#thanks for pointing this out OP & co!

[raycatz]

Some dungeon predictions (and things I'd just like to see xD ) for the upcoming arc!

(inspired by boards I've seen in the past. like this! Art from @/linkeduniverse!)

I love Zelda dungeons and LU dungeon crawling fics are some of my favorites! I'm so excited to see what puzzles Jojo's come up with! Nine person puzzles? Let's goOOO!!! There's so many possible interesting things to do with the chain's items and abilities.

[okmcintyre]

'wait sinclair has a wife alsjdkfh'

[deangirldisease]

the notes on that poll are actually very interesting. to me

[ahaura]

i saw someone point out the frequency with which liberals back social justice movements... how, for instance, when ferguson happened under obama it was not popular and there were many, many liberals who found the blm movement, in a sense, "in violation of [liberal] sensibilities" (when liberalism as a rule does not challenge the status quo, only maintains it and sees any call for revolution or real change as disruptive or 'bad for optics' and therefore not acceptable) but then when trump became president and he opposed blm a lot more liberals decided that the blm movement had merit because they viewed it from a team-sports perspective rather than a worldview based on morals and an understanding of the systems in place in the U.S. - that it was more comfortable for them to operate from a "trump bad" basis rather than "the american justice system and the police are inherently white supremacist, which are inherently, automatically, and always violent"

+ that, if trump was president while israel is carrying out its genocide, liberals would have NO problem denouncing israel and demanding for a ceasefire because they're comfortable operating from the 2-party system basis, NOT from a framework based on material conditions or factors or any acknowledgement or analysis of imperialism, colonialism, or capitalism. but because biden is a democrat, and democrats are supposed to be "the decent party" "the lesser evil" "more respectable" when, in functionality - in real practice, they don't want to disrupt the status quo. (internally, maintaining systems of white supremacy and capitalism; externally, furthering U.S. imperialism by maintaining hegemony and continuing the practice of exploitation and extraction of labor+capital+resources from the global south)

which is why we're here, a month into a genocide, and liberals are so cowardly and gutless that, in the face of our democrat president allowing and funding the genocide of palestinians in order for the U.S. to maintain its military base in the middle east, liberals IMMEDIATELY jump to "well, you HAVE to vote for him still, because trump will be worse!" and go "well im powerless there's nothing i can do", immediately folding like a wet paper bag in the face of the american empire rearing its ugly head in the most blatant, naked way in years, instead of thinking "this is unacceptable, i should pressure my elected officials and do everything i can - be it combating propaganda, contacting my congresspeople or senators, protesting, or engaging in direct action - to ensure this stops as quickly as possible".

there are liberals STILL IN MY NOTIFICATIONS who go "well you'll be electing a fascist if you vote for trump" not realizing that YOU CAN'T SIMPLY VOTE FASCISM AWAY. (which is not to say you should vote for republicans; that's not what i'm saying. none of us have said it.) we're pretty much already there. it's 2003 all over again, with the patriot act and all. the american war machine is pumping out racist, orientalist, pro-colonial, pro-genocide propaganda on behalf of the ethno-state america and its allies have backed since the so-called state's inception. people are being doxxed, fired, harassed, and attacked for visibly supporting palestine/opposing israel. islamophobic hate crimes are on the rise; a 6 year old boy was murdered not one month ago, an arab doctor in texas was stabbed to death. antisemitism is on the rise as well, thanks to the conflation of antisemitism with anti-zionism (which nazis have and will attempt to co-op in order to 'justify' + then act on their antisemitism, racism, and genocidal worldviews). our government is silencing people, brutalizing protestors, and arming and funding an ethno-state committing genocide - everything that would have been called fascist if it was under trump. but because it's a *democrat* liberals place "vote blue no matter who" and "optics" over the extremely basic moral stance that "genocide is wrong and people have the right to self-determination, autonomy, and life". arabs and muslims are already so dehumanized in the west that liberals (whether they consider themselves liberals or not) consider it an inconvenience to talk about the ongoing genocide that is happening with the blessing of OUR government. in this they expose their selfishness, the shallowness of their morals, their chauvinism, and their racism/orientalism/islamophobia/et cetera.

for example, if you see israeli troops waving a gay pride flag and the israeli state touting its support of gay people while said iof soldiers are murdering men, women, and children en masse every single day and you somehow????? think that because gay people are the ones doing the killing or a state claims to support gay people is doing the killing is ok then 1) you have fallen for pinkwashing propaganda and 2) that you find the murder of palestinians, or any people, permissible by a colonial force that uses causes liberals may genuinely care about in order to disguise, whitewash, or "lessen" the severity of the injustices it does unto usually black and brown people outside of the U.S., then you are just as bloodthirsty and depraved as anyone you would personally assign those descriptors of.

once again, it goes back to resorting to a team-sport understanding of the world rather than approaching it from a material one.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn't go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: get ready for the hate.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The tunnel lights up ahead of you, revealing the cubic rock walls as you plant torches in your stead. The eerie soundtrack of night time and the ominous groan of zombies looming somewhere in the cave have you uptight. Silently, you press on, digging and mining mindlessly, fingers mashing the buttons on your controller. 

“Hey, where are you?” Jacob’s voice startles you. 

You nearly forgot you’re playing co-op. You sniff and shake your head, cursing aloud as your shock has you succumbing to the arrow of a sneaky skeleton. You sigh as your possessions scatter and you spawn back in your bed. 

“Back home,” you say glumly, “just ate it.” 

“Ah, damn,” his deep voice rolls in your noise-cancelling headset, “sorry, hope that wasn’t me.” 

“No, I wasn’t paying attention,” you hum and sigh.  

“Ah,” he accepts and lets silence linger before he clicks his tongue, “what’s going on? Everything alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you put the controller down, your avatar sitting on the geometric bed, “I just...” you stretch your neck and massage your scalp around the thick band of the headset, “got a lot on my mind.” 

“Right. I thought you were all done exams,” he says. 

“I am, but... packing. Going home. I called my old boss and turns out I’m not gonna have a job this summer. Gotta start over,” you yawn and rub your eyes, “what about you? Final exam tomorrow?” 

“Uh... yeah,” he hesitates as if he forgot. You do wonder why he isn’t cramming right now. You could never play minecraft all night the day before a final. “Easy stuff. I’m not worried.” 

You scoff. You wish you could say the same. All you’ve done is worry those last two weeks. Exams, getting home, getting a job. Your grandmother won’t very happy to find out you’ll be slumming it for a while. At least you tucked away some money through the semester. 

“Hey, if you need a few bucks...” Jacob offers. 

“What? Are you crazy? No way,” you exclaim, “really, no, I couldn’t. I’ll be fine. I just... I hate looking for jobs. You know how it is. Friggin awkward.” 

“It’s not a big deal. My dad sent me my birthday money so...” 

“Uh uh,” you deny him again, “that’s way too much. I couldn’t-- we haven’t even met.” 

“Mm, yeah, about that,” he exhales into his microphone, “I, uh, got an extra ticket to this Con. I figured out that’s it like the midway point between us so...” 

“A con? Oh, wow--” 

“Yeah, but I get that it would be expensive so maybe I could pay for your trip?” 

“Jacob,” you wiggle the controller restlessly, “I can't accept that. It’s so nice but... it’s a lot.” 

“I wouldn’t offer it was too much,” his voice is soft, meek, and defeated. You feel bad but you would feel worse taking advantage of his kindness. “We’ve been talking all year. I just figured it would be a good chance to meet up. It would be in public and something we both like so...” 

You scratch your neck as it speckles with heat. You don’t know what’s more insulting; yes or no. 

“Can I think about it?” You ask thinly. 

The line is quiet. You look at the screen and it goes dim from your idling. You hit the analog stick and fix your headphones. 

“Jacob?” You murmur. 

“Sure, think about it,” he says, his voice raspy and rocky. It’s strange. You’ve seen him in pictures and his voice doesn’t really match his appearance. He sounds a lot older than he looks. “It’s next month so lots of time.” 

“I’m sorry,” you cringe. “I just wouldn’t want to waste your money.” 

“Trust me, it wouldn’t be a waste,” he insists, “this last year has sucked. So much. You got me through it all.” His microphone scuffs, “studying, exams, all that stuff. It’s tough making new friends. Seems like everyone here knows each other from high school.” 

“Yeah, totally,” you agree.  

You’re not exactly the most popular person. You have people you know in each class but not too many friends you hang out with outside the lecture hall or library. So far, not too many people want to spend hours mining digital gold or racing cartoon characters around a rainbow track. 

“Well, you should probably get some sleep,” you yawn, “you got your big exam and... I gotta keep packing. Gotta catch the greyhound tomorrow night.” 

“Sure, uh, yeah, right,” his disappointment is potent, “hey, will you text me when you get home? Just so I know you made it.” He snorts, “god, I sound like my dad right now.” 

“Oh, of course,” you chirp back, “I’ll try to remember. Might be late.” 

“That’s fine. Just as long as you let me know.” 

“Don’t worry about me,” you assure him, “not ‘til I have to face my grandma. Ha.” 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he says, “well... er...” 

“Good night,” you finish for him, “let me know how the exam goes too.” 

“Will do,” his timbre gets even lower, “night.” 

You sign off and shut down the console. Another yawn flows through you and waters in your eyes. You should sleep, you got a long day waiting for you, but you know it won’t be easy. Not with so much on your mind, not least of all, Jacob’s invitation. 

🎮

You text Jacob as you get on the bus, to make sure he doesn’t worry. It’s so sweet that he does, even some of your girlfriends don’t bother that much. Not that you mind the ‘hey, bitch’ Janet sends you every now and again to make sure you’re still alive. 

You fall asleep on the bus. You’ve never been one to sleep while travelling but you’re exhausted from a night of anxious tossing and turning. After spending all day packing up the last of your things and scouring your dorm room, you’re beat to hell. 

It’s midnight as you get to your grandmother’s house. She’s up reading another Stephen King classic in her rocking chair. She’s always been a night owl and a voracious book hound. She grumbles at you but doesn’t bother to ask how your trip was. 

“Hey, grandma,” you hike up your bag and smile.  

She growls again, eyes not leaving the page. You should know better by now not to interrupt her. You shoulder on and head down to the spare room where you spent most of your high-school career. You shut the door gently as the old hardwood floors creak with your weight and you drop your bag on the squeaky bed. 

You fish out your phone and plug it in as the battery flashes red with only two percent left. You leave it on the night table and stretch out, not bothering to change out of your hoodie and jeans. It’s not long before you descend back into the same dreams that marked your journey home. 

You wake up to buzzing. Your phone shakes the nightstand, rattling it against the bed frame. You groan and roll onto your side, reaching blindly for offending object. You hit the side button to dismiss the call.  

You blink away the bleariness and focus on the screen. Along with the missed call are several text messages. You squint as you expand the notifications. Jacob! You forgot to message. 

‘Hey, you home?’ 

‘Checking in. Must be busy getting settled in. Just let me know when you’re safe.’ 

‘Not meaning to be weird but everything okay?’ 

‘Please answer me. I’m worried.’ 

You drag your thumb around the keyboard, letting it predict your words; ‘sorry! I was so tired. Home now and safe 😊' 

Three dots pop up then swoop away. You frown as the same thing happens several times before a response appears. 

‘Was really worried. Thanks for finally answering. Been up all night.’ 

You’re stunned by the terse response. Yeah, you forgot to answer but he doesn’t need to worry that much. You frown and shift onto your side. 

‘Srry again. Tired. Talk in morning. Night.’ 

You turn your phone on silent and plug it back into the cord. You do feel bad but you’re too exhausted to let it keep you up. Besides, you need your sleep. You have lots of job hunting to do in the morning. Not to mention, your grandmother to face. 

🎮

You let Jacob cool down after your return home. Rather, he doesn’t text and you’re too distracted to do the same. As much as you’d like to sit around and game, your grandmother was as disappointed as you expected with your employment status, even when you gave her the money you had left in your emergency fund. 

After a week, you finally get a bite. It’s nothing special. There’s a seasonal ice cream shop in a booth shaped like a vanilla cone that needs a cashier on weeknights. It’s less than full time hours but it’s better than nothing. It will be strange working with high school juniors but you can’t afford to be picky. 

‘Game tonight?’ The text interrupts your first shift. You don’t have a chance to answer as a family approaches the window to order. 

You get them the soft serve and take their payment, bidding them a good evening with their vanilla points already drooping in the summer heat. You glance around at the mostly empty picnic tables. Soccer practice will end soon and you’ll be overloaded with eight-year-olds. 

‘Srry. New job. 1st shift. Maybe tmrw.’ 

‘New job? Congrats. Why didn’t you tell me?’ 

You sigh.  

‘Time got ahead of me.’ 

‘Same. Catch up tomorrow then. Minecraft?’ 

‘Sure. Tmrw.’ 

You slip your phone away. A mother and daughter approach and ask for a sundae and a banana split. As much as you love ice cream, working with it hasn’t tested your cravings very much. In fact, you might be falling out of love with it. The smell of vanilla and overly sweetened strawberries is kind of gross when it’s all you breathe. 

As you watch the happy customers walk away, you smile. Maybe it will be good to get some mining done. It will take your mind off of everything else. Hell, it might even make you feel like you’re doing something useful. 

🎮

“Shit, oh, sorry,” Jacob corrects himself. You always think it's kind of funny how he doesn’t like to swear. “My diamond armor.” 

“Oh no,” you utter, “where are you? I’ll grab your stuff.” 

He gives his coordinates and you turn around, leaping over the green blocks to make your way there. Despite your reticence at the beginning, you’re feeling better about the session. He wasn’t as tense as he seemed in his texts. 

“So, uh, did you think about the con?” Jacob asks. 

“The con? I almost forgot. When is it?” 

He gives the dates and you hum. Your chest flutters at the thought still. You’re not stupid. Meeting people IRL is not like online, no matter how many hours you’ve mined together. As much as you enjoy chatting with Jacob, you don’t know about meeting up. 

“I get it if you can’t get the time off but my offer still stands to cover the trip. If you wanna stay the night, I’ll even get an airBnB.” 

“Oh, wow, that’s a lot. I’m working now. I could put in,” you offer.  

“Is that a yes?” He asks hopefully. 

“I don’t know... I mean, I’ll have to look into it,” you say evasively. “Talk to my boss and grandma and all that.” 

“Right, right,” he tries to sound unbothered, “makes sense. Of course, no pressure. How about I send you the ticket either way? Haven’t got anyone else to bite.” 

“Oh, well, hold off, I wouldn’t want to take it and not use it,” you collect his weapons and armor from the ground in the game. 

It’s silent as you focus on getting every little thing. 

“Sorry, did I freak you out?” He asks, “I’m really not trying to pressure you, just got excited thinking about it.” 

“I know, Jacob, it’s not that, it’s just... a lot.” 

“Totally get it,” he intones, “let me know whenever you got an answer. Uh, where are you? I’m tryna find you.” 

“Just stay there, I'll come back to the house,” you assure him, happy to focus on the game instead. 

Still, you can’t entirely lose yourself in it. You’re sure he’s a nice guy. From pictures, he’s less than scary, and he’s never been anything but friendly. It’s not like the other dudes you meet online who jump to asking about your bra size and all that. It just isn’t smart. 

