#'its the empire state building and one next door i guess?'

[diamondnokouzai]

its honestly kinda funny when um old post-apoc books (like, 70s and 80s) write abt the ruins of nyc and include the twin towers. lol.

[mafuluzx]

Can I have a Lloyd x m!reader⁉️ basically reader is a villian and is almost like himiko toga. reader basically asks Lloyd for his blood so Lloyd is obviously confused so one of readers teammates r like " reader ain't no way ur in love with the person we've been fighting" and the ninjas find out that to reader blood = love or sum like that⁉️( ik its silly request but😭)

It's not silly at all, don't worry!!! And I'm sorry this took so long! My motivation has just been kinda down for a while. I'm not sure if this is good enough, but I tried my best.

WARNING! Needles, for those who cannot handle them.

Lloyd x male reader oneshot!

Takes place in the start of season 12, Prime Empire

Love it?

"We're almost there, come on!" Lloyd quietly lead the team towards one of the many warehouses in Ninjago city. Apparently the mechanic, as he calls himself, was apparently in there right now, ready to steal a motherboard to some old video game that was only available in arcades, and even those had been shut down for reasons unknown.

Soon enough, the ninja got to the ware house as they heard speech from inside. They couldn't hear everything clearly, but the sentences "Find it!" and "The motherboard is all we need!"

Lloyd placed a finger on his lips and motioned for the ninja to keep quiet as they moved right next to the main doors.

The ninja hesitated to enter as they heard someone, someone else, laugh manically inside the ware house. Lloyd ignored it, and instead motioned for the others to go in, before he counted to three.

And on three, they burst into the building, the mechanic and his goons stiffening up as they got on guard. Everyone wore stiff and worried expressions... except one.

"Sorry to crash the party boys!" Nya let out the mechanic growled, before Jay joined in.

"Guess our invitations got lost in the mail, huh?" The blue ninja spoke before reaching out to pull out his weapon, but Lloyd quickly placed a hand in front of Jay, stopping him.

"No weapons, guys. These are just low level thugs." He spoke as Cole smirked.

"My fists are my weapons!" He le out as he punched the air.

"I would not classify the Mechanic as low-level. He's suspected in thirty-six unsolved criminal cases, not mentioning the unnamed accomplice." Zane commented as the mechanic smirked, before clearing his throat.

"Thirty-seven." He simply stated before his robotic arm extended, hitting Zane and sending him flying to the other side of the room. Without a second to waste, the ninja split up to fight the mechanic and his goons.

Lloyd didn't let his guard down for a second, even when he noticed one of the goons, dressed a little differently than most, storing at him with wide eyes. The boy's eyes glimmered like crystals as they stared straight at Lloyd mid fight.

Although the boy himself was currently fighting Zane, it was like the white ninja wasn't even there. Although it made Lloyd somewhat nervous, he ignored it as he knocked down one of the mechanic's goons, before kicking another out of the warehouse with a powerful kick.

But suddenly Lloyd felt someone shove him to the ground from behind. He and the person rolled into a corner, away from the fight, before Lloyd finally saw the person. It was the boy who had been staring at him earlier.

"Hey, Lloyd Garmadon, right?! My name is (y/n), (y/n) (l/n), just so you know. Ah, I can call you Lloyd, right? Or is Green Ninja better? Kyaahh! I can't believe I'm speaking to the Green Ninja! Oh, what if he thinks I'm annoying... Doesn't matter!" The boy blabbered on and on as Lloyd tried to punch and kick him away, and failed, every time. The boy was on all fours on top of Lloyd and kept him pinned to the ground as he talked.

"Ahhhh! I don't know what to do! Hehehee..." The boy named (y/n) spoke a bunch of nonsense before suddenly pulling out a knife and pressing it gently against Lloyd's face.

The boy muttered something, but it was too quiet for Lloyd to hear. Knowing he might me killed at any moment, Lloyd stopped struggling, and instead grabbed the hand that was holding the knif. He needed to act fast.

"Lloyd, Lloyd, I wont kill you~! Just-" Before (y/n) could say anything else, Lloyd twisted his wrist so that he dropped the knife. In a few swift movements, Lloyd finally kicked off the other boy, before running back into the fight and after the mechanic, who had just called out.

"(l/n)! Stop fooling around!" The mechanic called the boy his last name, as the boy's twisted smile turned into a childish pout.

"But, but, but, buuuuuuut! It's the Lloyd Garmadon!" The boy called back, but the mechanic only scoffed.

"Then stay if you'd like, return to base once you've held this guys off long enough." The mechanic said before pulling one of his goons up, and running to an open window.

"Aye, aye, mech-man!" The boy called after him as the mechanic jumped out of the window with one last shout.

"It's boss to you, blood sucker!" The mechanic then disappeared out of sight, before Lloyd called out.

"Zane, Cole, Nya! Go after him! We'll hold the rest of them back." Lloyd instructed as Zane, Cole and Nya charged out of the same window, leaving Jay, Kai, and Lloyd to fight inside the warehouse.

"Blood sucker? Hey, are you vampire?" Jay was the first one to do anything. No one was attacking the opposing side yet. The goons had all been knocked out, leaving only the boy named (y/n) (l/n) to smile at the three ninja. Well, just mainly the green ninja, but whatever.

"Jay, vampires aren't real." Kai stated as Jay turned ´his head to the red ninja.

"How would you know? Have you ever seen one?" Jay asked before Lloyd sighed, and spoke up.

"Jay, concentrate. Now, sorry to say, but we'll have to take you down!" Lloyd said the last part to (y/n), who weirdly looked nothing but happy with the statement.

"Oh, the Lloyd Garmadon is talking to me! Kyahh!! What an honor, what an honor! Oh, quick question, may I have a blood sample from you?" (y/n)'s tone suddenly changed as he pulled out a syringe from behind his back.

"No way! I hate needles!" Jay spoke before (y/n) turned his head towards the blue ninja.

"Shut up! I wasn't talking to you." (y/n) scoffed before turning back to Lloyd with a beaming smile.

"So what do you say? It'll hurt just a bit!" Lloyd watched as (y/n) waved the syringe around like a nurse gone mad.

"No thanks." Lloyd simply answered as Kai spoke up.

"Um, this is getting weird, so how about we fight this out instead?" (y/n) looked taken back for a second, but in the end lowered the syringe and pulled out a knife with his other hand.

"Sure!" He beamed before charging towards the ninja without warning. Before the could as much as dodge, (y/n) had already slashed past Lloyd, making a deep cut in his leg.

"Don't worry, the knife is fully sanitized!" (y/n) spoke leisurely as Kai and Jay ran towards him. But (y/n) knocked the two away easily, making it look like he was fighting a bunch of toddler instead of the all-powerful ninja.

Lloyd pressed on his bleeding leg before trying to get some space between himself and (y/n), but the latter was much faster, charging and pressing the syringe behind Lloyd's knee.

Quick as lightning, he drew in some blood before ripping the syringe away.

"Don't worry, it's fully sanitized too!" (y/n) spoke again, of course talking about the now filled syringe.

"Oh this is perfect! Ah, I don't know what to say, I don't know what to do!" (y/n) spun around with the syringe in hand, ignoring the three ninja approaching him slowly.

"Oh, wait, I was supposed to go back. I completely forgot!" (y/n) suddenly let out in realization, before whipping around to face Lloyd, who had gotten up even with his bleeding leg, fists drawn and ready to punch (y/n).

"It was so nice to meet you, Green Ninja!" (y/n) beamed before throwing himself onto Lloyd, giving the Green Ninja a hug before kissing Lloyd on the cheek.

"I gotta go now! I'll miss you!" (y/n) jumped away without a warning to the entrance of the warehouse, before turning back one last time and waved to Lloyd with a smile.

Lloyd noticed something had changed about the boy in the midst of the fight, strangely. A ring had appeared on his ring finger, as if out of thin air.

It made Lloyd wonder, and look down at his own hands too. What left Lloyd even more puzzled was the ring that had appeared on himself, and it definitely matched with (y/n)'s. Jay and Kai saw that too.

"Uh, did you get engaged to a stranger?" Jay questioned as a half joke, before Kai spoke up.

"Shouldn't we go after him?"

....!

[iwander12]

Ahhhh i just had some silly dreams...

First i got stuck in an elevator with my older sister... and then suddenly she was Tuddrussel from Time Squad and I was Otto and then Tuddrussel's ex wife (I cant remember her name right now sorry!) showed up and i just stood awkwardly in this elevator that didnt function but kept going up and down as they argued.

Finally we got out, said bye to his ex dropping her off at her apartment and we went home. Not to the spaceship or anything but just a normal ass house. In the living room I organized my stack of comic books and notebooks.

I decided to check out the rest of the house. There was a little basement hall with 4 doors. I looked in Tuddrussel's room, it had Demon Slayer merch on the floor and the walls were colorful. I went to the next door and it was a light blue room with two beds and a closet i recognized from when I was a child- causing me to realize I was dreaming. At this point I wondered where Larry was.

Im not too sure what happened afterwards, its all a blur, but at some point I was sitting on a couch with larry and some people outside were screaming "DESTROY THE KIDS!!!!!!". Suddenly at my window view, the Sector V tree from KND showed up, then was blown up. So was the Empire State Building. I did not care.

I woke up briefly and went back to sleep.

This time I had a Pizza Tower dream? I don't know much about Pizza Tower, but I guess this was supposed to be like those crossover images. It was crossing over with a burger. Something was trying to vacuum up a fusion of Pepino and the Noise. They tried running away but it was no use. Marlon Random from LBP3 was there too but he managed to get away. Then he said "Meow."

Pepino-Noise getting sucked up caused reality to shift and history to change. And also he was irrelevant now v.v

For some reason it became an episode of Billy and Mandy, but the evil con carne characters were also there. They were in a dark world where the land had turned into neon green water, and the two casts of characters sat on giant burgers without a giant bun. Theirs had a giant tomato on it. Alongside them were also groups of 3 generic minor characters also sitting on giant burgers, no tomato and a giant sea monster.

This sea monster gave everyone a task (which... hardly makes sense): They have to correctly identify why each other was delicious and why they had come here if they were a real person, and if they were correct they would be spared. N Gin from Crash Bandicoot started to make shit up out of anxiety, but then I realized he wasnt an Evil Con Carne character and smited him from existence as the true god of this universe.

I now realized this was a dream again and was really entertained by this premise! xD I made them argue... Skarr was the one to start bullshitting, Hector said he wouldn't be tasty and the monster should eat everyone else, Ghastly plead insanity for the others so the monster would ignore them, Billy talked about being hungry too I think, Mandy pointed out this game was dumb and the monster should just eat everyone, and Grim... didnt say anything. He was probably amused.

As soon as I woke up I came to write this down, right here right now! Hello!

I feel like I should make a comic about the Billy and Mandy part, that would be fun...

There was also some other events i couldnt fit in here because i dont know what or when they happened... Like Tuddrussel, his ex and I (Otto) went to go look at a gross cafeteria and we almost got blown up because it had gas or something. It be that way

hamburger....

[notlycheesden]

Rearview Mirror

Heyyo ✌🏻 this is my first written piece for Endeavor , as a gift for my friend @kogo for the evil exchange. so I hope you like it my dude 👍🏻. A piece I will def be coming back to write more for sure.

⤍ Endeavour x reader

⤍ 3.6k

⤍ TW.incest, TW.dubcon, TW.father/daughter

⤍ Summary:

Enji was trying to be a better father, a better man.

And you never lied to him.

Guess it was a time for a lot of firsts.

Everything was always red between the both of you.

It's past four when his phone rings.

He was awake. even on his day off -those becoming more frequent now- years of routine were still strong. His body alert and aware way before the break of dawn for hours of training before patrol, and later to go to his own agency, the literal empire that wouldn't run itself.

He was pretending to be asleep, unmovable laying on his stomach, face buried on his pillow. Deep breaths in and out in a rhythmic pattern. His massive frame takes most of his king-size bed that for more than a decade he slept right in the middle, no reason to let the right side of it unoccupied.

It was almost meditation-like. There in the quiet and calm of his bedroom between his sheets, he could organize -or at least try- his thoughts. A time in his day where he gets lost in self-reflection. The things he would have to do that day, what work in his agency he would have to supervise, and even stubbornly he would do a little steaming out, analyzing his “actions and emotions”, passing commentary from the resident agency therapist threw his way.

“A strict but good man, if not for some, mishaps, from your intense and fiery nature.” was his professional opinion about Endeavor. The man really lived to throw things his way.

It used to help calm his turbulent mind. But lately there was nothing in his head but turmoil.

It was something he would do until 6 AM, when he couldn't take any longer and had to get up, body and muscles aching from staying in bed for too long, the sun already rising on the horizon, painting the sky with yellows, pinks, and reds.

The silence of his room is broken by the ring of his phone. Instead of the familiar tone of the morning alarm, it was his normal ringtone. When he opens his eyes, the room was not bright as he expects, still shrouded by darkness. Endeavor sits on his bed at once, alert.

Getting it from the bedside table quickly, his posture falls when he catches the time and the already saved contact of who was calling him: Natsuo.

Enji picks up, but before he could question the call, the time, or even say hello, Natsuo speaks, voice grave and serious.

“You need to pick up your daughter right now.”

It’s a punch to the gut. One that makes all the air from his lungs escape at once. In a second, he feels like he is thrown into a rollercoaster.

The only thing he can muster in his shock is a guttural and deep bark of incredulity “What?”

Natsuo cuts Enji off immediately. His tone triggering him into snapping, memories hushing in -not the time for this- “She just called. She was a crying mess, begged me to come for her but I live two hours away-Shouto is on patrol and not picking up and Fuyumi is with her fiance's family at the onsen-”

Enji inhales sharply. Dread takes hold of him while he can't even see straight with the sudden rush of adrenaline, sirens blasting off in his head.

“She was supposed to be with fuyumi at the onsen.” His voice echoes back at him in his bedroom walls, he doesn't realize he is shouting.

“Look, this is really not the time. She has no money and her phone’s dead. I was able to get her to tell me an address before the call dropped. she's all alone there. Are you gonna pick her up?”

Natsuo calms his own breaths now after snapping and shouting back, and he can hear shuffling noises on his father’s side of the line. The older man was up in a second, not really seeing anything, rushing through his stuff picking his keys and wallet. He hates the way his father could make him snap so easily.

Enji was completely distraught.“She said she was going to be with fuyumi…” He mutters under his breath while running through the corridors, even forgetting the phone by his ear, his son still on the line.

But Natsuo hates even more the blatant difference in the way his father treated all of them and you in comparison. Always. Like he could fix his mistakes. Hide his sins.

“Well. Think your little princess lied to you old man.”

Enji didn't even register the venom in his son's words, nor when he hangs up on him.

He’s out of the house in a blink. He tries not to rip the door out of its hinges on his way out.

—��

He drives fast, almost no other car in the streets making it easier to speed up in his nervous state. The GPS voice droning about the directions, a forty-minute drive that he would make in twenty.

you said you were going to spend the weekend with your sister.

You lied to him.

Enji’s heart hammers in his chest and his flames burst multiple times on his face out of control. His grip on the wheel tightens to ground his shaking hands, his jaw set with such force that he could feel a headache already forming.

Thoughts were flying through his mind a mile a second. Where are you? What happened to you? Who were you with? Were you safe? Why were you crying?

Why did you lie to him?

It was like his heart was being squeezed by dread and being broken at the same time.

You were his youngest. After he realized what he did to his children as a father, he tried his best to do better; connect, communicate, but he was emotionally and socially stunted -Thanks doc.- and by the time he tried to reach out, it was just a little too late.

Fuyumi was the pillar of the household, replacing their mother too much young and having to fit in a mould not meant to be hers, barely holding the treads of the family and house together. Natsuo was out of the front door as soon as he finished high school and got into med school, choosing to live in the dorms and work part-time rather than stay at the manor. Shoto was another history in itself.

And there was you, a couple of years younger than your now up-in-the-ranks pro hero brother, at the time just a pipsqueak. Too young to remember Rei, remember the worst of Endeavor.

And when he tried to connect, you were there. As if just waiting. Wanting your father to look at you. Frail and innocent and just in want of care, of attention, of love. You welcomed him into your life with open arms and heart.

Enji did try to make it right by you. And for some time things were progressing, even his other children were starting to turn their heads around his direction.

Until Touya’s incident.

The media cracked down on him and his family with a vengeance, almost nothing was left unturned or whole.

Natsuo was the first to cut ties. Shouto threw himself into his hero work, completely closing himself off. Even Fuyumi decided that she was done, took the next step, and went to live with her now fiance, completely ignoring whatever Enji tried to shout about costumes or honor.

Then it was just the two of you.

He tried to be a good father.

He was a quiet man in his private life, strict and with a violent nature, but he reached out for outside help to make it right. An older and trustworthy housekeeper to not chain his daughter down at the manor, guidance from therapist to help him become a better father, a better man, anything to do right this time.

Call it atonement, call it his redemption, call it hypocrisy, he didn't care.

He only cares that at the end of the day, you were there at his side, happy.

This morning he saw the note on the fridge.

Going to onee-san family trip,

Be back on Sunday.

You never had lied to him before.

Guess it was a time for a lot of firsts.

——-

The music blasting through the night tipped him off even before his car's GPS tells him he arrived at the destined location.

He parks way down the street and assesses the place inside the darkness of his car.

Enji’s way out of the city now and inside the industrial district, the building seems old and falling to pieces, people are lingering all around the street, but it’s thicker there. At surface level the building was empty, but the music was definitely coming from there.

He dreads the worst.

Getting out of the car still in his sleeping sweatpants and tee, he throws the hood of his workout jacket over his hair to conceal himself. He’s going for discretion, get you and get out, no need to make this a public affair. Not with this, not with you, not right now.

He searches around but still can't find you. Half an hour has passed since Natsuo called. He's in a frenzy. Endeavor forces himself to calm down and think.

His son didn't mention music. He looks far into the street and he can see the entrance of an alleyway, he hushes there.

His stomach tied in knots when he sees in the dark your small figure crouched down beside a dumpster. your shoulders ate shaking with silent sobs holding your dead phone for dear life, trying to make yourself smaller than you already were, head down.

Enji barks your name and your head snaps to the entrance of the alleyway in shock, your body trembling and fat tears running down your smudged makeup.

“Daddy!”

In a second you were up and running, throwing your body against him and hugging his middle. He doesn't know what to do first, but he opts for following his instincts. Enji hugs your shaking form, shushing you lightly while petting your head. He doesn't know if it's him or you who's shaking more.

He doesn't remember how, but he manages to walk both of you to his car without being seen, his hulking form covering your smaller one.

He's shaking. When Enji puts you in the passenger seat and the car lights momentarily shine everything in an amber glow, rage fills his chest. You are in a dress he has never seen before, he knows it was not yours. He would never allow a thing like that or let you use it in public. Your makeup that before being ruined by your smudging and crying, was heavy and meant to seduce.

He closes your door and gets in the car.

He's shaking.

——

Enji can only control himself enough to not rip the wheel or step on the gas right through the flooring for only three blocks. and thank the gods again for the hour, because he could not quite see the streets in front of him. If they weren't deserted while he drives double the velocity permitted, it would be likely that the fears of his family being again under the cruel and ravenous judgment of the public eye would become reality, although for a completely different reason from the ones he has been dreading until this point.

When he reaches the fourth block, he makes a sudden stop, turning and parking harshly with the front of the car almost all the way over the curb, the tires skidding loudly into the quiet of the night and scaring you out of your still shell shock state. your small sniffles stop when you let out a muted yelp of surprise.

Enji quickly pries his hands that have a death grip on the wheel and smash the roof of the car to turn the lights on in such a way that later he’s impressed he didn't send the entire ceiling flying. As fast as he did that and the darkness of the car is now cast in warm gold, his hands are on your small frame like a striking snake, a big calloused one gripping your face between meaty fingers, squeezing your wet cheeks and the other one in your far shoulder, turning you in his direction with a barely controlled yank. Enji wasn't sure if the shaking was coming from your body or his.

He's frantic, hectic, eyes going up and down your body trying to find anything, something. “Are you hurt? tell me,” His voice is harsh, too loud into the small space. You jump startled, but his grip locks you in place, he doesn't notice.

Why did you come to a party? Why are you dressed like this? Why did you do this?

“Are you?? Someone did something? Gave you something, touched you?” He barks again louder, bending and twisting to be in your face now, eyes scanning all over your body. But again and again, they would be drawn to the too short hem of your dress, from your ruined tearstained makeup and down again to your soft and creamy thighs, trying to find a mark, a scratch, a stain. Anything, something.

“Fucking answer me!”

“Dad please!”

Enji lets you go as if you just slap him in the face. He blinks.

You are shaking. Looking at him in fear, silent tears running down your cheeks. Your jaw is set as you try to hold your whimpers back, his fingers make red marks bloom on your face and arm under his digits.

Memories come back rushing. Phantoms scourging in blue flames.

He releases you as if you burn him.

His hands hover in place, and he doesn't dare to move, still crowding you. Both of you staring at each other in fear and confusion as if something would break.

He slowly backs away, and you keep still. He turns the light off and stares at the road.

Enji couldn't take more things between both of you breaking.

He takes a deep breath. Starts the car again to drive back home.

——

Friday nights are your nights.

Enji doesn't really remember when it started. But he knows it wasn't something that was spoken of or agreed beforehand. It happened once, then twice, then his job got in the way, then thrice, and when he noticed, it was a routine between him and his daughter.

Like most things between both of you, it just… fell into place. And it just felt right.

Endeavor would arrange his schedule in a way so that his Fridays would be empty, any emergency at the agency could be easily solved that way, patrols and hero work set on the weekends so he could come home at a sensible hour, just by dinnertime.

He would be just taking his blazer and shoes off at the entrance when Enji would hear your running steps from the kitchen, your pinky apron-clad figure hushing to meet him with a bright smile, eyes shining.

you would get a hold of his tie and gently tug down for him to bend at the waist to your level, your arms were thrown in a warm hug on his neck and a sweet and lengthy kiss on his cheek after he steps through the threshold. you would giggle against his face from the tickles you got from his stubble while warmly welcoming him, the food still hot on the table.

It was one of your multiple habits together, just the two of you. And it felt right.

It was routine. And it felt so domestic, warm and right.

Friday nights are your nights. After he gets home, you guys have dinner, something you cooked by yourself, sending the older housemaid away earlier.

Sometimes it is a new recipe, sometimes something you already tried before. But it's always good, and when Enji compliments your cooking skills and how much he enjoys it, your cheeks blush red. You daintly try to hide your smile as you thank him, bashful behavior so alluring even when he knows is just a little act, playing coy. There's warmth in his chest.

The lights in the dining room cast everything in this whimsical warm glow and maybe it's the beer, but Enji thinks it reflects lovely on you and the color of your blouse today. He says so.

“Looking so pretty tonight, princess.”

The red on your cheeks grow stronger. From across the table, he hides his smirk behind his can at seeing how you fidget in place, trying to contain your coquettish smile while biting your plush bottom lip. The warmth spreads lower.

Only later it dawns on him. Enji was flirting with his own daughter. And it was a habit.

It was routine.

Enji is sprawled on the big sofa comfortably, already showered and in his sleeping clothes after dinner, the second movie of the night halfway through.

It was a period drama and he tries to pay attention to the main points for your quiz about it the next day, but he was mostly checked out, lulled by the comfy dark of the living room, the buzz of the beers he drank, sleep and your warm body draped over his.

He doesn't really remember when it started, but he knows it was gradually. One day in your Friday movie nights, he notices you were glued on his side, and on the next one you had an arm draped over his torso while both of you were laying on the reclining couch, and since then, you were always over him, arms and thighs and breasts glued to his body, but most of the time cutely laying on his chest.

That night was no different. You are laying on his broad chest, using your arm as leverage to look down and back at the tv in front of the sofa, and for you to not slip he has one big palm over your waist and the other in a secure hook on the slope of your knee, propping your bent leg higher across his stomach. Your breathing matches his, and if not by your little grunts and noises of surprise, the redhead would have thought you had fallen asleep on him. It would not be the first time.

The clothes you are using are small and had hiked up a long time ago, a loose tank top and booty shorts, both of them old and worn out, sleep clothes.

From where he was, he could see all your body over his. From the crown of your head to the slope of your waist as it dipped under his scarred hand. His gaze follows the curve of your thigh draped over his waist to the fat of your ass pointing high. He muses in a daze that he could see the inside of your tank top, the soft swell of a breast making an appearance. He leers.

You move a little, and this time, he can make out the shade of a nipple. It’s pert and small and pretty, and blood rushes to his clothed cock, but is late, and he's tired and buzzed out. It doesn’t connect in his mind.

You move. you are getting yourself higher on his chest. Enji feels small hands wandering under his shirt. Presses of lips on his neck. Wet kisses on the stubble on his jaw.

The soft touches pull him deeper. There's a young and wanton body over his. It’s been so long since he truly touched another, let himself be touched. Smooth lips and an uncertain tongue were kissing him, and he wants to devour them. It’s hot and burns and makes his insides coil, his cock hard and heavy inside his pants. A warm slit humping it.

Could have been the tiredness, the beer, the comfort of the situation, anything really.

Enji kisses you like a man starved. Head moving and ravaging your much smaller mouth with his tongue. His hand yanks your tank top down exposing your breasts, and now he’s pulling and pinching the sweet nipples in a way that makes you moan against his tongue with a voice he couldn't recognize.

His other hand was down at your ass, guiding your movements back and forth on his erection with vigor, the friction against your slit makes you weak, but he keeps you moving, his calloused hand encompassing most of your behind. At each needy thrust his fingers would slide down between the cleft of your ass more and more.

His meaty fingers push the bottons of your shorts aside with a flick of his wrist, and now he's touching directly your puffy lips that are messy and wet all over. Enji growls in your mouth as you moan louder when he starts playing with your pussy, a pitched whine as he flicks your clit up and down, a strong hold on your breast.

A loud bang from the TV is what snaps him back to reality.

It was his daughter.

His daughter was over him. It was his daughter that was humping his cock, that he was sucking her small tongue and tweaking her nipples until he made her squeal.

He jumps to his feet and throws you across the couch.

Different from him, you look wide awake. Flushed face and startled eyes stares up at him, exposed breasts still heaving. Nipples rosy and hard. Between your legs, a glistening trail of where his fingers dragged when he ripped them off of you. Your shorts are drenched.

There's a moment of silence.

Enji snaps. He sprints to his bedroom, leaving you alone in the living room.

He locks his door, drops to the floor, and whips his hard and heavy cock out. in three pumps, thick ropes of cum cover his hand and clothed middle.

Taking big gulps of air trying to calm his breathing, his eyes glancing everywhere in a panic state, he looks down, and spot the wet patch on his clothed thigh. Yours juices that leaked on him. Its still in his other hand, fingers wet.

Enji wants to cry.

He tried to be a good father.

He ruined it again.

[yoontopia]

coffee & cream | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x (f) reader

genre: friends with benefits au (like the movie mila kunis is sexy y’all), one (1) smut scene [in the form of oral (m) and (f) receiving, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids cmon), spanking, grinding], fluff, angst (but its a happy ending bc its me)

rating: M

word count: 14.3k

summary: Jungkook isn’t usually a risk taker-- in fact, he’s the safest guy in the room. But you’re about to change that

Jungkook adjusts his tie and looks out of the little airplane window. The seatbelt sign is blinking back on – it’s been a relatively exhausting flight from LA to New York and his legs are numb. He eyes the tall buildings of the metropolis below, squinting when he can see the Empire State building in his view. It isn’t his first time in Manhattan, having visited once with his family when he was a teenager. The sheer size of the place terrifies him a little though.

It’s not like Los Angeles isn’t a big city. LA is huge, in fact, and just as saturated as any big city is. But New York is a different topic altogether. Jungkook finds LA intimidating, he’s not sure where to even start with Manhattan.

He walks out into JFK, hoisting his duffle bag on one shoulder. It’s noisy, he notes, as soon as he’s walked out and into baggage claim. He only makes a small pitstop in the men’s bathroom to make sure his hair doesn’t look like birds have nested in it and emerges out, looking around. Someone’s supposed to be picking him up, and they should be here, amongst the throng of people holding up placards with names on them. He’s just pulling out his phone to double check if any emails about his pickup were sent while he was in flight, when a commotion by baggage claim catches his eye. Raising his eyebrows, he takes in the sight before him.

There’s you, hair coming out of your bun, clutching your stilettos close to your chest as you walk barefoot on the baggage belt wearing a crinkled skirt-suit. You’re looking for something, tip toeing around the suitcases, unaware of the stares you’re getting. You’re walking towards him, against the direction of the belt and he stares around him and sees a piece of paper with the name JEON JUNGKOOK written on it in bright red lipstick. He leans over to pick it up, and realizes you’ve made a grab for it as well.

“That’s me,” he says. You blink at him in confusion, before your face clears.

“Jeon Jungkook?” you affirm, and he nods, pointing to the piece of paper and then at himself.  “Oh, thank god.” You introduce yourself and hold out your hand, which Jungkook promptly shakes. You’re still on the baggage belt, so he has to walk alongside you.

“You’re picking me up from the airport?”

“Yes!” your voice is hushed and out of breath. You smooth down your flyaway hair hastily.

“Do you… always pick people up like this?” He gestures at the baggage belt and you suddenly laugh, a high tinkling sound. Jumping off the belt, you stand in front of him.

“Uh yeah, you know, I like to keep things interesting,” you say, nodding your head like you mean business. “Welcome to New York, by the way. I feel like I should’ve brought a boombox with that Taylor Swift song blasting on it.”

“I mean there’s always next time, right?” Jungkook cracks a smile, shoving his hands in the pockets of his suit. “You know… you’re not exactly what comes to mind when one thinks ‘headhunter’.”

“Yeah, I prefer the term executive recruiter,” you say offhandedly. “‘Headhunter’ always makes me sound a little creepy.”

“Well,” Jungkook says, as he watches you put your heels back on. They add a significant amount to your height, and you stand in front of him expectantly. “You did stalk me for the past six months. That’s kind of creepy.” You laugh again at that and reach for his bag, which he pulls out of the way.

“Let me carry your bag, it’s my job!”

“You don’t look like you do this often,” he points out.

“Okay so maybe you’re my first recruit, sue me.” You’re pouting faintly, as the two of you walk out of the airport. The New York heat hits Jungkook all at once, and he sniffs the air curiously. “Nasty isn’t it? I love it” you grin.

“What is that?” he asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Sewage, rats, and the sweet smell of capitalism.” You’re waving down a yellow taxi. “Need me to play you that Taylor Swift song yet?” You hold the door open for him and he gets in and you pop in from the other side. Once you’re done giving the driver your destination, you sit back. “So.” You start. Jungkook raises your eyebrows at you. “You’re finally here!”

“Only took six months worth of emails to convince me,” he says, looking out the window as the cab crosses a bridge. Manhattan looms in front of him.

“It’s a huge opportunity,” you say, and he has to give you points for being earnest. “Art director for Vogue? This is the big leagues!” You’re turned in your seat to look over at him. “I mean, no offence to your little internet blog.”

“Which got seven million hits last month,” He points out, only a little offended. You roll your eyes.

“Have you been on TikTok lately, little kids are pulling those numbers.” You say, and he can’t deny it. “But I’ve seen your work firsthand, and you’re amazing at what you do. That’s why you’re here.” Jungkook sighs. The cab is in Manhattan now and he stares out the window once again.

“There must be a reason you’re here,” you continue quietly. “Even I was surprised you finally agreed to give the interview a shot.” Jungkook doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t know you enough to tell you the real reason he up and left his life in LA.

“A free trip to New York? C’mon I’d be an idiot to turn that down!” He says instead, making his tone as light as possible. “But New York’s so crowded. Look around! I’m from California okay? I prefer the coast.” You’re looking at him, and he has a feeling you can see right through him. Considering New York also has the ocean, even Jungkook knows that is the poorest excuse.

“C’mon, what’s really holding you back?” Your tone is serious. Jungkook shrugs.

“I don’t know. This is a ridiculously huge move. I’ve lived in one place my whole life. And I don’t want it to feel like I made the wrong move and got myself into something I can’t handle.”

“I’m telling you, your work is incredible,” you say again, and Jungkook feels the back of his neck go warm. He’s heard flattery before, but you’re a stranger and you sound so blatantly honest. “You’re fully capable of handling this. Look, we’ll get you some coffee before your interview, you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t drink coffee,” Jungkook mumbles, lowering himself in his seat. You stare.

“What?! You heathen.” You’ve dropped all formalities with him, and Jungkook doesn’t know if that’s just New York, or you.

“It’s really hot,” he says as the cab pulls up to the destination.

“Doesn’t it get hot in LA?” you ask, paying the driver. Jungkook stands on the sidewalk and looks around. He can see the river from where he stands and smell the ocean. That thought comforts him a little.

“Yeah it gets hot in LA, but here it’s the heat, the pollution the humidity. In LA, thirty degrees feels like thirty degrees. Here thirty degrees feels like—the ninth circle of hell—”

“This conversation about the weather is really fascinating, believe me,” you cut him off. “But lucky for me, we’re here.” You point at the large building the two of you are standing outside of. “So, good luck.” Jungkook looks up at the skyscraper.

