much.

as someone who has experienced skin irritation under clothes definitely sympathywinced reading this

“I was smoking,” he says when you roll your eyes in exasperation. “You’re worried about getting the chemicals on my skin but not in your lungs?” “Fuck my lungs,” he mutters.

I’m in love with their exasperated banter here lmao

As he speaks, his breath fans across your chest, making you shiver. He sees this, his eyes darkening. “When you called, I thought it was for me.”

FUCKING FINALLY (also why he wore the mask during their session earlier i suspect)

“It was for you,” you say, brow furrowing. “Who else?”

OH MY FUCKING GOOOODD READER!!! READER PLEASE LMAO this is comedy of shakespearean proportions to me

God, it’s like he’s not getting it. Maybe you need to be bolder. Fortune favors the bold, doesn’t it?

YES ReADER YES YOU CAN DO IT!!! I AM SHARPIE ON CARDBOARD SIGN RABIDLY WAVING ENCOURAGING YOU FROM THE SIDELINES FUCKING GO FOR IT OMG THE FUCKING TENSION HERE IS LIKE WATCHING A SPORTS MATCH WAITINGBEGGING FOR YOUR TEAM TO SCORE

“If I—“ it hits him then. You can see it in the fractional widening of his eyes, the way his mouth parts softly in blatant surprise before he shuts it, dark eyes returning to your sternum. He says: “Closer.”

FUCKING FINALLY YES SCORE POINT SET MATCH GOAL SLAM DUNK FUUCKKK waving flags rn

“Be still,” he says firmly. Another pitiful sound slips past your throat. “Let me play with you.”

ah riley ever the professional lmao

“Please,” you gasp. “Play with me—even if that’s all you want—just don’t stop, please.” His mouth parts as he listens to you, his eyes so, so dark. The pupils have nearly swallowed his irises whole, until you can see yourself bare from the waist up in the reflection. He shakes his head a little. “You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“you don’t know what you’re saying” could be the alternate title for this whole damn fic lmao also fucking love this with the reflection in the pupils! I had this experience IRL and I still think about it from time to time

You gape at his admission. Had you been? He’d been so closed off and cool…though now that you thought back, maybe that was just his way of hiding it.

yall we got a BUDDING SHERLOCK HOLMES HERE, SOMEONE GET HER A MAGNIFYING GLASS 😂

“You the kind of girl who can cum like this? Just from this?” “Uh-huh,” you promise, head bobbing.

READER!!! you fucking cutie pie also if simon asked me a question any question while dry humping all my answers would be promises, well said reader, well fuckin said

“You can play with it.” You shyly run your thumb over it the way he had yours. He sighs, breath fanning across your arm

oh I love this mirroring here!!!

He lets you, very patient, like a dangerous creature withholding its bite.

this line is perfection mwah mwah mwah

Then he touches you, and when he does, he touches you with surprising reverence. He touches you like you are art.

this is so tender, I love this sm!!! this might be my favorite line in this whole blessed fic-

“Can’t believe you let me ink you,” he mutters.

this line + his reaction to reader calling him hot makes me think he has some self-esteem issues 🥺🥺🥺

His sigh is shaky. You’re learning his reactions, his very breaths. That shaky sigh means he’s pleased with you. You’ve said something right.

this is a very revealing insight imho as in contrast, simon showed he’s been reading her body language very well much earlier on (he fell first and harder)

“Can’t,” you gasp, his revelation electrifying you. I loved this phrasing!!!! “Not sure I want you to cum now,” he says. “Hold it. I’m thinking it over.” You broken?” “Yes.” He snorts. Then it turns into that laughter, warm and rumbling against your back. You smile where he can’t see.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA my god when writers get simons droll brit humor right THEY GET IT SO FUCKING RIGHT

“I jerked off in the back just from seeing half your tits,” he admits.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH GOD wrenny this whole story was so sweet and sexy and like a shakespearean comedy in the best way with the tension and miscommunication built up then resolved and mirrored in the best way with all that release of tension

also when I came back to link this story absolutely gasped at the little link atop indicating a SEQUEL??? MOTHER WREN YOU ARE TOO KIND INDEED

also finally realizing now as I write this the third nipple was ghost’s lol

also screaming IRL at how reader met soap LMAOO the TONGUE FLASH AND CASUALLY DROPPING HE’S PART OWNER, the screamers line from simon? AAAAAAAAAAAA [screeching reaching unholy decibels rn]

With Simon, you were just discovering that sex could be fun; sex could be slow; sex could end with no one orgasming and it could still change your life.

🥹🥰🥹🥰yes yes PSA this is true IRL as well dear readers

He’s got cute nipples: small and pink as his mouth.

what a compliment, reminds me of that weird irl clock app trend I thInk with those glossier lip pencils mimicking nipple/dick colors or smth smth idk im too old/lazy/tired to keep up with tikkytokky trends

“You’re alone with Soap for sixty seconds and now you want your tits pierced. Are you saying that’s a coincidence?”

mmm i can smell some tension/insecurity/anxiety brewing in this line of questioning already, fascinating!!!

You’ve never considered yourself to be particularly sexy, but the way he looks at you makes you feel powerful, like the sun lives just underneath your skin.