Well, maybe if you don’t show up alone. You know what con he’s talking about and Kara from Econ lives near there. You could probably convince her to meet up. Hm, that might work. 

Just like you told him, you’ll have to think about it. 

[moni-logues]

Hiiiii Moniiiiii!!!! :) How are you?

I say a few request the other day and i would like to ask for one if its ok so may I please request a JiminxReader where they are co-workers, maybe a frienemies to lovers? and could you please highlight the fact reader has a mole somewhere special (shoulder, tigh, upper lip idk) that Jimin takes liking and loves kissing? thank youuuu xx

LOOK AT ME!!!! I'm FILLING A REQUEST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I DID SOME WRITING!!! LOOK, MA, NO HANDS!

Pairing: Jimin x reader (afab)

Genre: co-workers to lovers, slight enemies to friends to lovers

Summary: You were certain, when Jimin started at your company, that you were going to hate him. You had been wrong. Equally sure you were now that you were just friends. Just friends...

Word count: 5.1k

Content: oral (f. receiving), protected sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, one very bad stupid joke because i couldn't not, they're both drunk/sobering up; pretend this is actually set somewhere and that place is probably in the UK (hence Jimin Park not Park Jimin)

This Meeting Should've Been an Email

JP: this meeting should’ve been an email 

YN: it should have been an email between the two of them 

YN: i don’t even know what we’re doing here 

JP: i'm online shopping 

YN: 😂 

YN: maybe i'll do the same 

YN: spend all the money they don’t pay me 

JP: atta girl! 

You were trying to keep your face neutral, pretending you were listening to the discussion at hand, paying attention so that, if they directed a question to you, you’d be able to answer. Working from home was preferable to working in the office in a thousand different ways, but you did hate sitting on camera in a meeting that didn’t require you. Acting had never been your strong suit. You bit your lip, then rolled both into your mouth to stop yourself smiling.  

JP: what do you think of this? 

Jimin sent a link to a shirt so expensive, your mouth gaped without permission. Black and sheer, blousy with fewer buttons than sleeves. It was certainly something, but you weren’t sure it qualified as clothing—not for that price. 

“Oh, I’ve just seen your face—is there something wrong?” your manager asked and you started. 

“No, not at all! Sorry!” 

You had no lie or excuse to give, so you hoped he wouldn’t probe. He didn’t. 

YN: why would you spend so much money on so little fabric? 

JP: it’s fucking beautiful, that’s why 

YN: more beautiful than rent? 

YN: or food? 

JP: yes 

* 

You drummed your fingers on the desk, willing yourself to do some work, to at least look like you were doing some work. 

You had got into the office early, as you liked to do, so had secured your favoured desk, in the back corner, where you could surf the internet (decidedly not working) as much as you liked without anyone able to see your screen.  

You had all the right programs open: databases, emails, teams, spreadsheets, and checklists. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do anything with them.  

Jimin had told you, first thing this morning, that he wasn’t going to come in today. You didn’t see the point of being there without him. Who would you go on unnecessary walks with, just to get out of working for ten minutes? Who would convince you that walking the further distance to the good coffee shop was definitely worth it, as were the pastries they sold that the closer one didn’t? Who would distract you for 75% of the day, if not Jimin? 

No one.  

You told yourself to do one task and then you could have a break. You turned back to your monitors and scanned your to-do list. You needed something quick and easy. Then an email came through from your manager. The subject alone made your stomach drop: Team changes!! The second exclamation mark wasn’t right at all. 

“Hi all, 

I’ve got some good news and bad news. 

Bad news: Jimin is leaving us! 

Good news: he’s got a great new position as a manager just down the road! 

We’ll have to have some discussions around resourcing in Ops and I’ll of course feed that back to you and we’ll arrange how we’ll cover Jimin’s tasks in the interim. I know he’ll have a lot to train you guys on before his last day, but we’re such a great team, I know we’ll manage! It’ll be a great loss, for sure, and we’ll all be sad to see him go, but I hope you can be happy for him, too.  

See you in the meeting at 2. 

Hugh” 

Anger simmered in your gut before you could be sad. The passive aggression of ‘I know he’ll have a lot to train you guys on’ and the fact that Jimin hadn’t told you. That you knew it would be months before anyone was hired in Jimin’s place and that you would be expected to pick up all the slack, for no credit and no extra pay. That he hadn’t told you. 

YN: you’re LEAVING?!?!?!!???!!?!?!?! 

JP: yep!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

YN: cannot believe you made me find out from HUGH 

JP: 😇😇😇 

YN: you’re not allowed to leave me here 

JP: you should quit too!!!! 

You left that one on read and decided to knuckle down to work. You had a lot to do, you decided, and it couldn’t be put off any longer. 

You felt weirder than you had expected to. Unsettled for the rest of the day. Not really able to focus, but your mind wasn’t busy—there was nothing in it. You couldn’t fill it with numbers or comms or monitoring. Couldn’t fill it with office gossip (there wasn’t any). You took yourself on a walk, for fresh air, hoping the breeze would blow away the cobwebs, but that didn’t work either.  

* * * 

“Hi, Jimin!” Chloe called from across the office when Jimin entered, only in his second week of work. 

“Hi!” he called back, walking away from your bank of desks and towards the ones at the other end of the room. 

You rolled your eyes. Pretty boys were the popular ones. Go figure. You had known he would ingratiate himself with that little group the moment you had met: there was something almost simpering about the way he behaved when introduced around the office. As if it was some sort of one-man parade in which he was the star. Arrogant, you decided. Arrogant with no reason to be. 

He had a dance background (even less relevant than your history degree) so it wasn’t as if he had any experience in this field. It was his first office job since graduating; he had graduated at the same time as you and had spent a year working in retail before landing this job. So he didn’t even necessarily have technical or communication skills. He just had a pretty face. And a dancer’s body. 

You couldn’t work out how he became everybody’s best friend within five minutes. Even less when you started hearing people calling across the office for him to help with this problem and that.  

“Jimin, can you show me how to do a purchase order again?” 

“Jimin, what supplier did you use for your banner?” 

“Jimin-” 

“Jimin-” 

“Jimin!” 

You knew you knew just as much as he did, if not more. You’d been here longer. You just weren’t as... all that. Didn’t have the sparkle or the smirk. Fine, you weren’t glamorous but this job wasn’t supposed to be about style. You got the work done and you did it without fanfare because you weren’t desperate for attention and praise. 

Unlike some people.  

* 

“Guess who got the promotion,” you said on the phone to your best friend. 

“Oh my god, is it you?! Did you get it?!?!?!?!!?” 

“Nope.” 

You ended the word with a hard pop and said no more. Wendy was quiet on the other end for a second. 

“You didn’t?” 

“Nope.” 

“Then who did?” 

“I’ll give you one fucking guess.” 

“Not Jimin.” 

“Of course it was Jimin!” 

You had been all but assured the next open spot that came up. It was virtually guaranteed! Until Jimin swanned in and swiped it from within your claws. 

“No fucking way.” 

“Way.” 

* 

You got the promotion after that but it wasn’t a sweet victory. Forever, you would have to live with the fact that Jimin was promoted ahead of you. Even though he had less experience and had worked there less time. Even though all the managers encouraged you to apply. It left a permanently bitter taste in your mouth.  

Then they had a shuffle of staff.  

And you ended up on a project team with him. 

* 

JP: I’ve finished all the documents for this submission; please let me know what you think! 

You’d have liked to tell him to go fuck himself. You’d have liked to open those documents and tear them to shreds, cover them in red tracked changes, and make him look like a fucking moron. 

But you couldn’t do that because they were good. Perfect, in fact. You wouldn’t have changed a thing.  

YN: look good to me. 

You always gave him a passive-aggressive full-stop. You couldn’t be out and out rude to him, both because it was unprofessional but also because he didn’t deserve it. He was good at this job, it turned out. Didn’t have a head for data, but didn’t need one because his talents elsewhere were just as valuable.  

You had begrudgingly traded some tasks with him when your team was first set-up (you gave him the worst ones, the ones you liked the least because you might have been forced to share but they hadn’t specified what) and you were too proud to admit that he was actually better at them. He had a much better eye for visuals; his external comms samples were always flashier and prettier and neater and more engaging than yours had been.  

He had suggested a slightly different tracking method for your monitoring and you had had to pretend to have wifi troubles and leave the meeting to seethe for a minute. 

He brought in snacks to the office when you had meetings scheduled and had the gall to remember that you didn’t really like chocolate. 

He covered for you when you were ill without complaint and without any mistakes. 

He started sitting next to you in the office so that you could talk about the project more easily.  

He started sending you gifs and memes.  

He started making cute, little jokes over private message when you were in meetings together.  

You started, somehow, somewhen, you didn’t know why, growing fond of Jimin Park. 

* 

And now look where you were.  

You were hurt that he didn’t tell you first. You were surprised. You were more than just work friends now, weren’t you? You had each other’s personal numbers! You spent time together outside of work (sometimes)! Didn’t that deserve a little confidence? He couldn’t have even mentioned that he was looking for work elsewhere?  

* 

“I haven’t forgiven you, you know,” you told him as he arrived at the office, taking the desk next to yours as he now always did.  

“For what?” 

“For leaving! And for not telling me!” 

He laughed and, ordinarily, you’d have laughed at yourself along with him, but you didn’t feel like it today. You didn’t want to be laughed at. You wanted him to take your feelings seriously. You wanted him to apologise. You wanted him to not leave.  

* 

You spoke about it reasonably often, his leaving, his new job. How excited he was. How nervous. How weird it would be to not see each other every day.  

You didn’t speak about how sad you really were that he was going. You didn’t speak about the sting of betrayal you still felt but didn’t want to investigate. You didn’t speak about how his quitting really, truly made you want to quit, too, even though you liked this job, even though you were (had been) happy there.  

* * * 

It came around all too quickly. Jimin’s last day. The office was packed because everyone wanted to see him off. Of course they did. Everyone loved Jimin.  

Including you.  

* 

“For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good feeeeelloowwwwwwww! Which nobody can deny!” 

No one had expected the unit director to be the life of the party and it was providing an excellent diversion from the sinking pit in your stomach. With every drink, the end drew nearer.  

It wasn’t as if you wouldn’t see Jimin ever again, but you wouldn’t see him as often. He would make new work friends. You would be replaced. There felt something so final about it all, this evening stretching as long and taut as you could make it.  

So taut it might snap. 

* 

You were the last two in the pub. You used to sneak out early together after work drinks; head back to your place or his and eat chips in front of something you both talked over; took yourself to your exclusive club-house for two where you could gossip about the evening and who got too drunk and who was making eyes at whom.  

But you didn’t want to leave tonight and Jimin was hosting so he couldn’t leave until the last guest did. 

Or until the pub kicked you out after last call. 

A bell rang. 

“Last call!” 

Fuck.  

“Think that’s time, baby!” Jimin cried, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “My last day at work is officially over!” 

You whined, too drunk to stop yourself. You knew you’d had one too many. Two too many. Perhaps the whole bottle of wine too many. But you had to keep drinking if you were staying at the pub, and you wanted to keep drinking so you’d stop feeling so weird and sad about this. You looked up at Jimin and he smiled back down at you.  

God, he was pretty.  

“Don’t go,” you said, lips pouting so hard they barely let the words out.  

Jimin laughed again.  

“Back to my place, then? Your favourite chippy is on the way!” 

“Absolutely!” 

The relief that washed over you was almost strong enough to knock you over. There was still a little more time.  

* 

You squabbled at the chip shop. You could hardly remember why even as you were stepping out of it. It had turned the night just a touch sour. You didn’t want that. But you’d take that over the ending of it.  

* 

“What do you want to watch?” Jimin asked as you flopped, heavily onto his sofa, box of chips in hand. 

You shrugged. 

“Any genre you particularly fancy?” 

“I literally don’t care,” you replied sharply. 

You felt more than saw the look on Jimin’s face and chose to ignore it. He came to sit next to you on the sofa and you felt a little suffocated. He was too close. You could smell him. His shampoo? His laundry detergent? You’d never quite been able to pin down just exactly what it was that made him smell so nice; the opportunities you’d had to get that close to him just hadn’t been enough.  

“Why do you smell so good?” you asked, though it sounded like an accusation.  

Jimin laughed. 

“I smell like a brewery and fryer oil!” 

“No, you don’t! You always smell good!” 

You were starting to hear it, how drunk you sounded, which, on the plus side, meant you were just starting to sober up.  

“Thank you,” he replied, a little more tight-lipped than he might normally have been.  

The conversation, if you could call it that, ended there. You watched the drama he had put on in silence, munching chips, and sipping water, and not talking. You were drunk and tired and had already said too many things you hadn’t meant to. You didn’t know about Jimin.  

You watched one episode and then another and then another and just as Jimin’s TV was asking if you were still even there, Jimin turned it off. 

“I’m calling it,” he said with a wide yawn. “I’m fucking tired.” 

That was your cue to leave. You were also tired. Heavy with alcohol and lack of sleep. Blood viscous like molasses. You didn’t want to go. 

“I don’t want to go.” 

Jimin blinked. His lips twitched and you knew he was laughing at you. This was not the script the two of you usually followed. Then he shrugged, allowing the smirk to cover his mouth.

“Ok, then, stay.” 

“I don’t want you to go. Don’t leave.” 

He chuckled. 

“Why would I leave? I live here!” 

“Work!” you cried, stumbling as you put a tingling, dead foot on the ground, coming to a stand. “Don’t leave work!” 

He groaned your name in a way you hadn’t heard before and it made your stomach flop. 

“Don’t keep saying that. It’s too late; I’m going!” 

“Don’t.” 

“You going to miss me that badly?” 

You just looked at him. Couldn’t bring yourself to confirm it. Yes. Yes, you were. Yes, you would. Yes, you missed him already. Missed him so much you wanted to pull him closer. Wanted to tangle your fingers in his hair. Wanted to- 

Fuck. 

You started, taking a small step back. 

You wanted him. 

To kiss him. To touch him. To see him. To know him. Not to be his work friend. Not to be his friend. To be his. His. 

It hit you like a ton of bricks and you didn’t know if you wanted to cry or throw up. Maybe both. You weren’t sure how much of it was down to the alcohol and how much to the emotional slap in the face you’d just given yourself.  

“I’m going to miss you, too,” Jimin said, his eyes wide and cute, his smile a little rueful. “So much.” 

You felt something. Something charged. The hairs on your neck pricked. 

“How much?” you asked, voice escaping you in a whisper.  

“So much that it makes me not want to go.” 

You felt your eyes drawn to his, had no choice but to look him in his sweet face, his dark, swirling eyes glinting in the low lamplight. You couldn’t tear them away. Couldn’t move. Felt suspended in this second that stretched and stretched and stretched until it couldn’t stretch anymore. 

“Ji-” 

His name wasn’t out of your mouth before his lips were on it. Soft. Plush. Sweet with wine. His tongue swiped at your lower lip and you were eager to let him in, to taste him, to satisfy the hunger that had reared its ugly head, jaw gaping, teeth dripping, that must have been lying in wait, biding its time, hiding itself even from you.  

There was no denying it now.  

You didn’t talk as Jimin pulled you closer. Didn’t speak as he pulled your tucked-in T-shirt from the waistband of your jeans to slip his hands underneath. Didn’t make a sound when his fingers deftly picked at the clasp of your bra, instantly springing free, to allow his hands beneath that, too.  