“Whatever happens, happens,” He says, shaking his head. “I told you, I don’t really want it.”

“I think you do,” you say, crossing your arms slightly. “Whatever it was that convinced you to finally fly out here is also convincing you to go for it. But regardless, just do me a favour? Act like you do want it so that I look good.”

“I guess I can do that,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

“Okay”, you say, flashing him another one of your blinding smiles. “Go get ‘em.”

It’s past three in the afternoon by the time Jungkook walks out of the building’s shiny revolving doors.

“Hey!” you’re running towards him, still wearing the same clothes from this morning. Your hair is down though, Jungkook notes.

“You’re still here,” he’s surprised, and partly impressed by your ethic.

“Yeah, well,” you say, sounding sheepish. “It’s my job. How did it go?” Jungkook allows himself a small grin.

“They bought it,” he says, giving you two thumbs up. “You’re safe for a little while longer.” You clap your hands excitedly.

“Well thank you,” you offer him a little curtsy that has him laughing. “I owe you one Jeon.” At that moment, his phone buzzes in his back pocket and he reaches for it, while you cross your arms and wait.

“Uh,” he says, reading the notification. “It’s from you.”

“It’s your offer,” you say, tilting your chin at his phone.

“Wait,” he says, confusion evident on his face. “I got the job?” You’re smiling now.

“They called about five minutes ago,” Your smile widens. “Congratulations! The offer expires at midnight.” Jungkook holds up his phone.

“Why didn’t you just tell me instead of texting me?”

“‘Cause it’s more dramatic,” you state, as if it’s obvious. Jungkook scoffs and looks away, towards the river, running a hand through his hair. You roll your eyes.

“Jungkook, you’re not gonna screw this up,” you say.

“It’s a huge move,” Jungkook argues. “Would you uproot your entire life for a job? Be honest.”

“Well, no. For a job, probably not. But for New York? Yeah, I would. Which is why I’m not gonna sell you on the job, I’m gonna sell you on New York.”

“It’s New York!” Jungkook says, exasperation leaking into his voice. “I’ve seen Iron Man, I know what it’s like!”

“Not the bullshit tourist version,” you say, looking at him, that slight pout back in your face.

“Puppy dog eyes? Really?” He questions, defeat evident in his voice. You laugh.

“C’mon,” You say grinning. “Let me buy you a drink.” You’re walking away from him and crossing the street when you realize Jungkook isn’t following. “What’re you waiting for?”

“For the light to turn so I can cross the street,” he says pointing at the red hand glaring across from him. You scoff and march back up to him.

“You Cali folk are so cute,” Linking your arm with his, you lead him onto the street. “C’mon it’s fine.”

“No, it’s really not,” Jungkook argues, watching a cab nearly run the two of you over, but you expertly dodge it. “See? I’m gonna die.” You lead him down Park Row, your arm warm against his and Jungkook finds himself at the Brooklyn bridge.

“What’re we—” he starts, but you ignore him, dragging him to the foot of Brooklyn Bridge. Cars are rushing past them, commuters going home after a day of work. Pedestrians are walking along the sidewalk, admiring East River below. You walk up to a small woman sitting on the side of the sidewalk in front of some mangoes.

“Maria!” you exclaim, followed by sentences in a language Jungkook barely recognizes as Spanish. The woman looks up in recognition and smiles at you. You fish through your wallet for a few dollar bills before handing them to her. You’re still speaking in Spanish as you point at Jungkook and then at yourself. The woman nods and begins to bag up the sliced mangoes.

“You’re feeding me mangoes off the street?” Jungkook whispers.

“What? I thought you LA folk were all about that organic, local bullshit,” you retort. You graciously take the bagged slices from the woman and wave at her before pulling Jungkook back in the direction of Manhattan.

“Do I at least get to eat them?” He asks.

“Not yet!” you reply cheerfully. You usher him into the Fulton Street Subway station, even let him use your Metro Card. Jungkook is too winded to ask any more questions as you practically push him onto a train. Two stops later, you’re getting off, Jungkook trying to keep up with you.

“Battery Park!” You wiggle your fingers. Jungkook stares around. “This is where you come if you wanna take those super expensive tours to the Statue of Liberty by the way,”

“Good to know,” he laughs. You walk him in the direction of the water but away from the ferries. It’s a promenade, he realizes. The two of you walk until you arrive at what he recognizes as a World War II memorial. You walk towards it and sit down on the slabs of concrete next to the steps, your feet dangling off as you stare at the ocean in front of you. You pat the space next to you and Jungkook throws the thoughts of getting his one good suit dirty and joins you. You promptly hand him the bag of mangoes.

“I thought we were going for a drink,” he jokes. You laugh as you pop open the bag. He stares down at his own. “What did that woman do to my mangoes?”

“She puts cayenne salt on them,” you say, popping a cube into your mouth. Jungkook raises his eyebrows and experimentally puts a piece in his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he says, voice coming out in a moan. “This is amazing”

“Right?” you laugh. “Maria is a culinary genius.” Your legs swing as the air gets cooler. The two of you watch the ferries in silence, but its comfortable. Jungkook breathes in the salty air.

“Do you do this often?”

“When I need to clear my head, I come here to watch the sunsets,” you say. “The crowd dies down by then because the only tourists that come here are here for Liberty and the ferries stop around this time.” There is another minute of silence and then – “You know, Jungkook, I like you.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s why, I’ll give you your choice of closes.”

“What?” Jungkook is confused again, a state he finds he’s often in wherever you seem to be involved.

“How I close you on this job.”

“Oh.”

“So, we got the flattery close,” you start, and put on a sweet, simpering voice. “Jungkook, you are so good at what you do!” Jungkook is laughing, but you carry on. “The take-it-or-leave-it close – Man I don’t care if you take it, I get paid regardless!” Jungkook is trying to interrupt but you reel right on. “The sympathy close,” suddenly your voice is hitched, and you pretend to bat away unshed tears. “You see, my liver is failing—”

“Why do women think the only way to get a man to do what they want is to manipulate him?” Jungkook finally manages to interrupt your rant and his voice comes out harsher than he expected it to. You blink at him, a look of understanding flashing across your face and Jungkook clamps his mouth shut.

“History,” you reply, choosing not to pry, for which Jungkook is grateful. “Personal experiences. Romantic comedies.” You look out towards the ocean again. A sailing boat is crossing your line of sight as you speak. “C’mon, you’re here for a reason, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, biting into another slice of mango. “To explore an option. Who wouldn’t want to know their options?”

“Someone who’s in a perfect situation,” you counter.

“Are you in a perfect situation?” He throws your words right back at you.

“Job? Oh, absolutely.” You say. “Everything else? Well, that’s none of your business,” Jungkook chuckles, and you smile. The wind ruffles your hair as you lean back. You watch as he finishes the remainder of his mango. “Ready to go?”

“But we just got here!”

“Chop Chop my friend, New York waits for no one.” Jungkook groans, deciding that you’re just impossible to keep up with.

“Central Park? Really? I thought we weren’t doing the bullshit tourist stuff.” Jungkook is holding a cup of boba in his hand – rose black tea with lychee jelly. The two of you had picked some up on the way to the park. When you’d said drinks, this wasn’t what he’d had in mind, but he wasn’t complaining. You take a giant sip of your own milk tea with pearls.

“You do realize Central Park is huge, right? There are corners of this place tourists tend to not venture into.”

The two of you are near the upper end of the park. The city is more residential here, almost into South Harlem. You tell him it’s the North Meadow. You find small curving paths in the park and the two of you walk around. Jungkook has to admit, it doesn’t feel like he’s currently in the world’s noisiest city.

“Here’s the countryside and peace you were craving for,” you say cheekily, and he laughs. But the air smells cool and fresh, the smell of exhaust and the sound of cars only a faraway tune.

“Okay fine, this wasn’t on TV,” he admits, and you grin. The two of you manage to find a spot in a clearing on a slight hill next to a huge oak tree and make yourselves comfortable on the grass. You pop open the slices of cake you’d picked up at the boba place and dig a fork in them, motioning Jungkook to do the same.

“So, what’s your dad think about all this?” you ask casually and Jungkook stares at you in disbelief. “What? He must have an opinion! He’s famous – he was the brand marketing director for GQ for 23 years.” Jungkook is surprised, to say the least.

“Wow, somebody did their homework.”

“Oh yeah,” you agree. “I have this thing at work. It’s called, uh, Google.” You ignore Jungkook’s scoff. “C’mon, what did he say about the job?”

“Actually, I haven’t asked him.” Jungkook confesses. You don’t need to know that he hasn’t seen or spoken to his father for almost a decade now.

“Well, then, you must know what he’d say,” You counter, waiting patiently for Jungkook to answer.

“He’d tell me to go with my gut,” Jungkook says at last. “And that he’d be proud of me no matter what I did.” If you can sense the shift in his tone, you don’t call him out on it. He’s realizing that you’re more perceptive of your surroundings than he originally gave you credit for.

“Well, he sounds like a really great man.” Your voice is soft and Jungkook doesn’t need to look at you to hear the smile in your voice.

“Yeah, he is.” Jungkook says softly. He doesn’t know if its because you sense the tension, but you stuff the remainder of the cake in your mouth.

“Hey, do you wanna see something really cool?”

“I always want to see something really cool,” Jungkook says easily. He watches you as you lie down on the grass.

“C’mon!” you tell him, and at this point Jungkook knows better than to argue. His suit is ruined anyway. The two of you lie down side-by-side to look up at the sky.

“One of the only places in the city you can actually see a clear night sky,” you point out. “And you know the best part? Very poor cell reception.”

“You bring all your recruits here?”

“I told you, Jeon, you’re my first.”

“Wow.” Jungkook says. “Thanks.”

“But if you tell anyone about this, I will rip your ears off and staple them to your neck.” You continue, in the same, airy tone.

“I believe you,” Jungkook says in a small voice. You sit up next to him. Your hair is frazzled from lying down and your black pencil skirt has grass all over the behind, but you don’t seem to notice or care.

“Oh, it’s time,” you say, checking your watch.

“Time for what?” Jungkook asks, but he hears it as soon as the question leaves his mouth. Soft music reaches his ears from faraway.

“Those tourist spots always have live musicians in the evening.” You say, hugging your knees and resting your chin on them. “But I don’t like the crowds, so I come up here to listen. Nobody for miles – just you and the music.” Jungkook watches you, as your eyes shine, and you stare into the distance.

“Now this is pretty damn cool,” he says. You’re swaying to the music without realizing it and Jungkook watches you tap your foot along to the beat.

“It’s nice to feel like you’re a part of something, right?” you say. “New York can get a little lonely sometimes.”

“And you’re trying to sell me on it.” Jungkook jokes. You laugh, that high tinkling sound Jungkook has come to associate with you after today.

“Every place can be a bit lonely sometimes,” you correct yourself softly. Jungkook thinks the two of you might be more similar than he’d originally thought. He makes a split-second decision.

“I’m in.” he says.

“What?”

“You sold me.”

“Really?” Your eyes are still shining, but you’re looking at him now.

“I’ll take the job,” he laughs. You squeal, still swaying slightly to the music.

“Oh my god!” you grin. “You are so gonna crush it,” And in that moment, surrounded by nothing but the smell of strawberry cake, faraway guitars, and your windswept hair covered in grass, Jungkook really believes you might be right.

Jungkook finally feels like he’s finished moving into his new apartment. Despite being a twenty-something, he never realized that he didn’t actually own that much stuff, and moving states had taken less than a month. Jungkook had other, more pressing matters to worry about – like quitting his previous job, training his replacement, signing a new lease, and bidding farewell to his rather scary old landlady in LA. Jungkook couldn’t say he was very sorry to leave her.

His apartment in Upper West Side Manhattan is miles better than the cramped place he had called home for the past five years. Vogue really had gone all out fixing him up with a place. Jungkook’s favorite feature are the giant floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. He finds he can get used to this.

He was here now, on the first day at his new job, trying not to sweat through his cream dress shirt. His new team is unfamiliar to him and Jungkook isn’t an extrovert by nature, but he ignores his sweaty palms and tries to play nice.

“So, all I ask is that you give me a little bit of time to gain your trust,” he says, reciting the little speech he’d practiced on the flight a month ago. “I know that I’m new at this, but what I lack in experience, I make up for in cliches.” He gets a few scattered laughs out of that lame gag and sighs internally. “My door’s always open,” he adds. “Literally.” He gestures wildly to his office wall that’s made entirely out of glass, putting him on view to the rest of his team sitting in cubicles outside. “Thanks guys.”

There’s a scattered applause, a few shaken hands, and Jungkook smiles shyly. The crowd dissipates, leaving behind a man with curling blonde hair making his way toward him.

“Park Jimin, I work in marketing.” He introduces. Jungkook shakes his hand. He’s about to ask Park Jimin about his career when he sees you, wearing a navy dress and holding a stack of papers. Your hair is up again, this time in a no-nonsense ponytail.

“Oh, hey Jimin,” you say cheerfully and Jimin grins, exclaiming your name and giving you a hi-five. “Whatcha doing?”

“Sizing up the new guy,” Jimin stares at Jungkook from the corner of his eye. “You did good here. I could just eat him up.” Jungkook’s eyebrows disappear into the fringe of hair that falls over his forehead as he sees you trying to control your laughter. You pat Jimin on the butt with a fondness that isn’t missed by Jungkook.

“Go back to work Chim,” you say and Jimin shrugs and bounds off towards his office. Jungkook levels you with a look, eyebrows still raised, and you giggle. “You get used to him.”

“Anyway,” Jungkook says, picking up his iPad from his desk. “I have something to show you.”

“Show me?” You’re curious now as you walk into his office fully, still clutching your papers. He uses his tablet to switch the screen on the TV above his desk. It’s a small acoustic band, playing in Central Park.

“I tracked down the band that plays music in the North end of the park – the one we listened to that day that I decided to take this job,” Jungkook explains. “I’m thinking of using them somehow for my first project. I got in touch with the lead singer – we’re thinking of using them for guerilla advertising.”

“Taking something so pure and commercializing it?” You ask. “Knew I’d found the right guy.” Jungkook chuckles and watches you put down the stack of papers on his desk. “Anyway, here’s your contract. Sign it, and I will be out of here.” Jungkook fingers the front page hesitantly.

“A whole year,” he says wonderingly. “Wow.”

“Why do I feel like this is the first real commitment you’ve ever made?” Your hands are on your waist as you level him with a judgemental look on your face.

“Its not,” Jungkook argues, mildly offended. “I worked my last full-time job for two years. And fuck – I do regret that one.” He holds up two fingers to drive the point home.

“Do me a favour,” you sigh. “Don’t quit or get fired before this year’s up, otherwise I don’t get my bonus.”

“Wait, I can leave whenever I want? Then what’s the point of the contract?”

“Just sign the damn thing!” You watch as he groans and scribbles his signature at the bottom. “Nice doing business with you Jeon Jungkook,” You shake his hand vigorously. Jungkook watches you collect all the papers.

“Hey, I was thinking of maybe getting some lunch. Do you know a place?” He asks, checking his phone for the time. You stare at him.

“Are you… asking me out?” Jungkook blinks. What?

“Whoa, no,” he amends. “I’m just asking you to show me a restaurant.”

“I mean, I’m the only friend you have in New York,” you ramble on. “You don’t wanna complicate that.”

“I know,” Jungkook starts. “I’m not asking you out.” You ignore him, Of course you do.

“I mean, sure, we’d have fun, roll around, get into some erotic humiliation fantasy—” You’re wringing your hands. Jungkook thinks if he wasn’t sweating while giving his speech before, he’s definitely sweating now.

“I—Erotic?”

“—But it’ll all blow up in our faces, end very badly, and we’d never speak to each other—”

“Can you slow down for a second—”

“It’s just not a good idea Jungkook—”

“I’m not fucking asking you out, I swear to god!” Jungkook almost shouts, and you shut up. He watches your eyes go wide, and you bite your lip as if to hold back a sob. He winces inwardly.

“Okay,” you say, your voice unusually small. “You don’t like me like that, I get it. You don’t have to be so mean about it,” Your voice is trembling now, and you look down at your feet. Jungkook sputters, taking a step towards you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t--,” but he realizes that your voice wasn’t trembling from hurt, it was just you trying to keep your laughter in. You look up at him now, mirth swimming in your eyes and he knows he’s been had.

“God, you’re such a girl,” you grin. “Come on sister, it’s my treat.” Jungkook watches you turn on your heel and march out and wonders if there will ever come a day when he’ll have you all figured out.

You bring him to a brunch place at the corner of the block. It’s got a long French name Jungkook struggles to pronounce but he orders a large smoked salmon avocado toast while the two of you sit at a small table by the window.

“So, was it an easy move?” you ask, chopping your broccoli into tiny pieces before eating it.

“It was tough leaving my mom,” Jungkook offers. “My brother gave me some shit. But, uh, the timing was right,” He nods, as if satisfied with that answer. You’re watching him, a small smile on your face.

“An ex?” you ask. Jungkook winces, remembering that you’re far more astute than you let on. “I kinda got the vibe.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook answers, mouth full of salmon. “She’s great! Wants us to stay friends!” You make a gagging sound. “She’s also convinced she can cure me of my emotional unavailability.”

“You’re emotionally unavailable?” You ask laughing, and Jungkook nods vigorously. “Oh my God, I’m emotionally damaged. My ex was so kind to point that out when he cheated on me. I haven’t seen you at the meetings.”

“I’m done with the relationship thing,” He sighs, giving you his leftover broccoli, which you accept graciously.

“Girl, you are preaching to the congregation,” you cheer, raising your hands in agreement.

“Choir.”

“What?”

“‘Preaching to the choir’. You’re supposed to preach to the congregation. That’s the expression.” Jungkook takes a long swig of his hot chocolate.

“Did you understand what I was saying? Then don’t be a dick about it,” you smart and Jungkook laughs. He finds he does that a lot in your presence. “Anyway, I’m having some friends over tomorrow. Why don’t you come? You can meet some new people too.”

“I’m gonna have to check my schedule,” Jungkook says solemnly, pulling out a wad of cash to pay for his meal. “I’m really busy. I work at Vogue now,” you’re giggling. “It’s not just some little blog on the internet.” Your laughter drowns out everything else and Jungkook finds he likes being the one making you laugh.

Jungkook triple-checks the address you’ve texted him before knocking on the door labelled 2A. He hopes he’s picked up a decent enough wine as a housewarming gift. He’d even made sure to get the best alcohol content-to-cost ratio from the grocery store down the street from your place! He hasn’t even entered your apartment and he’s already sweating through his cardigan.

The door opens and it’s you, and this is the first time Jungkook sees you out of your usual business attire. Your hair is down, and you’re sporting skinny jeans and a tank top.

“Hey!” you say breathlessly. “You made it! C’mon!” He hands you the wine, which you graciously accept. You drag him into your living room and address the rather large gathering.

“Hey—HEY everybody! This here is Jungkook, he’s from LA!” There’s absolute crickets at your proclamation, and you roll your eyes. “He’s the reason I can afford all this beer.” You state plainly. At that, there’s a universal cheer that goes around the room.

Jungkook is generally wary of large crowds. Multiple strangers staring at him always makes him uncomfortable, but for some reason he finds himself blending in with your friends. Granted, he spends most of the evening with you playing wii bowling, jenga, and drunk card games with you and Jimin and two other friends – Taehyung and Namjoon.

The days turn to months just like this and Jungkook finds that life in New York is almost refreshing. It turns out he and Jimin have a lot in common, and that Jimin flirts incessantly with literally everyone he meets, not just him. After your party on that fateful day, he’s hit it off with Taehyung and Namjoon too. Taehyung’s a freelance artist, and Namjoon works in the music industry. He hangs out with you often too and finds that the two of you have easily become good friends. You don’t actually work for Vogue, working for a registered recruitment agency instead, so he doesn’t see you that often. He decides though, that this is a good thing. You’re definitely the one person he knows best in this city and he doesn’t want that becoming overcomplicated with having to see you as a colleague instead of a friend.

It is on a Friday night Jungkook finds himself dissolving in your extremely comfortable couch, after one too many beers, watching what he thinks is the worst romance film in existence. You’re totally enraptured though, a firm grip on your own drink.

“I swear all these movies have terrible music,” Jungkook mutters as the soundtrack crescendos and the female lead runs into the male lead’s arms in slow motion, fake tears staining her face.

“It’s so you know how to feel every single second,” you answer. Your voice is croaky from unshed tears as the female lead jumps into the male lead’s arms and he spins her round and round. Despite your newly found distaste for relationships, Jungkook has learned that you’re secretly a sucker for romance. He watches you as you mouth along to the dialogue.

“God, I wish my life were a movie sometimes,” you murmur, as the ending credits roll. “I’d always look good, and never have to go to the bathroom.” You turn to him abruptly. “And then, when I’m at my lowest point, some guy would chase me down the street, pour his heart out, and we’d kiss. Happily ever after.”

Jungkook groans, lowering himself further in your couch, chin now resting on his chest. You ignore him.

“Why don’t they ever make a movie about what happens after the big confession?”

“They do,” Jungkook replies instantly, taking a swig of his beer. “It’s called porn.” You slap his chest, sitting back comfortably next to him.

“God, I miss sex,” you say, your words slightly slurring together. The alcohol in your system has erased your filters, not that you had many in the first place. “Right? I mean, sometimes, you just need it.”

“There can never be just sex,” Jungkook mutters. “There’s always complications involved.”

“Yeah but why? What’s wrong with uncomplicated sex?”

“It’s womens’ fault,” Jungkook says and you sit up, affronted.

“Excuse me?”

“‘Hold me, let’s spend the rest of our lives together’” Jungkook mocks, making you scoff.

“As if men are any better. You’re all eyeing our pussies right from that first date.”

“I wish it wasn’t like that, y’know,” he continues. “It’s a physical act – a sport – if you will – like…. Bowling. Two people should be able to have sex like they’re going bowling.”

“For some weird ass reason, that made sense to me,” you say lazily. Jungkook laughs.

“Right, it’s just a sport. Maybe you shake hands at the end, and then get on with your life.” You nod. A comfortable silence follows. You pat him on his chest, small hands warm.

“More beer?” You’re downing yours. Jungkook nods sleepily and watches as you bend over to pick up the empty bottles and empty bags of chips from your floor and traipse over to your small kitchenette. You’re dressed in a simple tank and booty shorts and Jungkook can’t deny that, in your dimly lit apartment, your legs look good. He calls your name, and you look over at him.

“Let’s go bowling,” he says, tapping his foot. You blink at him in confusion. “Let’s have sex like we’re going bowling.” He repeats. You have the audacity to laugh out loud.

“You’re insane,” you tell him, walking back to the living room with more beer and a bowl of popcorn. Jungkook scowls and pulls himself up to sit up on your couch.

“Don’t laugh at me! This could be great. This could take all the weirdness out of it. We both want the same things.”

“We’ve been over this,” you say, tossing some popcorn in your mouth. “I don’t like you like that.”

“I don’t like you like that either,” he points out evenly. “That’s why this is perfect.” You chuckle.

“I don’t even know if I find you attractive!” you respond.

“That’s cute,” Jungkook says, standing up and bringing himself to his full height. You roll your eyes.

“Well, I do have a thing for jerks,” you mutter, which has Jungkook scoffing. “Do you even find me attractive?”

“That’s cute.” He repeats. You wave your hands and stand up in front of him.

“No, no, no,” you say. “Before you got to know my awesome personality – strictly physical – first impression of me?”

“This is just two people talking right? Sharing notes?” Jungkook affirms and you nod. “I liked your eyes – you have nice eyes.” He sighs. You’re looking at him, arms crossed.

“I liked your lips,” you offer. “Thought you might be a good kisser.”

“I am,” Jungkook admits solemnly, and you snort. “Your breasts,” he adds, tilting his chin towards your chest. You look down at it.

“What about them?”

“They intrigue me.”

“Aw, really?” you seem incredibly flattered. You give your breasts a congratulatory pat. “That’s a first – no ones ever called by boobs intriguing before. I liked your hands by the way. I’ve always got a thing for tattoos.” He watches you eye the ink on the back of his right hand, your gaze traveling up his arm where the tattoos disappear into the sleeves of his shirt.

“Mouth.” Jungkook responds quickly.

“Thighs.” You counter.

“Voice.”

“Butt.”

“Eyes.”

“You said that already,” you’re smiling now.

“I meant it,” Jungkook responds honestly. You’re looking at him now, eyes narrowed.

“You swear you don’t want anything from me other than sex?” You ask.

“You swear you don’t want anything from me other than sex?” he counters. “I know how you girls get.”

“Don’t be a pig.”

“A pig who’s got a cute butt.” He wiggles his eyebrows. You roll your eyes.

“No relationship,” you state. Jungkook nods. “No emotions. Just sex.”

“Whatever happens,” he adds. “We stay friends.” You nod back at him. The two of you stand there, staring at each other.

“Swear?” you ask.

“Swear,” he states evenly. “So…. I guess we should just start?” You laugh nervously.

“Okay then, let’s go to my bedroom.”

“Wait – what’s wrong with the couch?” Jungkok gestures wildly at your sofa, which he has to admit, is stupid comfortable. “It’s less emotional.”

“The bedroom has better light,” you point out. “And since we’re just friends, I don’t have to be insecure about my body.” Jungkook blinks at you, doe eyes wide.

“Aw, cmon,” he says. “You’re beautiful. You have nothing to be insecure about!” You fix him with a glare.

“That’s way too emotionally supportive. You need to lock that down.” You jab his chest with a pointed finger.

“Uh… your ass is way too bony?” he tries, watching your behind as you saunter towards your bedroom.

“Much better!” comes your reply, and he grins. Following you into your room, he watches with slight amazement as you tug off your top. “My nipples are sensitive,” you tell him conversationally. “I don’t really care for dirty talk, and had I known this was gonna happen, I’d have shaved my legs this morning.” You stand before him topless and he shrugs.

“I enjoy dirty talk, I sneeze sometimes when I come, and the socks stay on during sex. It’s a weird feet thing, nothing you need to be worried about.” He’s pulled off his shirt and tossed it on top of yours.

“Wait, feet gross me out too, look at that,” You grin. “Meant to be.” You tug your booty shorts off and stand in front of him wearing nothing but a bra and underwear. He whistles and you roll your eyes.

“Can you please be a little less fuckboy about this?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Girl, look what we about to do right now, and tell me this isn’t peak fuckboy behaviour,” he berates. You can’t argue.

“Fine, whatever, be a fratboy, but will you just start my tits are freezing—” But Jungkook doesn’t let you finish your sentence for he takes two strides towards you, cupping your face with his hands and smashing his lips down on yours. You make a muffled sound of surprise, but he ignores you, tilting his face to deepen the kiss. It takes you only a split second to reciprocate, and your hands travel up his sides to rest on his shoulders as you open up and let him explore your mouth.

Jungkook pushes you backwards without breaking the kiss until you’re falling on your bed. You scoot back until your back hits the headboard and you watch him as he stares at you, eyes dark and hair tousled. Without wasting any more time, Jungkook crawls over on all fours towards you. Giving you a chaste kiss on the lips, his tattooed hand travels down your neck, grazes over your shoulder, the underside of your breast, stomach and finally arriving to rest on your thigh. You watch him expectantly, bottom lip caught between your teeth, and he refuses to break eye contact with you s he tightens his grip on your thigh to yank you down so you’re lying down underneath him.

His lips latch onto your neck and you let out a whine that has blood rushing to his cock. He sucks a bruise right over your pulse before his hand comes up to lower the strap of your bra. Pulling the garment down, he lowers himself to press kisses and suck on your breast, before moving to the other side to repeat with the other one.

“Hurry up,” you murmur from under him, thighs rubbing against each other. Jungkook chuckles, and nibbles slightly on your nipple, drawing a whimper from you.

“Patience, princess. Good things come to those who wait,” his hand reaches down, and he strokes a single finger over your clothed core, and you shudder. “So wet already and I’ve barely done anything,” he notes, mouth still closed around your breast. Letting go with a slight plop, he looks at you hungrily. “Let me eat you out.”

You raise your eyebrows but do not object, and Jungkook moves down, pressing kisses to your navel, until he arrives between your thighs. Using both hands to spread your thighs apart, his gaze moves from you to your core. He buries his nose in your pussy without warning.

“You smell fucking amazing,” he tells you and your face heats up instantly, your arms coming up to cover your face in embarrassment.

“I told you, I don’t like dirty talk,” you say, your voice coming out in gasps. Jungkook smiles over your pussy, mouthing it over your underwear.

“Too bad,” he mutters against you, and your toes curl from the vibrations his voice causes through you. “I’m gonna tell you exactly what I want to do to you whether you like it or not.” Hooking a finger through your underwear, he moves it to the side. He licks a stripe up your folds, before burying his nose back into your pussy, tongue lapping at your juices. You’re writhing under him and he places his hands on your thighs to steady you. You’re gasping for air, little moans leaving your pretty pink lips.

Jungkook feels your hand tangle in his hair as he sloppily eats you out. You’re dripping on his tongue and he, in turn, is practically salivating at the taste of you. Your hand tightens its grip on his hair, and he feels you grind down on his tongue.

“O-oh my god,” you gasp. “Jungkook.” He pulls away from you and looks up at you. Your juices cover his lips and chin and you’re looking down at him, eyes blown out, hair in disarray.

“Yeah? You like that?” he groans out, and you nod desperately. “Like it when I fuck you with my tongue?”

“P-please,” you whisper, and he grins.

“Tell me what you want baby,” Your ears turn red at that and you look away. He climbs up to hover over your face and lowers his lips onto yours. His tongue is immediately in your mouth, its sloppy and wet and he knows you taste yourself on him. Its an exchange of spit mixed with your essence and when Jungkook pulls away, a string of saliva connects the two of you. He watches as it snaps and dribbles down the corner of your lips. You’re panting now. “Tell me.”

“Your fingers,” you mutter, clearly embarrassed. Jungkook’s smile widens.

“My fingers where?”

“C’mon Jeon, don’t be a dick.”

“Alright, I’ll stop,” Jungkook answers noncommittally, pulling away to sit back on your bed. You moan and your hand covers his wrist in an attempt to stop him. He grins.

“Your fingers inside me.” You answer, face as red as a strawberry. Jungkook’s grin widens and he leans back down to place a small kiss on the corner of your lips. His hand travels back down to between your thighs and he strokes your folds with his index finger.

Without warning, he shoves two fingers in you, and you moan, small hands curling around his biceps, nails digging into his skin.  He buries his nose in the crook of your neck, and your hand tangles in his hair again. It’s quiet except for your gasps and moans and the sound of his fingers steadily pumping in and out of your pussy. He can feel that you’re near your high, so he carelessly shoves a third finger inside you, increasing his speed. Before you know it, you’re chasing your high, coming all around his fingers with a loud squelching sound and a gasp.

“Like music to my ears,” Jungkook hums, nudging his nose against your jaw. Your hands caress his chest, sides before one travels down to palm the tent in his jeans. Jungkook gasps, biting down on your shoulder. Boldened by his reaction, you twist your hips, so your knee rubs against his crotch and Jungkook freezes. You take this opportunity to flip him over, so you’re settled on top of him, your hair spilling around you. Jungkook lies back on your pillow, bringing his fingers that were just in you up to your mouth. You run your tongue along them, and he shoves them deep in your throat before pulling them out and spreading the mixture of saliva and your wetness across your face.

Your hands spread across his chest as you grind down on him and he groans.

“My turn,” you whisper, leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. Your hips are swirling over his crotch as your mouth moves from his lips to kiss his jaw, neck and then moving down to swirl your tongue over a perk nipple. You’ve undone his pants and he takes no time pushing them down. You palm him over his boxers before pulling them down too and letting his dick spring free. You suck in a breath, tongue hungrily swiping out to wet your lips.

You waste no time to take him in your mouth. Unlike Jungkook, you’re not a teaser and Jungkook throws his head back and groans as your lips wrap around his length. Your head bobs up and down between his legs and Jungkook closes his eyes and loses himself to the feeling. His fingers tangle in your hair, gripping it tightly until his hips are out of control and he’s fucking up into your mouth. You let him, slackening your jaw, tongue lying flat against the underside of his dick. Jungkook gets high off of the sound of you gagging on his cock, spit dripping down him and onto your bedsheets. He’s so fucking close he’s seeing stars.

It takes all his self control to sit up and signal you to stop. You look at him, lips swollen and wet, a mixture of precum and saliva messily splayed across your face.

“No more,” he rasps, pulling you close and flipping you over so he’s on top again. “Need to be inside you right now. Condom?” You breathe out that you’re on the pill before smiling coyly up at him. Jungkook is painfully hard and wastes no time to slip inside of you. You let out your loudest moan yet, and he waits for you to get accustomed to his length in you.

“You can move,” you tell him, voice hoarse. Jungkook nods and pulls out only to slam right back in you with a groan. The first few strokes are long and languid until you’re pinching his nipple and motioning him to take you harder.