🥺🥺🥺

“We’ve got a spectator? A voyeur?” Soap asks, rubbing his hands together. “Oh you know all my seedy kinks, Ghost.” Soap extends a hand to you. “The big guy still hasn’t introduced us. Some call me Soap, but beautiful women are allowed to call me Johnny.” You shake his warm hand to be friendly and make the mistake of meeting his eyes. They are very blue, framed by dark lashes and expressive eyebrows. He flashes his tongue piercing at you again and you jerk your hand back like you’ve been burned. He laughs.

wow I know soap is often headcannoned as “flirts with anything that moves”/“flirts as friendship” but I love this little extra wrench/kink he throws in simon x reader’s relationship here (and very revealing of simon & johnny’s relationship here)

the whole ghost offering soap a free tattoo for reader’s nip piercing exchange is a fucking FASCINATING insight into his + johnny’s psyche in so many ways!!!!! johnny immediately drawing a boundary with reader as simon’s girlfriend and completely switching off his casual flirting (maybe in response to being shocked at the exceptions/rulebreaking simon made for her?) - I would also ask, as reader did right after this, about their friendship & history…a picture paints a thousand words and what a picture!! I loved this weird lil heated exchange

“I was doing stick ‘n pokes for anyone who would sit still. He was piercing soldier’s ears in exchange for cigarettes.

I like this lil canon inversion of what I’d think their roles would be in a tattoo au (johnny is an avid sketcher and would probably be more likely to be the artist if we follow canon)

"We both decided we’d rather live to see thirty, so when our time was up, we didn’t re-enlist, pooled our money, bought a location and never looked back.”

#JohnnyLives in AUs and fanfic, god bless fanfic, yes and amen

“Was Johnny the one to pierce your nipple?” Simon stills for a moment, considering the question. At length he sets his glass down and says slowly: “Yes.”

what is it about fanfic writers who pluck our beloved blorbos out of their element (always reminded that COD is a first person shooter military propaganda game) yet capture their essence and personality so perfectly as they do??!?!?! one of the things I loved about this story is how wren writes simon in such a simon-y way if that makes sense

also reader, you are quite kinky and curious from what I can gather re: braving through a fucking sternum tat as your first one and ghost’s giant dick and considering a nip piercing; in conclusion LETS HANG OUT IRL I ADORE YOU (platonic)

He is much more abrupt today than he had been yesterday. You’re almost moved enough to ask him if he’s upset, but perhaps this is just his professionalism. Regardless, you miss the easy-going nature that had gone so far to put you at ease yesterday.

this + the lack of eye contact compared to ghost’s behavior with reader is fucking revelatory to meeee aaaaaa livin for the drama here

“Left out all the tastiest bits,” Johnny says. “I bet he does that a lot when talking about his days with the 1-4-1.” Your stomach dips. “That’ll do,” Simon says sternly from the corner.

HAHAHAH but also sOAP WHY ARE YOU MAKING 141 sound like a bacchanalic orgy LMAO

“If you can’t go without playing with them, I recommend just doing one at a time.

again the “playing with them” mention re: nips 👀👀 I feel like im playing clue here rn LMAO “IT WAS SOAP WITH THE CLAMPS IN TEH FOXHOLE”

my current crackpot theories are:

- ghost & soap fucked, possibly stlll fuck on and off

- ghost & soap share partners (ghost’s “this smells like soap” comment reads totally differently after reading pt. 2 to me) and they both give indications of romantic-attraction based insecurity in how they interact with each other

- ghost getting pierced was sexual

- ghost hasn’t had a steady partner before like reader and soap realized she was different when ghost maNIPulated (see what I did ther-ok I’ll stop no more puns) soap into a free piercing for her and may have experienced a bit of sadness at what he may perceive as the loss of ghost (as fuck buddy? something more? idk! soap keepin us all on our toes as usual)

- though I also think soap refusing to look at her, get her #, his sad lil smile re: “I’m a liar” and his reaction to her being invited to bday drinks with 141 all just might be signs of soap trying to adjust to the fact that a friend closer than a brother (in the sense they survived combat/PTSD-inducing sitchs together) is changing and “leaving” in a sense with the addition of reader in his life

- OR MAYBE johnny is protective of simon and knows how much simon likes her, and perceived her wanting a nip pierce as flirting with him (soap) and he resents her cos he thinks she’s not as head over heels for simon as he can see he is for her?!?!?!?!?!?! and they’ve had past drama re: love triangles here? IDFK anyway sorry let me put my pepe silvia conspiracy meme glasses away lol THIS FIICCCCCC has me in a chokehold (sexy)

It’s clear that their time spent serving together has made a brotherhood of them, and while a small part of you feels estranged as the outsider amongst this group, the larger part thinks it’s beautiful to see.

🥹🥹🥹I’ve said this before but such a lovely part of being beloved is meeting others who also love your beloved (and who also become beloved to you)

“It wouldn’t be the first time that a girl who was supposed to be mine ended up being for Soap.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA the painjoy of liveblogging a ficread is regretting to stop to conspiracy theorize but I FUCKIN KNEW IT!!!!! RAAAAAA

ch2 brought a completely different spin to the fic but honestly what a fuckin ride!!! I love both so far because I love all my kinky COD men equally (cough no I don’t but my favorite is the rarest blorbo of all so I make do lol cough)

update: SHE WROTE A PT 3!!!!!!

#madstrothought #FaFiCoWriMo #fanfiction #call of duty #simon ghost riley #skin deep #rememberwren #tattoo au #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish #ghoap? (? cos idk endgame)

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