Could only just stop yourself moaning when his lips met the sensitive skin on your neck at the same moment as his thumb brushed over your nipple. You couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t make a sound. The silence was so loud and you didn’t want to disturb it, even though what he was doing to you felt so good. Felt so unreal. You didn’t want the noise to puncture it, this bubble, this fantasy, this something that was happening that had been so unexpected even though it, now, felt like it had been a long time coming.  

Then Jimin moaned. Removed his lips from your skin and opened his mouth, letting sound spill from it freely, almost wantonly, as he pulled you even closer. Close enough to feel him against you which set your knees trembling.  

He looked at you, a little hesitation in his eyes, the hem of your top in his hands. You still couldn’t speak, just nodded, put your hands over his and pulled upwards. Watched in stunned silence when he unbuttoned his own shirt, let it fall to the floor.  

It occurred to you then that you had never seen this Jimin before. Not just the kissing and the erection and the arousal pooling in your underwear. You hadn’t even seen him topless. Had never seen the fine trail of hair that dipped beneath his waistband. Had never known he had a tattoo across his ribs.  

Never mind. 

You’d have scoffed if you’d had half a mind about you. Never mind.  

You were minding all this very, very much.  

You reached out to touch him, pressing the pads of your fingers to his chest lightly, testing to make sure he was real. He was. Soft and smooth and rippling with goosebumps under your fingers.  

“Fuck,” you whispered, finally finding your voice.  

“Yes, let’s,” he replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  

You laughed, then laughed some more, shocked at your own surprise.  

Fuck! 

Fuck!! 

Jimin’s mouth was on yours again, more urgent this time. His hands, too, flying over your body, gripping here, pinching there, slipping inside your jeans, flicking the button open and dragging down the zip. You retaliated, pushing his undone trousers to the floor, pushing your hand into his boxers, encircling his hot, hard cock with your fingers. The wobbly whine that trembled out of him made your core clench. 

“Jimin,” you said, breathlessly, calling his attention to your face. 

He held your gaze there for a second, a second or two or three—his hand groping at your backside, yours around his shaft—and then you didn’t need to say anymore. He was grabbing at your jeans and your underwear, pushing them down your legs, pushing you onto the sofa, kissing at your face and your jaw and your neck, all the way down, to your breasts to your navel to the crease of your hips and further.  

You couldn’t have been silent, even if you’d still wanted to be. The wet muscle of his tongue laved over you, all over you, exploring, familiarising, teasing until you were grabbing at his hair, nails scraping his scalp. 

“Jimin!” 

You wanted to shout, to demand, but you only gasped, only whined, your breath taken from you as his lips closed around your clit. Still, it seemed he’d got the message.  

You writhed beneath him as he sucked, as his fingers slipped easily inside you, curling against you insistently while his tongue flicked over your swollen bud, as his lips sucked, as you bucked and twisted and spasmed beneath him. You could have said it was too much, this was too much, but it was Jimin, and suddenly ‘too much’ seemed impossible. You’d have died under him. You’d have let him go forever. As long as he liked. Though you were twitching and squirming and your legs clamped around his head, he didn’t stop. Didn’t stop until you were screaming from one orgasm to another, gushing over his hand, being lapped up into his mouth. Until you were seeing stars. Until your breath barely came in, went panting out in sharp staccato gasps. Until he pulled back, eyes heavy-lidded and dark, mouth wet and shiny, and sat back on his heels.  

“Fuck,” he said and his voice was tight, hoarse, sounded strained.  

Strained like his boxers, still covering him if only barely. He palmed at them, eyelids fluttering, head tipping back.  

“Fuck,” he said again as he brought his face back down to you, as he scattered kisses across your torso. “I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long.” 

The words didn’t register, didn’t hit, because his lips were still moving against you, his hands brushing up your sides and over your breasts, cupping them up to his mouth so he could lick over your pebbled nipples, suck them into his mouth one at a time. You were dazed. 

But not done. 

“Jimin, please.”  

“Please what?” he returned, teeth grazing lightly over the shell of your ear, breath hot and wet against your shivering skin.  

“Please fuck me. Please.” 

He grinned, the glitter in his eyes turning wicked.  

“I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long, too.” 

He abandoned you, briefly, supine on the sofa, as he at last shucked off his underwear and fumbled in his wallet for the condom that was closest to hand.  

He knelt back over you and you felt him at your entrance, one hand holding him there and the other pulling at your thigh, positioning you where he wanted you, how he wanted you. 

He could have you however. As long as he had you.  

“Ready?” he asked, as if he had to. As if you weren’t already tipping your hips trying to capture him, as if your walls weren’t fluttering already, as if you hadn’t made a great mess of his sofa cushions.  

“Yes.” 

You groaned in unison as he slowly pushed into you. You hadn’t expected him to feel this big, stretching you as you squeezed him, as he continued to push until he was fully seated, settled inside you, all the way in.  

He lowered himself onto his elbows, nudged your nose with his, kissed you. Slow and deep, his body unmoving. You wondered what was stopping him, tilted your hips a little, wrapped your legs around him, clenched tight until he shuddered with a gasped laugh. 

“If you don’t want me to come like, immediately, you’re going to have to stop that.” 

You laughed back, in disbelief, still not really experiencing this as the Real Deal, still convinced this might be a dream. That Jimin was fucking you—was not fucking you right now because he needed a second to gather himself, a second to keep it together so he could fuck you.  

You relaxed yourself as much as you could, stroked his hair, flicked his earlobe with your tongue and bit down lightly on the soft flesh. Let your mouth explore where it could reach.  

“Jimin,” you whined, when he still hadn’t moved. “Please.”  

He didn’t reply; his face was tucked into your neck and you could feel his heavy breathing there. You were two seconds from begging again when he finally moved. He dragged backwards, slowly, and shot forward, fast and hard. Then he did it again. And again. His hips moved fluidly; his arms caged you in securely; his lips sucked soft against your skin.  

He had worried it would be quick, but you were sure time was slowing down. It was stretching itself over this moment so that it lasted forever, so that each time Jimin slammed his hips against yours, it took an age; every kiss lasted an hour; every gasp became a long, drawn-out sigh. This wasn’t quick; it was eternal. It was elemental. 

It brought you into your body in a way that made you feel more than human. That made you feel animal. That made you feel pure and unshackled and unburdened. That made you feel free. Free because all you had to pursue was pleasure. All you had to concern yourself with was your body and his and the way they came together. There was no time, no loss, no rush, no ending, nothing to spoil the sanctity of this coupling.  

It wasn’t always like this. You’d been around the block enough to know that this could have ended differently. On another night, you might have been lying on someone else’s sofa, waiting for it to end because you were simply bored now, because they had been all talk and no trousers, because they weren’t doing it right and you couldn’t be bothered to correct them.  

Jimin didn’t need correcting. He was, as ever, a fucking overachiever. His girth pushed against your g-spot with every thrust and his length made each drag deep and lasting. You wondered if there was anything he couldn’t do. 

Then he pushed himself up onto one hand and used his free hand to push low on your abdomen as he continued to piston against you. The gasp it stole from you was choked and you felt your legs twitch, tighten, pull close as the rest of your body collapsed inward, too. He reached his thumb down, pressed it against your clit and let the snap of his hips move you, just slightly, just enough that it was teasing again, that you could feel him in a way that suddenly was not quite enough. Was maddening. 

“Jimin,” you keened, sweat dripping down your spine as your back arched from the sofa. 

“Say it again.” 

“Jimin.” 

“Again.” 

“Fuck, Jimin.” 

He growled, deep in his throat, and your hips jerked as he pressed his thumb harder against you, swirled it in circles, rough and quick until you were coming again, gasping, squirming, clawing at his arms, your back threatening to snap in two. He kept his teeth clenched as he fucked you through it, as he pushed through the tight spasms of your cunt, as he fought to last until the end, until your body flopped, spent and lead-heavy into the cushions. 

Only then did he let go, did he give a final few thrusts, did he moan loud and long as he came.  

He flopped beside you on the sofa and you lay there, breathing heavily in a silence that felt light. You felt his lips press at your clavicle, his fingers then tracing the same spot. Then his lips again. 

“What?” you asked. 

“You’ve got a little mole here,” he murmured, still directing most of his attention towards it. “I haven’t noticed before... I like it.”  

You hummed, satisfied, heart secretly thrilling. You let him kiss you, back and across the straight line of collar bone, flicking his tongue over your mole. What dedicated attention you hadn’t had for such a long time.  

You could feel your eyelids droop, felt as though maybe you should clear some things up before you passed out; you weren’t sure you’d make it that far. Then Jimin spoke, cutting through that drunken, post-coital haze. 

“Never shit where you eat.” 

“What?” 

He looked at you. 

“Never shit where you eat. I don’t fuck coworkers.” 

Reality came crashing in on you like a tsunami. 

You were coworkers. No, you had been coworkers. You weren’t anymore, because Jimin was leaving. Had left. Had worked his last day, celebrated in the pub, and then fucked you into the sofa. Had fucked his former coworker. You.  

“So you’re saying, all this time...?” 

He shrugged. 

“Not necessarily all this time. But yeah... You?” 

You shrugged back. 

“Literally wasn’t aware of it until tonight. Until you were trying to get me to leave.” 

He laughed breathlessly. 

“I wasn’t trying to get you to leave. I was trying to get you into bed.” 

“Oh.” 

A beat. 

“Well, you didn’t do a very good job, did you?” 

He laughed again, full-throated this time. 

“We fucked, didn’t we?” 

“On the sofa.” 

He swatted your arm playfully. 

“Technicality. I still say it counts.” 

“That’s the sort of carelessness and lack of attention to detail that’ll get you fired, y’know?” 

“Oh, you’re firing me?” 

“Perhaps I am.” 

“Wow, fired on my first day. My parents will be so disappointed in me.” 

“First day?” 

You looked up at Jimin, heart racing wildly. None of this had been expected; none of this was sinking in. Did a first day necessarily imply a second? A third? More?  

“First of many... If you want.” 

You did want. You nodded.  

“Great,” he said softly, gently pressing his lips to yours. “We’ll have a meeting in the morning to discuss my probation.” 

“A meeting? Nah, this could be an email.” 

[as-is-above-so-below]

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Hey, Jealousy

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: NSFW, SMUT HEAVY CHAPTER, MDNI. Canon typical violence mentioned. Note: HELLO ALL! It's been a minute! This fic isn't going anywhere by any means, just had a bit of writer's block and lack of motivation to write for a bite lol. A special thank you to @lethalchiralium for workshopping with me, per usual, and for being the best beta! Enjoy and blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

“This is your target. Memorize it.” John paused as the surveillance photo of their target, a dark-haired woman with almond-shaped eyes, made its way between the trio. He placed a black cell phone in the center of the table while Soap regarded the image. “Freyja, you’re the best pickpocket out of all of us. Your task is to lift her phone and swap it out with the duplicate. Rumor has it there’s a major weapon’s deal rearing up, and I want to know when and where.”

Taking a moment to examine the photo now pinched between her thumb and forefinger, Freyja raised a brow. While she wasn’t one to judge solely based on appearances (a tactic she relied upon herself many times), the woman pictured looked far from an arms dealer. She seemed fairly young. “She has the details?”

Price nodded and partially sat on the table, arms crossed over his chair. “She’s the buyer. Rather unassuming, I know, but our intel is good.”

“Bloody hell,” Ghost mumbled, leaning into her space to sneak a peek. “They just keep gettin’ younger and younger…”

“Ah dinnae mean to be rude, but Ghost’s no’ exactly inconspicuous. A bit hard nae tae notice a giant with headgear at a social event.”

A fair point. Ghost was the tallest member of the team outside of König.

“Which is why you will be partnered with the Captain.” Freyja didn’t miss how her husband’s watchful gaze flickered between her and her co-captain. “You’ll have to couple it up to blend in; a single woman at an event like this would draw suspicion. Ghost will be going undercover as security detail and watch your six.”

“Me? Are ye sure, Captain?”

“Affirmative, Sergeant. I’d rather not have another incident like last time.”

“Last time?” Johnny looked between them. “What happened last time?”

THEN

It should’ve been a simple task, really. A pretty young woman lures a gullible, unsuspecting new hire to a roped-off room with certain expectations, only to be met with the cold steel of a knife to their throat.

As expected, the information burst from the young man’s lips like water through a broken dam, hoping to save his own skin. The quick execution Ghost offered was a mercy compared to what would happen if his boss found out he had snitched.

He could be merciful when he wanted to be.

The Simon she married was not a jealous man. A younger Ghost, at the beginning of their… “situationship”, however…

After the body was stuffed in the room’s closet, hopefully not to be found until at least the next day, he wasted no time hoisting Freyja up against a wall with ease and fucking her senseless. Her legs tightened around his waist immediately, her Venetian mask coming loose at the sudden movement and falling to the floor.

“Yes, right there. Hah, hah, nngh-”

“See what you do to me?” he growled against her cheek, hips snapping against her shaking thighs. “Can’t even get through a fucking mission without my cock gettin’ hard, and you’re over there, actin’ like a slag. Touchin’ that bastard like that-”

“I was just - doing - my job-”

Ghost’s brutal pace stopped and pinned her to the wall. One hand no longer supporting her weight, jumped from her ass to her throat, the bare, calloused skin squeezing the sides. 

“You took it too far. I should leave you high and dry for the show you put on.”

Her fingers scratched at the short hair near the base of his neck, earning a warning sound from the man. Freyja wriggled her hips to find some kind of friction, a release. “Fuck fuck fuck – please, Ghost, don’t stop. Make me come, please–”

“Yeah? Y’want me to make you come?”

“Yes, yes, please! Please, I need to come–”

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes! I’m sorry, so sorry! Fuck me!”

“You’re fuckin’ lucky I’m feelin’ forgiving.”

“Oh shit, thank you, thank you, I’m sorry–”

“You’d better be.”

NOW

The sergeant looked between Price and the couple, studying Price’s lifted brow and Freyja’s pressed lips and flushed skin. Ghost snorted beside her, which got him a sharp jab from his wife’s elbow.

“Bunch o’ rabbits, you two!” he snickered, laughing into his fist. Just how they managed to bone in the field so often, he’d never know. “It’s a miracle ye don’t have a thousand wee bairns by now.”

“Could’ve had them discharged for the mess I had to listen to.” 

“We said we’re sorry!”

“No, you said you were sorry. I won’t apologize if I don’t mean it.”

“I’m going to kill you–”

John cut them off, standing again and collecting his paperwork. “The target rarely comes out of hiding, so we can’t risk spooking her. Freyja, Soap, you’d better sell it.”

“Oh, I’ll make it believable, a’right.”

“And if somehow you find a way around this arrangement – please, for the love of God, no shagging on the job,” Price stressed, pointing at each of them for emphasis. “Got it?”

Johnny raised his hand.  “Ah would just like tae point out that, for once, I’m the good egg here,” he pointed out with a wide grin.

Multiple sets of eyes rolled. “Right then. Dapper up. I’ll see you all tonight.”

Ecstatic about their upcoming mission, the Scot jumped up from his seat, still beaming. He was already bubbling with ideas for their strategy, the backstory of the characters they would play, what he was going to wear–

“Johnny.”