“I’m not a fucking porcelain doll,” you ground out. “Fuck me like you mean it Jeon.” Jungkook grits his teeth and pulls out of you completely. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when he flips you over like a ragdoll so you’re lying on your stomach.

“Fine,” he grunts. “You’re such a brat.” You shiver at his tone and he’s gripping your ass to prop it up, pushing your face with one hand so you’re buried face down in your pillow.

Without warning he shoves himself back in you, one hand on your hip, the other still pushing your face into your mattress. He sets an unforgiving pace, ramming into you without pause until your muffled screams could be heard in your pillow.

“How’s that?” he grinds out, planting a smack on your ass as you moan. “That hard enough for you?”

“Y-yes,” you manage to scream. He shoves two fingers into your mouth, spanking your ass between thrusts until you’re smarting and red. Your garble moans around his fingers, drool lacing your pillow until he’s twisting his hand back in your hair and pulling you up flush against him. Grabbing one of your breasts he bites down on your shoulder.

“Fuck you feel so good around my cock,” he whispers in your ear and you shiver. Your ass is sore, but Jungkook shows no mercy, stroking it with his right hand and continuing to smack it. His hand moves around to rub over your clit and you almost fall over at the stimulation but his other hand clutching your breast keeps you upright. “You’re gonna cum now sweetheart? Milk my cock for all its worth?”

“Oh my god, Jungkook please,” you’re almost sobbing

“Come on baby, you can do it,” he croons, and you look over your shoulder at him and he wastes no time in closing the distance and planting his lips on yours. Without warning you’re coming, and that too all over Jungkook’s hand, dripping down your thighs and onto the bed. He’s not far behind, your convulsing pussy driving him over the edge before he’s releasing his load in you. You collapse on all fours in front of him as he pulls out.

“Damn,” he says, bringing his hand up to show you. “So, you’re a squirter, huh?”

“What?” your ears turn red as you look back at him. “Oh, my fucking god.” You watch as Jungkook licks his fingers clean without hesitation before collapsing on the bed next to you.

“Don’t tell me that was your first time squirting,” he grins. You look away in embarrassment, and he props himself up on his elbow, head resting on his hand. “Wow I’m just that good.”

“You’re such an ass,” you mutter. Jungkook cackles in delight.

You and Jungkook fall into a routine after that. There are multiple trysts, mostly at one of your apartments after work, a few in the bathroom of restaurants while you’re out with your friends, and one (1) time at work when you arrived for your weekly lunch date wearing the tiniest skirt Jungkook had ever fucking seen.

Sex with you is easy. Being friends with you is also easy. Jungkook can’t believe how simple you make his life. You’re a good friend, always willing to listen. He tells you things about his life back in LA, his ex and how thankful he was that he was finally out of a five-year relationship. You talk about your family, your sisters, your childhood. There are still lines the two of you don’t cross. Jungkook knows your last relationship left you scarred, but you never mention it and Jungkook never mentions his father. Some things are better left unsaid.

It isn’t until one day when you’ve dragged Jungkook out to Macy’s on the hunt for a new outfit you need to go meet a potential new recruit, that he manages to find the missing puzzle piece.

He’s sat through you trying out at least fifteen different shirts, all of which look the same to him, but you insist they’re not. It’s after you’ve finally picked out a dress shirt, some trousers and a new pair of “killin” shoes that the two of you collapse in a café across from the department store, your bags surrounding you.

“God, nothing feels better than a day full of shopping for shit,” you say, taking a huge sip out of your (soy) cappuccino. Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“I’ll show you exactly what’s better tonight” he mutters and its your turn to roll your eyes.

“Can you please keep it in your pants for a minute,” you groan. “I’m actually nervous about recruiting this guy.”

“Please,” Jungkook huffs. “You’re gonna be fine, you’re a natural!”

“Really?” You’re raising your eyebrows. “After the shit show you had to put up with?”

“Excuse me?” Jungkook pretends to be offended. “I’m here, aren’t I? You won me over.”

“Barely. For fucks sake you arrived to see me on the fucking baggage belt.” you huff, placing your head down on the table. Jungkook watches you, a twinge of sympathy running through him.

“Look, you are good at what you do. I don’t think I’m an easy person to convince, if I do say so myself,” he says, voice gentler. You look up at him slowly, figure still hunched. “Maybe you’re a little unorthodox but hey! We need someone like that. Just be yourself, you’re gonna be fine.”

“You think so?” you’re pouting, and Jungkook’s heart melts a little.

“100%”

You’re smiling faintly at him when the two of you hear your name being called. You freeze and look past Jungkook, a glassy look overtaking your eyes.

“It is you!” the voice comes closer and Jungkook turns around to look at what is possibly the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life. He’s tall, hair pushed back in a neat part, wearing a three-piece suit. In front of him, Jungkook feels like a giant toddler in his sweatpants and colorful hoodie and messy hair.

“Seokjin.” Your voice is hushed and oddly quiet, something Jungkook has never seen before. He eyes the two of you curiously.

“How have you been?” The man – Seokjin – asks. “It’s been forever.”

“Yeah,” you clear your throat. “It really has.” It’s awkward for a minute until Seokjin’s eyes land on Jungkook. His eyes travel to the cups of coffee in front of the two of you, and something flits across his expression.

“I’m sorry, are you two--,” he starts, and you’re rushing to correct him, but for some reason, Jungkook’s body moves on instinct.

“I’m Jungkook,” he says, getting up and offering a hand.

“Seokjin,” the man answers, taking it and shaking it firmly. “It’s nice to meet you.” There’s another beat of silence and then a girl is running toward you, calling Seokjin’s name. Seokjin freezes as the girl catches up to him, laying a hand on his shoulder to catch her breath. Jungkook feels you freeze up even more, if possible.

“Hi!” she says brightly, looking from Jungkook to you. “Friends of yours Jinnie?” she addresses the taller man. Jungkook doesn’t fail to notice that she’s just as beautiful as Seokjin. Pretty people really do stick together. You stand up abruptly behind Jungkook and he feels you clutch at the back of his hoodie, out of Seokjin’s gaze. Seokjin clears his throat.

“U-uhm, this is Joohyun,” he offers. “My fiancée.” At this point you’re tugging wildly at the back of Jungkook’s hoodie and he isn’t stupid. He gets the hint.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” he says, plastering on his best fake-charming smile. Joohyun seems to buy it because she grins back. “But we really are in a rush. Places to be! Nice meeting you guys!” and he turns around without another word, grabs your hand in one of his and picks up your bags in a single fluid motion with his other. Then he’s pulling you out of there, away from the café, away from Seokjin and out into the busy street.

You walk behind him wordlessly, hand still clasped in his and he drags you up a few blocks until you’re at Bryant Park. The two of you find a bench and collapse in it, slightly out of breath.

“Thanks,” you whisper, after a while.

“No problem.” Jungkook replies.

“You’re not gonna ask?”

“Should I ask?” He turns to look at you. You chuckle weakly and lean back to stare up at the tall trees.

“My ex-boyfriend,” you say. “Obviously.” Jungkook had figured that but he nods along anyway. “He—uhm—cheated on me,” you continue and Jungkook suddenly feels white-hot rage curling inside him. You’d mentioned it before on the first day of his new job, at brunch, but it hadn’t registered until now. “With the girl we just met.”

“What the actual fuck.” He mutters, running a hand through his hair.

“He’s the reason why I can’t--,” you start, then stop. You take a deep breath before continuing. “Why I can’t get myself to enter into another relationship.” Jungkook doesn’t know what to say to that but it doesn’t seem like you care. Now that you’re talking, the floodgates are open.

“We’d been together since college. I imagined we’d be endgame y’know? Everyone always told me how lucky I was to bag a man so attractive and smart and I felt lucky. Jin was always the best, the most caring, the most loving. We had some really great times together. But then… I don’t know… college ended and careers happened and I struggled to find a job straight out of university, while Seokjin comes from a long line of rich businessmen and he was already working for his dad’s company by graduation. We drifted after that. A part of me resented his privilege, I was envious of what he had. I took it out on him, and I guess he-he—”

“That does not give him the right to cheat on you.” Jungkook stops you. “I get being unhappy in relationships, I really do, but in no way is that the correct response.” Your eyes are glassy and full of unshed tears.

“She’s like him, y’know,” you continue, sniffing. “Beautiful, successful, I heard she owns a clothing line. Seeing them together it made me realize that I was the anomaly.”

“Don’t.” Jungkook says. “Don’t put yourself down. Look at you!” He gestures at you and you look up. “You’re smart, cute, successful. He’s trash for not recognizing that.”

“No, what I am is broken,” you give him a small, watery smile. “I haven’t been able to let anyone in since Seokjin and I broke almost a year ago.” Jungkook sighs and shuffles closer to you. Sniffling, you lean over to rest your head on his shoulder. “Thanks for today Kook,” you murmur against him. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you weren’t there.”

Jungkook sighs and leans over to kiss the top of your head lightly. The two of you sit there, amongst the chirping birds and trees, leaning on each other. Jungkook squeezes your hand and tries not to think of the unfamiliar feeling curling inside his stomach.

Things change after that. Jungkook finds that the two of you are almost domestic with each other. You stay over more often, and he finds you in his kitchen in the mornings, flipping pancakes wearing nothing but his button down. It’s so normal that Jungkook often has to take a step back and remember that the two of you are just friends. Seasons change from autumn into winter and a sheet of snow covers Manhattan.

“My sister’s in town,” Jungkook tells you one morning, offhandedly.

“Older or younger?” You’re making pancakes in his kitchen and you set down a plate of them in front of him before returning to make yourself some. Jungkook shakes the can of whipped cream next to him before squirting himself some.

“Older,” he grins. “She lives in LA with Dad and she’s in New York for business.” It’s the first time Jungkook has mentioned his father in front of you since the day the two of you met. You don’t prod. “My parents are separated,” he offers.

“I figured,” you shrug, sitting down across from him and refusing the can of whipped cream when he offers it. “Do you hate him or something?”

“What? No!” Jungkook laughs. “We just aren’t close that’s all. Everyone expects me to be this prodigy because of my Dad’s reputation, but I barely know the guy. Anyway, my sister wants to meet you.”

“Me?” You’re surprised.

“Yeah she wants to see who it was that convinced me to leave LA.”

“Oh, so that’s my reputation in the Jeon household now is it?” Jungkook gives you a cheeky grin. “How nerve-wracking—you sure you want me meeting your family? Makes us sound more than we are.”

“It’s not like that,” Jungkook argues, ignoring the faint twinge of disappointment somewhere deep within himself. “She’s only in town for three days. Come get some brunch with us tomorrow.”

“Fine. But you need to do something for me in return,” Your mouth is full of pancake and your hair is mussed but Jungkook smiles endearingly. “I have this… thing I got invited to tonight and I need you to be my date.”

“Are you sure? It makes us sound more than we are,” Jungkook throws your words back at you and you kick his shin under the table.

“Shut up, it’s my childhood friend’s Christmas party and our families are close so I have to go but I don’t have a plus-one and I need you there to keep me sane. Seokjin’s gonna be there.”

“You’re asking if I want to go with you,” he starts slowly. “To a Christmas party. As your date.”

“Well, yeah,” you shrug. “We go, drink at the open bar until we can’t see straight and then come home and you pound me into your tempur-pedic.”

“You’re disgusting,” he grins. “But, okay, I’m in--what the hell.”

“Do you have a tux?”

“Girl look who you speaking to,” he gestures at himself, sitting up straight and throwing his chest out. “Of fucking course, I have a tux.”

Wow, Jungkook thinks to himself that evening as you stand in your door in front of him. Long olive-green silk hugging every curve of your body, you grin up at him. You’d tamed your hair by pinning one side up, clutch in one hand, and feet in black pumps.

“Well?” you grin. Jungkook whistles, shoving his hands in his plain black tuxedo.

“Yeah well, you clean up nice too Jeon,” you pat him cheerfully on his chest, causing a warm feeling to flutter through him. “Let’s go do this thing.” You straighten his tie, and Jungkook swallows. He doesn’t know when exactly it happened, but over the course of time you really have him wrapped around your little finger.

The two of you uber down, your warm body next to his as you tell him some inconsequential story about your high school prom.

“We didn’t have prom at my school,” he tells you and you gape at him. “We had sports day though.”

“That is so sad.”

“Not really,” Jungkook shrugs. “Social gatherings are terrifying.”

“Never would’ve pegged you as the socially anxious type Jeon.”

“Well I am,” Jungkook rests his elbow on the car door, his chin in his hand to look outside. “I can’t believe I’m going to this rich people thing with you.”

“C’mon! It’ll be fun!” you send twin finger guns his way and he smiles wantonly.

“No seriously,” he says, looking at you, chin still balanced on his hand. “Thank you. You always manage to take the edge off and make things less intimidating and make me feel like I can step out of my comfort zone.” You blink at him, grin fading at his sincerity.

“What���re friends for, right?” you say, your voice quiet.

“Right,” he says back, just as quiet.

“You know,” you ramble on. “When I first saw you, you did totally strike me as a stereotypical fratboy. I was a little scared.”

“Of me?” Jungkook points at himself, surprised. You lean back in your seat and rest your head back.

“Yeah,” you mutter. “You reminded me of the guys I went to high school with. The jerks that ranked the girls by how fuckable they were and shoved kids into lockers and giggled at you as you tried to present your history project to the class.”

“Why didn’t you just beat them up?” Jungkook isn’t offended by your generalization. He knows what you mean. “The you I know would’ve stabbed someone’s eye out with a pencil.”

“I was different when I was sixteen,” you smile. “But you’re right, now I’m not beyond stabbing someone’s eyes out with a pencil. Anyway, I’m sorry for judging you.”

“It happens,” Jungkook shrugs but you shake your head vigorously.

“No, you’re sweet,” you continue. “I’m so happy we met. And that we’re friends now.”

“I’m glad too,” Jungkook grins, punching you lightly on your shoulder. “Are you sure you can do this? I saw how you were when you saw Seokjin that day.” You bite your lip and look out the window.

“I’ll be fine,” you say slowly. “I have you.” Jungkook blinks and gulps.

“Listen, there’s something I need to tell you—” he starts but the uber is arriving at the venue and you’re getting ready to step out of the car. Jungkook stares at the ceiling before getting himself out. Checking in your coats at the entrance, the two of you enter together.

You were right, Jungkook notes. This isn’t just some Christmas party. Lights sparkle down at him and the massive Christmas tree in front of him is decorated to the nines. The bar is sparkling with decorations, and the tables are decorated with fancy centerpieces and champagne flutes. People wearing black tie are mingling, men in tuxedos, women in floor length gowns.

“God,” you whisper next to him.

“You didn’t tell me you were also Richie Rich rich,” Jungkook whispers back and you jab him in the side with your elbow. “Oh my god you’re a trust fund baby! You’re Gossip Girl!”

“Oh my god shut up,” you’re giggling. “I’m the family’s black sheep, fortunately for you. I refused to major in what my parents wanted me to major in and that was apparently the final straw. I’m surprised Yoongi even bothered to invite me – we haven’t spoken in months. There he is now.”

A man shorter than Jungkook is making his way towards them. He’s got effortlessly tousled black hair and his ears are adorned with many earrings. His eyes flit lazily towards Jungkook before landing on you and he’s pulling you into a hug.

“Yoongi!” you say grinning, returning his embrace and he smiles, changing his entire demeanour. “How are you, this is amazing!”

“Thought I’d do something to get the old gang together,” he shrugs. “I’m happy you came.”

“This is Jungkook, we—uhm—worked together.”

“Ah one of her recruits huh?” Yoongi is shaking Jungkook’s hand. “Min Yoongi, pleasure to meet you. Please make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook is sure his palms are sweating again. He picks up a flute of champagne from a waiter passing by and takes a huge gulp. You and Yoongi exchange pleasantries for a little while longer and then he leaves the two of you to greet some other guests that are just arriving.

“Wanna go to the bar?” You’re pulling him in the direction of the alcohol before he can say yes. You wave down the bartender and order your drink and turn to Jungkook. “You okay?”

“Why? Is it obvious I’m freaking out?”

“You country bumpkins are so cute,” You pinch his cheek. “What were you trying to tell me in the cab?” Jungkook looks sideways at you, but sees who’s approaching and clears his throat.

Seokjin looks even better than Jungkook remembered, in a well-tailored suit, holding a glass of wine. You turn and freeze momentarily.

“Jin! Hey,” your voice is steady and Jungkook is almost proud of you.

“I’m glad you made it,” Seokjin mirrors Yoongi’s words from earlier. “You didn’t last year.”

“Yeah, well,” you say sheepishly. “There were just some people I couldn’t face last year.”

Ouch, Jungkook thinks, on Seokjin’s behalf. If Seokjin hears the slight bite in your tone, he pretends not to notice.

“You’re Jungkook, right?” Seokjin’s addressing Jungkook now. “From the mall.”

“Yeah, good to see you again man,” Jungkook smiles and the smile Seokjin gives him in return is incredibly genuine. Your hand is snaking down and gripping Jungkook’s, and he gives you a squeeze, something that doesn’t escape Seokjin.

“Are you two together?” he asks conversationally, and Jungkook is about to vehemently deny the question, when you squeeze his hand back.

“We are,” you answer, much to Jungkook’s shock. He almost chokes on the last of his champagne before he puts the empty glass down on the bar. “We met at work.” He’s trying to calm himself down, trying to stop that warm feeling bursting through him again. You talk to Seokjin for a few more minutes before he’s leaving the two of you to your own devices again.

“So, you beat me to what I wanted to tell you in the cab earlier,” Jungkook grins. You look up at him and he leans in, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “That I like you,”

“W-what’re you talking about?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. Jungkook leans in and nudges his nose against the column of your throat.

“I meant what I said,” he mumbles, pressing kisses under your jaw. “I’m asking you out. Officially.”

“We’re in public,” you’re hissing, firm grip on his wandering hands. Jungkook grins and leans back against the bar, shoving both hands into the pockets of his trousers. “And you don’t mean that.”

“Of course I do,” he schools his expression into one of sincerity. “You’re awesome, I love spending time with you. We have a lot of fun. Am I wrong?”

“You’re just being reckless—”

“Believe me, I am a lot of things, and reckless isn’t one of them.” Jungkook frowns. “Do you not feel the same way? I just assumed—”

“No, no,” your eyes are wide, panicked. “I like you too Jungkook, of course I do.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” You’re looking at him, eyes wide and he watches your gaze flit past him over his shoulder. Raising his eyebrows, he turns his head over his shoulder to see what you’re staring at. His mouth forms a straight line when he realizes its not a what, but a who.

“Seokjin,” he says, the bitterness leaking into his voice. “You’re still in love with him. Of course, why didn’t I see it before.”

“No! Jungkook, that’s not—”

“So, bringing me here as your date, what you said just now to Seokjin – what was that? A ploy to make him jealous? Hoping he’d run back to you? What, you didn’t wanna show up alone in front of him, so I was your safe fallback?” Jungkook is seeing white, his fists clenched, embarrassment and humiliation washing through him. “I’m just a distraction to you.” Your bottom lip is trembling now and you’re vigorously shaking your head, but Jungkook feels so empty and suddenly finds he doesn’t care. “I’m done. I don’t need to set myself up to get hurt by coming in between whatever this is you have going on with that guy.” He’s pulling his tie loose.

“No, don’t leave,” you’re begging, small hands grasping his arm in a last-ditch attempt. Jungkook sighs, untangling himself from your hold. “Please, Jungkook, hear me out—”

“I hear you loud and clear,” he says, a sad smile breaking out onto his face. Pulling off his tie he undoes the first two buttons on his shirt, trying to breathe. Clenching his fist, he’s walking past you before stopping to turn and take one last look at you. “We’re still friends okay? I just need some time. And for the record, telling you this as a friend, you’ll never be free for as long as you’re seeking Seokjin’s—or anyone’s – validation.”

And then he’s walking out of there, away from you, from a life that never really belonged to him. All he wants to do is to get out of this stifling suit throw on his sweatpants, drown himself in an obscene amount of chocolate and play Overwatch all night.

“Slow down, you’re gonna throw up those eggs if you don’t slow down,” Jungkook’s sister chastises from across the table. “Jesus, you and Junghyun are both such fast eaters because you don’t chew. You’re gonna die early.”

“I’d like to die now,” Jungkook answers, his mouth full of medium-poached eggs and hollandaise.

“So, you got rejected, what’s the big deal?” She asks. “You’re a grown man. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and move the fuck on.”

“Easy for you to say Miss-I’m-engaged-to-the-love-of-my-life” Jungkook doesn’t mean to sound bitter. “How am I even going to face her after all this. I’m an idiot.”

“You really are,” his sister responds, elbow resting on the table and chin balanced on that elbow. “You always like to think you’re this cool, collected, distant guy when in reality you’re a giant softie that believes in soulmates.”

“I do not.”

“Yeah,” she grins. “You do,” She sighs. “Look Jungkook, that’s not a bad thing. In fact, it’s endearing, and there’s nothing wrong with giving yourself completely to someone. Just make sure whoever you’re giving yourself to is worth it.”

“You don’t think she’s worth it?” Jungkook asks glumly.

“She’s confused, it seems. And that is never a good thing, not in relationships.”

“So, what do I do? I’m still gonna see her at work occasionally.”

“Don’t do anything. The ball’s in her court. You’ve bared yourself to her already and she can either accept that or reject it. And eventually, it’ll get easier to be around her. You might even go back to being friends. And try to move on, will you?”

“With whom?”

“I have someone at work I can introduce you to,” she hums. “If you’re willing.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook mutters. “How’s dad?” His sister stares at him, expression suddenly serious.

“Well,” she sighs. “That’s also why I’m here to see you.” She says quietly

Jungkook is avoiding you. You may not be the most intelligent person in any room, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. He hasn’t replied to any of your texts, dutifully turning his read receipts off so you don’t even know if he’s seen your messages. Whenever you drop by his work for one of your meetings, his office is always closed. You suspect Park Jimin has something to do with Jungkook knowing exactly when you’ll be by the company. When you corner Jimin about this though, he’s tight-lipped, always regarding you with a slightly judgemental stare. It’s clear where his alliance lies.

You could always drop by his place, but even you admit that’s bordering on being pushy. He did say he needed space but its almost been a month and you haven’t as much as seen his coconut head. The New Year passes just like that and you celebrate by finishing two entire bottles of wine by yourself and watching Love Actually for the twenty-seventh time. Yoongi invites you to his New Years’ party too but you decline, not wanting a reminder of what went down at his last bash. You also want nothing to do with Seokjin.

At first you were angry over what Jungkook had said to you before he’d left that party. But soon after, once you’d calmed down, you’d realized he was right. Seokjin was never going to look at you and it was foolish to wait around while he carried on with his life. You deserved better, and Jungkook had taught you that. The realization was oddly freeing.

More than anything, you miss your friend. The coffee dates, the weekly brunches, someone to watch cheesy movies with. And, you admit shamefully, you also mis his dick. Jungkook had been right, you should’ve given the two of you a chance.

It isn’t until a cold morning in February, a whole two and a half months after the entire fiasco, that you finally see Jungkook. He’s standing outside the building, winter coat on and a burgundy scarf around his neck. He looks out of character, dressed like a businessman instead of the usual college-boy sweatpants and baggy t-shirts that you’re used to seeing him in. His hair is longer than it was when you saw him last, curling slightly at the ends. It suits him. He’s chatting happily with Namjoon about something, waving his hands around descriptively, matching cups of coffees in their hands.

You hesitate to get out of your uber, but you’re late for your nine am. There’s no way to avoid him, with the two of them standing right in front of the entrance. You step out of the cab hesitatingly and Jungkook sees you right away. If he’s nervous about running into you, he doesn’t show it. Instead, his face softens into a small smile and he gives a small wave in greeting. You return his greeting shyly.

“Oh, hey,” Namjoon greets, as you approach the two of them slowly. “Got a meeting today?”

“Yeah,” you reply, eyes travelling from Jungkook to Namjoon. “I’m late.”

“I’ll leave you guys to it then,” there’s nothing sly in Namjoon’s tone, but the guy is like, insanely intelligent and you don’t doubt his intentions. “Gotta see Yoongi about this newest track I’ve been working on.”

Jungkook bids Namjoon goodbye before the two of you are making your way inside.

“How have you been?” you’re the first to break the silence. Jungkook takes a sip of his drink.

“Good,” he answers. “I finally beat Breath of the Wild.”

“Took you long enough,” you tease, and he chuckles. You follow him into the elevator and watch as he presses your floor for you, along with his. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, I,” he clears his throat. “I went to LA to see my dad,” You whip your head to look at him. “He wasn’t well so I worked remotely for a month or so.” So, he was never actually avoiding you, he wasn’t even in the city! You feel oddly relieved.

“How is he?”

“Fine,” Jungkook replies. You can’t help but notice that his animated self from earlier is gone, replaced by someone more somber. “I spent Christmas there.” The elevator doors open at your floor and you step out.

“Listen Jungkook,” you say quickly turning around. He pauses, pressing the button to keep the doors open, and looks at you questioningly. “I’m sorry – for everything.”

“Don’t apologize for your feelings,” that small smile is back.

“No! I mean – I’d really like it if we can be friends again,” you’re panicking. “I’ve missed you.” He grins at that, reminding you of the Jungkook you’d been intimate with.

“I’ve missed you too,” he answers, and something in your chest lifts. “Of course, we’re still friends.”

“Okay—wanna get brunch with me this week? The usual place.”

“I’ll text you.” Is all he says before he lets the doors close, leaving you standing there, slightly breathless.

You spend the rest of your day with a bounce in your step.

Things return to normal after that – somewhat. You and Jungkook start hanging out again, but you can tell something is off. He’s cheerful as always, but he’s holding back. It’s obvious that whatever he offered you that day at Yoongi’s party is no longer on the table. He’s guarded, confides in you less, heart locked away in a place you can’t even begin to reach.

But he’s here, in your life, tangible and real, and you tell yourself that this is enough. Until one day, when it all comes crashing down.

You’re at his place, and he’s retreated back into the kitchen to get the two of you more beers. His phone lights up, vibrating on the coffee table in front of you. It’s not that you mean to pry, but your eyes unconsciously travel to the notification that’s blaring on his screen.

1 New Message Jieun: Hey! We still on for tomorrow night, right? Gonna wear that dress you like 😉

You swallow. Of course, he’s seeing someone. Everything makes sense – the reason he was able to have you back in his life was because he’d moved on and rightfully so. The two of you aren’t teenagers – you are adults, and he is well within his rights to find someone else when you’d so obviously rejected him. You wonder, why then, your chest aches.

Jungkook reappears, holding two bottles of beer in each hand. Placing them on the coffee table next to his phone, he offers you one, which you accept, plastering a grin on your face. He grabs one himself, picking up his phone and collapsing on the couch next to you to turn his attention back to the movie that the two of you had been watching. From the corner of your eye, you watch as he checks his messages, eyes lighting up, a smile on his face as he types up a response.

You spend the rest of the night holding in tears.

You invite Taehyung to yours the next day as a distraction. He insists on watching some documentary about gothic architecture, but you don’t mind. Whatever takes your mind off Jungkook. And what he might be doing right now.

“You know, you are insane,” Taehyung comments offhandedly.

“Excuse me?”

“The both of you,” he continues, lounging on your couch a little too comfortably. “Insanity.” You continue to stare at him, and he sighs. “You and Jeon.”

“What about Jungkook?”

“He’s in love with you,” Taehyung answers plainly, as though he’s telling you today’s weather forecast. Your stomach drops. “And you like him too, but are too dumb to admit it.” You scoff.

“He has a date tonight. That hardly screams ‘in love with me’” You point out. It’s Taehyung’s turn to scoff.

“Please,” he chuckles, arms coming up to rest behind his head. He sits like your dad. “It’s only his third date with that girl. It’s nothing serious.”

“And he’s not in love with me.”

“He is,” Taehyung insists. “Told me so himself. I wasn’t gonna say anything because it’s none of my damn business but the two of you are so atrociously stupid—”

“He…told you?” you pause the documentary.

“Yes. Last week,” Taehyung is talking as though he hasn’t dropped the biggest bombshell on you. “But he’s putting himself out there because he thinks you don’t feel the same way. Frankly, I’m tired.”

“Why are you telling me this?” you whisper. Taehyung checks his watch.

“Because, you still have time. Time to go get him.” You laugh.

“He’s not even gonna be back yet,” you point out. “Plus, what if I go there and he’s having her over? Third dates basically mean sex.”

“He’s not gonna sleep with her.” Taehyung tells you.

“Oh, and I assume he told you that too—”

“He did.”

“What sort of conversation were the two of you even having?” You’re incredibly confused

“A deep one,” Taehyung’s monotone voice is starting to irk you. “I took him out for tea. He’s home right now – by the way.”

“Why do you know so much Kim Taehyung?”

“It’s because I’m always minding my own, and vibing,” he informs you. “Go get your man, for fucks sake.” You’re already running around grabbing your keys and coat.

“Thanks Tae,” you mutter, giving the sleepy boy a kiss on the cheek. He smiles, leaning further back into your couch and turns his documentary back on as you rush out of your apartment.

There aren’t any ubers around your place at this time on a Friday night and you’re stuck taking the subway to Jungkook’s. Tapping your foot impatiently on the 4,5 line you rush out as soon as the train doors open, running to the building you know he lives in.

Your mind is blank as you stand outside his place and ring the doorbell. The faint music coming from the inside stops and you barely have time to second guess your choices before the door is opening and Jungkook is standing in front of you. Dressed in a crinkled dress shirt and black slacks, it looks like he got home not too long ago. He looks at you in surprise. Before he can open his mouth and ask why you’re standing on his doorstep wearing your sweatpants under your winter jacket looking haggard, you step forward, crushing your lips onto his.

His response isn’t immediate, you’ve caught him by surprise. But slowly he melts into the kiss, arms coming up to rest on your waist. You grasp wildly at the shirt on his shoulders.

“Are you sure about this?” he’s whispering, shutting the door behind you as you push him further into his apartment. “Know that I want more?”

“More sure than of anything else I’ve been in my life,” you whisper back, pulling away. “And whatever you want, I want it too. I want you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.”

“How did you know that I still wanted this?” he asks, before his face clears of the confusion and he’s grinning like he knows exactly how.

“We’re really gonna have to send Taehyung an expensive bottle of wine soon,” you grin back. “But first, I need you out of these pants.”

[fific7]

Ticket to Ride - Part 4

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Inspired by The Beatles song of the same name. This takes place in my S1 Punisher AU with Arrogant!Billy in attendance, in which he gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral and unprotected, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My Photo Edit)

𝔹𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕒𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕𝕓𝕪𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕥𝕨𝕚𝕔𝕖, 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕓𝕪 𝕞𝕖

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy woke up really early due to light streaming into his room. The sun was coming up. He couldn’t bring himself to close the curtains the previous night - after all, the view was the big thing in this hotel, wasn’t it? He rearranged his pillows so that he could still lie in bed but also tipped his head up enough so he could see the view.

It was too early to go along to her room yet, so he’d laze a little, shower and then he’d go. He hoped that her anger had cooled overnight, as the two of them really had to have a conversation. Not that he was looking forward to that conversation, but he realised that if he wanted to have even an outside chance of getting her back, he had to man up and tell her the truth. He had the distinct feeling that If he only told her part of it - a sanitised version of what had happened - she’d see right through him and that would be that.

He laughed out loud.... god he hadn’t even slept with the woman, but if he’d known the shitstorm that was going to be stirred up by all of this, maybe he should’ve just damn well done it!

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Meanwhile, you sat at the departure gate waiting for the boarding call. You’d always wanted to visit your next destination so while you were sad to leave Barcelona, you felt excited to be on your way.

With a little smile, you thought that the only real regret you had was you wouldn’t be there to see the expression on Billy’s face when he realised you’d skipped town again.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

As soon as he’d had that thought a little voice inside his head had said, if you had then you’d never ever get her back and you know it. Yeah, he did know it. So it was just as well I didn’t, he acknowledged to himself. Some no-strings sex with Madani wasn’t worth wrecking what he’d had with her.

Now he just had to hope that he wasn’t already too late to salvage that.

Billy stepped out onto the 20th floor landing then began walking up the red corridor to her room. He spotted a cleaning cart in the corridor - wait, that wasn’t outside her room, was it? No, it couldn’t be. But he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach the nearer he got.

He came to a halt next to the cart, and looked at the room number on the door for confirmation but he knew it before he even saw it.

She’d run out on him again.

Billy cursed loudly then swung round on his heel and headed back to the lifts. He took his phone out as he walked, hitting a starred number. It rang for a while then a grouchy voice said, “Yeah, what?”

“Micro? Got another job for you.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After clearing Customs and Passport Control you walked briskly out of the terminal building, following a sign indicating where you needed to go. You were getting more and more impatient to get to the city by the minute, but you knew you had to make sure you picked the correct coloured route, as they went to different destinations.

Standing on the jetty at Marco Polo Airport, you waited patiently along with other passengers for the Alilaguna airport boat to moor alongside it and which would then take you to Venice.

La Serenissima. The city which floats on a lagoon.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frank listened to what Micro had to say, then exploded. “Oh for fuck’s sake!!! This is gettin’ out of control. Yeah okay, do his search then let me know - not him - what you find out.”

He ended the call and threw his phone onto the bedside table. He’d have to speak to Bill, this was too much.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was in a temper. He threw his clothes and toiletries into his duffel bag and zipped it up viciously. Nothing from Micro yet and he had to check out of his room now. He’d just have to sit in the bar/lounge downstairs and have a drink or two until he did hear back.

An hour and two whiskies later (yes, he’d thought as the barman’s eyebrows raised up at his request, it is damn early for a whisky but you have no idea what I’m going through), Billy was getting more and more impatient. Then his phone buzzed, but hope sank like a stone when he saw it was Frank.

“I guess he called you, then?” Billy said as soon as he answered the call. “Yep,” said Frank, “...he did. And this is the last one, Bill, you hear me?” “It’s not my fault she keeps flyin’ off t’different places!” whined Billy. “It’s your damn fault she took off in the first place, dumbass!” growled Frank and Billy said nothing as he couldn’t argue with that.

“Where’s she gone, Frankie?” he asked after a short silence. “Venice.” “Ah shit!!! Back to the States? Didn’t see that coming.” “Not Venice Beach, Bill... Venice, Italy.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You settled yourself onto the wooden bench inside the vaporetto which would take you on the short hop across the wide Giudecca Canal from Palanca to Zattere. Vaporetti were the Venetian equivalent of public transport but a hugely more pleasurable experience. What would you rather hop on - a bus or a ferry? Yeah, definitely a ferry! You’d decided to stay on Giudecca instead of the main islands as it had a calmer, more relaxed vibe and tourists were much less in evidence.

Karen had texted you as you were getting unpacked in your small but cute room. Your hotel was surrounded by residential gardens and a narrow canal on one side; when you went out onto the large balcony, all you could hear was birdsong and the church bells of Venice. It was heavenly.

But Karen’s text had brought you down somewhat; Billy was on your track again. He’d been told by Frank that they weren’t going to help him out any longer, but you weren’t convinced that would put him off. Billy was the most stubborn sonuvabitch you’d ever met. Looking out the vaporetto windows, you saw a majestic tall ship making its way imperiously up the canal followed by a small tug like a lady in waiting, and wondered where it was sailing off to.

Sighing, you gathered up your bag as the vaporetto docked at Zattere and prepared to disembark. Maybe it was time to just sit down and have ‘that talk’ with him.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy, meanwhile, was waiting impatiently for his flight to start boarding in Barcelona airport. He just had to pin her down this time. No more escaping him and the talk they had to have.

He marvelled at the fact that in Europe, you were never really that far from your next destination. Here he was in Spain and in less than two hours’ time, he’d be in Italy. He’d bought a travel guide to Venice in one of the airport stores and settled down to read it.

Frank had given him the name and location of her hotel, somewhere called Giudecca. He didn’t have the first fucking clue as to where that was, so he’d better find out and quickly. Okay…. here was a map. Venice seemed to be divided into six sestiere or areas… hmmm no mention of Giudecca. Oh right, here it was, a large island out on its own across the Giudecca Canal from Venice.

He pinpointed the hotel on the map and felt a lot more relaxed.

I know where you are now, kitten.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Escaping from the crowd of tourists in Piazza San Marco into the relative peace of Caffé Florian, you sat down and ordered a horribly expensive cappuccino and pastry from the impassive waiter. But it was worth it just to soak up the historical atmosphere. You looked round the opulently decorated and gilded interior and opened up your guide book; it had opened in 1720 and scores of famous faces had passed through its doors or listened to its musicians outside. Wow - Casanova, Lord Byron, Charles Dickens, Ernest Hemingway, Charlie Chaplin, Clark Gable, Andy Warhol. The list went on and on.

Coffee finished, you wandered out of Florian’s and back along the Piazetta next to the Doge’s Palace. There was an arched bridge - the Ponte della Paglia - on the waterfront from which you could see the world-famous Bridge of Sighs, and you joined the huddle of tourists at the top of the bridge to eventually make it to the front and take a picture of it. Your guide book told you the bridge was so called because after their trials, condemned prisoners would be taken from the Doge’s Palace over the small canal at its side to the prison, and their last sight of Venice would be from the bridge. Hence the ‘sighs’.

Next, you walked along to the Arsenale, the huge historical shipyard where Venice had built her vast number of ships which had enabled her to have a huge trading empire. It had been said that they’d been able to construct a fully equipped warship in one day. But that was long in the past, you thought as you looked at an array of stone lion statues outside its main entrance and a bust of Dante set onto the wall.

Turning away, you headed to the vaporetto stop of the same name and waited for the Line 1 vaporetto to arrive and take you on a sail up the Grand Canal.

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Yet again, Billy was in a bad mood. After a couple of false starts, he’d eventually managed to make his way onto the correct Alilaguna boat at Marco Polo and had alighted at Zitelle on Giudecca.

But now here he was - walking backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards - along the waterfront, trying to find out where this damn fucking hotel was. He just couldn’t find it! Where the hell was it?

Billy spotted a guy around his own age walking towards him and stepped in front of him, asking politely in English if he could help him find this hotel. A stream of Italian burst forth and the guy must’ve realised that Billy didn’t understand one word, as he then took his arm and pulled him along the waterfront a little. He stopped and gestured towards one of the narrowest damn alleyways Billy had ever seen, quite near the vaporetto stop.

He thanked the guy effusively and set off up the alleyway. There were peoples’ houses on each side of it and he tried not to be too nosy as he walked past them. But echoing within the walls of the alley he could hear voices, children’s laughter, a football match on a TV, a dog barking… talk about living on top of each other. He wasn’t sure he could live like that but then it just depended on what you were used to, he supposed.

Arriving in a small open area leading to a canal and a bridge over it - Corte Ferrando, he saw on a sign - he found the Giudecca Hotel right on the corner next to the canal. At last!!!

Walking in to the small but light and airy reception area, he dumped his bag next to reception and asked the guy behind the desk if he could book a room. “Certainly, signore, how many nights would that be for?” Billy shrugged, saying, “I’ll make it for two nights for now, but maybe I’ll need to extend that, I’m not sure.” “That is no problem. Can I have your passport please, signore?”

Billy handed it over, thinking as he did, going by her recent history it might be only the one night!

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You stepped off the vaporetto at Rialto. Well, you just had to walk over the famous bridge and be a total tourist didn’t you, stopping to take a picture looking back down the Grand Canal. You’d gazed at all the big palazzi lining the waterway as the vaporetto zig-zagged its way between all the stops on the canal. They were certainly impressive, but they also had a faded, melancholic air about them.

Some of them had been converted into museums, some rented out on long or short-term leases by their owners, or they were now owned by foreigners who only stayed in them for a handful of weeks each year. When the festivals were taking place… Carnevale, the Biennale, the Film Festival. The rest of the year they lay empty and lonely, no doubt steeped in dreams of the lavish masked balls and elegant dinner parties from centuries past, while the noble Venetian families who used to own them lived in modern condos in Mestre on the mainland, no longer in their beloved Venezia. How sad, you thought.

Heading back to the vaporetto stop, you decided you’d go to Accademia, have a look round the art gallery, visit the huge and famous church Santa Maria della Salute and then wander round the artisan shops in Dorsoduro, perhaps have a glass of vino in one of the cute little wine bars.

You were determined to make this afternoon and evening last for as long as you could. Billy would no doubt be waiting for you when you got back to Giudecca.

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The man himself hadn’t even bothered unpacking this time, just in case. He’d had a quick shower and then had taken a short stroll around the local area. He noticed very few tourists and decided this was why she’d chosen it. He knew she’d prefer to sample the local life more than the tourist traps.

Not wanting to spend too much time away from the hotel, he made his way back and sat outside on the lone park bench in the courtyard area. He started running over in his mind what he was going to say to her, to be honest he still wasn’t sure how to frame it so that she wouldn’t go ballistic.

His stomach knotted. Who was he kidding? Of course she was going to go ballistic! He was about to admit he’d made out on more than one occasion with another woman. And irrespective of the fact that it had been strictly business from his point of view, his girl was not going to be the least bit impressed with him.

Fuck, I’ve really screwed this up, he allowed himself to think for the first time. He’d made his brain block out this uncomfortable thought what with all the chasing after her in the previous few days. He’d been telling himself over and over that everything would all be alright.

But now he thought… would it? Would it really?

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Returning on the vaporetto to Palanca, you felt yourself starting to tense up. You knew Billy would either have arrived by now or would very shortly.

Whatever he had to say to to you, you knew you weren’t going to like it. The evidence was too strong that he’d been cheating on you and you weren’t going to let him off the hook for that. The problem was, you loved the stupid douchebag. But how could you trust him now, after he’d been seeing another woman? In some ways, it was worse that it was just the one. And you were sure it was just one, if the perfume evidence was anything to go by. It would almost have been better if he’d gone back to his old tom-catting ways, quantity over quality to coin Frank’s phrase. Your stomach twisted as you remembered him saying to you that at last Billy had reversed that equation when he got with you. But if he was seeing just the one? That was bad.

You began walking up the alleyway and as you reached the open area, you saw a figure sitting on the park bench, the back of a dark head. Billy.

Squaring your shoulders and feeling as if you were about to go into battle, you walked steadily towards him.

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Venice

(My Photos/video 3 & 7 / June 2012 & 2016)

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@blackbirddaredevil23 @theshadowkingsqueen @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep @supernaturalcat7 @obscurilicious @strawb3rrydr3ss @bruxa0007 @aleksanderwh0r3 @bat-luna-cat

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[volturiwolf]

The Volturi Princess - A Felix Volturi x fem!Reader Story (part 3)

No of Words: about 5313

Mentions of: Abandonment, Abortion, Anxiety, Blood, Bruises, Coma/Comatosed State, Death Emotional Abuse, Emotional and Physical Pain, Gaslighting, Greece/Greek Language - with translation, Heartbreak, Italian Language - with translation, Manipulation, Murder, Pain, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy, Suffering, Suicide/Suicidal Thoughts, Swear Language, Throwing Up/Puking, Witches/Wizards/Witchcraft

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part 1 part 2

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"The Volturi Princess " Tag List (reply if you want to be tagged or removed):

@felixvolturisprincess @singerj2002 @mrtony-stank1 @ikissedthescarsonherskin @alecvolturiswifeforever @hshehdyhd

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Felix’s POV:

We have been traveling for over a year now, Demetri tracking Carlisle and us following behind him. Demetri located him across the Atlantic, so we swam across the ocean to reach him. Almost a year and a half after leaving Volterra, we tracked Carlisle while he was working as a doctor somewhere in the northern United States. He was surprised to see us, but we kept our austere facade to maintain our sovereignty towards him. He welcomed us gladly in his small house.

It was a two-story building, and it smelled of old wood and mold, but I guess that was the best he could do for now. The living conditions around here did not seem to be ideal. Apart from the Volturi and the Egyptian coven, no other vampire lived comfortably, in castles, mansions, or even big houses; most vampires were nomads, traveling around and living by hunting whenever they could. So, Carlisle actually living in a house, even if it looked like this, was way better than living the nomad life.

“Jane, Alec, Demetri, Felix. To what do I owe this pleasure? Can I offer you anything?” Carlisle had always been one of the kindest of our kind, too compassionate for a vampire.

“No, Carlisle, thank you, we’re good. We are on a mission, and we have a few questions for you.” Jane took it up to herself to start the conversation.

“Please, sit down so we can talk.” Carlisle offered us to sit around the table that was in the middle of the ground floor. We each took a seat at the table. “So, may I ask what it is all about? I don’t think I have personally acted in a way to upset the Volturi.”

“No, indirectly, you haven’t.” Jane continued. “We wanted to ask you a few questions regarding (Y/N). We think that you may have heard by now that she has left Volterra.”

“Yes, word came around. I met a few nomads from Europe some time ago, and they told me that (Y/N) left Volterra, probably permanently.”

I tried to suppress a sob that was fighting to leave my throat. Carlisle knew that (Y/N) left, everyone knew that (Y/N) left. They didn’t know she left her mate behind, and they shall never find out that she was my mate. I didn’t even want to think about the possibility of (Y/N) being in danger if anyone found out that we were mates. I had too many targets on my back to risk anything happening to her.

It was my turn to intervene. “Have you seen her? Has she ever come around here?”

Carlisle turned to face me. “I did. Once. She stayed with me for about a year; that was about 6 or 7 years ago. She tracked me through her memories. She has become quite skilled at that.” Demetri and I looked at each other confused. (Y/N) could track as skillfully as Demetri now?

Carlisle continued. “Anyway, she seemed concerned. She told me she had been traveling for quite some time, but she felt like she was missing a piece of herself, of her past. For a few months, she wanted to learn more about me, my job, how I was doing with the whole “animal blood” diet, simple curiosity really. She had been training herself to abstain from human blood, so it was easier for her to go hunt with me. She told me..”

Carlisle turned to look at me now. “She told me about your bond, Felix.” So, she has felt our bond, too! “She told me that she was scared for you, for your safety within the Volturi. She was worried about all of you, but particularly you, Felix. Being her mate means you are basically a target for anyone who wishes to harm (Y/N). She told me she ran away to protect you. As long as no one knew of your bond, you were safe. The traveling and meeting the world was just an extra benefit for her and her gift.”

“Her gift?!” We all exclaimed in unison. (Y/N) never claimed a “gift”, so how could this be possible? Did she lie? Did she even know about her gift?

“Before you say anything, she didn’t even know what her gift was. It is way more complicated than you think. I guess she’d appreciate it if I gave you an idea about it.” Carlisle paused for a few moments. If my heart was beating, I swear it would have stopped by now.

“You know how, for example, Jane, you can induce mental pain, or you, Alec, can restrict anyone’s senses?” The Twins nodded at Carlisle. “Well, (Y/N) can do both, and so much more.” We were kind of shocked. No one has ever had a gift similar to the Twins; that’s why they were in the Volturi. Because they were unique.

“(Y/N)’s gift is copying others’ gifts. That’s why she could also track me; she had copied Demetri’s gift.” Carlisle pointed at Demetri, who looked utterly shocked now.

I would lie if I said I didn’t feel the same way or scared even. I was not scared because of (Y/N); I was scared for (Y/N). This newly-found discovery meant she would be way more important to Aro than we ever thought. He wouldn’t just let her go - not that this was his intention before, but now, she would be even more precious to him and his cause; she would now be the perfect weapon for him to use against other vampires. I had to find her and warn her.

“Do you know where she is now?” My voice came out more stern than I intended it to be.

Carlisle nodded his head slightly. “I may know where she is now. Before she left, she was trying to find out as much as she could about her parents. I assume that was the “missing piece” she was referring to? Anyway, she may be after her parents. I mean they do know her nature better than any of us does. Don’t forget that (Y/N) is half-witch. No one could ever teach her how to be one; only her father could be the one to do so. So, if I stand corrected, she is looking for them. And there’s only one place that (Y/N) has ever linked to her parents.”

“Greece.” Demetri stepped in. Demetri was the only one who could understand (Y/N)’s connection with Greece; it was their birthplace, their origin, their true home.

“Exactly. If you find her parents, you’ll most likely find her. Even if she’s not with them, it will be easier to track her if you have her parents’ assistance.”

We nodded and we stood up. “Thank you for your help, Carlisle. You were most helpful.” Jane spoke for all of us.

“It was my pleasure.” Carlisle led us to the door, but before we left, Jane turned to him one last time. “We think we can trust you that this conversation stays between us.”

“Of course, Jane. Have a safe trip and take care of yourselves.”

“You too.” Alec smiled at Carlisle.

What Carlisle said at the end had me worried for (Y/N). “I hope you find her soon. Her parents never had the best reputation around.” What kind of people was (Y/N)’s family anyway?

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Tracking (Y/N) proved to be way more complicated and debilitating than we thought it would be. We assumed that the closer we were to Greece, the easier it would be for Demetri to pick up her tenor. We were wrong; we were going around blindly, not a clue about (Y/N)’s whereabouts. Even when we finally set our feet on Greek ground, we still didn’t know where to start looking for her. Nobody had a clue where she could be; we didn’t even know her birthplace.

Demetri took it upon him to start his research in a place he knew well enough: Athens. Athens was the capital of Greece’s civilization for many centuries, but, at the time of Demetri’s birth, during the Byzantine times, Constantinople emerged as the center of the Eastern Byzantine Empire, while Rome remained the center of the Western Byzantine Empire.

Athens was not regarded as highly as it used to, during Pericles’ “Golden Century”, as the 5th century BC was known. It still was an important and historical city, but it has lost its title as the “capital” eons ago. The city was taken advantage of by both “allies” and Ottomans and seemed to have lost part of its previous glory. Still, it was beautiful; I may have been quite “old” myself, but I could still admire the history around me.

It reminded of (Y/N)’s stories and books; knowing Ancient Greek history was one of the first things she took an interest in. The fact that she was able to travel to Athens, with or without Aro, quite a few times also developed her fascination regarding the Ancient Greek arts, philosophy, and overall way of living. Of course, it wasn’t easy being a woman then, or ever really, but she was more financially privileged than the average Athenian - vampire wealth had always been an actual thing, and Aro always prided himself to be a “collector” of wealth (and talented vampires for the matter).

We arrived in Greece at a transitional stage; the country has been experiencing a war against the Ottomans for a few years now, and it was evident around the city of Athens. There were many casualties during the war, many damages around the streets, the houses, and there seemed to be a climate of misery and decline.

Yet, the country had recently elected a prime minister, who declared Nafplio, a city in Peloponnese, as Greece’s capital. That was our next stop, as we couldn’t find anything in particular that could indicate (Y/N) being in Athens. Apart from the poor living conditions, the country was experiencing a plague pandemic wave, which killed even more people, but authorities worked hard on containing the cases, and it seemed to have been working.

Still, without a single clue about (Y/N)’s location, the only thing we could do is go around searching for any possible information. We could only travel at night, and hide during the day; Greece, just like Italy, had always been blessed with sunny days, for the majority of a calendar year.

It wasn’t ideal with us being vampires, but Volterra was an ideal strategic location for the Volturi to travel across the vampire and human world, rule, and impose their laws whenever it was needed. Just like always, we now also had to be secretive about our existence.

I thought about how lucky (Y/N) was in that situation; being a non-fully vampire, she didn’t “glow” in the sun like us. She had a more healthy-skin-like glow, a healthy and subtle glow that made me even more attracted to her - if that was even possible. That basically meant that she could technically go anywhere and everywhere; the weather did not affect her, the sun did not affect her.

I started getting frustrated and disappointed. It wasn’t only (Y/N) I had in my mind; apparently, during the years of the Greek Revolution, many vampires, Greek or non-Greek, started secretly fighting to claim territories for themselves.

We knew that it wasn’t part of our duty, but it wouldn’t hurt if we could actually claim Greek land for the Volturi. Having both Italy and Greece under our control could mean more power, more resources, more blood. It only seemed natural; the three Volturi kings were born in Greece, all three of their wives were born in Greece, Demetri and Chelsea were born in Greece. (Y/N) was born in Greece.

Greece could easily become an extension of our territory - Italy was already ours in its entirety - and it would only be the start. It would be easier to control and deal with any possible riots from other covens - the Egyptians and the Romanians in particular. We didn’t fear either of them, but the Romanians have been holding resentment towards the Volturi for a couple thousand years, so anything could be expected from their side at any moment.

I shared my thoughts with the Twins and Demetri. They all agreed that it was a plausible plan; it would show others that the Volturi are still as powerful as they have ever been, and should be feared. Besides, we knew that just the four of us would be able to subjugate any vampire that crossed our paths. With the Twins’ powers, Demetri’s tracking skills, and my strength, it would be impossible for others to resist or challenge us.

We started interrogating any vampire we found wandering or hunting at night; none of them worthy enough to fight us or even gifted enough to join the Volturi. It was quite easy to find the leaders of these “newly-made” covens, or alliances, as they seemed. Because none of them inspired loyalty to each other; none of them was a coven in the sense the Volturi were. They were more like vampires who came together to fight for territory control; I doubt if they would even manage to stay together for one more day. They did not only lack loyalty towards their "leaders", but also discipline, principles, and basic rules of survival and solidarity towards the other members.

It was quite easy to take over any “coven” in Southern Greece, including the island of Crete. We started moving north, taking over the territories of Thessaly and Epirus, something which the Greek humans did not manage to acquire from the Ottomans yet. We were to take over Macedonia and Thrace next, but we were met with an unexpected obstacle.

Every vampire we would interrogate regarding these two territories would say the same thing: none of them knew who owned them, but whoever tried to claim the territories never returned back, dead or alive. The mystery that surrounded the person or people behind the leadership of these areas made their skin crawl; they all refused to “help” us any further, no matter how much Jane, Alec, and I tried, which made me kind of worried, or more like curious, but I didn’t want to show any weakness or let them question my effectiveness.

Every one of them was just a “normal” vampire; we were better, stronger, gifted, and we have proved that we can bring results every single time. No other vampire has ever dared go against us; we wouldn’t allow them to question us now either.

We continued traveling up north, determined to face whoever it was behind the territories there. I didn’t pay attention to the slight pain in my guts as we were traveling through the country, but it was becoming more and more intense as we continued going north.

We didn’t know how we would find the vampires behind this “operation”, so our plan would be to act in any way possible to provoke them into coming out of their “hiding spot”. For a few days, we were rummaging any small village we could find, killing the villagers and draining them of their blood - not a very “Volturi tactic" may I say. We were supposed to hide our existence, not challenge our luck by killing so many people; yet, this was the only way we thought that could possibly lurk the vampires out of their “comfort zone”.

As we were traveling through Macedonia, we came across a rather developed town, compared to the villages we have seen before. The city was surrounded by tall stone walls. There were a few rivers on its western side, forests and mountains on its northeastern side, and swamps and marshes on its southern side. We couldn’t hunt freely here, at least not during daylight; there was no way we would go unnoticed if we started hunting anywhere in the area. We decided to run through the forests, see if there was a place we could stay for a while; if there was a human or more we could feed off of; if there was a sign of the vampires or (Y/N).

During the last few weeks, I’ve been thinking that our mission has been more about expanding our power and influence, and not as much about locating (Y/N). Actually, it felt more like locating (Y/N) was more of an afterthought now. We lost the purpose of our mission; the reason we came together all along.

It wasn’t as if we would actually be directly benefiting by the territories we claimed; we were still working on behalf of the Volturi. We didn’t ask the kings to claim Greek territories; yet, we did, because we felt obliged to consider their own good once again, this time at the expense of finding (Y/N). Once again, we became the victims of the influence they had on us, and we played their game.

“Why are we even doing this?” I yelled frustratedly. My friends turned to look at me.

“What do you mean, Felix?” Jane seemed slightly annoyed. “We’ve come here to claim the territories, to show these savages who the boss is here.”

“No, Jane, they are not savages, we didn’t come here to claim territories, and we don’t have to show them “who is the boss”. They already know that the Volturi rule the vampire world. No. No. We came here to search for (Y/N). Not to “claim territories”. Not to “show them”. We came here for (Y/N). We..We lost our purpose. We lost the true meaning of our mission. We just started claiming the land for the Volturi, for Aro. We..We forgot about her.”

My eyes were stinking with venom. I felt weak, I felt as if I betrayed her. I promised to myself that I would bring her back home, that I would protect her. It’s been so long and we still haven’t found her. We just kept wasting time on things that shouldn’t matter to us. We should not care about expanding our influence, our territory, our power. We should care about bringing the Princess back.

Jane lowered her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, Felix. I didn’t know you felt this way. I have to admit it though; we did lose track of time and we forgot about the actual purpose of this mission. We once again forgot that (Y/N) has always been way more important than any power in the world. I’m sorry. We all are. I promised you we’ll start searching for her right away, okay?”

I nodded affirmatively. We had to find (Y/N) as soon as possible. We were not only running out of time but also out of hope that (Y/N) was in Greece or anywhere else, that she was alive. We got so distracted by our conversation that we didn’t notice we were being watched until we all started screaming in pain. I fell on my knees, the pain on the back of my head unbearable, and that’s when I blacked out.

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I didn’t know how much time passed being unconscious. It felt like a new sensation to me; being a bit over 2000 years old, I haven’t lost my senses once - except for the times Alec liked to play games on me. I didn’t feel like myself; it didn’t feel right. I didn’t like being restricted of my senses, especially now, especially here, in an unknown place. My mind was blurry and I couldn’t see anything distinct around me; I couldn’t see almost anything. I tried to move my hands around but I couldn’t as if the tightest rope in the world was holding me in place.

“No need to fight, sweetheart.” I heard a woman’s voice. “There is no way to escape.”

“Who are you? Why am I here? Where are the others?”

“Felix? Is that you?” I heard Demetri’s voice on my right.

“Demetri? Is that you? Where are Jane and Alec?”

“I am here.” I heard Alec’s voice on my left.

“Me too." Jane replied.

“Alexandre, please, I cannot start with this again.”

Suddenly, I could see again. I was still physically restricted, but my eyes could see them crystal clear and my mind was in order once again. The woman in front of me was very imposing, though of average size. Her long, curly hair framed her face beautifully and her piercing red eyes were piercing through my soul. The man standing next to her was only a few centimeters taller; he had short, straight hair, and his eyes were looking between the four of us sternly. Who were they even? Why were we even here? Why us? As if she read my mind, a woman spoke to me.

“Oh, deary. We’re not going to tell you who we are. But you are going to tell us what you, Volturi guards, are doing in our territory!”

“How do you know who we are?” I exclaimed. Of course, everyone knew the Volturi as the authority of the vampire world, but not all vampires around here have ever met us specifically, or any other member of the coven for the matter.

“Your crest, dear. I have known that crest for far too long. Way before you were even born. I see that dear Aro never changed it. He does like to remain in his same, old ways after all. Never changing, never moving forward, still imposing his “laws”, I’m assuming?” The woman seemed to know way far about the Volturi and Aro. She became a danger for our coven, from the moment she and the man abducted us. She should have never done that; they both would be punished for their actions.

“Dear, I won’t get punished..for anything. You, on the other hand, are in a pretty difficult situation. You see, my husband and I are not going to let you get away until you tell us why you are here.”

“Pain.” I heard Jane saying. The woman turned to look at her but she didn’t even flinch. I heard Jane screaming in return.

“Oh, sweetheart. Your powers won’t work on either of us. You see, I am a shield, so don’t even try to hurt us. On the contrary, WE can hurt you just as much, if not more.” The woman smiled evilly, while Jane was writhing in pain.

“Please, stop hurting my sister.” Alec pleaded, unable to use his gift against the couple.

“So, you are the “Terror Twins”. Alec and Jane, I see.” The woman knew their nickname? “Oh, yes, I do, dear.” She turned to look at me. “You see, I was once part of the Volturi. Technically, still am. However, I left, way before any of you joined the coven. To put it into perspective, I was there when Didyme lived but I left way before she was killed. Dear Marcus has never been the same ever since. I still feel somewhat of a connection to the coven, though I am able to make my own decisions because I managed to escape them. We were actually passing by Volterra a few times. I wonder how you never noticed us, though our powers would practically make us mentally invisible from Demetri, over here, or any other vampire, really.”

She knew Demetri, too?

“Felix, dear, I know all of you and about you. You see, my dear daughter has a special connection with all of you, a kind of friendship neither my husband, nor I quite understand. It wasn’t easy for her to keep her memories secret; though she is an amazing shield - which makes me so proud, she is kind of “vulnerable” when she is sleeping. And my husband’s magic is quite strong and easy to penetrate her mind and memories when she does eventually sleep.”

Her daughter? Could that be…?

“WHERE IS SHE?” The question slipped out of my mouth without even thinking about it first.

My anger could not be controlled right now. I was pushing myself to my limits to break my fetters, to no avail. Were that woman and that man (Y/N)’s parents? I started making some connections here and there; they looked similar to (Y/N), though so different at the same time. Their immortality, their red eyes, their confidence, and their aggression did not remind me of (Y/N). She had a pure face, a face of kindness, she was not like them.

“You think so? Alexandre, can you please call (Y/N), agapi mou?” The woman turned to the man, and the man started moving his fingers in front of him, creating some sort of a wave around him.

Within a few seconds, the door burst open and the first thing I saw was a red silky fabric flowing around the air. When the fabric settled down slowly, I saw her for the first time after so long. She has changed..a lot. Her (Y/E/C) eyes were replaced by piercing red ones, with a slight hint of (Y/E/C) around the pupils. Her eyes apathetic and stern; her facial features more defined; her hair reached a little below her shoulders, straight and shiny, like her father’s. She still looked as beautiful as ever.

She stared at us, focusing her eyes mostly on me. Her heartbeat sounded steady and strong. I was relieved; she was still human, they had not turned her fully vampire yet. She took a few steps farther into the house, her feet bare but surprisingly clean, no dirt, no grass had stained them. She stood right beside the woman, who I now knew was her mother and Aro’s daughter.

“What are they doing here?” Her voice came out stern, yet it was music to my ears.

I missed her voice so much. I missed her so much. Our mate bond, weakened by the distance and time spent apart, slowly started forming again. I felt it; I felt my existence becoming meaningful again. I felt my breath hitching in my throat, her presence provoking so many different feelings and emotions inside me. However, she still seemed cold and distant, and I couldn’t quite read her face. Did she not feel the same? Has she forgotten me? Does she hate me now?

I saw her gaze getting softer, even compassionate? She approached me and bent down slightly, placing her left hand carefully on my right cheek. She stared deeply into my eyes and I closed mine, leaning on her touch. It was the purest moment I have experienced in my 2000 years of life.

I opened my eyes and stared at her. I saw golden flakes scattered in between the red in her eyes. Once again, she took my breath away. It felt as if I fell in love with her all over again, a unique feeling of refreshment. We were lost in our own little world. She smiled slightly at me, the first time she did after such a long time.

“Enough! (Y/N) get away from him, now!” (Y/N) was forcefully removed away from me by her mother. She was looking at me pleadingly and then turned to look at her parents with such hatred. I’ve never seen her like this ever again, not even with Aro.

“YOU. WILL. NOT. TELL. ME. WHAT. TO. DO!” If looks could kill, (Y/N)’s parents would be dead by now. Her hands started lighting up, bright purple flames rising up. She was trying to intimidate her parents, but neither of them looked concerned in the slightest. She turned to us and with a dance-like move of her hand, we were finally freed of our fetters.

It was her father’s turn to speak. “(Y/N), let’s take this outside.” With a jerking motion of his hand, we all found ourselves, outside, in their house’s front yard.

“They’ve come to take you back to Volterra, back to Aro! Don’t you see it? They don’t care about you! They just want to please their master.” The words came bitter out of her mouth. She had a clear resentment towards the Volturi. “I will not let them take you away from me! Not again!”

“I know, mother, I’ve read their minds, too. Yet, I don’t see why YOU seem to think that you can make the decisions for me. I am my own self. I can make decisions for myself. And I get to choose what I do with my life.” (Y/N)’s voice was certain, powerful, in control. “They are not bad people, mother. They just have to follow orders, just like you followed Aro’s orders, just like I followed yours. That’s not going to happen anymore. I am taking control of my life!”

The sweet, little girl I got to see my whole life was becoming a strong, powerful woman right in front of my eyes. She was radiating power; she was taking control of her life. She was..my everything. She was becoming independent, her own self. To say I was proud of her, would be an understatement. She has always been special, but this newly-found power has clearly given her way more confidence and trust in herself.

She would finally be able to rule the Volturi. If she decided to come back to Volterra, she could definitely take over the coven. No one would be able to resist her or her gift. My thoughts were quickly interrupted when her dad started shouting in Greek.

Demetri, who was standing right next to me, saw the look of total confusion in my eyes. “I’ll translate for you.” I nodded at him. “So, her father says: Enough with this nonsense, (Y/N). Your place is here, with us. You owe us; we taught you what you needed to know about your magic. We taught you how to use it, how to develop it. You didn’t know enough to defend yourself back then.”

“Now, (Y/N) says: I don’t owe you anything. Yes, you did teach me how to use my magic, which I inherited from you. But, you gave me away to Aro. You couldn’t defend me or yourselves against him. You just offered me to him, as if I was a present for his birthday or something.”

“Now, her mother says: You, at least, owe it to yourself to get away from these tyrants. You know they don’t deserve you, so why are you still defending him? It’s that man, isn’t it? Now, (Y/N) says: That man has a name. Now, her mom says: You know, his name means “lucky”, "happy" in Greek. Yet, he hasn’t been that lucky or happy at all, has he? We read his mind, (Y/N), he’s not worthy of you.”

“Now, (Y/N) says: Guess what? I have also read his mind, and I have also read the two of you, as well. Don’t you think that it is only you who can read my mind while I’m sleeping! I’ve been reading your minds any chance I get! I know how you’ve been planning to use me, as a weapon against the Volturi! Guess again! I’m not going to let you manipulate me anymore! And that man deserves EVERYTHING in this world!”

“ENOUGH!” Her father shouted and threw a dark red glowing sphere, hitting (Y/N) and knocking her on the ground. My heart dropped at the sight, but she quickly stood up and gathered so much energy in her own hands, attacking her father with a powerful hit.