“Sir?”

Ghost leaned forward, elbows planted on his knees as he looked up at the man. “Remember what I said about flirtin’ with my wife?”

“Aye.”

“Still in effect.”

.

.

.

Soap made it his mission to be as handsy as humanly possible the moment they stepped out of their vehicle. Ever the gentleman, he stuck behind Freyja when taking the steps up the grandiose front stairs into the venue; once at the top, his hand slipped across her lower back from one hip to the next.

Both operators kept their attire simple yet appropriate for the dress code. They complimented each other nicely; Johnny sported a simple black suit and a white collared shirt with the top two buttons undone, while Freyja donned a rich, dark purple, satin gown with an open back dipping to her tailbone. They were meant to fit in, not draw attention to themselves.

When they entered the ballroom, crystal chandeliers twinkling above, she glanced around the perimeter at the masked guards. Only taking in their stature for a second before moving on to the next, attempting to locate their backup –

There.

Ghost blended in seamlessly, dressed exactly like the other guards stationed around the room. All black ensemble, black combat boots, and a balaclava with a window for the eyes. They met briefly with Frey’s before she shifted her gaze up to her date, placing one hand on top of his at her side, the other between his shoulder blades.

All night, Ghost’s stare could have burned a hole through her skin straight down to her soul as her partner positively manhandled her. Nothing was safe. Her ass, hips, bare shoulders, and stomach were frequently groped, pinched, and caressed; you name it, Sergeant MacTavish did it. He came up from behind with a champagne flute for her, pressing against her as his hands snaked around to cradle her belly. Kissing obviously wasn’t off the table, his warm lips frequently finding hers; he had enough decency to keep that portion of the night brief.

Finally, after an hour and a half of loving it up with her husband’s best friend, Johnny turned Freyja into a pillar, forcing her to squeak in surprise. Gentle kisses pecked from her collar up to her ear, using his body as a shield.

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” she whispered, keeping up the appearance of a drunk, handsy couple by carding her fingers through the back of his mohawk.

He chuckled against her hair. “That’s the idea, Hen. Figure one o’ us should get a good fuck outta tonight.” Frey rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to shove him. “Eyes on the target. She’s had a chance tae get settled. Move in on yer mark.”

She followed his guidance, subtle pressure at the base of her skull pointing her in the direction of their target. Thankfully, a small purse dangled by the woman’s pelvis on a long chain, ripe for the picking. If all went according to plan, Soap would walk them into each other, allowing her to switch the dummy in his pocket with the real thing.

Freyja initiated their objective by stepping in that direction but allowed her companion to take the lead. Clinging to his bicep and stumbling slightly, she whined, “You are in so much trouble when we get home!”

“Aw, c’mon Bonnie! Ah just cannae help myself!” he purred, bending to nibble her ear and give her a reason to jerk away.

“Hey, stop that!” As she lunged to the left, she fell out of the Sergeant’s grasp and into the young woman, grabbing her to keep upright. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

“What the fuck!” She wheeled on them, eyes wide at the sudden intrusion into her conversation. “Watch where you’re going!”

Freyja huffed angrily in Johnny’s direction, straightening herself and her dress. “I am so sorry about him. You know how men can be. Always impatient.”

“Unfortunately,” the woman mumbled, nose turned up in disgust. If Freyja could rely on anything, she could always lean on most women’s mutual distaste for men. While it always felt distasteful to manipulate while undercover, it got the job done.

With a soft huff, Freyja grabbed Soap’s hand again and departed with a soft wave, tugging him toward their exit point. Ghost was nowhere in sight.

According to plan, the Brit had dipped into the women’s bathroom when he was sure the lift was successful, and they would eventually follow. Going into the bathroom after two people clearly looking for a space to hook up would look suspicious. The real trick was leaving enough time between their entrances that nobody would notice, without waiting too long for the other guards to notice Ghost’s absence.

She used her best high-pitched, giggling squeal and ditzy movements, swatting at the wandering hands pawing at the shiny, smooth material of her outfit. It had been at least two minutes since Ghost had disappeared, and she decided that was enough leeway for them to follow without raising any alarms. But just as her palm pressed against the cool doorknob, her ally stopped behind her.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Freyja felt the abdominal muscles under Soap’s shirt tense; otherwise, his composure remained unchanged. “Sorry?” he asked with a laugh, keeping his body turned toward her. She refrained from ripping the stranger’s hand off Johnny’s shoulder and ripping back his ring finger–

The man smiled, perfect white teeth nearly sparkling in the light. “Ye owe meh a drink! C’mon, one more shot fur a fellow Scotsman?”

“Shite! Ah completely forgot!” Johnny hovered over her still and bent to run his nose along the shell of her ear. “Ah’ll be right behind ye. Just give me a fiver to finish my drink, aye?”

“Sure thing.” Freyja hung her hands on the lapels of his jacket, anchoring him in place to stretch and purr in his ear, “Don’t take too long.”

She was so fucking dead when they got home. Likely won’t walk right for days.

Barely halfway through the door, a firm grip pulled her into the room, slammed the door shut with her body, then wrapped around her throat. Her heels brought her just a bit closer to her husband’s height, brown eyes practically set ablaze. Ghost had abandoned his jacket and rolled the sleeves of his button-down, exposing the black ink on one forearm.

I should put in for a day or two off.

“Did you not learn your lesson last time?” Ghost asked, low-pitched and gravelly as if he had been restraining himself for hours. He probably had been. “Must’ve been too generous. Let’s try this again.” A man on a mission, he swiftly twisted the lock on the handle and hauled her with him several steps away from the door before forcing Freyja to her knees. His touch moved to cup her jaw.

“Broke my fucking finger watching him touch you, touch what’s mine. This mouth-” His digits snatched her cheeks, making her painted lips purse with a soft whimper. “-is mine. Your cunt is mine. Your body is mine – facts you’ve apparently forgotten. Let me remind you.”

Freyja gulped helplessly when his other hand slid the leather strap of his belt out of the buckle, then looked up at him through her mascara-coated lashes.

“Soap-“

“I. Don’t. Care. Do it.”

Her cheeks were enflamed under her blush, but she still raised a brow at him. Again, Simon wasn’t known to be a jealous man; they were very secure in their relationship, trusting each other completely. Plus, Johnny was in a committed, loving relationship, after all. But still, watching his best friend all over her, purposefully egging him on and pushing boundaries…

Anyone would lose their patience.

Her nails, painted to match her color scheme for the evening, worked at undoing his slacks and dropping them and his underwear down enough to free his already hard member. Slacks which, by the way, were fitted perfectly to hug his ungodly figure. Saliva pooled in her mouth at the sight, her hole already clenching around nothing. 

As if he had read her mind, Ghost seized the back of her head and snarled, “I’m beginning to lose my patience, love.”

Suddenly he was buried down her throat, to the hilt. Tears sprang to her eyes; she moved to dig into his thighs for purchase, which earned her additional pressure at the back of her head. “No touching.”

All Freyja could do was blink up at him and hold her hands behind her back, hoping he understood the message. Thankfully, he let up and slowly drew out before easing back in, fucking her throat with soft moans and the occasional curse. Ghost groaned at the sight of his precum and her spit gathering in his blond curlies, her dark lipstick smudging on his cock, tear streaks running lines in her makeup…

She flattened her tongue, bobbing her head with a steady rhythm while breathing through her nose and intermittently taking him until her nose was enshrouded in coarse hair. Even if she wasn’t getting off, and Ghost’s pretty face was hidden by his mask, the expressions in his eyes as she edged him toward his release were almost as satisfying.

“Fuck, you like that?” he questioned, hoarse and needy. “Almost like you were – hngh, shit – hoping I’d p-punish you.”

Even submissive, vulnerable on her knees before him and choking on his cock, Freyja still made him stutter and whimper. How many hours had he spent uncomfortably hard, keeping his dutiful post as their backup? Observing the near obscene show Soap had put on?

Ghost leaned his torso forward, supporting his weight against the wall with his free hand. He didn’t have to tell her he was close; even with his controlled breathing, his eyes threatening to flutter shut was a dead giveaway. Still, the head of his cock popped out of her mouth, garnering her attention again.

“How much of me can you take?”

“All of it.”

“Bloody hell…” He presented himself again, the hooded tip resting against her lips. “Lick.”

She immediately ducked under him and laid her tongue against the vein on the underside of his dick, applying soft, slow pressure to the tip again before taking him back in her mouth. Freyja picked up the speed and hummed around him, pushing (or rather, pulling) him closer and closer…

“Fucking shit – take it, take it, take it–”

His warm cum spilled down her throat, but she continued slowly guiding Ghost through his orgasm as he pulsated and huffed quietly above her. Freyja basked in the way he flinched, eyes closed as her touch bordered on overstimulating and torturous.

Satisfied and out of breath, Ghost jerked his hips away to avoid any more of her touch and offered his wife his hands. She immediately took them and was pulled to her feet effortlessly with a moment to find her balance. When he was finished tucking himself back into his trousers and fastening his belt again, Ghost slid the delicate strap of her dress that had slipped off her shoulder back into place, his gentle touch dragging across her skin.

Freyja was about to speak when the door rattled, someone trying to open it before they both heard a familiar accent on the other side. “Bonnie? ‘S me, open up.”

She gestured for him to stand out of sight for a moment while she unlocked the door and opened it just enough to let Soap in, careful not to expose her current state to others who may be watching from the party. When it was closed and secured again, Johnny took in their appearances; Freyja, clearly dazed with her hair tousled and makeup smudged, and Ghost, with his fly down, shirt untucked, and blazer tossed carelessly onto the sink.

Then, with the absolute, most shit-eating grin, said, “Ye’r welcome, Hen.”

taglist: @esthervalea, @miss-leto, @sweetestcowboy, @blueoorchid, @apocalypticseagull, @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction, @covenlovenn, @330bpm-whiplash, @gnoccheyy, @jaggernauticals, @dwkfan, @untoldshortsofthefandomsdoms, @bobfloydsgf, @maviee, @thomaslefteyebrow, @kyovy, @prodyng, @scout-fang, @avalkyrieofparis, @misshoneypaper, @berryjuicyy, @voteforpedropascal, @beakami, @addictedtothefictionalworld, @kaghost, @witchy-writing, @67-angelofthelordme-67

Copyright © 2023 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

[vinelark]

Do you have any more outtakes you'd be willing to share? I love seeing what did and didn't make the cut on fics

i do!! i remember doing a little roundup of some outtakes for chapters 1 - 3 (found it! here) and i have some similar snippets from chapters 4 & 5 ☺️

chapter 4

a bit of cut dialogue from the zoo rescue:

“Oh, I’m aware,” Nightwing says. “Atlanta, remember?”

“What happened in Atlanta?” Tim demands, ducking away from another bird.

Nightwing waves a hand. “Classified superhero business.”

“Superboy, what happened in Atlanta?”

In Atlanta, Kon yelled at Superman about Tim’s misinterpreted fear toxin hallucinations right in front of Batman and Nightwing, which still makes Kon cringe a bit to think about. “Uhh,” Kon says. “Yeah, classified.”

two cut texting exchanges after the date:

Text message: Clark & Kon

[Saturday, 10:21pm ET]

Clark

Hey Kon—is everything all right?

I can have someone cover the rest of my watch if need be.

Kon

no, all good

apparently mr. wayne’s lawyers are On It

whatever that means in rich people speak

sorry if you like. get asked about this by the press lol

like we weren’t trying for a photo op but i should’ve heard the drone earlier

Clark

This isn’t your fault.

And I’m sure Bruce’s lawyers will have it sorted out by morning

Kon

yeah that’s basically what tim said

Text message: Jon & Conner

[Saturday, 10:23pm ET]

Jon

Ok the live is gone now

Also pa’s asking where u are what do i tell him

I think i have to tell him the truth he sounds worried because earlier i said u went to rescue someone n you haven’t come back

I can’t lie about this i feel bad :(

oh i just heard your window open nvm !!

Conner

all good kiddo, thanks for looking out

in tim & bruce’s conversation, there was a longer section about tim leaning into the “socialite” civilian role, which included the following exchange:

“Like…Paris Fashion Week?” Tim says. That’s always a big one for Bruce Wayne to be caught ducking into dressing rooms with various models.

Bruce gives him a flat look. “You are welcome to attend Paris Fashion Week. Chaperoned.”

tim’s instagram post originally had comments:

briancollinsss i KNEW i saw superboy at car’s party!!!

jerseygirlsteph 👅👅👅

itsanickname_grayson Hope you stayed safe up there!

chapter 5

this exchange in the flashback at the top of chapter 5 was cut/altered for flow, but i still like it:

“Okay,” Tim had said. “And, um, if you can’t come get me, is there a plan B?”

“I will come for you,” Bruce repeated, at the same time Dick called: “Superman.”

extra banter (co-brainstormed by @tigerjpg) that got cut because it didn’t quite keep with the tone, but i still adore it:

“I’m not perfect, anyway,” Kon says. “I snore. Maybe next time make a specimen who doesn’t snore.”

“Sometimes his sneezes register on the Richter Scale,” Tim says.

“And I have a crooked tooth, though honestly that might be from the time I slammed face-first into a volcano.”

“He also thinks wearing sunglasses at night is cool.”

and a bit later, also cut for tone/flow:

“[…] Hey, how unhinged about eugenics do you have to be for Cadmus to send you packing as an intern?”

Cadmus. Did Kon—did he tell Tim the name Cadmus, earlier? He can’t remember—he doesn’t think he did—but it doesn’t matter, because his thoughts scatter as the guy whirls on Tim. The rod comes up, jams under Tim’s jaw, pressing into the side of his neck. Not on yet, but it could be. Kon freezes; Tim doesn’t react except to go rigid, still tracking the guy with his eyes.

“Tell me honestly,” Cadmus guy says, lip curling as he looks sideways to address Kon. “Do you even like this one, or was kissing him the only way you could get him to shut up?”

Kon’s heart pounds in his throat. “You’re so…obsessed with my dating life, dude,” he says. Every moment the guy is looking at him feels like one less moment the rod might switch on. “Sorry, but you’re a bit old for me.”

and i have some extra core four shenanigans that probably won’t fit into chapter 6 at this point, but i’ll wait til i’m done to share that 💪

[zykamiliah]

what about bingqiu?

this is my response to this post. i didn't want to reply in the same post because it's going to get really long, and i disagree with almost everything, so this way i may avoid the discourse. haha. anyway, i'm gonna try to answer each of op's points.

-why bingqiu are a couple:

♦ because despite everything, they've chosen each other. not because they're soulmates (though mxtx did pull the string of fate thing), but because they genuinely want to spend time together

it's very subtle but they do share some values and similarities: they both repay kindness with kindness and believe that one should pay back those who hurt you twofold/tenfold. furthermore, they are both petty bitches. as @fireandgrimstone pointed out here, they're both busybodies: they get restless if they aren't doing something.

on that note: self-preservation is not a core value they share. sqq is terrible at self-preservation. from the first moment, instead of minding his own business, he risked losing points (which would terminate his account and kill him) just to protect binghe when he was being bullied by ming fan and co. sqq couldn't stand by watching someone being bullied. then during the demon invasion, he was ready to risk his own life to protect all the cqm disciples. he was willing to self-destruct to take out sha hualing.

the thing is that sqq likes to lie about himself and say everything he does is out of self-preservation, but it isn't true.

so, if it wasn't out of self preservation, why did sqq pushed binghe into the endless abyss? yes, it needed to happen, but he didn't do it to save himself. he can't hurt binghe just to protect himself. he did it because he brainwashed himself into believing this was the best for binghe, that binghe needed to in order to become strong and achieve his fate.