He got wounded, his face slightly cracked from his forehead to his jaw, yet he didn’t give up. He was about to attack her once again when his wife stopped him. She was looking at me and nodded to her husband. I heard (Y/N) screaming, but I didn’t make out what she was saying, as I started screaming myself and felt myself getting tossed in the air. Then, everything went black once again.

[discoscoob]

New York | Loki x Female Reader

Loki (Marvel) x Doctor Who

The TARDIS lands in New York City, leaving you and Loki to worry how the citizens might react to seeing the God wandering around the city he once attacked.

Part Seven | Part Nine | Chapter Index

Words: 5.1k

Warnings: angst and injury

Read on AO3

You had just finished getting dressed for the day, when you fell back into your bed, which Loki had yet to leave. You rested your head on his naked chest and listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat, as you basked in the heat of the warm morning sun which radiated through your artificial window. 

 Your arm wrapped around his stomach, which gently rose and fell with each breath and it fascinated you that this extraordinary, immortal being, who was resting in your bed, inhaled air through his lungs and had a regular heartbeat just like you or anyone else. 

 You picked up his hand and he let you examine it as you held it in the air with your own. He had four slender fingers and a thumb, his nails were neatly trimmed and his palm was scattered with creased lines, which you traced with the tip of your pointer finger, Loki’s hand twitched slightly at the ticklish feeling. You trailed your finger all the way down to the back of his narrow wrist and over the blue and purple lines of his veins, which decorated his pale skin in the shape of lightning bolts.

“You’re so... ordinary.” You softly thought out loud.

 “Thanks?” Loki answered, his tone dripped with offence and sarcasm but you could tell it was lighthearted.

 “No, wait. That came out wrong. I don’t mean it in a bad way,” you reassured him, “It’s just... fascinating.”

 Loki hummed in acknowledgment and you intertwined your fingers and let your hands rest over his stomach.

 Ever since your recent trip to the 1920s, one specific thought had occupied your mind. The Reverend’s transformation into his true form had reminded you that, despite how ordinary Loki may have appeared to look, there was another version of him being suppressed by magic, his Jotun form and true identity. 

 “Loki, can I ask you something?” You tentatively questioned.

 “Mhm... anything.”

 “What do you really look like?” 

 “What do you mean?”

 “When we were inside the volcano in Pompeii, the Doctor scanned you with his sonic and said that magic was suppressing your true form.” You explained and you felt Loki’s body stiffen ever so slightly beneath you and from under you ear, you could hear that his heartbeat had increased its pace.

 “Why... would you want to see that?” Loki slowly asked, he didn’t understand what desire you would have to see that part of him.

 You propped yourself up on your elbow and looked down at him.

 “Wouldn’t you want to see my true form if our roles were reversed?” You asked him, you don’t doubt if you had another form, Loki would wish to see it and if he imagined that, maybe it would help him understand your interest in his.

 “That would be different.” Loki decided after thinking about it.

 “How so?”

 “Your true form wouldn’t be...” Loki’s eyes drifted off with his words as his face twisted in disgust.

 “Wouldn’t be what?” You nudged him.

 “It’s just not something you would want to see, trust me.” He tried to gently explain.

 “I’m sure that’s not true–“

 Loki cut you off by snapping your name and your lips immediately fell into a straight line as you stiffened, “just- just leave it.”

 You tilted your head downwards and let your eyelids cast over your eyes as the tension left your body with a sigh. You rolled off the bed, muttering something about how the Doctor would be landing the TARDIS somewhere soon and you would meet Loki in the control room after he got dressed, before you swiftly slipped out of the room.

 Loki brought his palms up to his face and let out a groan of frustration as soon as the door shut behind you, immediately regretting how he handled the situation.

 Meanwhile on the other side of the wall, in the corridor, you were mentally beating yourself up. You should have noticed that he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of showing you his true form and respected his boundaries. 

 You already knew that no matter whether Loki was in his Asgardian or Jotun form, you would not see him any differently and you wanted him to understand that but you didn’t want him to feel forced to show you a part of himself he obviously had trouble accepting.

 With your head hung regretfully, you pushed yourself off the corridor wall and made your way to the control room.

 ***

 Your auntie called your name as soon as she saw you enter the control room, you looked up and saw her face splitting grin as she approached you.

 “The Doctor is going to let me fly the TARDIS!” She told you, barely containing her excitement.

 “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, he barely even knows how to fly this thing, never mind you.” You worried.

 “Hey!” The Doctor poked his head up from behind the console, clearly offended. 

 “It’s a health and safety hazard that this thing doesn’t have seat belts.” You continued.

 “Well, there’s a rail,” the Doctor nodded his head to the rail that surrounded the centre controls, “and there’s handles around the console.” He demonstrated their sturdiness by pulling on one of them only for it to snap off and send him stumbling into the rail, which he managed to catch himself on. “As I was saying... there’s a rail,” he patted it, “very sturdy.”

 “This thing is falling apart.” The Doctor commented to himself as he threw the broken handle over his shoulder, you heard the sound of metal clink as it landed somewhere beneath the platform which the console was on. 

 “Right, Donna, over here then” He called her over and she clapped her hands with excitement as she jogged around the console to where the Doctor instructed her to stand. 

 As he began muttering instructions to her, you decided to grab a tight hold of the rail, not trusting the handles on the console.

 “I can’t believe I’m doing this!” Donna stated, the pitch of her voice rose with her enthusiasm and disbelief.

 So far there had been minimal turbulence and you were beginning to think she might actually be a better pilot than the Doctor.

 “Oh- oh, careful.” You heard the Doctor mutter as he pulled out a small hammer and hit it against the console before he switched a leaver, which caused the TARDIS to let out a whirling sound.

 “Left hand down. Left hand down!” He urgently instructed your auntie, as soon as she pulled down the leaver in her left hand the TARDIS jerked harshly, if it weren’t for your tight hold on the rail it would’ve knocked you off balance. 

 “You’re getting a bit close to the 1980s!” The Doctor fretted as he watched the monitor.

 “What am I gonna do, put a dent in them?” Donna rolled her eyes.

 “Now, pull that down gently. Gently!” The Doctor stressed and the TARDIS shook violently as the sound of wheezing filled the room, which informed you it was landing, but rather harshly due to Donna’s amateur piloting.

 “I did it! Did I do it? I did it, right? I landed the TARDIS?” Donna cheered joyously.

 “You did it!” The Doctor confirmed, looking just as surprised.

 “Doctor, that was a bad landing, even for you.” Loki critiqued the Doctor as he entered the control room, dressed in a navy blue button down with the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tucked into some dark suit trousers.

 “It was me.” Donna proudly corrected him, despite his negative criticism, and he raised his eyebrows, forming slight creases below his hairline.

 “Well, Doctor, if you’re going to let anyone fly this thing it should be me. I can be a very skilled pilot.” Loki suggested.

 The Doctor shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t see why not. You can have a go on our next trip. Then maybe you could have a go.” He looked at you and your eyes widened like saucers.

 “Oh, no. No, thank you. No, I don’t trust putting all your lives in my hands.” You swiftly declined. 

 “Fair enough.” The Doctor grabbed his long brown trench coat off the seats next to the console and pulled it on. “Let’s go see where Donna crash landed.”  

 ***

 “No! No way! I landed in New York City?” Donna span around and looked up in awe at the skyscrapers that reached beyond the point her eye could see. “Doctor, we’re in New York City!”

 “Yup, I can see that.” The Doctor remarked as he followed behind her with his hands tucked into his trouser pockets, he glanced around the busy street which was filled with people who were far too busy to even take a second glance at the blue police box which had materialised out of nowhere.

 You and Loki shared a nervous glance as you stepped out last, both knowing what the other was thinking without even saying it. You weren’t sure what year it was, although you could already guess it was the modern day from the fashion and the vehicles which were stuck in traffic on the road nearby. 

 If it was any time after Loki’s attack, he might be easily recognisable and goodness knows the kind of panic it might cause if he is seen wandering around the streets of New York. On top of that, Donna and the Doctor still weren’t aware of Loki’s past and this would not be the most ideal way for them to find out. 

 Loki kept his head down, hoping that if the commuters didn’t notice the TARDIS, they wouldn’t notice him as the pair of you caught up with Donna and the Doctor, who by the sounds of it were already planning a trip on one of the topless tourist buses, dread filled you at the mere thought.

 “That would be lovely, but we don’t have any money, do we?” You reminded them, feigning disappointment. 

 “Not to worry, I have the psychic paper, remember?” The Doctor pulled his wallet from his suit pocket and waved it in front of you and you had to quickly turn your glare into a smile.

 “Yeah but, buses give me motion sickness.” Loki quickly interjected. 

 “You never get motion sickness on the TARDIS.” Donna looked at him sceptically. “If anything’s gonna give you motion sickness it’d be that thing.” 

 “Funny that, isn’t it.” Loki shrugged, pretending to be as baffled by it as she was.

 “How about the observation deck of the Empire State Building instead.” The Doctor offered.

 “I don’t really feel like doing touristy things. Why don’t we head back to the TARDIS and go somewhere else? We have the whole universe to explore.” You suggested.

 “Are you all right?” Donna squinted her eyes at you. “You want to go back in the TARDIS and likely end up getting chased around by aliens? After the last few trips we’ve had, don’t you just wanna have some fun? This is New York City, what’s the worst that could happen here?” 

 As if on cue, the sound of a sonic boom carried through the streets and from the top of one of the buildings, that towered above the rest, an electric blue beam shot directly to the sky and parted it to form a worm hole which revealed the depths of outer space. 

 Like an endless swarm of flies, dark figures which you could not identify, flew out of the portal in all directions. There appeared to be another figure already combating the invasion, as it launched tiny missiles at the hostile threat, resulting in several explosive clouds to form midair but more creatures continued to arrive.

 “You’ve got to me kidding me.” Donna groaned. “Can’t we go anywhere, just once, without either an alien invasion or someone getting possessed?”

 Around you, people either stopped and stared at the battle in the sky above them or were already running in the opposite direction, some people were exiting their cars which were caught in the traffic jam and abandoning them without a second thought as they ran away in search of safety.

 “Is that...” You spoke low enough just for Loki to hear and when you looked at him he appeared as though he was about to be sick as he nodded in confirmation.

 You flinched with a yelp as one of the creatures crashed landed on top of one of the abandoned yellow taxi’s, crushing it beneath its weight. The sound of the car alarm echoed off the surrounding skyscrapers as the onlookers who hadn’t immediately ran, screamed with terror as they trampled down the street in a crowded herd, while you were glued to the spot alongside your auntie, Loki and the Doctor. 

 “What is that thing?” Donna’s face twisted with horror as she looked upon the motionless creature on the dinted roof of the taxi.

 “Chitauri.” Loki answered as he began backing away. “We must leave. It’s not safe. More will come.” 

 The Doctor looked conflicted, as though he didn’t want to abandon the city without trying to help but with another glance up to the worm hole, he seemed to realise that the situation was out of his depth.

 “Loki is right, return to the TARDIS!” The Doctor raised his arms to his sides and encouraged you all to start running, not that you needed to be told twice. 

 Loki grabbed your hand and lead the way, it wasn’t far, the blue box was in sight just at the very end of the now empty street which you were running down.

 The sound of emergency sirens, car alarms, distant screams and explosions surrounded you and heightened your distress, but you tried to block it all out and remain focused on the TARDIS, which grew closer with every step, and the feeling of Loki’s hand secure in yours.

 Every few seconds you glanced behind you, just to ensure that your auntie and the Doctor were safe and keeping up. 

 You were barely a few meters away from the TARDIS when one of the Chitauri landed in front of it, blocking your path, the concrete beneath its feet cracked from the impact of its land and you and Loki slid to a halt as it pointed its weapon at the pair of you. 

 Without hesitation Loki shot a burst of magic at the creature out of the palm of his hand and sent it flying straight into the doors of the TARDIS, where it slumped lifelessly to the floor. 

 You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding as you let your tense muscles slightly relax, unfortunately you couldn’t enjoy the feeling of relief for long as Loki’s magic had attracted more of the Chitauri. 

 You couldn’t get into the TARDIS without moving the body in front of the doors and with the Chitauri beginning to surround you, pausing to drag the body out of the way would only make yourselves easy targets. 

 “Run!” You heard the Doctor shout above the noises of a city and you all retreated as the Chitauri shot lethal lasers towards you. Loki pulsated a wave of his harlequin magic towards the vicious aliens, knocking several of them into the walls of the surrounding buildings with so much force, the brick crumbled against their back as they flopped to the floor. 

 In the next street you ran into, several police cars gathered in the middle of the road, the officers crouched behind the open doors of their cars and pointed their handguns to the sky and shot aimlessly at the army overhead, needless to say, they weren’t providing much help.

 The Doctor paused in the middle of the road, civilians were running in all directions. Some ran into buildings in search of safety, others ran out of buildings in fear of getting trapped. The Doctors eyes were wide beneath his wild eyebrows as he looked up and down the street. 

 “We need to find a subway! Get underground!” The Doctor shouted.

 Your eyes caught sight of three pods which were flying in a V like formation as they began swooping down towards the street. You started backing away, until you realised that the one front and centre wasn’t being rode by a Chitauri. The person dressed in golden armour with an emerald green cape which screamed for your attention as it fanned out behind him and wearing a helmet designed with large horns, was Loki. 

 Your Loki’s eyes filled with terror as soon as he realised his past self was heading straight for you and he immediately began running towards you. While for you, it was as if time moved in slow motion, as you swear that the God flying above you looked you dead in the eye, sinister chills shot down your spine as his stare lacked any of the softness, care and adoration which it usually overflowed with whenever your Loki looked upon you. Before your eyes could even catch sight of it, a laser beam from his pod was shot directly at where you stood. 

 Your Loki reached you just in time to push you out of the way of the explosion it caused upon impact with the ground and the force of the blast launched both your bodies across the street. 

 You were the first to crash against the concrete and Loki landed after you. He had managed to prepare for the fall with his arms braced in front of him so when he landed above you, his hands were on either side of your shoulders, holding up his upper body so he didn’t crash down straight on top of you.

 He heard your auntie cry your name, as she rushed to your side and Loki hesitantly repeated it as he gently nudged your shoulder, you were curled up on your side, next to the curb and your face was hidden from view by your hair. 

 Loki’s stomach filled with nerves so strong they caused nausea, at the thought of how you might look at him once you turned over onto your back. He would never forgive himself if your eyes widened with fright as they looked upon him, since you had just witnessed his past self shoot a lethal blast directly at you, he feared it might permanently damage your perception of him.

 Guilt was already drowning his heart in his chest and it floated in the rising levels up to his throat which choked around it as he struggled to pull air into his lungs. 

 He was already remorseful of his actions on this day but now he had just witnessed himself attempt to hurt– or rather, kill you. The thought of you coming in harms way had bile rising from Loki’s stomach, the thought of himself being the one responsible for you getting hurt caused an unbearable amount of guilt to stab through his heart so hard it caused physical pain.

 “Why isn’t she moving?” Donna’s voice pulled him back to reality.

 He had saved you, he pushed you out of harms way. You were just scared and you needed to be reassured that you were out of danger. Loki gently nudged you again, softly calling your name.

 “I’m so sorry. You’re safe now, my love. I won’t hurt you, I promise. Please forgive me.” Loki whispered to you. 

 “Loki, she’s not moving.” Donna repeated, the panic was evident in her voice as she called the Doctor over.

 “Darling, please open your eyes for me.” Loki had been so concerned by the thought of how you might look at him once you laid your eyes on him, but now he realised he didn’t care at all how you looked at him he just wanted to see you open your eyes. He didn’t understand why you weren’t. He had saved you from the explosion, he had protected you from harm.

 “Loki,” He felt the Doctors hand rest on his shoulder and he shrugged it off, “let me look over her, I want to help.”

 Hesitantly Loki shifted so he was no longer leaning over you and instead kneeling by your side.

 “Oh my god.” Loki heard Donna gasp, as a sob crawled from her throat. He looked up at her, where she stood by your feet and then back down to where her eyes were fixated.

 There was blood smeared on the edge of the curb just above your head, Loki hadn’t noticed it before, since his eyes were only focused on you and Donna hadn’t seen it either because Loki had been blocking her view. 

 The Doctor cautiously rolled you onto your back and that’s when Loki saw the right side of your face. You had graze marks across your chin and cheekbones but what pierced ice cold panic straight through his bloodstream was the large injury on your temple. 

 The Doctor began sliding his arms under your back and your legs. 

 “What are you doing?” Loki worried and the Doctor paused his movements and nodded to a deserted alleyway that was just across from them.

 “I’m going to move her off the street, it will be safer there.” He explained and Loki nodded in agreement and let the Doctor scoop you up. Loki wanted to be the one to carry you, but he wasn’t sure you would appreciate that since the only reason you were in this state in the first place was because of him.

 “Will she be okay? How bad is it? Can you fix it?” Donna fretted, her eyes were brimming with tears as she tenderly placed her palm on the crown of your head as she walked beside the Doctor. He remained silent, not answering any of her questions, he wasn’t going to promise her anything until he could properly examine you. 

 The Doctor carefully placed you back on the ground, once you were in the safety of the secluded alley. He reached into his coat pocket as he knelt beside you and pulled out his sonic screwdriver, he scanned it over you to get a diagnostic of the damage caused to your body. 

 As he did this Donna knelt on your other side, holding your hand and whispering to you that everything would be okay, although it was mainly to comfort herself. Loki kept his distance and watched on with tear filled eyes, constantly playing back in his mind how he could’ve saved you differently so that you wouldn’t have suffered a head injury as the blast launched you to the floor. 

 “She’s alive.” The Doctor confirmed and Donna sobbed with relief as she whispered to you that she knew you would be okay and praised how strong you were but the Doctor’s face remained solemn and it didn’t take long for Donna to pick up on it.

 “What’s wrong? You said she’s alive, that means she’s okay, right? She’s going to wake up.” Donna looked at the Doctor with so much hope, just wanting to hear him reassure her that you were going to come around but he remained silent. “Doctor, tell me she’s going to be okay.” She demanded.

 “She has a subdural haematoma.” The Doctor explained grimly.

 “What...” Donna’s voice trembled with the force of her cries.

 “There is a bleed on her brain, it would require emergency surgery to fix it.” 

 “Then what are we doing in an alley?” Donna gulped back her sobs. “We have to get her to a hospital!” 

 Loki sniffed back his tears and harshly wiped his eyes with the back of his wrists, realising that wallowing in his own guilt wasn’t going to fix anything. 

 He approached your unconscious body and knelt above your head, as he reached both his hands out to place them over your scalp, Donna reached out her own hand to stop him.

 “What are you doing?” She worried. 

 “I can heal her.” Loki promised and Donna’s eyes swam with hope as she retracted her hand with a nod and let him continue.

 She went back to whispering words of reassurance to you and herself as she cradled your hand to her chest, while Loki cradled your head. 

 Slowly a green essence surrounded his fingers and began to sink into your skull, Loki closed his eyes to concentrate on where he was focusing his energy. It was a very tricky and delicate task, he was used to his magic being more chaotic rather than gentle and precise, so it required a lot of focus. He blocked out the sounds of the battle taking place beyond the alley, he blocked out the sirens and alarms and he blocked out Donna’s whispers until he was surrounded by silence and it was just you, him and his magic.

 Once he was certain he had removed the bleed from your brain, repaired the rupture and fixed any damages he could find, he placed a sleeping spell over you in order for you to recover. He was carefully withdrawing his magic from your skull when a force hit him hard in the centre of his chest, at first he just jerked but he managed to maintain control over his magic and was able to carefully retract it from your mind.

 Once the green essence had absorbed back into his own fingertips, he opened his eyes and tuned back into reality. Donna was panicking as her eyes bounced between his wounded chest and the opening to the alley, while the Doctor was trying to help her remain calm.

 Loki looked down at his chest and saw an arrow imbedded in it, nothing that could cause him any severe damage, but he vigilantly watched the rooftops which were visible to him from his position, searching for a particular archer. He was about to pull the sharp weapon from his chest when his limbs began to feel limp and heavier than usual. 

 Suddenly he was no longer able to sit up and his back collided with the rough ground and he quickly realised that the arrow must have been coated in a toxin which entered his bloodstream and rendered him immobile, as much as he tried to fight it, it were as if his bones were made of mjölnir.

 “Loki, did you truly believe that changing your attire and hiding in a dark alley would make you unnoticeable?” A deep voice caught the attention of Loki, Donna and the Doctor.

 “Thor, you are astoundingly boneheaded.” Loki groaned from the ground.

 “Now, now, brother. No need to insult my intellect just because you’re wounded by the fact I outwitted you.” Thor spoke in a condescending manner.

 “I hate to be the bearer of bad news but you have not outwitted me, not even close.” Loki boredly replied.

 “My Lady, I assure you’re safe now. What did Loki do to your friend?” Thor ignored his brother and addressed Donna who had been staring at him with a slack jaw ever since he had made his presence known. 

 “He uh... He healed her.” Donna answered in a dumbfounded state.

 “Healed?” Thor slowly repeated with a tilt of his head. 

 Before he could ask any further questions, his attention was stolen by a doorway shaped portal which materialised near the back of they alley. A man wearing a brown suit stepped through it, followed by two armed officers dressed in black combat uniforms.

 The Doctor glanced over his shoulder once he heard the sound of footsteps echoing off the narrow walls and immediately recognised the man. 

 “Oh, Loki,” Mobius sighed as he stood over him. “What did I tell you about using your magic? I suppose I should be grateful as it has made my job a lot easier, the boss has been on my case all week about finding you. I was this close,” he held up his pointer finger and thumb a hairline away from each other, “to getting fired. So honestly, I’ve never been more glad to see your face. That injury isn’t fatal is it?” He pointed to the arrow in Loki’s chest. 

 “I am beginning to wish it was.” Loki groaned as he stared up at the fair haired man who stood over him before the two officers grabbed each of his arms and dragged him to his feet.

 Once he was stood to his full height, Mobius walked up in front of him and secured a collar with a small red light on it, around his neck. Loki growled and used what little strength he had to try and shake it off, but it proved useless.

 “Hey!” The Doctor and Thor shouted towards Mobius at the same time.

 “What authority do you have to arrest my brother.” Thor demanded.

 “Let him go!” The Doctor ordered.

 As soon as Mobius saw the Doctor again, his face paled and he commanded the officers to swiftly move Loki through the portal, as they did the God growled and yelled threats the entire way, trying to conjure his usual strength back into his bones and muscles.

 “I don’t want any trouble, I’m just doing my job.” Mobius held up his hands as he looked between the Time Lord and the mighty, armour clad warrior wielding a large hammer.

 “I can’t let you do that.” Thor said as he began swinging the hammer in his fist like a helicopter propeller, which caused his crimson cape to wave majestically behind him.

 Mobius’ eyes widened with fright as he muttered something about how he doesn’t get paid enough for this, before he leapt through the portal and it vanished behind him just before Thor’s hammer could reach it and instead it went crashing through a brick wall and into the building behind the alley. 

 “Loki has been taken.” Thor suddenly spoke and for a moment Donna and the Doctor stared at each other as they wondered who he was talking to, until they saw his face twist with confusion and realised he was listening to someone through a discreet communication device. “Stark tower... but he was just here... damn it, Loki.” He cursed as he held out his hand with an open palm, Donna and the Doctor flinched as his hammer came flying back to him, smashing another hole into the brick building it previously went crashing through.

 “Oi watch it! You nearly knocked my block off!” Donna complained. 

 “Apologies, my Lady.” Thor distractedly expressed his remorse as he once again began propelling his hammer, Donna ducked down, leaning her upper body over your sleeping form in an effort to protect both you and herself, while the Doctor stepped backwards with his arm raised in front of his face.

 All of a sudden, Thor shot off the ground and into the air like a rocket and Donna and the Doctor craned their necks to follow him with their eyes until they could no longer see him. 

 “I just wanted a nice, normal trip for once.” Donna sighed before she looked down at you, “She’s going to be devastated when she wakes up and realises Loki has gone.”

 “We’ll get him back.” The Doctor said determinedly.

[blackacre13]

Anything with loubbie plus the rest of the ocean’s 8 team.

even better if its slightly au w/ oceans 8 team PLUS dannys team!🤩

love your fics so much💖💖

Thank you for the love and the suggestion! This takes that idea and more teases at a longer story (which I maybe could be convinced to expand) (just because 20 characters is a lot to write for with a prompt like this) but I hope you enjoy!!

“You have got to be shitting me,” Danny sighed. “Debs came up with this?”

“You think I would come up with this shit?” Lou snorted, sitting back in Danny’s favorite chair.

He decided not to comment on her apparent chair theft even though it bugged him for no good reason.

“Well, where is she?” Danny scoffed.

“Empire State building,” Lou rolled her eyes. “She has a flair for the dramatics if you haven’t noticed. I don’t know. I think it’s something to do with her past and this flamboyant brother of hers who does these big speeches and watches fountain shows in Vegas or—”

“Lou,” he sighed. “I get it. So, how does this work?”

“Well, Danny boy. It’s a heist. Think back to your nonsense with Nyquil Fig—”

“Night Fox,”

“Whatever,” Lou huffed. “One object. We both go after it. And there’s a clock on it. You can pick the item. Whatever you want. And you can have all your boys, eleven, thirteen, what have you. Debbie just wants the two of you to be coming from the same physical starting point. Whoever steals it, keeps it. And whoever steals it, wins.”

“And who’s pulling for Deb?”

“The Met crew.”

“So, seven.”

“Eight with myself,” Lou pointed out. “You don’t think being married gets me out of these little schemes, do you?”

“You’re starting to sound like Tess,”

This time Lou had to bite her tongue from pointing out that unlike Tess, she’d stuck around for her Ocean, but now wasn’t the time. And honestly, she would bet a good chunk of money that the fault was mostly, if not all, on Danny.

“I don’t even know what we’d steal.”

Lou sat forward and gave him a pointed look before standing, her heeled boots clicking against the floor. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something. Nothing, say, like an egg.”

“One egg, Miller,” he sighed. “I’ve stolen one egg. A very important one.”

“It’s still an egg, Ocean,” Lou muttered. “You’ve got some weird ass taste.”

“You’re one to talk,” Danny grinned. “I mean, you married Deborah Ocean.”

“Jealous?” Lou winked. She made her way to the door. “Got an hour to midnight. Deb’s waiting for ya.”

**********************************************************************************

“Alright, that’s Lou’s bike,” Tammy announced, clapping her hands together. “That means Danny’s in the loop now. We still don’t know what he wants us to go after, but I do know that he and Deb both pick their people for a reason.”

“You think we oughtta cover people who do the same kinda job as us?” Nine asked, blowing out a curl of smoke.

“Precisely,” Tammy smiled. “As best as we can, anyway. There’s less of us.”

“Because we’re better,” Daphne smirked, throwing her jacket over the couch as she entered the room. “Lou’s right behind me.”

“Ladies,” Lou saluted, clicking into the room, placing her helmet on the poker table. “What’s the plan? Pairing off?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what any of this means,” Rose sighed.

Amita sat next to her and tried to comfort her, explaining that even if she didn’t like it, there wasn’t as big a risk and it was more for fun anyway.

“Alright,” Lou clapped her hands together as she walked to the front of the room to Debbie’s usual spot, leaning against the stage. “You can guess how this is gonna go down. Deb is already in place. Obviously, if anyone is going to face off with her, it’s Danny. He should be on his way. I’m sure they’ll let it get personal and they’ll stay very behind the scenes just coaching their opposing sides and hopefully not strangling each other.”

“Oh dear,” Rose sighed, burying her head in her lap.

“Now, we told Danny he could choose what to steal but Debbie has been plotting this for a while now and she’s already planted the idea in his head. It’s going to be an art collection.”

“A painting?” Amita asked, confused.

“The whole collection,” Lou smirked. “We’ll need to strip a room at MoMA.”

“Oh, I love this,” Daphne sighed dreamily, sitting on the couch, her hand resting under her chin as she listened. “I really appreciate that we’ve made museums our stomping ground, you know?”

“Barbie, chill,” Nine begged, waving her hand at her.

“Whatcha need me to do, pops?” Constance asked, putting her feet up on the coffee table.

Lou did her best to maintain composed and ignore the questions and reactions coming from all the different women, and Constance’s sneakered feet on her table.

Tammy called them to attention and the blonde shot her a grateful look.

“Anyway, like I said. Deb will cover Danny. That leaves the hungry, hungry hippo for me.”

“Hippo?” Rose asked, putting down her needle and thread.

“Rusty,” Tammy sighed, rolling her eyes. “He’s pretty much the Lou of Danny’s operation. Wardrobe and all.”

“But Lou is so much better at what she does,” Amita interrupted. “And way more stylish.”

“Can I continue a single sentence?” Lou exhaled. The women fell silent, looking at each other. “You can all compare and contrast and whatever the hell you want, let’s just hammer this out so we can break off or Deb is gonna be pissed we’re already running behind. This should be an easy win for us. And it may help us get some favors down the line for future jobs.”

“I’ll start a list,” Tammy offered, walking towards the white board. “Deb and Danny. Lou and Rusty. Got it.”

“We don’t have a Reuben,” Lou admitted. “We fund ourselves. Same with Saul. We know how to con, we don’t have a mentor or anything. It’s just us. And I have a feeling those two will be invited but will head to the casino or racetrack together anyway and leave the work to the kids. They’re not gonna think this involves them.”

“Rose could be good to distract them,” Daphne offered.

Rose looked unconvinced and nauseated at the thought, but said nothing.

“Nine, they’ve got this hacker, Livingston. The thing they’ve got that we don’t is Basher. We have got to keep our eyes peeled for Bash and his antics.”

“Basher Tarr,” Tammy elaborated. “He’s got all these gadgets. Although, is it me or does it just always seem like his solution is to blow something up?”

“Oh, that’s sick!” Constance yelled with a grin.

“Keep Constance far away from him,” Lou sighed. “Nine and Tammy should be able to cover him between the tech and the gadgets.”

“Already have my eyes on this Livingston dude’s computer, boss,” Nine smirked.

“Unfortunately, our Yen is their Yen, so we also have to have our ear to the ground on that situation, but we can use it to our advantage. If he’s getting something done for Danny, maybe we just use his handywork for ourselves.”

“What about those twins?” Tammy wrinkled her nose.

“Virgil and Turk? Whoever gets to them, honestly. I drive for us. We don’t need much muscle.”

“And Frank?”

“Amita and Daphne can cover us on the inside. If anyone would be involved in the artworld it’s Daphne Kluger and her personal jeweler or however you want to spin it. Toss Rose in there too. You need pieces for a photoshoot or Daphne’s home or whatever. Whatever you have to spin, just work it like you would any other job.”

“You’ve gotta gimme something, dad,” Constance groaned.

“Con, we’re literally stealing art. You think we don’t want your hands on the inside at the forefront?” Lou asked, crossing her arms. “They definitely have a pairing for you. Linus Caldwell. Not much older than you. Youngest on Danny’s crew by far. He’s their pickpocket. Your competition. And he’ll probably do the main lifting on the art. You think you can handle that?”

“Fuck, yeah!” Constance laughed. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about!”

“Dear, god,” Tammy sighed, smacking herself in the face with her palm.

***********************************************************************************

“MoMA is a go,” Debbie whispered into the ear piece.

“Knew he’d take the bait, honey,” Lou smiled. “Nice work.”

“You got him all riled up and ready to take on a con while too distracted to fully focus, so right back at you, baby.” Debbie grinned.

“I’ll meet you at the rendezvous point,” Lou promised. “Let me go see what the hell Rusty is up to.”

“You think this is gonna work?” Debbie sighed.

“Yes,” Lou spoke confidently.

“You think Constance is gonna blow something up?”

“You mean, abandon her post watching to see what Linus is gonna do so she can go find Basher and ask to try out one of his explosives?” Lou sighed. “Absofuckinglutely, also yes.”

[iturbide]

*makes grabby hands* gimme protective Claude parents please and thank you (I LOVE the idea of them treating Edelgard's messenger very kindly and then sending them back with a venomous snake for Edelgard)

okay look this was going to be short and then it just stopped being that so please accept this text wall ft. Outsider Perspective on Almyra

The city Chelle’s Almyran escorts guided her through was overwhelming, chaotic, bustling with people who seemed to be constantly shouting over one another.  It made her head ache, and all the more for the dizzying colors and scents of perfume and incense and spices hanging so thick in the noisy air that she could barely breathe.  Enbarr might not have smelled like a rose most of the time, but at least it didn’t leave her feeling like her chest was full of wool every time she inhaled.  But she dutifully followed the guards through the markets and the plazas, up and down a winding maze of streets, making their way (as best she could tell) toward the mesa towering over the city; she’d noticed the wyverns circling overhead when they first arrived, but as they drew closer she could see them appearing and disappearing from somewhere high up on the cliff face, though exactly where they were coming or going from was invisible even when she shaded her eyes against the sun.

It seemed odd that they were going toward the wyvern roost.  “I need to go to the palace,” she repeated insistently, clutching her case slightly tighter.  “I need to speak with Almyra’s leader.”

“Yes, yes,” one of the men sighed, “we heard you the first eight times.”

She frowned, but said no more, drumming her fingers on the graven wood instead.  With every step, the mesa drew closer, the streets wider, and soon enough she could hear the dragons calling overhead, their cries and growls echoing off the crags to her ear…

A final turn, and her trepidation evaporated into awe.  Through the cluttered sprawl of the city, she’d caught no sight of anything even remotely resembling a castle -- but here the rest of the buildings fell away before a grand plaza, deeply graven stones depicting heated battles leading to a grand arch carved directly into the stone of the cliff.  She glanced at the carvings while she walked, picking out images of great knights, wyvern riders, myrmidons, snipers, and far more that she couldn’t identify before they passed beneath the gate and entered the mesa itself.  Crossing the grand foyer, they wound their way up a wide flight of stairs, climbing until the sun vanished entirely, its light replaced by torches burning steadily within their sconces on the wall; by the time they reached the top of the steps, they had turned all the way around, and she spent a moment staring at the grand braziers burning on either side of the wooden doors, each carved with strikingly detailed wyverns in flight.

Her escorts did not so much as knock: instead they each pulled one of the doors open, casting pointed glances at her until she stepped through. 

The room itself had clearly been carved directly into the native stone, just like the stairs and the foyer and the arch now far below them; this room, though, had honeycomb lattices etched through the far wall to allow the sunlight in, casting a warm glow across the brightly colored trappings and tapestries and shining bright across the golden thread adorning the four people at the center of the room. 

None rose when their guest arrived, but only glanced up from where they lounged in a loose half-circle.  Judging by their hair and features, the two men were clearly Almyran, while the women looked dubiously Fódlani: despite their tan complexions, one had far lighter brown hair than any Almyran she’d seen (and green eyes on top of it), while the other could have been a Goneril bastard given her shockingly pink features.  

The older man shifted to beckon her closer, and she realized with a shock that he only had one arm.  “You would be the envoy from Fódlan, yes?” he asked.  “State your business here.”

“A-are you the chief of Almyra?” she asked, carefully shifting the case out of view and trying not to stare at where his empty sleeve had been rolled and pinned just below his shoulder. 

His eyebrows went up.  The brown-haired woman next to him scoffed, while the younger man didn’t bother trying to cover up his snort.  “Wow, the Empire sure did their research,” he muttered, not even bothering to speak under his breath so she might not hear.

“Yes, I am the king of Almyra, Kemal al-Kader,” the older man said at last, gesturing to the woman beside him.  “This is my partner, the queen of Almyra, Adara al-Kader.  I will not ask again: state your business here.”

“Y-yes, sir,” Chelle chirped, scrambling forward and tearing her attention guiltily away from where the man’s right arm should have been to unlatch her messenger’s case.  “My name Chelle Skeates, I’m a messenger from the Adrestian Empire, here on behalf of Empress Edelgard von Hresvelg to deliver a diplomatic treaty for your review and approval.  The Empire--”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think we’ve discussed any treaty with Adrestia before, have we?” the younger man asked, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles while he sprawled back in the sunlight.  “Doesn’t it seem a little strange that Edelgard’s sending a treaty for approval without any kind of discussion beforehand?”

“Empress Edelgard,” Chelle snapped.

“I am quite certain I would have remembered past dealings with Adrestians,” the king agreed.  

“I bet they’d have remembered dealing with you, too,” the younger man grinned. 

 Chelle huffed, “the Empress wished me to relay her deepest respect and admiration to you, the rulers of Almyra, and her hope that our two great nations might establish a peaceful and mutually prosperous rela--”

“Peaceful!” the younger man howled, pounding his fist against his knee.  “I don’t think she knows the meaning of the word!”

“And how,” the pink-haired woman chimed in.

“And just who are you supposed to be?” Chelle demanded, looking between the two. 

“This is Tariq,” the king cut in smoothly, gesturing to the young man.  “He is my advisor -- my right hand, if you will.”

The young man smirked.  “You did that on purpose.”

The king smiled but did not respond; instead, it was the queen who spoke up, gesturing to the young woman at her side.  “And this is Tahmina, my aide and guard.”

“Not that you really need a bodyguard,” the pink-haired woman giggled.  “Your reputation scares off more people than I could with an axe.”

“Yes, well,” Chelle sniffed.  “If I might continue: Empress Edelgard hopes that our two great nations might establish a peaceful and mutually prosperous relationship, and has done all in her power to craft a fair and equitable proposal for your review and approval.  Fódlan’s Throat has been too long held closed by those of blind faith, so--”

“Wow, that old excuse?” Tariq muttered.  “I’m almost surprised she didn’t try harder to butter you up, but...well, I guess I can’t fault her for getting comfortable with the rhetoric that got her where she is.”

“Your majesties, perhaps we could proceed with this in private?” Chelle pleaded.

The king raised a brow again.  “Did I not hear that you are a messenger?  Is it not your duty to carry messages back as well as forth?”

“W-well, yes, but--”

“It is not solely the response to your Empress’ treaty that you will be relaying back, then, is it?” he pointed out.  “It is your mission to deliver all messages, including our words in response to those she sent herself.  The points Tariq makes are sound ones, from what we know of how Fódlan came under your Empress’ rule.  You would do well remembering them when you return to her.”

“So...Tariq speaks for you, then, Your Majesty?” she ventured. 

“Not for me, no.”  The man waved the words away, sharing a brief glance with his advisor.  “But I value his speech, and consider his words when the time comes to choose my own.  That is the purpose of an advisor, is it not?  To advise.”

“It seems more like your advisor is trying to pick a fight with me,” Chelle protested. 

“Not you,” Tariq replied.  “Not really.  My problem is with the person who sent you.  Since I can’t argue with her directly, I just have to pick apart the words she put in your mouth and in your hands.”

“Speaking of.”  The king held out his hand and gestured to Chelle, who obediently opened her case and removed the heavy vellum emblazoned with the gilt crest of the Hresvelg family.  Fanning the pages out before him, the man braced his bearded chin against his fist, paying no mind to the three others who crowded in to see the flowing script.  “Have you read this?”

It took her a moment to understand the words, and it was only when his gaze flicked up to meet hers that she realized the question had been directed to her.  “Oh!  No, sir, Your Majesty, this is the first time I’ve seen it, I swear…”

The answer did not seem to please him.  Instead he made a thin noise, shifting to free his hand and wave her away while his attention returned to the parchment.  “We will need several days to review and prepare our response.  And you have had a long journey: take this time to rest before you set off again.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she mumbled, bowing deeply and backing toward the open doors.  He didn’t acknowledge the address, nor even her departure; her last glimpse of the king was of a one-armed man with traces of silver in his dark hair and neat beard, his head bowed over the papers she had brought and a scowl carved across his face. 

-----

Chelle was used to long missions and short breaks.  Weeks of travel from Enbarr to the far corners of the Adrestian Empire, perhaps a day or two of rest before heading either back or elsewhere.  It was the life she’d come to expect as a messenger. 

Six days.  She was certain this was the most time off she’d had in almost two years on the job, and all because the king had asked for time to prepare a suitable response to Adrestia’s treaty.  The Almyrans were surprisingly considerate hosts, providing not only room and board and meals, but an escort to show her around.  After a few days the chaos of the Almyran city began to feel almost pleasant, though she couldn’t hope to navigate it alone, its sights and scents growing more intriguing the more time she spent there.  Her guide one day had even bought her a trinket from the market: an antler carved in the likeness of a leaping deer, which she described as a totem favored by scouts and couriers for swift journeys and safe passage. 

She thought she might miss this, when she made her trip back to the Locket.  The noise, the bustle, the colors and patterns everywhere she looked...even the constant presence of wyverns no longer surprised her, and she wondered if it would be strange not hearing their occasional keening in the night or the sound of wingbeats overhead as they circled the mesa and its surrounding city.  But if nothing else, she’d have one final memory to take home with her: a grand send-off feast, complete with dancing around fires that blazed nearly as tall as she stood, men and women carousing regardless of how much they’d drunk.  She felt warm and contented watching it all, well-fed and nursing her second cup of spicy-sweet wine…

“Have you been enjoying yourself?”

She jumped, whirling so fast she nearly spilled her drink.  Tariq grinned sidelong at her, swirling his own cup while she sputtered and scrabbled for words.  “Y-y...you!!” 

“Me?” he asked innocently, touching his chest with one hand. 

“What are you doing here!?”

“Checking on you,” he chuckled.  “It’s your last night, and all--”

“After how you tried to make a fool of me in front of the king!?” 

“When did I do that?” he protested, seeming genuinely surprised. 

“I couldn’t get two words out without you making some...some snide comment about it!”

“Well, to be fair, they weren’t your words I was commenting on, they were Edelgard’s--”

“Empress Edelgard,” she corrected. 

“Edelgard’s,” he repeated stubbornly.  “It really wasn’t anything against you.”

“It was...it was so rude!” she huffed, stomping her foot adamantly on the stones. 

“Maybe in the Empire it is, but that’s just how things work here,” he shrugged.  “Gotta get your words in edgewise while you’ve got the chance.”

“So I should have just talked over you?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” he agreed.  

“That’s even more rude!”

“Again, maybe in the Empire, not here.”

Fuming, she threw back the last of her wine, shivering as it burned its way down her throat.  “What do you have against Empress Edelgard, anyway?”

“More than you can imagine,” he muttered. 

“Then tell me,” she insisted. 

He looked at her, and she noticed for the first time that despite his clearly Almyran features and complexion, his eyes were a curious shade of green.  “You’re on...what, your second cup?  Third?”

“Second,” she confirmed. 

“Let’s get you another.”

Chelle groaned, stomping off after the man weaving his way effortlessly through the dancers.  She lost him somewhere in the crush of bodies, and finally gave up, squirming her way out to a quieter corner to catch her breath and try to pick him out of the crowd…

Someone tapped her cup with the mouth of a wineskin.  “Sure,” she muttered, holding it out. 

“Good, because ‘no’ wasn’t really an option.”

She jumped, nearly dropping her newly-refilled drink as she whirled on Tariq.  “Where did you go!?” she demanded. 

“To get more wine, like I said?”  He shrugged, topping off her cup and his own before tying the bag and tucking it under his arm.  “So.  You want to know what I have against Edelgard?” 

“Empress Edelgard,” she corrected automatically. 

“You never read that treaty she sent.”

“I was directed to bring it to the rulers of Almyra.  Why would I read it, when I’m not the recipient?”

“Do you want to read it?”

She squinted at him, taking another sip of her drink.  “Is this a trick?”

“No?  Why would I try to trick you?”

“Because you’re rude,” she mumbled.

“I’m telling you, that’s just how it works here,” he chuckled.  “But do you want to read it?”

“...I’m just a courier.  I won’t really know what it says.”

“I can translate it for you,” he grinned.  “It’s what I’ve spent the past four days doing, after all.”

“I can’t speak Almyran, either!”

“Why would it be in Almy--wait, no, not that kind of translation!”  His laughter sounded completely different from the jeering she’d heard when she arrived: it seemed warm and even kind, and she sheepishly took another sip of wine as she watched him.  “The whole thing’s written in Fódlani, no need to worry about that.  I was just getting down to what it really meant, under all the fancy language they used to make it sound official.”

Well...that didn’t sound so bad, really.  “...I guess it could be interesting to see it,” she agreed. 

“Follow me, then.”  He grinned, striding off into the dark -- but this time he avoided the boisterous dance, skirting around the edges of the fire until he found the king and queen laughing and carousing among a group of hardened-looking warriors.  Tariq called something out in Almyran, which caught the older man’s attention; he glanced at Chelle in the next moment, smiling and nodding before returning his attention to the people around him.

From there they left the plaza, passing beneath the arch and into the Almyran palace, up the torchlit stairs...then off down another hallway, rather than into the room she’d first delivered the treaty to; up another narrow set of steps carved into the native stone, down the hall, and through another door that opened on a comfortable, well-lit room occupied by a table surrounded by empty chairs and strewn with open books and scrolls.  Dropping into one of the seats, he gestured to another, waiting for Chelle to sit before fanning the vellum pages out before her; she fidgeted for a moment, glancing at him while he propped his chin in his hand...and finally turning her eyes to the words on the page. 

It became very clear very quickly why he’d spent so long ‘translating,’ as he put it.  Not only was it a long document with dense writing, but the words themselves made her head spin; for a moment she wondered if the wine was to blame, but two cups couldn’t explain how much of her own language made no sense to her.  She was aware of the man sitting next to her, reading the same words she did without apparent struggle...and when she fidgeted and glanced in his direction, he tore his gaze from the page, raising a brow in silent invitation. 

“...please?” she mumbled.

“Of course,” he nodded.  “So, a lot of this stuff at the beginning is trade details -- the Empire’s offering some nice exchange terms on major exports with a slight bias in Almyra’s favor, not enough to raise suspicions but certainly tempting.”  He moved a few pages off to the side, running his fingertip down the parchment.  “Diplomatic terms.  These are balanced, mostly: stuff about equality in the alliance, mutual aid, so on and so on...and then there’s this.”

He moved another page aside and tapped a passage partway down; she leaned in, squinting as though that would help her parse the words better.  “Military alliance,” she read.  “In the event that one of our two nations should come under threat from without or within, the other shall furnish soldiers and armaments suitable for the defense of the endangered territory or to maintain peace therein, adhering to the law of whatever land they have been deployed to protect.”

“Do you know what that means?”  

“That...if something happens to you, we’ll come help, and the other way around?” she ventured. 

“On the surface, that’s what it implies,” he agreed.  “But this is where the danger is.  It looks like nothing to worry about, that we’ll each help each other if something goes wrong...but then there’s that phrase, ‘threat from without or within.’  That means that if there’s civil unrest -- like, say, forcibly conquered territories rebelling to reclaim their independence -- Edelgard could call on Almyra and use this agreement to force us to send soldiers to maintain her control over those territories.  There’s nothing in here about what provisions the Empire would provide to those forces they call in, either: Almyra’s still expected to feed and supply their own forces, even though they’re in Imperial territory enforcing Imperial law.”

“That can’t be right,” Chelle protested, flipping through the rest of the pages.

“I read this whole thing through at least eight times,” he muttered.  “The king and queen went at it at least three, themselves.  If it was in here, one of us would have caught it.”

“Then...then it must have been a mistake.  It was meant to be in there and...maybe a page got left out, it can be noted and addressed in your response…”

“It was intentional.”

“You can’t know that!” she protested. 

“You’re right: I can’t be completely sure.  But I think the implications are pretty clear from this.”  

He set aside a few more pages and tapped another passage, this one near the end of the page, and she leaned in close to read the words.  “Extradition clause: should it become known that entities who pose a threat to the peace or sovereignty of one of our two nations have sought refuge within the other, either the nation housing them will detain and transport them to face trial and punishment within the nation where their crimes were committed, or the offended nation will be granted freedom to enter allied territories for the purposes of tracking and securing the criminal for transport to trial.”  She looked at him again, trying to release some of the tension furrowing her brow.  “What’s so bad about that?  Isn’t it saying that if a criminal tries to get away across the border, they won’t be able to escape?”  She might not have understood all the words, but that seemed like the general message…

“On the surface, yes,” he agreed, “that’s what it implies.  But there’s nothing in here to say what would be considered ‘criminal acts.’  There’s just that thing about ‘posing a threat to the peace and sovereignty of the nation.’  So, for instance: if worshippers of Seiros fled across the border into Almyra seeking asylum, Edelgard could -- theoretically -- declare that their faith makes them enemies of Adrestia, and either force Almyra to round them up and send them back to face trial for the crime of having faith in a religion she hates, or she could use it as an excuse to send Imperial soldiers into Almyra, and they could -- again, theoretically -- round up any other refugees from conquered Fódlan territories on similar charges.”

“How could they do that without some cause for it?”

“They could claim cause simply from the fact that they fled the Empire,” he shrugged.  “If they had nothing to hide or had committed no crimes, why wouldn’t they have stayed?”

“Wouldn’t they need proof?  Or...or wouldn’t they need to say who they’re looking for, and why, when they come in to search?” she insisted. 

“Those conditions might help,” he agreed, “if they were in here.  Which they’re not. Again: after eight reads, I’m pretty sure I’d have spotted it.”

“That’s...it’s not…”

“Possible?” he offered.  “Fair?  Reasonable?”  She shook her head fiercely, setting her mostly full cup aside to avoid spilling it and squeezing her trembling hands together.  “...right?” he suggested.  She nodded, staring again at the words written in such a careful hand, willing them to change even though she knew they wouldn’t.  “Yeah.  It’s not.  It’s dangerous, and it’s all hidden in the middle of this block of text to try and get it past us: the end is just more pleasantries, again biased on Almyra’s favor, like someone was expecting us to check the beginning and the end and get lulled into a false sense of security by the good terms there: they hid all the damning stuff in the middle and banked on it getting glossed over or missed by inattentive diplomats.  My money’s on Hubert setting it up this way: it has his greasy fingerprints all over it.”

“Why?” she choked out. 

“I couldn’t say for sure,” Tariq sighed.  “But I can give you my guess, if you want.”  He waited, and only when she nodded did he draw another breath.  “The Empire conquered Fódlan.  Formerly independent territories, like the Kingdom of Faerghus and the Leicester Alliance, had their freedom stripped away, and more than likely had their autonomy taken with it: even the Alliance, where there was a pro-Imperial faction, fell under the jurisdiction of an Empire-born noble, didn’t it?”  She nodded slightly, biting her lip and tightening her fingers until she began to lose feeling in them.  “Generally, that kind of treatment isn’t likely to win her friends and allies, or endear her to the ones she had.  Unrest isn’t just a possibility in those conquered territories, it’s almost a guarantee -- and after spending five years at war, the Imperial Army’s probably not doing so great: her forces are stretched thin keeping the peace in her forcefully annexed new territories, and she needs help to maintain control over her ‘united’ Fódlan.  So she thought she’d try to get someone on her side to help her in that, give them something she could part with and get what she needed more than anything else: military aid.  The extradition portion is icing on the cake for when she gets things under better control and can divide her attention again.”

“...you’re not going to accept it, are you?” Chelle whispered. 

“Not a chance,” he agreed, patting her back.  “Even if we wanted to, there are too many problems with this treaty as it stands: we’d need to send over a full-fledged diplomatic party to iron out the details to everyone’s satisfaction.  Edelgard sent a messenger -- someone who wouldn’t understand the underlying message of the document she was charged with transporting, and who wouldn’t have the authority to make changes even if the problems were pointed out to her.”

“It’s not my fault!” she cried. 

His hand tightened comfortingly on her shoulder.  “I know.  And I’m not blaming you: you were just doing your job; everybody here understands that.  We blame Edelgard for this, because what she’s implying by doing this -- sending this treaty, worded and constructed this way, with a courier that has no political authority over the document -- is that she thinks this is reasonable and fair, and wants us to accept it as it is.”

Sniffling thickly, Chelle swiped at her blurry eyes.  “Why keep me here so long, then?”

“To give you a break.  You deserved a rest, and we needed to get our response ready.”

“I thought you were just going to say ‘no,” she mumbled. 

“The message they want to send back is a little more...pointed,” he replied.  “...sorry to spoil the party for you.”

“...it’s okay,” she sighed.  “I...didn’t know about this.  It’s a lot to take in.”  He nodded as he rose from his seat, offering a hand to help her up; picking up her cup almost as an afterthought, he made his way back out of the room, closing the doors behind them and starting back the way they’d come.  “...that...extradition clause.  And how it could ‘theoretically’ be used to arrest anyone.  Is...would Tahmina be at risk from it?”

Tariq glanced over at her, quirking one eyebrow.  “Yes,” he agreed.

“Because she’s related to the Gonerils?”

“Something like that,” he chuckled.  “Almyra’s not perfect.  There’s still a lot of anti-Fódlan sentiment around -- there’s a lot of history there, not much of it good -- but I’m doing my best to make it safer here for refugees and asylum seekers.  Edelgard’s ‘United Adrestian Empire’ isn’t helping anyone but her, just like her war: lots of big talk, but in the end it’s the common people who end up suffering for her decisions and her actions.  Even if it’s something small, in the grand scheme of things...I want to help the people who have been hit hardest by all this.  If that means turning down Edelgard’s treaty...well, that’s a small price to pay.”

After spending so much time in the softer lamplight, the bonfires in the plaza nearly blinded her, and she had to rely for a moment on Tariq’s guidance to make sure she didn’t either run into anyone or trip and fall onto a pyre.  Once her vision cleared, he offered her cup back, which she took without much interest.  “Don’t let it get you too down, alright?” he chuckled, giving her shoulder another pat.  “Enjoy the party while it lasts.  Give dancing a try -- I’ll show you the trick to it if you want.”

Chelle made a non-committal noise, lifting her drink in a silent parting gesture while he walked off.  She caught sight of Tahmina in the crowd, watched her wave and call out to Tariq, and saw him beam and hurry to join her in the circle of dancers, seeming entirely carefree in spite of their grave conversation.  How he could bounce back so fast was a mystery to her, like so many other things here in Almyra; she didn’t imagine she’d be in any shape to join the festivities for a while yet. 

But, like Tariq had said: it was her last night here.  Soon enough she would be going back to the Empire -- back home.  And then she could see for herself whether Tariq was right or not about the Empress’ motives. 

Downing the rest of her wine, she put her cup aside and waded into the chaos.  One dance wouldn’t hurt. 

---

Chelle decided it was for the best that she’d stopped at three cups of wine.  That had already given her a hangover the likes of which she’d never experienced before, and in the end Tariq (seeming mostly amused by the whole thing) fetched her something to take the edge off her migraine, which at least got her out of bed in time for a light breakfast before she had to leave.  Her head was still a little sore and fuzzy by the time she made her way up to the room where the Almyran rulers had met her when she first arrived; they were both standing this time, though, and as Tariq took his place at the king’s side Chelle bowed deeply before them.

“Thank you for having me, Your Majesties,” she said.  “It’s been an honor to meet with you, and I’m grateful for your hospitality and your kindness.”

“We are pleased to hear it, and hope that you enjoyed your time here,” the older man nodded.  “We have prepared our response to your Empress, and would have you deliver it upon your return.”

She bowed again, unlatching her case and preparing to take the document...though, when she looked again, she realized that his hand was empty.  The queen held a box, but its lid was open and Chelle could see that there was nothing in that, either, except for some dried grass lining the bottom…

The king looked past her, gesturing to someone in the doorway.  Curious, she turned to see -- and jumped aside as a woman approached, one hand gripping the head of a snake while her other arm supported the rest of its body.  “A horned viper,” the man remarked casually, watching the handler maneuver the serpent into the box his wife held (and Chelle caught a glimpse of rough-textured scales, horn-like growths above its slit eyes, and wicked fangs poised to strike in the instant before the lid snapped closed).  “They hide in sandy places among the rocks and scrub, and their color and pattern make them quite elusive; it took five days to locate and snare this one.  They are also exceptionally deadly: their bite is often fatal, and those that do survive frequently lose the bitten limb.”

She wondered if the king spoke from experience as her gaze flicked unbidden to the empty sleeve pinned at his shoulder.

The queen moved toward her, and it took every ounce of Chelle’s willpower to stand still and let her approach with the snake in its box.  “Don’t worry, you’re not in danger,” the woman chuckled.  “We made sure to give it a good meal, so it shouldn’t cause trouble for you, and the latch has a safety so it won’t open unless someone is trying to get into it.”  She demonstrated without opening the lid (which Chelle was profoundly grateful for), unfolding the double-hinged latch before securing it in place and locking it with a satisfying snap.  It didn’t make her feel terribly much better about handling it, though, especially now that she was close enough to see the fine latticework openings in the lid -- a lovely touch of artistry, to be sure, but clearly functional given the contents; thankfully, the queen didn’t seem to mind when Chelle opened her case and invited her to fit the box inside, securing the clasp herself and gingerly settling it against her side. 

“When you arrived, you came with a message from your Empress to go with her treaty,” the king mused, stroking his neatly trimmed beard.  “We would ask you to deliver words on our behalf, as well.”

“O-of course,” Chelle nodded.  “I’ll be sure to relay them -- what is your message, sir?”

A thin smile cut across his face, and a chill crawled down her spine.  “This box is much like the treaty your messenger carried to us: carefully crafted of fine materials -- and concealing within something fatal to those who would rush to accept on appearances alone.  Yet the viper bites only to hunt or defend itself from harm; your terms stand as proof of how deep your cruelty runs in service to yourself.  We received your messenger, and treated her with the honor and hospitality befitting her service, for we in Almyra bear no ill will toward those who bring such words to us: our grudge is with the one who ordered her to speak them.”

Despite how cool the room was, Chelle could feel sweat pouring down her face as she repeated the words back, aware of every stumble and pause but seeming unable to make her tongue behave...though the king still nodded in apparent satisfaction when she finished.  “Thank you,” he said, resting his fist over his heart as he bowed.  “Should your Empress decide to use a messenger again, rather than speak herself, know you are welcome here.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, sir,” she replied, tripping over the words as she ducked her head.  “A-and thank you again for your hospitality.”  

Turning smartly on her heel, she hurried out the door and down the stairs, keeping a tight grip on her case and trying to convince herself that the snake in it was secure, that she wouldn’t get bitten, that she wasn’t going to die on her way back home--

“You okay?”

Chelle almost tripped on the last few stairs; the hand on her elbow thankfully kept her from falling -- but as soon as she found her balance again she yanked her arm away, glaring over her shoulder at Tariq as he held his hands up in a placating gesture.  “I’m carrying a fucking viper how am I supposed to be ‘okay’!?”

“...that’s a fair point,” he admitted.  “I probably should have warned you about that, huh.”

“You THINK?” she hissed.  Hurrying down the last of the stairs, she stormed toward the arch, her thoughts still reeling over everything that had happened in the past few minutes.  “A snake!  He’s sending a snake back!  Who does that!?”

“Almyrans,” Tariq replied almost cheerfully. 

“With no antidote!”

“Nope.”

“How is this not seen as murder?  Am -- am I party to an assassination attempt?”

“I guess if you don’t warn Edelgard of what it is, then...maybe?”

“Of course I’m going to warn her, what do you take me for!?” Chelle snapped.  “A fucking snake, he’s replying with a...a-and he said it took days to track it down?  Is that why I was waiting here so long?”

“That...may have been the other part of it, yes,” Tariq admitted.

“That means...they had to have sent people out looking the day I arrived!”

“Technically they sent people out looking as soon as they heard an Imperial messenger was coming.  The speech was a nice touch, though, he really outdid himself there--”

“They never intended to consider the treaty?”

“Afraid not.  They’ve got some sizeable grievances against the Empress, so I don’t want to say it was a wasted trip, but...yeah, there was never any chance--”

She whirled around, clutching her case tight as though desperate to keep it sealed shut.  “How are you so calm about this!?”

“Take a breath, Chelle.”  He mimed a few, himself, and she grudgingly followed suit.  “This kind of thing might seem crazy--”

“Because it is,” she insisted.

“...but it’s not uncommon in Almyra.  Especially to get a message across: sending a snake has a lot of implications.”

“This place is insane.”  He’d mentioned anti-Fódlan sentiment, but she never would have expected this. 

“Almyrans feel the same way about all the rules you’ve got in Fódlan,” he chuckled.  “Call it a cultural difference.”

Stepping out into the sunshine beyond the arch, Chelle threw a hand up to shade her eyes as the dull ache in her head spiked; by the time her vision came back into focus, Tariq had walked past her, and stood waiting in the center of the plaza...beside a white wyvern, its ornamented tack shimmering in the light while the dragon tilted its head into the man’s attention.  He grinned at her, gesturing her closer while continuing to scratch the wyvern’s chin with his free hand.  “Need a ride back to the Locket?  Or, well, the outskirts, at least -- I’d rather not have them raining arrows down on us, if I can help it.”

“Is this your wyvern?” she asked, edging closer. 

“She is,” he agreed, rubbing the dragon’s horns while it pressed its head against his chest. 

“I’ve...never seen a white one before.”  She’d only ever heard of one, in fact, and then only as rumors from those who’d been at Derdriu when the Empress marched to the heart of the Alliance…

“They’re rare,” Tariq confirmed, “and here in Almyra they’re considered good luck.  They always end up going to important people because of it: beloved kings, exceptional generals…”

“Then how did an advisor end up with one?” she scoffed. 

“Having the king and queen for parents has perks.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it…”

She’d intended to brush off whatever excuse he made, but as the words sank in she trailed off, staring slack-jawed at him while he continued to lavish affection on the white wyvern.  “You -- you’re a prince?” 

“Technically,” he shrugged. 

“The king introduced you as his advisor!” 

“Well, right now I am: with things as they are now, I can’t achieve what I want, so I didn’t see a point in challenging him for the throne.  My counsel is the most useful thing for Almyra, given the state of things in Fódlan, so...it just seemed like the sensible thing to do.”  Slinging his arm over the dragon’s neck, he turned a cheery smile on Chelle, leaning his weight against the wyvern’s side.  “So: about that ride.”

“...sure,” she agreed.  “Why not?”  It would certainly save her time, after all -- and the less time she had to worry about carrying a snake, the better. 

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter XIX

A/n: So, the laws of physics are broken twice in this chapter to add some dramatic flare to it. Just wanted to say in case I get some comments that say, "That's not how physics works." Besides that, I hope you all enjoy this next chapter! Love you all!!! ••••••••••••••••••••

It was the day of the rite. Gladio, Ignis, Prompto, and (Y/n) were rushing around the city as Lady Lunafreya gave her speech. They went door to door, telling everyone to evacuate the city. Some families were more stubborn than others, but they hadn't had an issue just yet. Eventually, the group went their separate ways to cover more ground. Gladio went west, Ignis traveler north, Prompto wandered south, and (Y/n) took it upon herself to evacuate the people on the eastern side of the city.

The spirit came to a halt in front of the many houses within the eastern part of Altissia. The low humming of engines caught her attention. Looking up, she saw imperial drop ships and dreadnoughts flying overhead. They were heading in the direction of the altar. She knew Lady Lunafreya's speech ended and it was about time for the Oracle to call upon Leviathan. She could hear the boys through her earpiece, but she ignored them and continued evacuating the city.

Knocking on one door, (Y/n) waited for someone to answer. A few seconds later, a woman opened the door. The guardian told her to gather her family and head to the docks. She watched the woman run rampantly around her house to tell her family. The girl didn't leave until she saw the entire family evacuate the house and run towards the docks.

Moving on to the house next door, she saw the family was already prepared to leave. Apparently, word was spreading around the city and people were evacuating left and right without needing to be told. It made her job easier and she was able to ensure everyone was heading towards the docks.

While assisting one family with an elderly woman who could barely walk, (Y/n) was forced to use a fire spell when imperial troopers ran towards the civilians with their guns raised. She yelled at them to keep running before attacking the adversaries. Using the Creator's Blade, she sliced through the imperial forces. None of the soldiers were able to harm any of the civilians due to her killing them swiftly.

Making a mad dash to the docks, the guardian ensured everyone safely made it onto the boats. She assisted a single mother with a baby in her arms aboard one of the boats and helped a father find the son he became separated from because of the large crowd.

People continued to jump aboard the many ships at the docks until each and every one was at max capacity. As the boats left the docks, (Y/n)'s attention was drawn in the direction of the altar when a high-pitched screech echoed throughout Altissia. From where she stood, she could see the mighty Leviathan. A faint tinge of pain courses through her body, knowing it was Brahma reacting to the Tidemother's appearance.

Her attention was torn away from the Tidemother as more imperial troopers and MTs closed in on the docks. The ships had yet to reach open waters and were still in danger. She waved her hand, forming a wall of fire between the docks and the enemies. "You bastards got another thing coming if you think I'm going to let you through."

The imperial troopers raised their guns, aiming them at her. She prepared herself to attack the moment they pulled the triggers. However, at the sound of gunshots, she lowered her blade as she watched the enemies fall one by one. As the final MT fell without her lifting a finger, it revealed the person who came to her aid.

Prompto rushed over to the spirit when the imperial forces were dead. Dispelling his pistol, he caught his breath. As he did, she saw his panicked and worried expression. Her curiosity and concern skyrocketed, placing a hand on his back to help calm him. "I've never seen you so out of breath before. What's wrong, Prom?"

"I...we...Gladio..." He panted, but was unable to form a proper sentence. Pressing a hand against his chest, he took a few deep breaths to fill his lungs. Once his breathing was back to normal, he grabbed her upper arms. "We've gotta get out of here. That thing that guy told us about yesterday... It's real."

Her golden eyes widened. "You saw it?"

"I-I don't even know where to begin on how to describe it..." Prompto's grip on her arms tightened. "Gladio and I saw it when some imperial soldiers captured a guardian and..and..."

(Y/n) already knew what he was going to say. "So I was right. They're using the rite as a distraction to feed guardians to that thing."

"W-We tried to help, but we were too late."