(chapter 4: conference)

♦ because they give each other what they need. consistent love, support and understanding was something lbh really needed, and those 2-3 years before the immortal alliance conference did wonders for binghe to allow himself to feel vulnerable and be more in touch with his own feelings. this will get screwed up post-endless abyss but sqq does encourage him in the extras to express his feelings and talk about what he thinks and feels.

now, what lbh gives to sqq may not seem obvious (thank you for the help, luuny!♥), since sqq's layered narration is tricky to deconstruct, but by the end of the novel lbh can get past sqq's tsundere/savin face bullshit. sqq has all his toxic masculinity ideas and internalized homophobia that he keeps dragging everywhere he goes, and his relationship with lbh, who was supposed to be the epitome of masculinity, has allowed him to shed off some of it. but not all. thus, lbh knows when sqq needs to be pushed or coaxed into doing something he already wants to do but thinks he shouldn't want and doesn't know how to justify (sex for example). lbh also gives sqq the whole domestic package: someone to dote on, someone that does the chores and takes care of him, because frankly sqq is good at many things but he fails at self-care.

♦ domesticity and companionship. for bingqiu it wasn't like other couples who were first attracted to each other from one reason or another and from then on the relationship developed. the first period of their relationship is mostly platonic (poor binghe is suffering the teenage hormones), and was based on the easy domesticity and companionship they shared. and honestly that's such a simple yet beautiful kind of love. they genuinely like spending time together, living together, talking to each other. they never get bored of being together or of each other, which brings me to

♦ the obsession. like, it's honestly hilarious how obsessed they are with each other. sy was already obsessed with pidw protagonist bingge, but in svsss he got to love and get obsessed all over again with his own binghe aka bingmei. and from lbh's pov it's more or less the same: he had a complicated relationship with original sqq, which was the start of it all, but the person he loves is not the cold shizun from the past who he needs to prove himself to, but the one that's always trying to protect him, even if it's from himself. in both cases, their relationship started with distance, with the shadow of the other version of each other they'd known before. but what made them fall in love weren't those ghosts from the past, but the person they could see underneath it all: the hardworking boy that just wanted to be loved, and the closeted man who wants to give love and help others and have a purpose and belong to something (binghe understands that sqq would be unhappy if he couldn't visit cqm, qjp and his sect siblings). this relates to the fact that

♦ they understand each other better than anyone else. it takes them time, but that's the point of their journey and by the time we read about their relationship in the extras, we can see that despite everything, they not only understand each other very well but actively try to understand each other better. they already made the mistake of making too many assumptions, and they're not doing that again.

________________

another point that op got wrong:

off the top of my head an example would be how bingge (he-with-no-shen-yuan) took a harem of beauties so he could control xin mo but bingmei (he-with-shen-yuan) decided to just... cripple people's cultivation (...) what i'm getting at is that binghe was willing to pay other people's lives just so he didn't have to be intimate with anyone except shen yuan.

bingge too was cripping other cultivators to get ride of the excess of demonic qi, it's just that after he captured the three nuns from tianyi overlook they taught him how to achieve the same result using dual cultivation. (thanking @stardust-falling for their notes on this topic!)

(chapter 9: borderlands)

[thesharktanksdriver]

Blood's Thicker Than Water (Platonic)

Made this cause I love assassins creed and I hate how they left the plot point about Desmond having a kid from a one night stand. Like sure there’s a comic for Elijah but let’s be real, who here has read that comic?

Sorry if any of them seem out of character, I haven’t played the games in a long while lol

Also thanks to my friend for streaming the games so I can get back into them lol

You never really met your dad but from what your mother described him as he was….a troubled soul

Now to be fair you’ve never exactly met Desmond Miles yourself but from the stories she told it’s obvious he had his fair share of demons

Some of which seemed to spill from the cracks of his soul from the short time she spent with him

A bartender is what he was, until he suddenly up and vanished from said bar in 2012 and died not too long after

It didn’t really make sense then even to your young mind

The gap between his sudden disappearance and death leaving too much unsaid for your mind not to be annoyed by

But as a child you eventually put the thought away

Eventually you forget

Instead going on to pursue your next whim as you focus on the present, or in your case Learning about the past in the present time

Unlike your fascination with your father that went away, your love of history never faded with time

It just seemed to grow the older you got

Your not sure why but something about history just clicked with you

It was somewhere within the range of middle school and reading national geographic that you had realized you liked it

That despite how some areas of it were bleak and disturbing it was interesting

And it got even more so interesting as you delved deeper into the depths of libraries

Nose buried in books lined with dust and old parchment

Yellowed pages and old ink that you carefully decode from centuries of lost meaning and metaphors lost to the modern age

You studied from the ancients all the way up to Victorian

Easing your way though literal centuries of historical records as you soaked up information like a sponge

And it’s there you vegans seeing an odd…repetition of events that seemed to occur

Odd assassinations plagued each era you looked into, all of which connected somehow by people in odd dress

In some journals that had luckily stood the tests of time you uncovered more eye witness accounts

A solider’s log back in the revolutionary war talking about an odd man meeting with his superiors in the dead of night

The diary of a log master who wrote of an odd frequent visitor that had an odd blade hidden beneath his sleeve

The drawing of a Victorian child being freed from a factory that had a hooded lady and man on the rooftop

I’m one you found a symbol, one created from the bottom perspective of an eagle skull, something also commonly associated with these hooded figures

What’s odd as well is that with these hooded assassins you also find traces of another group

One well know to historians such as yourself

Oddly enough the symbol of the Templar knights keep showing up even after their annulment

It’s odd, but what’s more odd enough is that both seemed to be tied to other historical artifacts

Ones well kept in archives and from the public eye

Ones you shouldn’t technically know about if not for you sneaking into sections your don’t have the status to enter

Their always gold with odd symbols. Somehow always pristine and polished despite the fact their dated to be from before ancient times

They for some reason seem to call to you specifically

Tempting you with forbidden knowledge you wish to taste like Eve

But for now you choose to wait until you can do proper analysis on them without the risk of punishment

So you lie and wait

Admittedly you didn’t think anyone expected for you to be this good at your job

In their defence you were a university student here on Co-op and not an actual full time historian

Hell you were in first year for gods sake

But somehow despite it all

Despite the fact you had actual historians and people in the history program years above you here you quickly began to become an outlier

A shinning beacon within the large archive, so much so that you began being allowed in the restricted sections you already snuck into

Mind you, now properly allowed there with some supervision of sorts gave you much more flexibility in research

You got to touch these artifacts

Hold them in gloved palms as silk covered finger glide across its edges and ridges

You study them extensively decrypting and decoding the ancient texts and hieroglyphs

Jotting down what you found in both a report and your own personal journal

Your not sure why you do so but you chock it up to making sure no one takes credit for your work

And this continues to the point your eventually allowed alone with them

It’s great

You dedicate yourself to this task as you learn more and more

Soaking up knowledge like a sponge as you find out more of what was previously lost

Find new angles and perspectives on events

For history isn’t just a set time and date, it’s interpretation based on what we know from sources

And even then sources can be biased

Sources can lie and silence another person’s view on the event

Your more than happy to try make your own interpretations

Admittedly when you were asked to study what looked to be a necklace from these unidentified ancient artifacts you were ecstatic

How could you not be?

Intricate gold woven in something akin to Grecian jewelry

Yet also had hints of something akin to Egyptian

It also…glows? Or at least you swear you’ve seen it glow gold and pulsate a few times but that could be the sleep deprivation speaking

Either way it’s an honour

One you don’t take lightly as you study it

Spending countless restless nights and days trying to crack its code

An unknown source has been funding the archive and your research quite a bit

Betting big money on it much to your surprise and suspension

You get that this is potentially something big but it feels out of left field

Especially since no one knows the name of the company

It’s just under an anonymous donation every month

It’s sketchy

But you aren’t one to argue about free money to further your and your colleagues pursuit of knowledge

Not when this beautiful place used to be underfunded

Not when most historical records were donated by people with a good conscious

Not when this place was almost shut down

With a sigh you continue on your work

Diligently tact checking and writing up a storm

Your writing looks like chicken scratch but that was a commonality between all history majors

Well, along with being giant nerds

And it’s there at that desk at 3 am in the morning, tired and only running on 3 hours of rest you find something peculiar on the necklace

A sharp jaded edge that you absentmindedly prick yourself on by accident

With a groan you wipe the blood away on your pants

Then going up to get a bandaid

You swore to god if you died of tetanus you’d be positively pissed

Unknown to you the necklace starts to glow

When you get home your more exhausted than usual

Your limbs feel like their kade of concrete and your head is stuffed with tissue

Eyelids trying to glue themselves shut

You practically kick off your shoes before tumbling to the couch

Not bothering in changing clothes or showering for the sweet relief of sleeps embrace

So you flop down face first into the old leather cushions of your couch

Only putting in the effort of fishing a hand to grab a throw pillow and blanket from nearby that you burrowed yourself into

A comfy cocoon/prison you couldn’t will yourself to leave even as you swore for a moment you heard something in the house

But your mind writes it off

Your too tired to question anything let alone get up

All you want is sleep

And that’s exactly what you get as your eyelids shut

You fall into the realm of dreams, odd ones playing out in your mind

Blurred images of odd men

A weird void-like realm

The cries of an eagle overhead

A single word appearing in your head

Kenway

And then your eyes snap awake when the sound of arguing fills your ears

Yelling of several male voices jumbling up your already fogged up sense as you practically fall off the couch in a mixture of fear and confusion

Curses escaping your mouth when suddenly the voices go silent and your left in a realm of fear

Hair standing on end as the creaking of the house makes you more alert

Despite the fact you’d never fought a day in your life you will up the courage to grab a baseball bat and cautious cross to where you heard the commotion

Careful steps on the non-creaky boards of the home that you’d luckily memorized

And there you find several men in old garb

Accents of Red tying them together like a string of fate

Or a trail of blood fainting their very existence

they turn to you with sharp eyes

It’s the one in modern clothes that surprises you the most

The face of your supposed dead father staring back at you

Ocher brown eyes that had long lost their life now rejuvenated as they seem to find familiarity in your own features

Some of which mirror his own along with some of the others in the room

The bridge of your nose

A all powerful spark in your eyes as they flick between everyone and escape routes

The way your lip slightly twitches when you try to keep a brave face

Your posture as you decided what to do

It’s all too familiar to him and them in a way that isn’t just coincidence

Especially not when all of them are Kenway

Not when he had been able to prove to them that fact through the experience of virtually living through their lives up until his death

“I’m not sure who the fuck all of you are but get out of my house.” Your fingers twitch and flex as your palms grow sweaty, the wood absorbing the pressure and moisture “especially my dead dad look-alike”

You all but confirm his suspicions

Their suspicions

And it looks Ike for you tonight will be much longer than you anticipated

Turns out that artifact you were studying wasn’t just as normal one

Neither were the other ones you looked at

The way they explained it as was their “artifacts from dead gods”, a fallen civilization that engineered humanity into being their slaves

It’s a lot to take in

Even more so when your suspicions of something bigger happening throughout global history with those odd deaths were real

Oh, and these were you dead ancestors and dad somehow back from the grave and now in your home

…..yeah safe to say that’s a lot to take in after an already very long and tiring shift

You sit there as they explain this, half asleep, and half exasperated

Cause how the hell are you supposed to believe all this bullshit that for some reason feels correct

Something in you tells you that their right yet your mind is fighting that logic

You’d always been a logical person, when it came to most situations you used your brain instead of your heart

And in those cases things ended up fine

But now your faced with this

A situation where your heart is screaming for you to listen as your brain tries to take this all in

Cause logic is completely out the window at the moment

For now you have to trust them even if your still afraid

I mean, how couldn’t you be?

But you get the sense that they understand

At least a little bit by how their also thrusted into a new environment without much say

Perhaps that (along with your own apprehension) is helping comfort them as well

So for now they’ll stay

Your just thanking (the dead) gods that grandma and grandpa’s old home is big enough for all of them

Altaïr Ibn-La’ Ahad

The oldest down the line of your dad’s side of your lineage finds himself often reading through your books in your study

It was a bit of a surprise one day entering it to find him sitting in a spare chair but you don’t mind the silent company

Especially as he seems to find interest in your studies

Occasionally he breaks the silence and asks you a question about the subject he’s reading about

He’s by far the oldest (even if he’s back in the body of his prime) of them therefore he’s the one who has the most figuratively to catch up on

So you indulge him

And also asks questions as well that he seems eager in answering

Knowledge connects you both, scholarly intellect being the bridge between the two of you despite centuries of time apart

Typically he asks about thinks such as modern life and what is know about his home, what happened to it? What it’s known of his era

You answer as best you can

Especially since that era of time isn’t exactly your forte

But he appreciates it anyways

Appreciates that you try, appreciates that you passionately care about history in the first place

Admittedly your mom was supportive but never understood your love of history

She’d listen to your rants and long conversations with a polite smile but you knew she never understood what you were talking about

But he does

He does and contributes whole heartedly in just as much passion

It’s nice

What’s also nice is that he’s studied the artifacts you now study as well

So now your both constantly coming up and developing ideas together

A constant back and forth

Hypotheses, discussion, and testing

Delving deeper into discovery like you’ve wanted

But with this he also helps you see where passion and obsession mix together

After the loss of his wife and son he delved into studying as a form of escape

It drove who was left away

Made the pit in his heart deeper

He doesn’t talk about it often but he seems to see how you may go down the same path

And he warns you of it

Unlike his younger self (that he now appears as) he’s wise if a little rough around the edges

He encourages knowledge but not to the point where it’s an all encompassing and toxic obsession

Within the household he seems to take a somewhat neutral but quiet role

He helps out and offers advice and guidance

Much like a teacher and grandfather of sorts

Speaking up when he has to and making sure the house doesn’t end up in disrepair

He seems to have a fascination with modern appliances, or at least holds a thankfulness for them

Like a few others he sticks to his robes most the time but you’ve seen him sport more modern clothes once awhile

Stuff still somewhat reminiscent of what he wore before but with a modern flare. Things with hoods and draping. Silks and wool. Something with an accent of red mixed in

Sometimes when you fall asleep in your studies you find a blanket draped over you and a cup of tea at your side

He won’t admit it’s him but he’s the only one who knows your tea preferences

He keeps his worry for you deep down but it’s somewhat relived when seeing that you take his warning of not taking the pursuit of knowledge too far

“It says here there was something called the “French revolution”. Would you care to explain what happened here to me?” He asks making you pause your work for a moment, when he sees your smile he knows your answer. Sure he read some of this book and got the gist of it, but something about seeing your eyes light up at his inquiry makes him feel at peace for a moment.

“Would I ever!”