Suddenly, they heard an ominous hiss echo around them. Prompto's eyes widen in horror while the spirit looks around in confusion. Without hesitating, the boy dragged (Y/n) away from the docks and towards an abandoned building with shattered windows. No doubt the damage was caused by the empire when they started prowling the streets for civilians. By the layout of the building, they assumed it was a restaurant. Tables with white clothes and wooden chairs were strewn about. Broken glass was scattered across the floor along with silverware.

Hiding behind the counter of the bar, Prompto reclined his back against the stained wood with (Y/n) sitting between his legs. Her back was pressed against his chest, his arms wound around her waist. She was still utterly confused at the situation. "Prompto, what is—?" One of his hands shot up and covered her mouth.

"It's here," he whispered in her ear.

Hearing the ominous hiss they heard earlier, their bodies tensed up. Prompto hugged (Y/n) closer when realizing the sound was coming from outside the building. Then, they heard what sounded like a mix between a snarl and hiss. Along with the strange noise, they could hear the chairs and tables moving around. Even the shards of broken glass scraping against the floor was part of the cacophony. A few of the bottles that were on top of the bar were knocked off. Their bodies were hit with the shrapnels of glass and what little alcohol remained inside the now shattered bottles.

(Y/n)'s eyes darted to the side when she spotted movement. There was a tentacle-like appendage snaking around the side of the bar. She also took note of the other two black tendrils trying to reach over the bar. She held her breath as the one tentacle sneaking around from the side was closing in on their location. She retracted her foot carefully and quietly when the appendage was nearing it.

Prompto saw how close the tendril was coming and tried to slide further away without making any noise. However, his attention was drawn to the tentacle that was protruding over the bar and making its way down near his arm. He wondered what they could do to escape before either of them were grabbed.

The moment one tentacle slid across her foot and up her leg, (Y/n) grabbed one of the many bottles of liquor stored under the bar and tossed it onto the tentacle. Once the bottle shattered and spilled alcohol all over the appendage, she ignited it with a simple fire spell. As the creature attached to the other end of the tentacles wailed out in pain and tried to put the fire out, she yanked Prompto's hand off her mouth and dragged him to his feet. She pulled him out of the tattered restaurant through the back entrance and they ran in the opposite direction.

Once they were safely away from the creature, the couple caught their breath. (Y/n) glances at the street they ran down to see the daemon wasn't following them. "Okay, so that thing has tentacles. Nice to know. I really don't wanna see what's on the other end of them, though..."

"I-I can't believe that thing's able to survive in the sunlight..." Prompto panted.

"If this "devourer" is absorbing the power of guardians, that's probably why the sunlight isn't killing it."

Prompto was silent for a few seconds before stating what they should do next. "We gotta find Gladio and Iggy." He contacted the two older boys using the earpiece. Once learning where to go, they ran through the streets once again.

Because of the raging Tidemother, parts of Altissia were crumbling. Many streets were impassible due to piles of debris and other parts of the city were inaccessible because the bridges that connected the districts were destroyed.

Eventually, Prompto and (Y/n) reconvened with Gladio. They stood in the middle of a plaza with a demolished fountain. The shield's nose scrunched up. "You two smell like a bar."

"We had a run in with the empire's new creation," (Y/n) explained. "We wound up hiding in a restaurant behind the bar."

"That thing's a monstrosity."

"I haven't seen its face yet, but I hope I never do."

"Let's forget about that thing for now and focus on finding Iggy."

The trio weaves through the streets of Altissia, destroying any imperial forces they stumble across. Before long, they rendezvous with Ignis on one of the few bridges left intact from the empire and Leviathan. While they were discussing what to do next since none of them could reach Noctis over the comms, a drop ship was knocked out of the sky and came hurtling towards them. Prompto immediately grabbed (Y/n) and ran to avoid being killed. Gladio followed the couple just in time as the drop ship crashed into the bridge. The three were unscathed, but they were unable to find Ignis. They desperately tried to contact the strategist, but weren't able to reach him.

After a few minutes of trying over and over again, Ignis finally responded. They were relieved he was safe. After discussing what to do next, they knew they needed to head to the altar. Unfortunately, their one way across to the next district was destroyed.

"Guess we're gonna need to find a different way across," Prompto said.

"Hey, short stuff." Gladio turned to the guardian. "Think you could jump across with us on your back?"

(Y/n) analyzed the size of the gap before answering. "I think I can." In seconds, she transformed. Prompto and Gladio climbed onto her back. Once they were on, she backed up a little ways to get a running start. With enough speed, she leapt over the destroyer portion of the bridge and landed safely on the other side. The boys slid off her back so she could return to her human form.

"Nice job," Gladio commented. "Now let's get our asses to the altar."

Their long journey through the crumbling streets of Altissia began. They lost count of how many times they had to find a new route because of the destroyed streets and buildings. Many imperial forces pulled their journey to a screeching halt, blocking their way forward. Like before, they disposed of the enemies before continuing to the altar.

While trying to find a way into another district, the trio stumbled upon a collapsed bridge. Unlike the other bridges they'd seen, this one had a slither of it remaining that was big enough for them to cross. Gladio, being the heaviest out of the three, volunteered to go first. If it could support his weight, (Y/n) and Prompto would have no issues crossing.

Once Gladio safely made it across, Prompto was the next to trek across the narrow slither of bridge followed by (Y/n). The marksman made it to the other side and turned around to ensure the guardian was close behind.

The moment she reached the halfway point, a black tendril shot out of the water from below. It wrapped around her leg and dragged her into the water. She couldn't even scream with how fast it had grabbed and yanked her into the water below. Prompto and Gladio watched in horror. Without thinking, the blonde jumps into the water. The shield shouted his name as he dove beneath the surface.

(Y/n) struggled against the tendril as it dragged her deeper into the water. She glanced down and saw the horror that was the devourer. The daemon has three skeletal heads with a prolonged spine-like body. What appeared to be a large rib cage spanned from its upper back to its lower back. It has two sets of skeletal arms and a pair of boney legs. Attached to its ribcage appeared to be a black sack. From the black sack extended an esophagus-like appendage that attached to each of the heads. The tentacles she was all too familiar with by now protruded from the black sack. What caught her attention the most was the myriads of gemstones embedded in its skeletal body. They were the gemstones of all the guardians it had consumed.

Struggling against the tentacle wrapped around her leg, (Y/n) desperately tried to free herself as she was dragged closer and closer towards the middle head. Its jaw was open wide and ready to devour her. She wasn't sure if she'd die from being eaten or drowning.

As that dark thought crossed her mind, an arm wrapped around her waist. She saw it was Prompto. In his other hand, he wielded his pistol. He aimed at the tentacle and pulled the trigger. The bullet whizzed through the water and pierced the tendril. Black blood oozed from the bullet wound, coloring the water around it. The devourer's three mouths opened as its tentacle retracted, releasing the guardian.

Prompto and (Y/n) quickly swam back to the surface before either of them could be grabbed. Breaking through the surface, they both coughed. After a small coughing fit, they swam over to where Gladio was waiting for them. The shield helped them out of the water.

(Y/n) collapsed against the ground on her back, coughing up some more water. Her chest rose and fell rapidly after expelling the last remnants of water in her lungs. She stared up at the sky as it darkened with storm clouds. Prompto was on his knees beside her. He peered down into her face, placing one of his hands on her cheek. "A-Are you okay, (Y/n)?"

She nodded with a smile. "Yeah, all thanks to you."

Gladio leant down slightly and smacked the marksman on the back. "Never knew you had the balls to pull off a stunt like that."

Prompto glanced over his shoulder at the brute. "There's no way I was gonna let that thing have her."

"The boy's become a man," Gladio chortled.

With Prompto's help, (Y/n) got back to her feet. Her eyes were focused on the water. She could see the devourer swimming to the surface. "We better get out of here." The moment she lifted her gaze, she spotted a figure on the other side of the destroyed bridge. It was Callyx, standing with his sword drawn and a smirk in his face. Her fingers twitched, ready to summon the Creator's Blade at any second. However, the male guardian didn't engage. He simply turned his back and walked away.

At that exact moment, the devourer's three heads broke through the surface of the water with an eerie wail. The trio quickly spun on their heels and made a mad dash away from the artificial daemon. They thought they were safe until they heard the devourer closing in on them. Even before they saw the daemon, its tentacles shot forward.

(Y/n) quickly spun around and conjured a large fireball. She tossed it at the appendages and forced them to retreat when each one was ignited with bright flames. She then summoned Brahma's sword and stood her ground. Prompto and Gladio noticed her fighting stance and ceased running.

"The hell're you doing?!" Gladio bellowed angrily.

"At this rate, we'll lead this thing all the way to the altar," she calmly replied.

"Can the three of us really stop that thing?" Prompto asked.

"You two are going to the altar. I'll deal with this monstrosity."

"And how're you planning to do that, short stuff?" Gladio inquired.

She smirked at him from over her shoulder. "Some divine intervention should do the trick."

Prompto wanted to protest and stay behind with her. He swallowed his words, clenching his fists tightly before unfurling them. "Just...be careful, (Y/n)."

She smiled at him. "I will."

The two boys ran off. (Y/n) focused her attention on the devourer as it began charging towards her. Inhaling deeply, she exhaled as she jammed the Creator's Blade into the ground and summoned Brahma. The moment her body was no longer hers, she dispelled all her worries and let the Astral deal with the daemon.

Brahma's form towered across the skyline of Altissia. Although he was smaller in size than Titan, his power was immeasurable. He saw the threat the devourer posed not only to guardians, but to the True King—Noctis. He loomed over the artificial creation and easily blocked any attack the daemon sent his way. The god thought it would be a simple extermination job, but he was soon joined by a large fleet of imperial air ships. Their hatches lowered, revealing the powerful weapons they used against the Archaean.

The god tried to focus on one target, but he was quickly becoming overwhelmed as more imperial drop ships flanked him. As he swatted a few of the airships out of the sky, the devourer used its large and heavy form to tackle the deity. It clawed at Brahma's chest, trying to reach (Y/n) who was residing within. The god smacked the artificial daemon off his body and returned to his full stature. Just as he did, the empire shot numerous of harpoons at him. He managed to pry one out of his body, but a powerful electrical shock courses through his body. He could feel the guardian within his chest cry out in pain.

Brahma conjured a meteor and sent it hurtling towards one of the airships. Next, he grabbed one of the harpoons in his body and yanked it out. Instead of releasing it, he used its against the empire and caused the ship it was tethered to to knock into the other ships.

With the airships now gone, the deity focused his attention back onto the devourer. Searching for the monstrosity, he found it just in time for it to pounce on him again. This time, his body was knocked into the ocean. Sinking deeper and deeper, he fought against the daemon. What happened next shocked the creator god. Leviathan emerged from the deep and aided him in battle. The Tidemother snapped her jaw around the devourer and swam to the depths with it.

Because of his lengthy battle underwater, his power was diminished and (Y/n) was drowning. His body was becoming weak and wasn't able to protect her any longer. As he was about to reach the surface, his body vanished. The girl who acted as his vessel was unconscious, her body slowly sinking into the ocean.

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[jabbajambler]

8

Powerless

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x f!OC

Word Count: 2,090

*GIF by @babyyodastuff​*

         The bar was vacant except for a few tipsy aliens. Their words slurred together as they spoke and slung their arms around one another. They started to sing some sort of song, but the lyrics were soon lost in the puddle of sounds. It was then nothing more than a hum that drifted in the air.

         Honestly, any sound would've been better than this conversation. Every look in that cruel woman's green eyes made me want to spring across the table with my saber. I was sure Din wouldn't complain too much.

         "Trask is a black market port," Bo Katan leaned against the table with a determined look in her eyes. There was something lying beneath that stare, something she wanted. "They're staging weapons that have been bought and sold with the plunders of our planet. We're seizing those weapons and using them to retake our home world."

         I laughed, choking on my drink as I tried to hold it in. Mandalore? Was she serious? That planet was a wasteland and it was partially her fault. I could feel her cold glare on me before she continued.

         "Once we've done that," her voice was darker now, "we'll seat a new Mandalore on the throne."

          "That planet is cursed," Din spoke with ease as I struggled to hold back my grin. "Anyone who goes there dies. Once the Empire knew they couldn't control it, they made sure no one else could either."

           I shrugged, "with the Empire gone, who knows, but that planet is a wasteland."

         Bo Katan's hungry green eyes focused on mine. "And who exactly are you?"

         My throat felt dry at her mocking question. She held a slight grin on her face as she tilted her head to the side, batting her eyes as though there were no hints of resentment. I still tried to hold my head high despite the feeling of her staring down at me. "I am Myrah Koor," I said, my stomach dropping slightly as I said it, "adopted daughter of Aaryn Skywalker and Obi Wan Kenobi. I suspect you remember them, don't you?"

          "I do. You don't like me," she rolled her eyes and placed her hands beneath her chin, "why? From what I remember, I helped your family."

         "You betrayed my family," I snapped as the overwhelming anger started to swell in my chest. "You're a cheat and a liar and-"

         Bo Katan scoffed, "don't believe everything you hear." She shrugged me off and turned back to Din whose momentary focus was on me. I could see how my face flushed red and warm in the reflection of his visor.

         "Our enemies want to separate us," her gaze drifted over to me quickly, "but Mandalorians are stronger together"

          I struggled to hold in my fury as the heat consumed my body. I swore one more sly comment and she would have wished she wore the helmet all the time. The gentle brush of leather against my hand distracted me, pulling me from my rage-filled thoughts. Din's hand was quick to pull away from mine before the others had questioned it.

         As if we weren't already as dramatic as possible on the boat. Surely they weren't that naive.

         "That's not part of my plan," Din answered Bo quickly as he turned his gaze to the child who watched the exchange curiously. "I've been quested to return this Child to the Jedi."

         Her eyes flickered between me and the child. "And she wasn't good enough?" she hummed, "what do you know of the Jedi?"

         "Nothing. I was hoping you would help me by Creed."

         Her lips lifted into a small, smug smile as she looked between her other Mandalorian friends, "I can lead you to one of their kind," she spoke quietly, "but first, we need your help on a mission?"

         I scoffed, "what sort of mission do we need to help you with? You three seem to be perfectly capable on your own.'

         "We usually are," she snapped before taking a deep breath and straightening in her seat, "but this is more intense than what we usually deal with on Trask."

          "Let me guess," I leaned forward in my seat with my arms folded on the table, "imperials? I'm shocked you don't feel like betraying the galaxy and go side with them. After all, isn't that what you're good at?"

         Koska, her brunette friend, had to hold her back from lunging at me across the table. Even the slight squeeze on my arm told me to settle down. If I went any further, I was sure to have a knife in my chest or her hands wrapped around my neck until I blacked out. I certainly wasn't going to die at her hands.

          "Yes," Koska finished for Bo Katan as she and their other friend tried to calm her down, "they're imperial and highly guarded. We will provide more details at sunrise. Should we meet here?"

         Din quickly shook his head, "meet at the west docks. We'll rendezvous there in the morning."

         "Right, well," she huffed, "you should probably get going."

         The hand on my arm lifted me from my seat before I could fit in another snarky remark. I couldn't even shout anything on my way out because we were out in a flash. I almost thought Din forgot the kid with the way he tugged me out of the building.

       "What were you thinking?" he snapped once we reached the cool, night air.

        I shrugged, "I was thinking that she was a traitor to her family and mine. Listen, she carries a long history with her, one that I'm not too fond of. Let's leave it at that."

         "Fine."

        The docks were so empty at night. Or was it morning? It felt like we had accompanied Clan Kryze for ages. Each stare was full of threats, maybe even promises, of destruction. Bo Katan knew the weight of her words and how they would carry with Din. She knew that the child was everything to us and if she could use us to her benefit, she would.

       It wasn't like it would cause her any grief. She'd done it many times before. To her, people who suffered from strong emotions were simply pawns in her game. As though we deserved to suffer from loving something so much.

         The child, I mean.

         My family must be under some sort of Kryze-Curse where we are forced to do their bidding. I wish I could break it. I would like to be the last sort-of-Kenobi to suffer by their hands.

        The air smelled like fish. Dead fish. It was absolutely horrid yet the child couldn't get enough. He smiled sleepily as he breathed in the air. The moon lit up the dark sky and reflected across the vast ocean. The light rippled across the waves so perfectly, I almost thought it was a dream.

         As we journeyed towards the Razor Crest, the wood creaked. Every single step was followed by a small sound of it bending beneath our boots.

         Step.

              Creak.

                   Step

                          Creak.

         The monotonous sound was followed by the slight splash of the waves against the wood. It felt like the dock was moving with the water. Honestly, it probably was. Who knew how far down the posts went and the planet was almost entirely ocean. It wasn't such a far-fetched idea.

         We no longer had to await the painfully slow door of the Razor Crest thanks to the gaping hole that took its place. In some ways, it was nice. Still, a part of me worried about being robbed in our sleep. That is, if we had any valuables left.

         "We could get a motel room if you want," Din's gentle voice floated through the air. He sounded shy, almost ashamed of the state the ship was in.

         "No," I gave him a weary smile, "we'll just be careful. There may be more weird aliens out to kill us."

        He breathed out a huff of air, a quiet laugh if you could even call it that, and shook his head. "Right. As if you can't handle that."

         "If I can't, I know I have you right beside me," I held the child close to my chest as I sat on the edge of the cot. At least one thing was still intact. My eyes drifted to the small hammock above me as the child reached for it. His brown eyes were wide and his lips trembled as he struggled to grab it. I breathed out a soft chuckle and lifted him into it, pulling a small blanket over his body.

         He couldn't speak, I knew that. Or, at least he hadn't done so yet, but I felt gratefulness swarm my mind as though he was communicating subconsciously.

         "Go ahead and sleep," Din cut through the child and I's silent moment, "I'll keep watch."

         Of course, ever the gentleman. Or he still didn't trust me. I assumed it was the latter, but I wouldn't say anything. I didn't need to incite another argument, let alone bring up any questions about what happened today. Sure, he knew my history as a force-user but I didn't need any more questions. As far as he knew, I could move things with my mind, heal people, and had a 'laser sword.' That was enough for now.

          "Alright," I agreed with a friendly smile, "but I expect you to wake me up as soon as you're tired-" he started to speak before I started up again, "and you're taking the cot as soon as it's my turn. You can't get out of this one either. I'm not letting you sleep on the floor or in your chair."

         Din stood silent for a moment. His brain was undoubtedly searching for some excuse to avoid a somewhat decent night's sleep. Eventually, his head fell down with the chin of his helmet resting against his chest plate. A long, exhausted sigh escaped him, followed by a quiet, reluctant, "fine."

          "Wait, really?" My eyes grew wide as his simple agreement. He was never one to easily follow anything unless it was his idea, especially so quickly. I felt a short laugh bubble out of my chest, "have I finally tamed the wild Mandalorian?"

         "Stop," he grumbled.

          I held back my laughs as I stood up and circled him, "next up, we see a rogue Mandalorian, broken away from his pack. At first, he seems untamable. He's unable to be captured, but then! A Jedi? She's caught him, fed him, shown him all the true joys in life! Now, he has no choice but to become a domesticated Mandalorian, politely obeying every word the Jedi says-"

         His hand closed over my mouth, his other arm wrapped around my back to pull me near. "Not another word," he spoke quietly.

         "Apparently not as well trained as I thought. Maybe we need to teach him some manners," I winked and pushed his hand away from my mouth. My nose scrunched up in disgust, "and how to clean his clothes. Those smell rotten."

         "Well, I did fall in the ocean," he stated simply and pulled his arms back to his side.

         I snickered and sat back in the cot, pushing myself towards the back wall, "it's a good thing someone was there to save you, then. Must've been some beautiful, strong woman, right?"

         "Yeah," his voice came out breathy, but quickly went back into his regular, stiff tone, "too bad she's annoying."

         My jaw fell slightly, leaving my mouth gaping as I stared at him. A joke? A funny one too. I laughed and fell back in the bed. My head hit the thin pillow, bouncing slightly against the mattress. "Whatever," I rolled my eyes with a wide smile on my face, "just make sure you wake me up, okay?"

         I could hear a small hum in agreement as I shut my eyes. For the first week in Coruscant I was terrified to fall asleep. New places used to always scare me and I never showed my face before I was alongside Din. Now, I was safe. Everywhere I go, I know there is someone to protect me.

           Instead of succumbing to the aching pains of sleep like I used to, I drifted off easily with a smile on my face. I knew, no matter what happened between us, he wouldn't let anything get to me.

taglist:

@emiijemii​

[asitrita]

Personal rant

This is a personal rant about Spain’s history and some people’s interpertation of it, mostly regarding some of the “nations”, or “ethnic groups” that are sometimes considered Spain’s parents. If you think it can affect you personally, don’t continue reading.

I really do not understand people who consider Spain’s father figure anyone other than Rome. Like... literally, no one makes any sense other than Rome. I could buy Visigoth acting as Spain’s father figure, or as his “tutor”, and I could even understand (though in no way share) the idea of Castile and Aragon being Spain’s “parents”. Though, again, I would not share that hc either, because even if the current nation-estate of Spain is “younger” than the many different medieval kingdoms, the notion, the “idea”, the “identity” to some extent, of Spain is way older than any of those medieval kingdoms which, technically, were not nations nor modern estates either, so acting as if Spain came to be out of the blue in the 15th century, as if there had not been already a clear Spanish identity and notion of unity and nation prior the 15th/16th centuries is just... ignoring all the evidence. What I trully do not understand is when people have Al-Ándalus, Umayyad, or even Carthage, as Spain’s father figures. It is true that history can be interpreted in many different ways, more so when it comes to Hetalia, but there are some interpretations that... they just make no sense. Not from a historical point of view, at least. Guess you can have whatever headcanons you want, but historically speaking, they may make no sense whatsoever. And that is exactly the case with these interpretations. For Al-Ándalus and Umayyad the reason why it is utter nonsense for any of them to be Spain’s father figure is that they are literally everything Spain is not (and did not want to be). In the first years of our lives, until we become adults, we all build our identity against the others. Something similar happens with the different nations. They build their identity partially based on not being like the neighbour next door. We could say that Spain built itself against precisely these two guys up there, Al-Ándalus and Umayyad. One could think, “okay, but as we all know, in many cases, the first ones we try to build our identity against is our parents, so that could further emphasise the role of those two as Spain’s paternal figures”. Well, no, and here’s why. Maybe it all comes to what I understand as a father figure, but to me, in the case of nations, the father figure, or the “father” or “mother” of a nation should be the one the nation receives more influences from. It should be to some extent the “origin” of most, or a big significant part of the nation’s culture, identity, and overall, idiosyncrasy. Either that, or it should have left a very deep impact and long lasting effect in the character and identity of that nation. And what I mean is that the nation must have adopted transcedental aspects from that “father nation” that are now rooted deep in its character. Otherwise, a deep impact could be a traumatic event like a war that people from the nation have built their national pride upon, but that’s not what I mean. I mean that the nation has actively acquired, integrated, and assimilated, deep and transcendental elements and aspects of its “father nation” culture and identity, so the “father nation” identity has, to some extent, become the identity of the “new nation”. Examples of some of these transcedental elements could be religion (and overall, spirituality), sense of justice, moral values, or even lexicon related to abstract concepts and emotions such as love, passion, fear, desire, hate, regret, etc. So here’s the thing. Neither Al-Ándalus nor Umayyad did, in any way, affect Spain in this respect. Mind, I am not saying they didn’t leave any influence in Spain at all, what I am saying is that they did not have a transcedental influence in Spain’s identity. Or they did, but just in the opposite way. Spain takes its culture, society, values, and spirituality from Rome, and builds itself against Al-Ándalus and Umayyad (quite honestly, Spain’s relationship with these two is more similar to the “traumatic” event some nations have built their national pride upon I mentioned earlier than to any father-son type of relationship). If anything, they only helped to exacerbate Spain’s loyalty to its “indigenous hispanoroman” identity. Again, not saying they left no influence, for example, some architecture in southern Spain (though, tbh, it’s more like a couple buildings people visit while ignoring the hundreds of christians and roman buildings lol), some cities, some influences in the food and some traditional dishes, some new agricultural and destillation techniques, etc. And it is well known that up to 8% of the Spanish vocabulary is of Arab origin, even though, to be honest, much of that percentage are toponyms and half of the lexicon is no longer used in Spanish today (most people don’t even know half of these words, and some have their Latin counterpart). However, none of these influences affects Spain’s psique and identity to a transcendental level. Not only that, but the people who identified as Spaniards and all its old variants (derivatives of Latin’s hispanus/hispanicus) were the Northern Christian people, never the Muslims who lived in Al-Ándalus under Umayyad rule. It was northern Christians who talked about Spain, who considered Spain their “lost” nation, and who identified with a Spanish identity, not the people nor the rulers of Al-Ándalus (for a short time, Northern Christians would actually refer to Christians living under Muslim rule in Al-Andalus as Spaniards, to distinguish them from the Muslims). And in no way am I justifying the following, I’m just stating a fact, which is that Muslims were expelled. All of them. Which means that Spain, as a nation, as the people it represents, literally has almost no link whatsoever with the people of Al-Ándalus, Arabs, nor Muslims, other than its people, the “Spanish people” fought them for centuries. Obviously, they lived in the same piece of land, though borders were never an easy place to live in, they were not 24/7 killing each other (impossible to do that nonstop for almost 8 century), they often traded, and there were Christians living in Muslim territories who adopted some Arab or generally Middle Eastern/Oriental traditions and practices that they preserved even under Christian rule (they were called Moriscos), hence the influences. But these influences are so superficial and “materialistic”, they affected so little the Spanish way of understanding the world, that I trully think it is unrealistic to make any of these two Spain’s father figure. It is almost a bad joke when you get the Northern Kingdoms singing to Spain and identifying as Spanish, getting ripped of their representation and identity, and instead, associating this identity and representation (their identity and representation) to those who never identified as Spanish and fought those who did with the intention of conquering and subduing them. And I guess you could argue that most of “Spain” (the land) was under Muslim (Umayyad) control, but as I understand Hetalia, and modern states today, it is not about land, but about nations and ethnic groups, and the people they represent, and it just makes no sense to make Spain’s father figure neither Al-Ándalus nor Umayyad, because given history, they would have probably tried to kill Spain had they got the chance, and the same goes for Spain, as it certainly would try to kill them as well. Plus, friendly reminder that the muslim territory of Spain was, for the most part, independent from the Umayyad Empire, so even if members of the Umayyad dinasty ruled over Al-Ándalus, it was not part of its empire (again, for the most part, there was a short time it did belonged to the empire). Plus  Al-Ándalus was cut into pieces during the 11th century and the Arab “Umayyad” elite expelled from the Peninsula. I mean, neither the Umayyad dinasty nor Al-Ándalus lasted for 7 centuries. The Arab rulling elite (Umayyad) were expelled, and Al-Ándalus destroyed, by the end of the 11th century. So it is not true Spain received direct influence from these particular people for almost 800 years, that’s an extreme oversimplification of Medieval Spain, as Arab rule in part of Spain, as well as the existance of Al-Ándals, in reality, lasted for around 350 years, as opposed to Roman presence in Spain, which lasted for over 600 years, plus, they were never expelled and their identity completely permeated the indegenous inhabitants of the Iberian Peninsula.

About Carthage... what can I say? This just makes no sense. It may not be as ironic (and almost offensive) as the other two choices, but in some way, it makes even less sense, if that’s even possible. Not much to say about this one, I just can’t even think of one thing Spain has inherited from this guy, can’t think of any influence from Carthaginean culture or whatever in Spain. The little I can think of slightly related to Carthage is actually Phoenitian so... I mean, Cartagena, in Murcia, is a great city, but... can anyone think of any significant influence, any significant link Spain as a nation, or Spaniards as an ethnic group, have with Carthage? I’m sure people from Murcia may come up with something but... in general, I really don’t think we have anything to do with Carthagineans, as much as I like Carthage. I’m sorry, but I trully can’t think of anything Spaniards, Hispanics, even Portuguese if you want (though I’m no expert on Portuguese history so I may be wrong on this one) have “inherited” from Carthage (guess you could link the Portuguese Empire based on trade with Carthage, but realistically speaking, there’s no historical corelation there either). I guess they may have introduced some new techniques and whatnot, but, really, that happens all the time, that does not affect the identity of a group nor their way of looking at the world greatly, unless it supposes a radical change in their way of life, which did not happen, since Carthage barelly controled some strategic cities. Yes, it got to the northern part of Spain, but did not have actual control over all that territory, and there was no cohesive rule nor anything I can think of... In any case, I’m no expert on Carthage either, but I trully cannot think of any Carthaginean influence in Spain at all. In conclusion, a nation’s “father figure” is the one that has, to some extent, “built the nation”, or “mould it”. Just like if we were talking about a human being, we should ask “how does it behave? how does it think? how does it see the world? how does it communicate? what are its values? what are its traditions?” Then ask about the origin of all those answers. And there you get the “father figure”. Spaniards speak a Latin-based language/s (but the Basques and some people from Navarra who speak a pre-Roman language), they are Christians, Roman Cahotlics to be more precise, and Spanish justice is based on Visigothic and Roman laws. Spanish culture is overwhelmingly based on Roman culture, as is its society, values, etc. The way Spanish interact with the world and others is based on a Roman perception of the world. They may be others who have influenced Spain, I’m not denying that, but none of them has, not by a long shot, defined Spanish identity as much as Rome has. The only event in history that had a significant importance in defining Spain’s identity other than Rome and getting to America, is the war against the Muslims, which includes the two listed above. But they never “added” to the Spanish identity on significant levels, for the most part they just reinforced it by acting as its antagonists, which is not exactly what I would represent as “parenthood”. Carthage... I don’t even know how that happened. And that’s it. This is not a personal attack to anyone who has any of these headcanons, it may seem like it is, but it is not. If anything, it is an “attack” to these ideas, simply because I don’t think they accurately portray Spain’s history at all, on the contrary, they distort Spanish history based on 18th and 19th century foreigner’s ignorant and orientalist crazy theories and assumption (and anti-Catholic propaganda, tbh), and Hetalia, at the end of the day, is about history. If any one has these headcanons,you do you, go with it, but please be aware that they are not historically accurate, that’s it.

[silvormoon]

Soulmates

For Soulshipping week, here’s one for the prompt “Soulmates”. Past Life Juudai and Yubel go on a little adventure, and Juudai gets his fortune told.

The two children pressed themselves against the wall and tried to stifle their giggles as they waited. The sound of laughter and cheerful talk drew closer, and then five of the castle maids strolled past in a cluster, all of them chatting happily. One of them, at the fringes of the group, happened to glance to her side and noticed two people hiding in the shadows. She gave them a smile and a knowing wink before hurrying to catch up with her friends. Juudai grinned.

“Come on, let’s go,” he told his companion in a whisper, and the two of them scuttled down the hall in the opposite direction.

“We’re going to get in so much trouble for this,” Yubel whispered, but they were still smiling as they said it.

“I know,” Juudai whispered back, “but we’re doing it anyway, right?”

Yubel nodded.

Actually, what would probably happen would be that they would be scolded and obliged to do extra chores and lessons tomorrow, but Juudai didn’t mind. He had done so before and would doubtless do so again. Privately, he thought his parents approved, although custom dictated that they never actually say so. They probably would have worried more if Juudai had been the sort of boy who took orders meekly and did everything he was told. Someday he would be ruler of his kingdom, and would have to think for himself and know which advice was worth taking and which should be disregarded. Right now, he knew which rules were fairly arbitrary and therefore breakable, like, “You must be in bed by nine” or “you must not play stickball with the serving boys,” and which rules would have serious repercussions if he disobeyed. He would break the former on occasion, but never the latter.

Today, the rule was, “You should not skip classes to sneak into town” and Juudai and Yubel were intent on breaking it. They had arranged for Juudai’s history professor, who was also the castle librarian, to be called away by a small problem among the stacks. While he’d been away, Juudai had slipped out of the room and went on the run. Now he and his partner in crime were on their way to the kitchen, where they knew they could sneak out through the back door through the herb garden.

When they arrived, the castle cook gave them an amused, indulgent look, much the same way the maid had.

“You two scamps again?” she said. “You should be at your lessons, your highness, and you, Yubel, should be at your training.”

“I know,” said Juudai, “but the maids said there’s a caravan in town today selling stuff from the Saffron Empire, and I really want to see. There’s supposed to be dancers and jugglers and stuff and... and everything!”

“Well, I’d like to see them too, but I have my work to get on with the same as you,” she said sternly. Then her face relaxed into a smile. “Oh, well. You’ll be a grown man soon enough, and there won’t be so many chances for you to go out and enjoy yourself.” She turned back to whatever she’d been stirring and said, “Not my job to keep tabs on you two. If your teachers can’t keep tabs on you, that’s their problem.”

Juudai grinned. He caught Yubel’s hand and the two of them darted through the busy kitchen together. Along the way, they each acquired an almond bun, courtesy of one of the junior cooks. Munching happily, they made their way through the fragrant herb garden.

“I guess she’s right that we’re going to have to stop doing this someday,” said Yubel. “I mean, you’re fifteen already. In three more years you’ll be a man. You won’t be taking any more classed then so we won’t be able to skip them.” Juudai shrugged. Three years sounded like a long time to him.

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “Once I’m grown up they won’t be watching me so closely all the time. I’ll still be able to get out and do stuff, at least until they decide to make me king. That’s when I’ll really have to start behaving myself.” He made a face. He hoped his father would stay hale and hearty for a long time. Being a prince was fine by Juudai, but being a king seemed like a lot more work. The idea still seemed to be troubling Yubel.

“I’ll be grown up soon, too, though,” they said. “I’ll have to start doing a lot more work around the castle, then.”

“You’ll work for me, though,” said Juudai encouragingly. “Where I go, you go.”

“Are you sure?” Yubel asked. “You’ll be able to choose anyone you want - all the best people in the kingdom are going to want to work for you.”

“I’ll always choose you,” Juudai promised. “Don’t worry - you and I are always going to be together!”

Yubel smiled. “I sure hope so.”

“No doubt about it,” Juudai promised. “Now, come on. We don’t have all day, and I want to see those jugglers!”

They darted out the delivery gate. A guard there made a half-hearted effort to call them back, but Juudai just stuck out his tongue and kept running. They continued their wild dash for a few blocks, less because they were worried about being chased and more because the buildings closest to the palace were mostly stately homes of nobles and rich merchants, and did not offer a lot to interest a couple of active teenagers. They didn’t slow down until they passed the next gate, which led into the business district. Juudai raised the hood of his cloak. Most of his subjects were friendly, good-hearted people, but his parents had drilled into him how important it was not to flaunt his status as prince in public. All it would take was one bad apple attacking him and the fate of the entire kingdom would change. Yubel would defend him to the death, of course, but...

I don’t want that to happen. I want Yubel and me both to stay safe!

The regular marketplace activities were going on. Juudai had intended to walk straight through to the main attraction, but he couldn’t exist stopping to look at a few of his favorite shops along the way. They charted a zigzag course, stopping here to look in at the gadgets on display in an artificer’s shop, pausing there to admire the rainbow of colored cloth at the drapers, lingering outside a bakery to breathe in the smell of fresh bread. They paused outside the flower shop, not because Juudai had any interest in flowers, but because Yubel loved them. They were so taken by a white bloom with purple flecks on its petals that Juudai bought it for them. Yubel tucked it proudly behind their ear and preened while Juudai made a show of admiring the effect.

But in the end, the two of them couldn’t resist hurrying to the main market square where the real action was. The Saffron Empire was a long way from Juudai’s kingdom, and traders from that realm only arrived here once or twice a year. It was always a big event when they arrived, with their exotic spices, their distinctly patterned cloth, and their tales of faraway places. There was always a lot of competition to get hold of whatever they brought with them, and Juudai hoped that he and Yubel weren’t too late to get any of the good stuff. Juudai had saved some of his allowance for just such an occasion, and he was hoping to find something that would make it worth giving up all the all the other fun things he could have bought with it.

“Wow, look at all this,” he said, as he took in the caravan wagons with their bright bunting. He knew that while on the road they purposely made themselves look drab to avoid attracting bandits, but they made up for it when they reached town by covering themselves with flags, banners, ribbons, and shining brass bells that set up a constant tinkling in the breeze. Juudai turned this way and that, trying to take in every flash of color. “Where should we go first?”

“I think they’re selling knives over there,” said Yubel.”And that one has jewelry, look! The colors on those enameled bracelets are so bright! I wonder how they do it?”

Yubel ended up buying a small wrist cuff worked with a design of red flowers and gold bees against a backdrop of twining vines. Juudai admired a selection of knives and other hardware, finally settling on a belt buckle in the shape of a dragon. Then they wandered around a bit, looking at this and that, occasionally chatting with a merchant but mostly just moving on. They bought some sort of grilled cakes filled with unfamiliar flavors and nibbled them while they watched a pair of tumblers put on a show. They picked up a few more little trinkets - a bowl painted with leaping hares that Juudai took a shine to, a flute made of wood and animal horn that enticed Yubel, a silk shawl Juudai thought would make a good gift for his mother - and then wondered what else they might find to do. The day was getting on, and soon they would be expected back in the palace for dinner.

“Just one more stall,” Juudai decided. “Where should we go?”

“Um...” Yubel looked uncertain. They turned around, trying to find somewhere they hadn’t been yet.

“You haven’t been to my booth yet,” said a pleasant voice.

Juudai turned to see that a woman dressed from head to toe in blue was watching him with a bright and knowing gaze. Her face was partially hidden by a veil that made her eyes stand out even more in comparison.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I am this caravan’s... your language hasn’t got a word for it. ‘Seer’ might do. I am the Lady Who Looks in the Water, and I can tell you your future if you like.”

Juudai frowned, puzzled. “What do you look in the water for?”

“Because water goes everywhere. It is part of all of us. It is full of life. If you know how to look at it the right way, you can see many things in it,” she said. “Come. Two copper coins, and I will tell you things worth knowing.”

Juudai and Yubel gave each other a look that said, “Here’s something worth doing!” There were a lot of magicians in Juudai’s kingdom, but none quite like this. It was an adventure, and Juudai was always up for an adventure.

“Sure,” he said.

“Right this way, then.”

The lady led him inside one of the wagons, and he and Yubel followed eagerly. It was a tight fit, so Yubel volunteered to wait outside until Juudai had finished having his fortune told. That was probably the right choice. A table had been set up near the door, with just enough space for a little stool where Juudai could sit down, and a second, more comfortable seat for the lady herself. Behind her hung a blue curtain, but through the gaps Juudai thought he could see a little bunk and a hint of some shelving, which must have been part of her living space. The table itself contained only a pale blue bowl filled nearly to the brim with water.

“Now, your payment,” she said.

Juudai handed over his coins, and she made them vanish with professional speed.

“So. We shall see what we can see,” she said. “Is there anything you would like to know? Your future career? How to obtain a fortune? Or perhaps the name of your soulmate?” She gave him a wink.

“Can you really find all that?” Juudai asked.

“Sometimes, yes,” she said. “Often the water does what it likes. But I guarantee you will see something, and whatever you see, it will be the truth.”

“Okay,” said Juudai. “Show me.”

“Give me your hand, then.”

He did as he was told. The lady took his hand and guided him to touch the surface of the water with a fingertip. It rippled... and went on rippling, much longer than normal physics dictated that it should. Curious, Juudai leaned forward, trying to get a better view of this phenomenon.

He nearly jerked back again in surprise. Somehow, though, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off what he was seeing. There were images in the bowl, vague, as though they were only reflections, but still comprehensible. He saw an island, bright and sunny, with a volcano smoking at the center of it. People in strange clothes were there, busily taking notes while a man who looked a great deal like Juudai’s own history professor lectured to them all. Then the image shifted, and Juudai saw a figure in dark armor standing before a legion of monsters. Another shift, and now Juudai could see something that was both like and unlike his own face: older, the lines of it sharpened by time and experience, and his eyes weren’t the friendly brown of Juudai’s old, but rather, shining a mismatched orange and teal...

...and then there was Yubel’s face.

“Juudai? What are you looking at in there?”

Juudai looked up to see his friend leaning over his shoulder, trying to peer into the water.

“My future, I think,” he said. “Not that it made a lot of sense.”

“The future often doesn’t, until you see it,” said the lady. She turned to Yubel. “And would you like to try as well?”

Yubel shook their head. “I’d rather go home. I don’t mind getting a scolding from Doctor Chronos, but I don’t want a lecture from the king if I’m not there to wait at table.”

“Oh, darn, you’re right,” said Juudai. “They’ll skin me alive if I’m late to dinner tonight. Thanks, Water Lady, but I have to go!”

He waved goodbye before darting out of the wagon and back into the street. He and Yubel began jogging towards the castle.

“So,” said Yubel slyly, “did you see your soulmate?”

“Don’t think so,” said Juudai. “That’s okay, though. I don’t need a fortune teller to tell me what I already know.”

“What’s that?” Yubel asked.

“That you and I are going to be together forever,” said Juudai.

“As long as we live,” Yubel agreed.

Juudai nodded. That was about all anyone could hope for. Still, he thought, remembering what he’d seen in the bowl, maybe there was life after this one. Some of the court wizards said there was, and Juudai didn’t know enough to disagree with them.

If I have another life, I’m sure Yubel will be there too. They’ll follow me anywhere.

And with that reassuring thought in mind, he hurried home to dinner.

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 46: Thorns

[Sorry for the lack of updates, life has gotten busy lately. But I’m back and I bring some big bad interactions!]

“Of course, Anaïs,” the pureblood agrees. “Walk with me.” Though he politely offers his arm, it is more of an order, one I do not dare to disobey. I look at William for reassurance. There is no playful smile on his face, no witty comment. Oh, no. Instead, all he gives me is a slow, serious nod. All the words in the five languages I speak are not enough to express how wrong this feels.

“Alright,” I finally sigh, taking a hold of Vlad’s arm. It feels surprisingly robust under the sleeve of his coat, dark and billowy, which only ads to his already mysterious air. Usually, that is a quality I would appreciate in a man. Right now, however, it just makes me want to run for my life.

“Come,” he says, “I want to show you my garden.”

To my surprise, neither William nor Charles follow us out of the room. They know not to question the pureblood’s authority. I make a mental note to do the same. Vlad guides me down a hallway, and then another. The deeper we go into the building, the warmer and better lit it becomes, it seems. I was wrong about this church. It is far from abandoned, let alone decrepit, and it is certainly a lot bigger than I previously estimated. I think he lives here. As much as I dislike the idea of a murderous vampire in such close proximity to the city and all the people I have come to care about, I can at least appreciate that he is taking good care of the place. Even if the hairs standing on the back of my neck prevent me from enjoying it.

We come out through the other side of the building, where I am met by the sight of the beautiful city below us. The neighbourhood of Belleville, perched atop a hill on the North East edge of the city, is - and remains, even in my time - mostly inhabited by immigrants and the working class. In my present, most of the buildings, including Vlad’s church, don’t exist anymore, having been demolished and replaced by housing projects.

While the temple itself is nothing special, safe for it’s larger than usual size, I can’t help but mourn the inevitable disappearance of something so beautifully old, of all the history that will be wiped out from this place in favor of modern gentrification. I can see why Vlad chose to make his home here. Ironically, I doubt he knows what will happen to it.

“Ah, I see you enjoy the view from here as much as I do,” he chuckles, breaking my distraction. I nod, suppressing the chill his calm voice sends up my spine. “This way, Anaïs.”

Despite the majorly bad vibes I get from him, I let him guide me around the back of the building. We come to a stop on its side, where the sparse rose bushes along the wall become dense and frequent, melting into a lush garden that even the one in the mansion couldn’t compete against.

“It’s breathtaking,” I mutter, looking down at the vast expanse of white roses before me, flanked by a myriad of flowers of every shape and color. I glance at Vlad. He smiles, satisfied. “May I...?” I hesitate to let go of his arm and step onto the narrow path that cuts through the vegetation.

“Go ahead,” he nods. I do not like the smug smile on his face, but even I have to admit he has a right to wear it. This garden is... Wow. Just wow.

I walk ahead of him, marvelling at the pristine state of every single petal that has yet to wilt under the impending summer heat, but slow to a stop when I spot a plot of unfamiliar buds near a corner. They look like a bizarre cross between dandelions and arnica, only bigger, unlike anything I have ever seen. It is not until I approach them that I notice the thin mesh cage that has been built over them. Despite their odd shade, white with a slight blue tinge, they seem too unassuming for such measures to be taken. Most of the species they resemble tend to be considered weeds, not treasured and protected like these are.

“What are they?” I manage to ask quietly. Though I do not take my eyes off their striking petals through the mesh cage, I hear Vlad’s footsteps settle beside me.

“I presume you already know what blanc is, correct?”

My eyes widen in surprise, and I crouch to get a better look. I knew they were rare, but I was not expecting these little things to be the only source of nourishment to vampires. They look so... plain. Ordinary, even, were it not for my knowledge in the topic. There is nothing magical about their appearance at all.

“I have never even drank blanc before,” I say from the ground. “I have tasted it, though, and it is disgusting.” I scrunch up my nose, making Vlad laugh.

“I have to agree, Anaïs. But that is not why I keep them. I prefer my food fresh,” he concludes, leaning over me. His voice is somehow menacing and detached at the same time. I purse my lips, unnerved, but give him a questioning look. “They are extremely prized, which I enjoy. Besides, they have a certain beauty to them, don’t you think?”

“I guess they do,” I shrug before standing up again. I have been distracted for long enough. He’s good. “So now I know why you keep those flowers, but what about your friends back there? Why did you bring back Salieri?”

His eyes become a darker shade of red, almost like blood, though his expression remains unreadable.

“Be careful how you address me, fetiță.” His tone is cold, a mortal warning. I am quick to throw my open hands in the air between us in an attempt to appease him.

“I mean no disrespect, but you do kinda owe me an explanation.” He narrows his eyes. Shit, I should not have said that. I take a deep breath to calm myself before I go on. “Look, I might be new to all of this, but I am not stupid,” I say slowly, taking a step back. He responds by taking a step forward. “I know that you could tear me apart without breaking a sweat. All I want is to understand you, so I can avoid doing something that will get me killed a second time, okay? Please, at least give me that.”

My plea seems to make him relax, and I smile, relieved.

“I suppose you have a point,” he concedes. “I will do my best to answer your questions.”

My smile grows wider as I hold onto his arm once again. He wanted to walk, so let’s walk.

“Let’s start with something easy,” I muse, breaking the ice. “That word you called me just now... What language is it?”

“Romanian,” he answers as we begin to stroll through the garden. “It means ‘little girl’.”

“Of course it does,” I chuckle under my breath. Our height difference is more evident now that he is standing by my side, towering over me. Then again, most people do. “Wait. Romanian? Did you fight against the Ottoman Empire, by any chance?”

“So you’ve heard the stories too,” he sighs. I hear a tinge of amusement mixed in with the resignation of being found out. “I have not used this name in a long time. I suppose history never forgets...”

That confirms my suspicion, and I must admit, I really hoped to be wrong about this one. But no, I happen to be casually hanging out with the man whose notorious cruelty inspired Dracula. Funnily enough, at least Bram Stoker got the vampire thing right. I wonder how the author would react to finding out they are real. He’d probably lose his mind, and I would not blame him. I almost did too.

“Okay, next question,” I move on, eager to change the topic. I must get to the juicy stuff before I get distracted again. “Why are you going after Saint Germain’s people? I mean it’s obvious that it is him you are trying to get to, but I would like to know the reason for that. Weren’t you friends or something?”

“Something.” From his deadpan tone, I can tell Vlad does not want to talk about their relationship. However, he did promise me answers, and I intend to get them or die trying. Again. “That door of his, the one he brought you through? He is selfish with it. Collecting some of the greatest men in history for... what, exactly? It is such a waste...”

“What would you do with it, then?”

“Put that talent and influence to good use, of course,” he laughs, as if it were obvious. “As you must have figured out by now, I have a door of my own at my disposal. However, it is... tainted. Unstable. I have tried to convince your sire to let me use his on multiple occasions, to no avail. Alas, even our centuries long friendship is not enough to sway him. I believe we could see eye to eye if I could show him the truth. Maybe then he would not look down on my ways as he does now.”

“And by ‘your ways’, I guess you mean sending your henchmen to kidnap me so you can use me as bait?” I can’t help but retort. “You say you want to put these men to good use, but what does that even mean? For what?”

“You shall find out soon.”

I open my mouth, but my stomach grumbles loudly before I manage to voice my protest. Worst timing ever.

“Would you like some rouge? I am feeling rather peckish myself,” he cheerily offers. There goes the conversation, along with my chance to discover what he’s up to. I am forced to nod, however, as I have not eaten since early this morning. As much as I hate to cut the interrogation short, I am starving.

I follow Vlad back into the church, resigned, and we make our way to a hallway on the second floor. I smell the scent of human blood before I notice that the voices I can hear behind a closed door are new. There is a man, whom at first I mistook for Faust, but he sounds too cheery. And too French. I hear a woman too, giddy and nervous due to Shakespeare’s charming approaches.

I want to ask what is going on, but I am not sure I want to know the answer. I have a bad feeling about this. Vlad opens the door, revealing the sitting room on the other side. Along with William, the other two vampires I met are there. Faust stands to the side, merely observing, as Charles chats with the young couple, seated around a coffee table. They are unmistakably human. I can only think of one reason for them to be here, and I do not like it in the slightest.

As the now familiar feeling of bloodlust shoots through my veins, I clench my hands behind my back and smile politely. Vlad ushers me into the room, closer to the group, and soon lets go of me to offer his hand to the woman, motioning for her to stand up.

“This one will do,” he murmurs, stroking her cheek. She looks surprised for a brief moment, but any expression immediately disappears from her face when she locks eyes with the pureblood. “Listen to my voice. Relax.” The woman’s arm goes limp and falls to her side. “Good, good. Take of your necklace.”

She obeys. Is she... hypnotized? Can he do that? When the lady’s choker falls on the floor, the reality of what is about to happen sets in. The man I assume to be her husband does not react. He is looking at the woman, but his eyes are out of focus and his face blank, nothing but an empty shell.

The king of the castle eats first, of course. Vlad pulls the woman close and leans down slowly, almost tenderly, as if he is going to kiss her neck. He stops short of touching her skin before violently sinking his fangs into her. The horrible, wet sound her flesh makes causes me to bite my own lip in an attempt to hold back. I shuffle closer to William and lean over the back of his chair.

“I can’t do this.”

“It would be improper to deny your host’s food, my nightshade,” he says nonchalantly.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” I hiss through clenched teeth. “I won’t be able to stop, Will. I can’t-”

“You can’t what?” Vlad calls out. “It is your turn, come. Don’t be shy.”

Fuck. I am not in a position to reject that offer for two reasons: the first one being my hunger, and the second being that he might kill me if I offend him. I cough and begin to turn away, but feel William’s reassuring hand over mine. I hope I can trust him to stop me in time. If I end up killing this poor girl, he’s going next.

I exhale a shaky sigh as I hesitantly make my way to the center of the room, where the woman stands frozen, a lifeless doll. She is slightly taller than me, so I hold her body close and stand on my toes.

“Lo siento muchísimo (I am so very sorry),” I whisper in her ear. I don’t know if she can even hear me, but if she could, I doubt she’d understand my foreign words. I feel everyone’s eyes on me, expectant. Vlad clears his throat behind me. He is starting to lose his patience.

But so am I. Just like that, any control I had over my body fades when my eyes catch a glimpse of the two fresh puncture wounds on the woman’s neck, of the twin drops of blood oozing down from them. I make sure to bite over the same spot.

The familiar wave of relief that comes from feeding washes over me, but this time it is much more intense, much sweeter. Everything disappears around me. There is just me and my prey, her blood pulsing into my mouth as I barely have to exert any effort to drink it. But it is not enough. I bite harder. It is dripping down my chin now, and I hold onto the yellow satin blouse, now tinged with red, like my life depends on it. I cease to exist in this moment. There is only blood and my pure, unadulterated thirst for it.

“...Anaïs.” I vaguely recognize my own name being spoken. “That’s enough.”

“Come on, let her have her fun,” another voice says. I can barely tell who’s who.

“Anaïs, stop,” I hear again, this time more sternly. Strong arms pry me off and pull me into a tight hug, restraining me until I come to my senses. “That’s it, my nightshade. Well done.”

“Will?” I manage to pant, leaning back into his chest. “Shit, is she okay? I didn’t drain her, did I?” My voice wavers with dread.

“No, my dearest,” he softly says. “Thou stopped in time.”

“Thank you,” I sigh in relief. Still holding onto William’s arms around me, I glance at Vlad. He does not look pleased.

[littlemdzsdump]

promise critic

( ￣ー￣)φ__ it’s wangxian time~

~ The wine is expensive. 

Wei Ying knows that it is. He has quite an extensive palette without really being a wine taster and he just knew.

Besides, it was Lan Zhan that he was on a date with and his fiance wouldn’t take him to some crummy, under serviced, middle class, venue. No no, his boyfriend (fiance, future husband, whatever-you-want-to-be,) had made an appointment with him for dinner at one of the floating restaurants that overlooked the city that they lived in. They had been together for more than 8 years now which is the adequate amount of time for Wei Ying to get used to the riches that his boyfriend never really flaunts but has more than enough to use.

(“We live comfortably,” Lan Zhan had commented softly on their 52nd date. It was such a rich person thing to say, Wei Ying should have called it when he heard that)

Besides, being the upcoming heir to one of the biggest tech companies on the global market is no easy feat. Money is available, but time is a luxury.

Sitting at the table, Wei Ying stares at the candlelight setting before him, his second cup of wine setting the romantic ambiance. He knows he should savor it to really enjoy it but after another few minutes pass he takes another large gulp. The floor to ceiling glass windows show an incredible bird’s-eye view of the night city. The small buildings and car lights below twinkle like fluorescent stars, and they’re beautiful enough to keep his attention for a while. But the hour has passed by and Wei Ying has felt every second of it.

Wei Ying would be lying to himself if he said that he wasn’t excited for the date that they had planned today. It was no special day, no anniversary, nothing markable. It would be the first time in a few months that Wei Ying could finally sit across from the man he loved and just look at him for more than minutes at a time. It would be a night when they would finally be alone, without the annoying phone calls, beepers, whatever. No disturbance. Just him, Lan Zhan and the pristine silk bed sheets that he owned back at the penthouse.

Wei Ying chucked the rest of his emptying wine glass back harshly. He’s unbothered when a bit of it drips from the corner of his lips and onto his white open collared dress shirt. Wei Ying doesn’t care about the looks and stares thrown at him, too busy nodding at the kind server that had immediately returned with another fill of the expensive and aged wine.

When the server leaves Wei Ying brings the cup up to his face, twirling the cup and watching the liquid swish swish swish in a lazy circle. It’s a beautiful color, a dark burgundy. Its scent is clear and oh so fragrant. Despite its beauty, it’ll never beat his favorite batch of Emperor’s Smile. Wei Ying smiles at the cup, bringing it to his lips for a soft sip.

When he’s done, he pulls out his phone again, checking the last message that he received from his beloved.

Just left the office On my way to you 6:17 PM

Already waiting ;PP 6:19 PM Received

It was now a little after eight o’clock. Wei Ying clicks the phone off, turning back to the tall wine glass that’s been his only company for the past two hours. He eyes the cup nonchalantly, grabbing it and holding it up to the candlelight. Its flame has flickered and danced before an empty seat for a while now.

“Cheers,” he tells to no one.

He finishes it all in one gulp.

~

Lan Zhan had never been one to run but he’s doing that now.

The batches of roses in his hands seem like a barely appropriate gift at this point. He sprints into the building entrance, nearly knocking into some departing guests if it weren’t for his reflexes and their attention. He apologizes curtly before running through the lobby to where the elevators are located.

He’s just turned the corner when he hears the ding of the elevator’s arrival.

Or departure, his brain reminds him.

Lan Zhan runs, hoping that he won’t have too many sweat stains by the time he reaches the dinner table. He sees the door closing as he approaches and simply barrels his way through the crack. The door bounces open after the interruption and Lan Zhan (blessedly) still has his face when the elevator opens to an empty lift. Lan Zhan steps in and slams the button to the highest floor, quickly hitting the close door button. Only when the elevator music hums a soft tune on his journey up does he realize the state of his bouquet.

Half of the flowers are smushed and the other half has nearly lost all its petals. Lan Zhan hadn’t even realized that he had used the bouquet to block the elevator doors from closing. Lan Zhan sighs softly, fingers gently holding one of the few petals left on the abused flowers.

It falls off with a soft caress.

He plans to hide the bouquet behind his back when he enters.

The elevator doors open and he speedily walks out and into the high floating restaurant that he had made a reservation for. Lan Zhan walks up to the hostess, easily telling them his reservation and being led into the dining area. He follows, hot on the hostess’ heels as they lead him to an empty table next to the floor to ceiling windows. It’s a beautiful site and for a moment Lan Zhan takes in a steadying breath.

He thanks the hostess quietly as he sits down, putting the bouquet on the table. In all honesty, he knew Wei Ying wouldn’t mind as much. 

For one small moment, as he catches his breath, Lan Zhan is relieved. 

Wei Ying wasn’t here yet, Lan Zhan thinks to himself, fixing his collar and his vest into a semblance of normalcy. 

He sits there taking in a deep breath, when a server approaches his table with bated breath. Lan Zhan is used to the nervousness of strangers (most people know him and his uncle’s tech empire) though the pity in this server’s eyes is new.

“Before you order, I have to tell you there was a man here before you. He was sitting here around a little before 6 o’clock” the server starts.

Lan Zhan’s eyes widen a millimeter, though his insides shake.

“He left around 30, 40 minutes ago. And left a tab. Would I be right to presume that you will be taking up the bill?” the server asks. 

Lan Zhan breathes softly, nodding his head.

“Would you like to order anything-”

“Please give me the bill for the man from before, quickly” Lan Zhan urges. The server’s mouth clamps shut and with a nod he’s shuffling off to the register.

Lan Zhan sighs, slouching into his chair. When Lan Zhan checks his wrist watch, he sees the minute hand only a few ticks away from 9 o’clock. Lan Zhan holds his head. At this rate, he wouldn’t have blamed Wei Ying if his fiance had ordered himself a full course meal and several desserts. It wasn’t as if Lan Zhan didn’t have enough money to spend on him. But more importantly, he deserved it.

“Your bill sir,” the server says, placing the small booklet down before him.

Lan Zhan opens it up, scanning the receipt.

All that’s printed is a small Goldeneye Pinot Noir that’s priced at $260. Lan Zhan sighs, slipping his credit card in and handing the booklet back to the server to get it processed.

The moment his card is returned he’s running again. 

Only this time he knows for sure where to.

~

Wei Ying sits on the couch, bundled in blankets and eating slowly from the microwaved leftovers they had. His suit ,dress shirt, cufflinks, and all the other things that he used to doll himself up are placed somewhere in his closet, hanging like a surrender flag. He lets the TV in front of him mindlessly babble on.

Wei Ying hates that he’s used to the company of inanimate objects more than his boyfriend’s real, human warmth.

The overwhelming thought of loneliness ruins the little appetite that he has to start with and he places the half finished dish onto the ceramic modern artsy coffee table. The characters on the reality TV show are eccentric and the captions throw the rest of the dark living room into a funny sort of lighting. 

Wei Ying leans on his arm, making himself comfortable. 

He guesses he has to get used to being comfortable with himself as company. The stupidity of the show he’s started in the middle of and the lack of attention he has to care brings out a drowsiness that he can’t tamper down.

Wei Ying is in the middle of drifting off to sleep when the living room lights turn on. He doesn’t need to move up from the couch to know who had walked in. As steps near him, Wei Ying chooses to squeeze his eyes shut instead ignoring the painful lump he knows will lodge in his throat if he sees him.

Wei Ying can smell Lan Zhan’s sandalwood cologne when he gets close enough and he is able to pinpoint exactly where Lan Zhan’s face has aligned by the sound of his breaths. Wei Ying knows Lan Zhan too well. 

After a second, Wei Ying feels himself being lifted up though he does not outwardly show his surprise as much as he feels it. Wei Ying feels himself held and the steadiness of arms hooked underneath his back and knees. He lets himself nuzzle close to Lan Zhan’s neck in this small moment and this moment only. Just to remember what it felt like to be held by him.

The trip to the bedroom is soft and easy.

Lan Zhan is all gentle hands when he deposits Wei Ying onto the bed. Wei Ying keeps his eyes closed, feeling the way Lan Zhan shifts his limbs into a more comfortable position and draping the comforter over him. Wei Ying has missed waking up to these caresses, these touches.

The moment he begins to reminisce, the touches leave. Wei Ying blinks his eyes open. He stares up at the ceiling, lying still on the bed. He hears Lan Zhan shuffling a little ways in front of him by the dresser. When Wei Ying sits up, it’s to Lan Zhan closing the bathroom door behind him.

~

When Lan Zhan steps out of the bathroom later, he’s toweling his hair. So he is immensely surprised when he removes the towel from his head to see his wide-awake fiance sitting on the bed. 

Staring at him.

“You’re awake,” Lan Zhan deduces redundantly. 

Wei Ying’s stare is unrelenting and he is quiet.

It is uncomfortable, getting the silent treatment from someone usually talkative. Lan Zhan is not surprised that his fiance is sulking, he deserves it.

What Lan Zhan is not prepared for, after the tense silent pause, is for a throw pillow to hit him smack in the face.

It lands well on its target, the soft corner of the pillow punching him in the mouth. Lan Zhan only has a second to blink before another pillow slaps his forehead. Lan Zhan sputters, moving his hand up to block another pillow attempt. Lan Zhan vaguely remembers the pile of pillows they usually have at the top of the bed. He knows that it will probably be a long night. Knowing that he is going to be relentlessly ambushed by pillows, Lan Zhan begins to dodge the throws, strategically trying to get closer to the bed.

As he edges closer, he realizes Wei Ying is muttering every time he aims a pillow at his fiance’s head.

“This is for when you missed dinner for the past couple of weeks...made me eat alone” Wei Ying says, throwing a small round pillow. It hits Lan Zhan’s shoulder.

“This is for all the times you didn’t pick up your phone because you were in a meeting and didn’t call me back” Wei Ying pouts. The pillow flies a bit over Lan Zhan’s head as he ducks. 

“This is for the time you went on a two week business trip and didn’t bring me with you” Wei Ying shouts. The small pillow hits Lan Zhan in the stomach. 

Lan Zhan is near the bed now, practically standing  in front of Wei Ying. This close, he can finally see the tremble of his fiance’s lower lip. His eyes glimmer with a wetness as he stares up at Lan Zhan hovering over him.

“This is for standing me up on our date.” Wei Ying says, holding the pillow and smacking it into Lan Zhan’s side. Lan Zhan deals with it for a few more minutes before he blocks an incoming hit. He catches the pillow as Wei Ying swings it, pulling it out of his hands and throwing it onto the bed. Wei Ying’s shoulders are shaking when Lan Zhan grabs him and pulls him into his arms. Wei Ying begins crying softly, smushing his face into Lan Zhan’s stomach. Lan Zhan brings a hand up to the back of his head, softly rubbing at the hairs at the edge of his neck. 

Wei Ying digs his face into where Lan Zhan’s held his head, letting the tears escape his eyes freely. He doesn’t usually cry as much as this. Lan Zhan lets out another deep breath, feeling the ache and guilt lodged in his throat at the sight of his fiance like this because of him.

Wei Ying’s cries pass quicker than expected and Lan Zhan is surprised when Wei Ying looks up at him. “Are you hungry?”

Lan Zhan is confused, jolted out of his thoughts by the sudden question. 

Wei Ying wipes at his face with the back of his hand.

“I could hear your stomach growling a little,” Wei Ying explains, huffing out a dry laugh. He plays with the ends of Lan Zhan’s pajama shirt. Lan Zhan is still quietly standing in front of him, eyes staring at the crown of his fiance’s head.

“You should eat something before you go to sleep. It’s not good to skip meals--”

“I’m so sorry, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan apologizes. Wei Ying looks up to him, sighs and just shakes his head.

“I know you never mean to. You’re the next CEO and it’s a lot of work and I get that…” Wei Ying says, twisting the ends of Lan Zhan’s pajama shirt again. Lan Zhan looks at his fumbling hands and takes a chance. He slips his hand into one of Wei Ying’s. The other man lets out a breath of surprise. But Lan Zhan feels the biggest relief when he doesn’t let go.

“...But I haven’t had dinner with you in weeks. Hell I haven’t even seen you properly in weeks, let alone go on a date with you…”

Lan Zhan kneels down in front of Wei Ying mid-babble. He holds both of Wei Ying’s hands in his. His thumbs brushed against Wei Ying’s knuckles. Simultaneously, they both let out a soft breath. Wei Ying opens his mouth to fill up the silence that has settled between him. But Lan Zhan beats him to it.

“I can say sorry as many times as you need, but I can’t make up for everything I’ve missed and all the times I disappointed you,” Lan Zhan says honestly. Wei Ying stares at him.

“But I’ll make it up to you,” Lan Zhan states. Wei Ying looks at him with a hopeful glint in his eyes. Lan Zhan wants that to stay there for the entire future that they have together and the rest of eternity.

“I promise,” Lan Zhan vows. Wei Ying let out a soft laugh, blinking away the tears that gathered in his eyes. 

~

In the morning, when the soft glow of sunlight shifts through the window, Wei Ying opens his eyes to a sight sorely missed. Lan Zhan’s sleeping profile, with the blanket pulled up high to his chin. His dewy face in the sunlight makes his grayscale bedroom softer. 

Lan Zhan has kept his promise.

Wei Ying smiles into the pillow shuffling across the sheet and nuzzling his face into the top of Lan Zhan’s already messy bedhead. The man beneath him hums softly. Only a moment later, Wei Ying feels an arm curl around his waist and drag him closer. Lan Zhan presses his face into Wei Ying’s chest. He does not look like he will be waking up any time soon.

Finally, Wei Ying thinks to himself breathing in Lan Zhan’s scent.

As Wei Ying closes his eyes, he smiles falling into a lazy slumber.