Ezio Auditore da Firenze

This man is quite literally all up in your (and everyone’s) business

Not in an annoy way per say but he’s definitely curious about the lives his descendants have led (both good and bad)

Ezio is very clearly a family man and it’s somewhat ironic to see since half of this household has some sort of familiar issue

Most of which is some sort of daddy issue stemming from either Haythem or Edward that trickled down the line to you

Something that Ezio is seemingly trying to wrap his head around

Out of the others he’s the one who opens up the most

Partially because you think he misses his immediate family and friends

It must be a lot to handle being away from home, now in a foreign land where everything has changed

Despite that though he keeps a brave face

Almost always flashing a smile as he drags you from your study to have some “bonding time”

You won’t admit it to his face but you don’t mind

Especially as he gives your poor hunched over back a break

And treats your pallet to some good old fashioned (literally) Italian food and not cup ramen once again

He tried it once and threw your supply out, saying he’d be supplementing you with food from now on

You can’t exactly say your disappointment or upset from the heaven that is fresh baked garlic bread and pasta

He cooks not only for you but for the others of the house as well, saying his sister taught him lest he piss off his future lady

Taking in their suggestions and cooking foods from their homes as a way of him offering comfort

Whilst he does these tasks he often hums in his mother tongue of Latin

You don’t have the heart to tell him it’s a dead language

Especially when he seems so happy that you can somewhat understand it

He’s happily rambling and teaching you words

Helping you sound out phrases and pronunciation correctly unlike your Latin professor

Some of his songs he lightly sings under his breath get stuck in your head since he has a good singing voice

But despite the facade you see the cracks

Sometimes you find him looking at modern objects mumbling about how Leonardo would have loved to see this or made something similar

Or how Claudia would’ve liked this book

How Petruccio would have loved this toy

It….leaves a bitter taste in your mouth

Once upon a time you felt this same type of longing for family

Once a time you thought of you dad before going to bed and staring at his old Polaroid with hope

One that would never come to fruition (until now)

It’s why you indulge him, to keep his mind off the deeper plunge of melancholy

Compared to the others he’s relatively open to modernizing

In fact he seems somewhat excited in these things

Raiding your wardrobe like a damn fashionista and critiquing what’s good quality

He also has a wide variety of looks, not sticking to something similar to his time of dress

Versatile and somehow up to date? Your not sure how but somehow he’s in fashion?

Like he must’ve found a copy of vogue or something cause there is no way he just guessed that this was the new trend

When you pressure him on it he replies that he’s simply that amazing

You call bullshit but have yet to find evidence

But in the meantime you ask get him to tell you about Da Vinci and you furiously jot down what he says

Sometimes when he looks at you he sees flashes of Claudia’s quick wit

It makes him long for home yet as he looks at his descendants and ancestor he also feels….something

A small pit of warmth developing as he gets to know the inhabitants of this house longer

Meet Altair besides through a weird vision

His home is in Florence yet that feeling of comfort from the Villa is bleeding into these old (yet new) walls

“So this painting is his most famous work?” He asks looking at your computer with a bit of confusion, his scared lips quirking at the digital image.

“Yeah. This is actually probably the most famous painting in the world”

“Really? Of all his works this one is considered the best? I’m not doubting his skill but of all his pieces?”

“Believe me, I get it. It’s only this famous cause it was stolen”

“Stolen?!? Tell me who did it! I swear-”

Edward Kenway

For someone who was a feared pirate on the seas he’s surprisingly much less violent than you’d think him to be

Sure, he’s scary as hell still but at least he’s not stabbing you in the back and making off with your grandmas pearls or something

Still your a bit unnerved by him considering you did a project on him back in middle school and he’s now in your home

Munching on some god damn biscuits as if this was a normal situation

His son Haytham avoids his as best he can but he seems to bond with his grandson quite easily

Or more easily than he does with Haythem

It takes some time but you eventually go to him when you find him awake at the dead hours of night

A whisky bottle in hands as he occasionally takes a swig in silence as he stares out the window

You don’t talk

You don’t need to when he drinks in silence for awhile staring at the moon before eventually talking about the guilt

In his pursuit of power and gold he let people die

Greed woven into his soul as he sacrificed good men for his cause

He changed and did good yet his past haunts him

Hands stained red

Guilt eating away

A son who doesn’t want anything to do with him

At some point when he stops his rambles you speak

Reminding him that while his actions weren’t good he changed

It doesn’t wash the blood away but it stoped more from staining his hands

Though Haythem avoids him Connor is more than eager to fill his place

It doesn’t fix his overlying problems but it does help

In the morning he ends up talking with you more after this as your initial fear melts away

You end up seeing Edward Kenway, not the fiercesome captain of the Jackdaw

You see a man burdened by past mistakes and still wishes to do better

You see a human being at its core

With history it’s easy to forget the people your looking at was once alive and a breathing being

One who was just as flawed as you and I

But seeing a infamous pirate captain cry about issues pertaining not just time him made you remember that

He isn’t opposed to modernizing but seems to keep a certain sea-like touch to his appearance

Clothes for labourers and something loose is what he normally sticks to

He’s lucky though since he doesn’t exactly have traditional robes and can incorporate what he appeared in with a modern flair

Occasionally when he gets drunk he slurs out old shanties and talks about his epic tales

You might or might not have freaked the fuck out learning that James kidd was actually a woman

Mind blown

Ezio and Altair had to drag you away from your computer from writing an entire essay

Sitting on your countertop he holds a glass of whiskey in hand, one held out for you as you sit down beside him. The moon casts its gentle rays and lights the marble slab you both sit on. “I prefer Rum but this’ll do” it’s said in a playful tone that makes you nod and take a sip.

“I can grab some captain Morgan later…speaking of which, did you know him?

“No, but I did find a few of his things laying about “

“Care to tell?”

“Aye, sure thing”

Haytham Kenway

As the only Templar in this house it’s safe to say he’s definitely the outlier of the bunch

A relative lone wolf from the group that all hold some sort of Ill feelings towards him

From his father its confusion and sadness

The others it’s a mix of that and anger

From Connor it’s just plain…well your not quite sure how to describe it

The two’s entire family situation is just plain messy and thick with tension that their blades could cut through

But here’s the thing, in this house your also an outlier

A neutral zone so to say

Hell, the entire house seemed to be a haven of sorts from their whole Templar vs Assassin conflict

To be honest you don’t really care about this secret war

Well that’s a lie you are interested in these war of secret societies but you don’t specifically care to get involved in their politics

Not when you have business in interfering in it unless a fight breaks out and your telling everyone to calm the fuck down

So safe to say your kinda the only one who talks to Haytham

He is…well sometimes he’s a bit of an ass (in the British type of way) but at the same time he’s good conversation

Specifically when it comes to that of morals and philosophical beliefs

He is a conflicted man

A flawed one

But he holds his beliefs and morals despite the fact he’s been hurt and betrayed by a man he viewed as a mentor

He doesn’t talk about it much but he’s still hurt

Still seething with venom that burns his soul and flesh

Makes him want to lash out despite his upperclassman appearance and attitude

That despite it all he loves his son, so much so he willingly walked into what would be his death knowingly

That despite what happened he loves his dad yet can’t face him yet on account of what he became

What ideals and morals he still believes in even now

It’s perhaps he’s venting this to you rather than a journal because he knows you won’t judge him unfairly on the basis of what side your own

Your judging him as a flawed man and as an equally flawed person

It’s with him as well you open up about your own frustrations

How you still don’t know how to feel about this all

The fact that a lot of what you once knew was flipped on it’s head

Along with the fact your not even sure how to address your dad

It’s an entire mess but perhaps your both messed up together and that also draws you both to talking

To discuss your feelings of insucurity and confliction

To feel comfort that your not alone in not having your emotional shit in order

On some especially…emotional nights you both both have a cup of tea

He seems to enjoy that each time you use a different type, much of which used to be hard to obtain due to shipping and it’s prices

He hasn’t really yet grasped modern technology but your slowly helping him with it

It’s kinda like trying to teach a grandpa to figure out a phone, but now it’s him with the concept of a microwave

Like some of the others he’s yet to really also change his clothes to something modern

There has been a few times though he sported sweaters and vests

Your now working on helping his wardrobe since he prefers a sophisticated look

Occasionally he looks at the photos that line your walls, looking as you evolve through the ages

It’s…odd

With Connor he never had the chance to watch him grow

Never a snapshot to immortalize what he was like a child but now ones of you litter the walls like paintings

He feels melancholy

Yet at the same time he’s happy to get another chance maybe

One that is seemingly being helped by your gentle hand unknowingly

“I never thought about it until now but the stars are different” he says taking a sip of his matcha tea, he lets it pool on his tongue and experience the flavour. Not his favourite but not the worst

“That’s cause of light pollution here…though the stars do move so it it’s possible they’ve shifted position in the sky”

“Do they teach you about the stars in your schooling?”

“Yeah I took some. Not sure why, it just kinda spoke to me. Maybe it’s the Kenway blood”

Ratonhnhaké:ton/Connor Kenway

Of the group Connor is the most quiet and surprisingly the one whom you connect with the best for some reason

Perhaps it’s cause your both socially awkward in ways that let you relate

Or the fact you’ve both been ostracized by society for various reasons

His company is that of a quiet one but one you accept it with ease as you both sit and enjoy each others company

A quiet kinship made of unspoken but understood words from one another

The reminder that someone else is there and your not truly alone

He is perhaps the one you feel you can understand the most

And it’s the same likewise for him

Your both people deeply hurt and still bleeding internally

People raised by only their mother in a cruel and harsh world

People who were let down one way or another by their father

People who are still mad and angry but use that to further their determination

It’s odd but you feel truly understood

Like your soul was peeled back to reveal at your core your still a lone spirit lost in the world

One clinging to what they know as their only lifeline in this confusing and jumbled mess of a situation

The hulking 6 foot 2 man shows you trails near your home

Taking to the forest paths you’ve know your entire life and helping you discover even more about them

And while he does this he teaches you more about the world as you both walk the old beaten path

He tells you how to identify what type of tree is which, which stones are likely geodes and what tracks belong to who

It’s honestly petty interesting especially since he adds snippets of stories from his heritage

In return you talk about what you know as well

Snippets of your own knowledge that he seems to store into his mind just as you do with his stories

An equal exchange of sorts

On these walks you begin to notice he takes you out on these when your at your most stressed

The times in which your mind is overworking and consuming itself with anxiety

The times in which you need to breath

Connor doesn’t seem like one to vocally express his care but he does so through action

Small inconspicuous actions that mean a lot more than what meets the eye

It’s seems that his towards you is helping you when you need it most

Taking you away to just take a moment for yourself

To just breath in the fresh air and let the sunset coloured leaves of autumn crunch under your boots

Letting the cold breeze take away your worries

It’s perhaps better than any type of verbal support

Yet another unspoken action of care and compassion through knowing and watching

Of watching and knowing when you need a break

When you realize this and give him a small tired smile as a thanks he seems to know

Only giving a small nod with a minuscule smile of his own

It only grows bigger when you begin to ask him if his traditions, of the stories and practices of his people that he’s more than willing to tell when he knows you ask out of genuine curiosity and respect

Connor is somewhat 50/50 in modernizing

He adapts quite well but still needs help with certain things as he navigates the situation

But like usual he is anything but resourceful as he watches what you do and figures it out

He helps the others quite a bit with what he’s picked up and somewhat takes pride in the fact he can help them

Whilst he’s privy to wearing his robes he isn’t against more modern clothes

The only problem though is sometimes finding stuff that fits him considering he’s not only a giant but also fairly muscular

But your both eventually able to find some stuff for him to wear that he likes

He really appreciates though that you try to buy clothes and jewelry from nearby indigenous peoples

It might not be his but he appreciates the sentiment and familiarity that the beaded jewelry give him

“I’ve lived here my whole life and walked down these paths a thousand times yet it seems more like your the local here” you say with amusement as you follow Conner through an area you’d be never been before.

He smiles, it’s small but there as he adds “just a matter of perspective. You see the paths your used to and I see ones you hadn’t noticed”

Desmond Miles

Yeah so this is entirely awkward for you

Like how the fuck do you emotionally deal with this and the fact your very dead dad who didn’t know you existed till now is now very alive

And living in your house with his very dead ancestors that are also now alive

Case and point you don’t, specifically you ignore the problem and act like everything is fine

You lock yourself away and try to avoid him like the plague

Somehow Scurry past him and into the kitchen to grab something before returning to your abode to eat

But then things got complicated

Things change

You began talking to the others

Slowly coming out the darkness of your study and joining the dinner table

But you still try to avoid him

It feels like the sight of him burns your mind, all those nights as a kid coming back to you

The hope and then disappoint in learning he died and that he likely never wanted you

Your mother never said this but the other kids did. They always teased and picked at the fact you were a mistake

It’s why you push so hard now to be the best, To prove them wrong (to prove to yourself that your worth existing)

The fact is that now he’s here and you don’t know how to deal with that

How would you even start?

What do you even say to him?

You quiet down when he enters a room because you don’t know what to do

Whatever your about to say dying in your throat like a caged bird and all that came come out are garbled noises as you evade him

Eyes casting down to your hands like a child averting their gaze from their parent when in trouble (he is your dad so it’s the same thing right?)

Leaving the room he’s in as quickly as you can once a take is done

The others notice quick, I mean how can’t they? A damn butter knife can cut through the tension

The whole thing with Haytham and Connor is less tense than this

But what can you even do?

How in thick do you talk to him and how can he even talk to you?

Your 18 and in university, he’s 25 and was a bartender in New York before apparently sacrificing himself for the world

He’s closer in age to being a big brother rather than your dad.

But even besides that he’s been long dead and gone since 2012

It’s been years since that point and more importantly he’s someone important and your not

He’s an assassin born to a bloodline of other assassins

Someone who was raised in this tradition with greatness not only in his origin but also in his death

And your you

A child born from a one night stand who’s only achievement is being good at knowing about old people

It hurts but it’s true

If he’s a star then your a candle compared to his light

A mere blip or spark to the greater picture

There had been times he looked like he wanted to say something but you scurry away before he can say anything

Sometimes you catch the looks and small gestures Ezio tries to make as if to encourage him to go up to you

How Connor sometimes brings up to you how he wishes for reconciliation with his dad and that perhaps it’s possible with your own

Altair not beating around the bush and plainly telling both him and you to talk

But it all feels for naught and dies when those feelings and thoughts return

But eventually he corners you

Well not really corners you per say but he catches you as you leave your study after a talk with Altair

“Listen I don’t have any grudge against you. For one you died, I’d be a dick if I blamed you for that or your decision to save the world and whatever. Second you didn’t know about me in the first place” you say briefly looking up at him before averting your gaze, he looks like he wants to say something but he can’t get a word out before you continue “but you don’t have to act like my dad or anything. You never asked for me, it was a mistake, I was a mistake and I’m fine with it.” (Your lying to yourself)

You leave before he can get a word out, and he’s left alone in the hallway. When he returns to Ezio he just sits down in silence. It’s enough for everyone to know I didn’t go the way he wanted.

Admittedly when you begin to notice odd figures at the achieves you write it off

I mean it could literally be anyone plus the supervisors aren’t making a fuss about them here

If anything their welcoming them and looking at them with hopeful eyes

Small glances full of opportunities in them

It’s odd but maybe their just some non-profit here to support the archive

Or even private benefactors of sorts

But then they turn their attention to you

Plastic smiles on their faces, artificial pleasantries as their main spokeswoman sits in front of you in a slick suit

Her stilettos tapping against the ground as your eyes trail to her bodyguards of sorts

They stand not too close nearby

Watching

Waiting

And then she begins talking

And slowly you grow more and more uncomfortable

Hands playing with one another, fingers twitching in your palm as crescent are indebted in your skin

They apparently are interested in your findings

In your research

But more specifically you

They’ve researched you…a lot

Down from where your mother was born to her great great something grandfather

And your father

…but that’s not public knowledge

It wasn’t even on your birth certificate

This….this isn’t

She smiles though now the darkness melts away into something more knowing

Dangerous and sadistic of sorts

And it’s there on her little pin showing her name you recognize the logo

Within your house you’d vaguely heard whispers of the others talking in hushed tones

You didn’t mind

The less you know the better in that sense

Out of sight and out of mind

But sometimes you’d hear the mumbles of a name that you didn’t put together until now

One spat with venom just as they did with the word of the Templar

Abstergo

You barely have time to react before your black bagged and sufficiently knocked out

Mind drifting to that of panic

What would happen to you?

What will happen when the others find out?

But then those thoughts fade away into the dark void of sleep

When you wake up things are odd

Everything is a sterile white and too bright for your foggy sleep tinged eyes

The room is blurred as is your senses as you weightlessly drift

Everything feels odd

And then it happens sharp and pure pain that leaves you writhing and screaming into the void

And that’s when you notice that white light had left and your in a void of sorts

Empty glitching effects all around you as your left to look around in confusion until you see something

A memory? Specifically one of your memories

Your staring at a simulation of sorts of your past self

A 8 year old in their bed with chubby cheeks pulled up into a melancholy smile

You recognize this moment, your small hands holding a picture that had long been put away into a scrapbook and forgotten

Your left wordless and confused

And then that bitch’s voice appears again and she explains

This entire thing is a simulation of your memories

And essentially their gonna go through your head picking through them to not only learn what they want but then use you as their lab rat cause of your bloodline.

Cause apparently memories of your ancestors could be accessed that way and it was generally easier to have a descendant rather than finding objects and artifacts

And it’s there in that simulation it feels like your mind is being ripped apart

Memories ripped from your mind to play out in front of you as she makes comments and documents them before their forced back in and another is ripped out

Like book having pages torn out and then crudely stitched back in

It hurts so damn much

Over and over

Your just left in screaming again on the ground of this simulated world as she makes idol comments

Left begging for it to stop

For someone to help

For the love of god someone help you make it stop

Of course this would happen to you

You’ve always had shit luck despite your whole family motto being “make your own luck”

What utter bullshit

You can’t make good luck from bad

Can’t just change things when the scales are already tipped one way

But then like a miracle from above she goes quiet and suddenly the memory is gone

And your left in the void still reeling from it all

Still on the glitching ground before once more white encompasses your view

Blinding and bright as your still recovering

And then an unfamiliar voice tunes in

“Your safe” it’s heavily accented, in an Irish twang that’s soft as he says these words to you. A reminder that your ok now, it’s over. “Can you walk?”

You try to look at him with squinting eyes yet they still can’t adjust, your limbs feel heavy like solid rock. Unmoving even as you try. With some difficulty you shake your head

“Aight, I’ll have you carry you then. Are you alright with that?”

“Just get me out of here…please. I just want to go home, I miss my family” it sounds pathetic but as tears begin to fall the stranger doesn’t seem to think Ill of you.

“Don’t worry, I get what that’s like.” The tone is sympathetic and like before is soft “you’ll be home I no time, I promise”

You think for a moment before responding “I trust you”. For a second you feel him go still at that before he picks you up.

For awhile there’s buzzing alarms and panic as your saviour gets you out whoever’s you were taken too

There’s not a moment of silence as he sharply runs and dodges past what you think to be gunshots

Occasionally he grumbles something but for the most part he seems calm

Composed despite the chaos of it all

So much so that it makes you wonder if this is an average Tuesday for him

There’s so much shout and yelling for your already pounding head

But sometimes the yells are silenced as the sound of a blade cuts it short

Footsteps far behind eventually stopping

Sirens getting more and more distant and allowing you and the man to breath

It’s there in the pocket of silence you learn his name

Shay

It sounds familiar, like really familiar yet you can’t put your finger on it

Either way your grateful because how can you not be?

Your away from that place

Away from the torture of having your mind picked apart like a lab experiment

Having the privacy of your memories looked at and prodded

But now your somewhat okay

Your eyes feel weird, your vision feels weird like it keeps switching between something

Your at least somewhat able to walk though it’s unbalanced

but Shay doesn’t seem to mind

He offers an arm that you cling to for support

A kind smile on his face as he makes sure you didn’t injure yourself further

And then you notice his clothes are….old

Like Haytham and Connor level old

And…shit

It’s halfway home through the trails you recognize due to Connor that your vision changes

The world feels bigger as if your third eyes opened or something

Shays figure and presence is highlighted in a clover green

And perched nearby is another green figure, one waiting for a good moment

Shay follows your sight before promptly having to duck out the way from a knife that flies at his head

He pushes you back behind him, you stumble back vision switch between monochrome and normal as someone else grabs you

Instinctively you almost yell before realizing who was now helping keep you steady

And the other person now attacking Shay

“Connor! He’s good! He saved me!”

“He’s a Templar!”

“So is Haytham and you haven’t killed him…again have you!”

At that Shay pauses, turning to look at you with confusion as Connor stops his attempt as slitting his throat

Ezio on the other hand helps you up but keeps a firm protective grip

Watching Shays movements like Connor in apprehension before the two settle down and stare at you for more detail

Both waiting on your word

“He saved me and today has been a long ass day-“

“You’ve been gone for 4 days”

You pause momentarily at that before adding “long 4 ass days of having my mind literally ripped apart. Can we please head back to the house and settle this there? Thank you”.

The moment you get back your almost immediately tackled to the ground by a familiar white and red hoodie wearing absent (dead) father

It’s….odd but nice

Desmond (still feels too awkward to call him dad) is holding you like a lifeline and you notice bags beneath his eyes

He looks like hell

But none of the others are any better either

They all like positively exhausted yet light up when seeing your safe

Your home

It reminds you of your mom when you returned home from school

The long work day evident on her brow but her smile lighting up the room at the sight of your face

It’s no different compared to then except for the fact they all (except Haytham) then protectively pull you away from the nearby Shay who’s being glowered at by Connor

Safe to say it’s a little awkward until you somehow pull free of Desmond’s death grip hobble your ass between the two lone Templars and Assassins

A long discussion having to take place between them all as you not only explain what happened but also it seems you all forget one crucial thing

It seems you forgot about your mom’s side of the family

Whoop de Doo you have more things to process and so does everyone else here

Specifically Connor and Haytham Because before apparently knew (or know of) Shay

Great, another complex relationship in this household like there needed to be more of that

But with this entire situation it also highlights something bigger

Your not safe

None of you are safe

Perhaps you never truly were

And that in turns leaves you with the difficult decision of what to do next

Because In this difficult game of politics between two ever warring groups your a neutral force

You wanted to stay that way but unfortunately fate had other plans

as your drug into this game your left with limited options of sides for not only yourself but for the others who seem keen on following you

Even the two (former?) templars seem to follow your decision

So When Des…er your dad suggests finding his old friends it seems like the best option

It’s either that or be kidnapped and prodded again and who knows what abstergo will do to everyone else (even one’s that once upon a time we’re on their side)

Besides, he says you’ll get along well with someone named Shaun so It can’t be too bad

So he sends out a message and you leave the home you find yourself look at with melancholy

It stopped being a home when mom died but now it seemed like it was just that again

Only time can tell what will bring upon you next

But….you think you’ll be ready for whatever is thrown at you when you have this odd group of family at your side

The expression of blood is thicker than water never really held much weight since you only ever had your mom until she was gone

But maybe you understand it a bit better now

[l3viat8an]

Repost! fluff! and idk if you’ll see this again anon but thank youu 💚💚💚

Asmo; "Come on sweetie~ it'll feel amazing~” Asmo practically sings in your ear as he leads you to his bathtub "Asmo, | just want to sleep..." you mumble half heartedly pulling back to his bed, "I know~ but the bubbles and warm water will feel amazing, so just come on and relax ‘kay?" you sigh, you know he's right so you agree, "Fine, but I want cuddles after." "Deal!" When you get into his bathroom, Asmo helps you out of your clothes and into the tub, you let out another sigh but this time it's a content one "Oh, Asmo this is nice~” "Told you~! So enjoy~"

Mammon; it only takes one text from you, 'Mams, can you get me (thing)? Oh and some pads / tampons plz' and he's off to the store, grabbing everything you asked for, plus a few crappy $5 rom-com movies and some junk food 'n chocolate. Walking straight into your room and setting the bags on your desk as he shows you everything he got "-and that's everything I got! So now ya can spend the next few days with me! Relaxin' after all nothing but the best for my human!" The others do drag you off at some point-

Beel; "I know Mammon already got you some snacks, but, I thought you might want some real food." whether it's homemade or takeaway from Hell's Kitchen, Beel's more then happy to share his food with you! he'll even feed it to you, if you want!

Satan; Picks out your favorite book or one you'd asked him about before and with his back resting against your headboard, reads to you, his left hand absently playing with your hair in-between turning pages~ "Enjoying the book love?" “Mimhhh" you hum contentedly. All while Belphie Is laying on your other side his arms wrapped around you and listening to Satan read. Obviously Belphie is the best living bodypillow ever~ He's just so warm it helps you relax. (Think of Belphie like a demon sized heating pad XD)

Levi; has all your favorite games on standby for ‘emergencies' like this!! "I thought this would help you, uhh not think about the pain and stuff…and well, games are always fun!" extra points if your favorite game is something you two can co-op!

Lucifer; knows it's no picnic constantly being hounded by his brothers, even when they're trying to take care of you. Sometimes peace and quiet is the best thing~ he's even got some over the counter human pain meds if you want them! Plus the softest pillows and blankets ever on his bed~ laying down in his bed and pulling you closer, placing a soft kiss on your forehead while muttering "Goodnight darling~"

[wardenparker]

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!

[chiisana-sukima]

Oh when you used to sing it to sleep

@jinkieswouldyoulookatthis and @blue-chimera - thank you both for your kind and thoughtful replies to my reblog of this post. The og post is getting quite long and also I don't want to put too much writing effort into a reblog that's susceptible to disappearance, so I'm continuing here instead.

I agree with you both that Dean's parentification and Sam's continued acceptance of vs rebellion against it as an adult are an important part of their dynamic. Dean's dying words in the finale attest to this beautifully (as well as many other things throughout the course of the show); I love you so much, my baby brother. To a certain extent Sam is Dean's baby and always will be.

I think though to a large extent, the framing by both Sam and Dean of Dean as Sam's parentified elder sibling is a mutually employed, mostly cooperative sanitization of the central and most damaging aspect of the roles they internalized through their upbringing: Sam is a monster and Dean is the tool to "take care of" it (double reading of "take care of" 100% intentional on my part). Because of this, while readings of spn through the lens of Dean's parentification are definitely valid, I do think they sometimes risk distorting or leaving out important aspects of the characters' personalities, motivations, and relationship.

Jinkies, in my fruitless quest to process without reblogging a take I knew the OP wouldn't appreciate, I had listened to the interview before posting, and I think while Jensen is being flip, he's also getting at what he sees as a truth in the brothers' relationship. I think he's right from a Doylist/co-creator/actor's perspective--Sam is the protagonist who we see through Dean, the deuteragonist's, eyes. Dean, as a piece of the narrative artifact, Supernatural, is there to save Sammy in a way that Sam (up to that point anyway) is not a piece of the narrative artifact whose purpose is to save Dean. From a Watsonian/in-universe perspective though, I think he's mistaken, and that his mistake is the reason his take sounds uncharitable, even aside from the flippant part.

It's just not a very convincing analysis imo to frame a character who spends the first few seasons rejecting immoral power, the next few in an arc that ends with him willingly subjected himself to eternal torture for the good of the world, and the one after that intending to sacrifice himself dramatically to rid the world of one particular species of monster but doesn't because Dean asks him not to, as self-absorbed or not particularly concerned with his effect on others, including on his brother. Likewise, Dean holds up well as a parentified older sibling with no sense of internal self and abysmal self-esteem in some ways, but in others not so much. He does have interests and priorities and a sense of purpose outside Sam. They're all over spn every day, much more so in fact than Sam's are. They're just not enough to override his Sam prioritization.

The main place I think this analysis fails on Dean's side though is that he, as an adult, is just not a very good parent. Obviously as a child he couldn't be expected to be a good parent (or a parent at all) and as an adult he's already damaged and so it's understandable that if big brother-ing Sam is how he chooses to spend the rest of his life, he may still not be equipped to do it. But he fails on such a fundamental, obvious level at the the most basic aspects of parenting--providing safety, unconditional love, and preparing your child to go out into the world as an independent adult--in ways that once he's a grown up are absolutely within his power to at least attempt (for example: if he wants Sam to be safer, it would ultimately have failed because of Fate, but the logical thing to do first would be not hunt. Dean could've followed Sam to Palo Alto. He could've told him to go to Harvard Law if he can't tolerate Stanford after Jess dies. Could've refused to support him throwing his life away of a mission of revenge. Bought him his own car, encouraged him to have his own tastes. Told him convincingly that trusting Ruby was a bad decision but Lucifer is still not his fault).

None of that is meant to be insulting to Dean though, because I don't think that parenting Sam is Dean's real job--even from Dean's perspective--and I don't think his real job is palatable enough that it would be better for either of them if he admitted what it is head on. What his and Sam's real jobs both are imo is being a container for Sam. On Dean's side, this means holding Sam in his arms with love or if that's not enough, holding him in the panic room, which, from this perspective, is also an act of love. Substituting his judgement for Sam's is an act of love. Not encouraging Sam to hold his own interests first or to grow towards independence are acts of love. Given the nature of (what I believe to be) Dean's actual job, they are effective and competent acts of love undertaken under impossible circumstances, even if the results are sometimes pretty horrific. Because they're still better than the alternative.

Likewise on Sam's side, doing his job well means being a model monster--go to an Ivy, exercise, eat healthy, cultivate empathy, don't have desires of your own, hold yourself to an impossible standard, suppress your anger, kill other monsters when they get out of line. And in the moments he can't manage all that--because who can?-- submit to Dean. When he does those things, he's succeeding at his job, and while it would be nice if "let your brother hit you" or "jump in the Cage with Lucifer" wasn't his job, in the world of spn, it is. He is right to be contained by Dean and wrong to have opinions or priorities of his own unless Dean approves them first.

I do think this sometimes ends up looking like Sam has better self-regard, because Dean's job is to "take care of" Sam, and Sam's job is also to "take care of" Sam. But actually they both have absolutely abysmal shit self-esteem. "I should submit to eternal torture because it's my fault someone else is going to do terrible things he could choose not to do if he wanted" is not the thinking of a person with healthy self-regard. The reason neither of them could fill a thimble with their self-esteem or healthy boundaries imo is because neither "monster" nor "blunt instrument" is a person. Neither of these roles is better or more healthy than the other. Fundamentally, if you don't see yourself first and foremost as a human person, then your life is going to suck horribly. And neither of them see themselves that way.

[staarri]

hello!! could i please req for a drabble w zayne? (they/them) reader is an overachieving hunter, often exhausting themself after every mission, and is v critical w themself and dr. zayne just comes around to confront them abt it since they've also missed an appointment or two with him^^

thank you in advance~ i understand if ever you won't be able to write this!

𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐩 𝐬𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐦 ( 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 )

     —   character(s) :   zayne

     —   character(s) are in a relationship with reader, gn!reader, overachieving reader with some mentions of/implied self degradation, may trigger negative thoughts, possible,, slight 4th wall breaking for narrating, this is a work of fiction

      fluff     ,     hurt / comfort     .      word count : 0,8k

hi op :(( i hope you're doing okay!! you're doing your best and all your efforts r noticed!! i hope this can cheer you up a bit

Life is certainly unfair when you feel as if you’re the only hunter actually doing the job for the entire city. When you take on missions, day after day, because nobody else wanted to do it themself. It’s unfair because your co-worker, Xavier, gets to spend his time sleeping in instead of helping you because your company decided not to approve of your 2 day break.

What a great way to end the week.

Knowing you’d have to work once again tomorrow, and the day after, and be required to clear harder missions just for that pay raise you wanted made you feel just a bit burdened. As if Linkon, or the world, depended on you to protect the hundreds of civilians just because you were trained to do so. Don’t get me wrong; You like being a hunter, it’s just the fact it's so demanding. Being called for missions day to day, sometimes you’re being brought back to HQ at the most random times of the day, or night just for a silly meeting. 

The burnout is inevitable. The stress will always be there, but your determination’s spark will not be as bright as before–leaving you to be lost in the dark tunnels of your mind, your heart. 

It doesn’t help that your superiors have noticed you slacking off work as well. You’re an excellent hunter, dealing with things no one else could just because they were scared. You fought, and fought, and fought. Even on the days you felt that you were just going to give up. You were scared too.

But everything feels different today. Like how a usual cup of coffee someone would order was done wrong because of the high amount of customers. How a pastry dish would come out undercooked because the chef let it bake for a much shorter time in the oven. How your boss would just keep forcing you to come in even if you worked overtime for almost a week straight.

This was your breaking point, you knew it.

And it was definitely evident when you came back home.

Zayne had just come back from his shift in the hospital–for once he was shocked you came home much later than him. Quite angry with you too, angry and disappointed, and you’d expect he had another toxic day handling patients and their families. But it was because of you.

It sounds bad, it really does. So when you open the door you hesitate the tiniest bit. Why wouldn’t you? You skipped 3 of your appointments with him the past week because of you working unnecessary overtime. He had 3 appointments with you where he could do something so much better than wasting his time waiting for you. That’s what you thought at least.

Instead of waiting for you to get in, he opens the door for you instead. Greeting you with a “good evening” in a tone you can't decipher. You wait for the conversation–the scolding to start but he doesn’t dare to speak after getting your bag and help you get comfortable. There’s food on the table–your favorites–and you can already hear the tub fill up with water.

You get in once Zayne says you can. The water is warm, not enough to burn you but enough to remove the tension from your body. There are some bubbles slowly forming to calm you down. He knocks on the door, saying something you can’t quite understand. You feel like you can fall asleep.

Zayne is sitting on the couch, his figure relaxed, you still can’t read how he’s feeling. 

“You missed your appointments.” He says, sighing towards the end. He shakes his head as he pats a seat beside him. You take a plate and start eating. For the entire week, you didn’t realize you were this hungry.

“Did I? Sorry.” He scoffs, you take another bite of the cookie.

He looks sad, concern and worry written all over his face. Your wellbeing has always become a first to him. You were important to him and Zayne needed to show that to you somehow.

“I care about you, and you know I understand any decision you make, at all.” You nod, putting the food down first to focus on his words.

“Did… Something happen?” 

Being a hunter is demanding, you know that. You both know that. Being a doctor is demanding as well, Zayne forgets to take care of himself from time to time, you two aren’t that different from each other. Might as well make this easy for him.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t say a single thing. He nods and looks at you with those bright eyes, attentive, listening to every word that falls from your mouth. And once you’ve been reduced to what you’d call a “mess”, with tears falling onto your cheeks and damp shirt, he pulls you into a hug. His hand on your hair, just holding you in the dim living room.

I’ve got you, he says. You’re perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

characters belong to their respective companies. everything is written by staarri - do not steal, reupload, translate, modify or feed my work to ai.

[solriccino]

WuWa Special Dishes

Jiyan, Lingyang, Encore, Calcharo, Danjin, Yuanwu, Yangyang, Baizhi, and Aalto

Just remembered the existence of special dishes after I got Jiyan's and thought of showing most of the others' special dishes. I don't have all the recipes unlocked so I can't do all of them! (Guys I killed so much poor animals for this I feel like a murderer but at least my Uncle Mahe made bank today)

See Jiyan's here: Jiyan's Special Dish: Yesterday in Jinzhou (yeah he had his own blog I'm a Jiyan hyperfixator)

Lingyang: Liondance Companion

How to obtain: Cook Jinzhou Skewers with Lingyang as the assistant.

Increase all party members' ATK by 120, lasting for 15m. (This effect only applies to your own Resonator(s) in Co-op Mode)

Snacks Lingyang made for the Liondance audience. The treats were a perfect combination of fatty and lean meats, complemented by fruits and vegetables to balance out the heaviness. Ideal for enjoying while watching the performance.

Encore: Baa Baa Crisp

How to obtain: Cook Star Flakes with Encore as the assistant.

Increases all party members' DEF by 40%, lasting for 30m. (This effect only applies to your own Resonator(s) in Co-op Mode)

After multiple attempts, Encore triumphantly created a dish she was pleased with. Golden and crunchy, each bite resembled a miniature lamb. And after indulging, one would surely dream of frolicking among sheep. With this culinary masterpiece, there's no need to fret - it can be savored without hesitation.

(This took me like 12 attempts to finally get in comparison to everyone else who took me like around 3 attempts so they're not lying when it took Encore multiple attempts to make her dish 😭😭 If that was intentional that is such a great detail)

Calcharo: Ration Bar

How to obtain: Cook Food Ration Bar with Calcharo as the assistant.

Increases the DEF of all Resonators in the team by 36% for 15 minutes. In multiplayer games, it only affects your own characters.

Calcharo has a fondness for Huanglong's Food Ration Bar. He believes it efficiently satisfies basic energy needs in the wild and has a unique taste. To cater to some of the younger merc's preferences, Calcharo has enhanced the bar by adding dried fruits, sugar beans, and various seasonings, creating a variety of flavors.

(Idk about u guys but something about Calcharo liking the food ration bars is so weirdly cute or I'm just a girl)

Danjin: Loong Whiskers Crisp

How to obtain: Cook Loong Whiskers Crisp with Danjin as the assistant.

Restore 50 points of Stamina.

The delicious scent of Loong Whiskers Crisp enveloped Danjin as she bit into the perfectly crisp exterior, her teeth sinking into the dreamy floss coating. Despite her love for this sweet treat, she always wished for more. The kind stall owner suggested adding extra ingredients to enhance the sweetness even further, a tempting offer that Danjin couldn't resist.

Yuanwu: Sanqing Tea

How to obtain: Cook Angelica Tea with Yuanwu as the assistant.

Increases all party members' max HP by 28%, lasting for 30m. (This effect only applies to your own Resonator(s) in Co-op Mode)

The Sanqing tea from Yuanwu Boxing Gym has healing properties, aiding the spleen, lungs, and alleviating worries. A cup after a boxing session boosts blood flow and circulation while soothing the mind. The perfect combination of exercise and tea brings a sense of inner peace, momentarily freeing one from mundane concerns and desires.

Yangyang: Fluffy Wuthercake

How to obtain: Cook Wuthercake with Yangyang as the assistant.

Increases all party members' ATK bu 33%, lasting for 30m. (This effect only applies to your own Resonator(s) in Co-op Mode)

A Wuthercake made with Yangyang's special formula. It incorporates whipped egg whites instead of the usual yolks. The result? A fluffy and tender treat that is both delicious and nutritious, thanks to the addition of berry jam. This revamped recipe caters to all ages, from seniors to picky kids, making it a satisfying indulgence for everyone.

Baizhi: Iced Perilla

How to obtain: Cook Perilla Salad with Baizhi as the assistant.

Increases all party members' Crit. Rate by 12%, lasting for 15m. (This effect only applies to your own Resonator(s) in Co-op Mode)

In moments of research block, Baizhi turns to the chilled Perilla she always has on hand for a refreshing pause. The cool, herbal flavor soothes her senses and helps calm her racing thoughts. As she finishes her plate, her mind clears and she's able to refocus on her work with renewed determination.

Sanhua: Crystal Clear Buns

How to obtain: Cook Loong Buns with Sanhua as the assistant.

Increases all party members' DEF by 28%, lasting for 30m. (This effect only applies to your own Resonator(s) in Co-op Mode)

Sanhua revamped the traditional ingredients used in Loong Buns, creating a refreshing and translucent treat perfect for cooling down during hot summers. This delicacy quickly became a staple on the City Hall's tables, winning over the hearts of all visitors... and the Jinzhou Magistrate herself.

Aalto: Misty Tea

How to obtain: Cook Happiness Tea (the recipe is named Xi Ling Tea) with Aalto as the assistant.

Increases all party members' DEF by 14% and max HP by 12%, lasting for 30m. (This effect only applies to your own Resonator(s) in Co-op Mode)

The tea is a favorite of Aalto. As the water in the pot turns to mist and then back into water in the cup, the aroma of the tea is coupled with the soothing mist. "Now, let's get down to business." It seems Aalto's mastery of tea-making is just one of his many skills in the business world.

Notes on the special dishes of those who I haven't included here

Mortefi: Crispy Squab (Recipe obtained at Casket Delivery level 10 aka you have to get all Sonance Caskets)

Chixia: Jinzhou Maocai (Recipe obtained at Chef level 4)

Taoqi: Kudzu Congee (???)

Verina: Morri Pot (???)

Jianxin: ??? (She's the only one I don't have asjsj)

Bonus pics of my Jiyan <33

[nickeverdeen]

Zuko and Sokka play co-op game with gn!reader

Original ask: can you do an imagine of Sokka, Suki, and Zuko playing a co-op video game with the (gender neutral) reader?

——————————

You found yourself sprawled across the couch, a controller in hand, ready for an evening of gaming with two of your closest friends. The living room was bathed in the warm glow of the TV, the smell of popcorn wafting from the kitchen where Sokka was busily making snacks. Zuko, as usual, was setting up the console with a quiet focus, his golden eyes glinting in the light.

“Are you sure you got this, Zuko?” Sokka called from the kitchen, his voice tinged with playful doubt. “Last time you tried to set it up, we ended up watching the screensaver for an hour.”

Zuko rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “That was one time, Sokka. And it wasn’t my fault the cables were messed up.”

You chuckled, watching them bicker like old friends. Despite their different backgrounds and initial animosities, Sokka and Zuko had grown close over time. Their dynamic was fascinating to watch, a blend of brotherly teasing and genuine respect.

Once the popcorn was ready and the console was up and running, Sokka plopped down next to you, handing you a bowl. “Alright, Y/N, let’s see if you can keep up with us tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across your face. “Oh, you’re on, Sokka. Just don’t cry when I beat you.”

Zuko handed you a controller, his fingers brushing yours briefly. “We’ll see who comes out on top,” he said, a competitive edge in his voice. He took his place on the other side of the couch, his demeanor calm but his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You chose a co-op adventure game that required teamwork and strategy, something that would allow all three of you to play simultaneously. The game’s vibrant world loaded on the screen, drawing you into its fantasy realm. Your characters appeared, each with unique abilities that complemented one another.

“Alright, team,” Sokka said, his voice assuming a mock-serious tone, “let’s strategize. I’ll take point, Zuko will cover our flanks, and Y/N, you handle the rear.”

Zuko smirked, adjusting his character’s equipment. “Just try not to rush in without thinking, Sokka. We don’t need another repeat of the swamp incident.”

You laughed, recalling the time Sokka had charged into a trap-filled swamp without checking for hazards, resulting in a hilarious series of mishaps.

The game began, and immediately, the room was filled with a mix of concentration and laughter. Sokka’s character darted ahead, swinging his sword with reckless abandon, while Zuko’s more measured approach provided a steady counterbalance. You found your rhythm, supporting them with well-timed spells and covering their weak points.

“Behind you, Zuko!” you called out, noticing an enemy sneaking up on him. Zuko spun around, dispatching the foe with a quick slash.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. “Nice spellcasting, by the way.”

Sokka let out a triumphant yell as he cleared a wave of enemies. “Ha! Take that! We’re unstoppable!”

Hours passed in a blur of action and camaraderie. You fell into a natural rhythm with Sokka and Zuko, each of you anticipating the others’ moves and reacting in perfect sync. There were moments of intense focus, punctuated by bursts of laughter whenever someone made a silly mistake or pulled off an impressive move.

At one point, you found yourself cornered by a particularly tough boss. Your health was dwindling, and it looked like you might not make it.

“Hang on, Y/N,” Sokka shouted, his character rushing to your aid. Zuko followed close behind, unleashing a powerful attack that staggered the boss.

“Now’s your chance!” Zuko urged, and you seized the moment, delivering the final blow that brought the boss to its knees.

The three of you erupted in cheers, the victory screen flashing triumphantly. You high-fived Sokka and Zuko, feeling a warm sense of accomplishment and unity.

“Great teamwork, everyone,” you said, still riding the high of the win. “We make a pretty awesome team.”

Zuko nodded, a rare, genuine smile lighting up his face. “Yeah, we do. It’s nice to have a night like this.”

Sokka stretched, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Alright, who’s up for another round? I think we can handle an even tougher challenge.”

You and Zuko exchanged glances, grinning. “Bring it on,” you said in unison.

As the night wore on, you continued to play, losing track of time in the immersive world of the game. The living room echoed with the sounds of battle and the laughter of friends, creating a bubble of warmth and camaraderie that made you forget the outside world for a while.

Eventually, fatigue began to set in. Sokka yawned loudly, stretching his arms over his head. “Okay, okay, maybe one more game isn’t such a great idea,” he admitted, chuckling. “I can barely keep my eyes open.”

Zuko agreed, his eyes looking a bit heavy as well. “Yeah, it’s getting late. But this was fun. We should do it again sometime.”

You nodded, feeling a pleasant exhaustion from the evening’s activities. “Definitely. It’s not often we get to just hang out and relax like this.”

The three of you tidied up the living room, putting away the controllers and clearing the remnants of snacks. As you prepared to head to bed, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the night. It wasn’t just about the game; it was about the bond you shared with Sokka and Zuko, the sense of teamwork and mutual respect that had grown between you.

Before parting ways, Sokka pulled you into a quick hug. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Zuko gave you a nod, his expression softening. “Goodnight, Y/N. Thanks for playing with us. It was... nice.”

You smiled, feeling a warm glow inside. “Goodnight, Sokka, Zuko. Let’s do this again soon.”

As you lay in bed that night, the memories of the evening replayed in your mind. The laughter, the teamwork, the thrill of the game—it all made you feel deeply connected to your friends. And as you drifted off to sleep, you knew that this was just the beginning of many more adventures to come, both in the game and in your lives.