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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

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Kov’nyn - Rogue, Chapter 13| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: The night after Din rescued you from your nightmare, you realise you have a lot to think about… and you might just reach a decision that could change your fate.

Word count: 7k+

Warnings: None I think, in this one. Like one swear? Weapons/knives – not used in violence - Mainly just soft fluffy times!

AN: This one is pretty gentle, nothing super big really happening. I thought I’d give you all a rest after the rollercoaster of the last chapter~

Also, time to play Spot The Easter Egg again!! Theres a quote in here from Six of Crows... can you find it?

Gif belongs to me♥︎

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey @what-iwish-you-knew @queenofthefaceless

Mando’a Translation: Kov'nyn - Keldabe kiss

You stirred to the feeling of a pleasantly heavy arm resting over your torso.

You froze, body going rigid on instinct at feeling the intrusion. Further inspection revealed a leg slung over yours and you could feel the line of armour digging into your calf.

Armour?

Oh. Of course.

The Mandalorian.

The previous night came flooding back to you in full technicolour, sending a slow wave of heat across your skin and relaxing your body. You remembered the horror of your nightmare, and then the Mandalorian coming in, soothing you, laying with you and then…

Everything that happened after.

It didn’t even take that much concentration to imagine his hands again, those delightful touches. The husky roughness of his voice as he praised you, coaxed you to the edge and held you as you tumbled over.

And then… he told you his name.

He had given you a part of himself, something that was so poignant and personal. It made him who he was, gave him his identity and separated him from “The Mandalorian.”

Din Djarin.

Din.

It was a gorgeous name. Simple, to the point.

You had to admit, it suited him in that sense. But it felt like starlight on your tongue, and it was yours. He had given it to you, entrusting you with such a precious part of himself.

In your opinion, tt was as significant as taking off his helmet, and it had settled in a place tucked against your heart, curled there and warmed you from the inside out.

Din was still asleep next to you – you assume - on his side. You had since rolled onto your back in the night, which did mean you were precariously close to the edge of the bed.

Din hadn’t moved at all, presumably used to having to be still from all the times he spent wedged into the medical bay compartment on his side, with no room to move and Grogu in his hammock above him.

You could get used it, waking up with him.

The modulator in his helmet allowed you to hear the soft, deep rhythm of his breathing and his armour had warmed overnight where it lay against your skin.

You couldn’t remember the last time you woke up next to someone and had such an immense feeling of safety and comfort.

This truly was home – wherever the Mandalorian was.

Wherever Din was.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there for, but you did know you were staring to get uncomfortable. The thin mattress – if you could even call it that – was irritating you, making you feel a little restless in this position.

You could feel Din’s hand against your side, but you weren’t sure if his hands were still bare or not. Sleep had taken you before him, so you weren’t awake to witness him pulling them back on.

You didn’t dare look properly, not wanting to lay your eyes on his bare skin, to break his Creed. So, you opened your eyes to slits, carefully peering across the room and you didn’t see any sign of his gloves.

You tried to concentrate, to see if you could feel if he had his gloves back on. The blanket and your top didn’t really provide much help in that matter, naturally.

Maybe you could wriggle a little? See if that did anything?

Of course, you could touch his hands, and then you would know. But the two times you had felt his bare skin previously, he was awake, and you had his consent. He was asleep, and therefore couldn’t tell you if it was okay or not.

Wriggling it is.

You began your movement, gently squirming with your hips shuffling side to side, to see if that would provide any knowledge on the matter – not that you thought it would. Truthfully, you didn’t know what you were doing. It was possible your brain still hadn’t engaged after being thoroughly wrecked last night in all ways.

Unfortunately, a bed that was barely wide enough for you, combined with wriggling around and trying not to wake Din… Well, there was only one way it could end.

With you dumped on the cold, metal floor.

And taking the blanket with you.

And yelping in surprise.

“Cyar'ika?”

So much for not waking Din up.

You groaned, rubbing your elbow where you had landed on it and then tried to untangle yourself from the blanket. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

The helmet appeared over the side of the bed, “Don’t be, I was already awake. What are you doing on the floor?”

You rose to your knees and sighed, resting your chin on the edge of the cot, “I was uncomfortable, and I wanted to move, but I didn’t want to open my eyes in case you didn’t have your gloves on. And I didn’t know you were awake.”

Din tilted his head at you, “And that made you fall out of the bed?”

Resting the urge to stick your tongue out at him, you shook your head, “No, I was…” Here we go, “I was trying to feel if you had them on. Without touching you.”

Din was silent.

It sounded like he sucked in a breath to speak, only to let it out again.

He made a thoughtful noise. “I see. So… Instead of turning your cheek against my hand which was under your head by the way, you instead decided to try and… wriggle.. to feel my hand.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, having completely not realised his arm was still beneath your neck. “Yes.”

“Through the blanket.”

“Yes.”

“And your top.”

“… Yes.”

Din made a thoughtful noise again, “I see.”

Then he started laughing, that gorgeous, rare sound that he had made only a few times in your presence. Sure, you sometimes got a chuckle, but this laugh was like liquid honey.

Even if it was at your expense.

“Hey!” You crossed your arms, trying not to laugh too, “Do not laugh at me! It’s your fault! You were awake and watched me struggle!”

The laughter still echoed out of the helmet as he laid back, a hand on his chest, “For someone who has so much grace in everyday life, you are terrible when it comes to night-time and early morning.”

You rose to your feet this time, pushing your weight onto one leg and copying his ‘hands on hips’ pose, “Oh, because you’re so smooth?” You stuck your tongue at him, “Tin can.” You turned your back on him, meaning to walk from the room.

You heard movement, and then he was suddenly behind you, catching your hand and lacing his fingers through yours, “Hey, come back to bed.” The laughter was still in his voice, turning it a little softer – and that combined with the coaxing tug to your hand…

How could you say no to that?

Without turning around, you tried to carry on walking to the door and at least appear strong-willed, “After you just laughed at me? You think you can use that honeyed tone and I’ll come falling into your arms?” You arched an eyebrow, looking over your shoulder

Din gave your hand another gentle tug, stopping you in your tracks “I believe you were falling into my arms last night.” His chest bumped up against your back gently, and his other hand trailed lightly on your hip, just the barest touch in case you didn’t want it.

Maker.

Heat creeped along your cheeks, and the ghost of his touch trailed over you again, leaving you speechless.

He had you there.

The grin on his lips was obvious even through the helmet as he succeeded in tugging you back into his body, winding his arms around your waist. His head ducked down, and you felt the cool beskar brush your ear, “How do you feel...? After last night?” His voice was soft and tender despite his teasing. And you knew he wasn’t just referring to the moment.

Your body instantly turned boneless, and you melted back into him, fitting against the planes of his body, “I feel… good. Really. A little shaken up still but… you really helped me. Thank you for coming to me… again.” Your heart beat a little uncomfortably in your chest, anxiety trembling in your belly as it always did on the rare occasions you spoke about your darker emotions out loud.

Din either felt or sensed this, because he rested the chin of his helmet on your shoulder, holding you back into him with his thumb running over your hip, “I’ll always come to you. Whenever you need me, I’ll be right there. And if for some reason I don’t wake up, you can come and find me, okay? Don’t suffer alone.”

A lump rose in your throat and you nodded, not trusting your voice to speak.

It was still so new to you, this care and attentiveness from someone. And even more so, letting someone care about you.

It was always just you, on your own. If you got hurt, you had to fix yourself up. If you were hungry, it was either hunt, gather or steal your food – or go hungry.

And if you were having a day that things were overwhelming you… well, you had to deal with that on your own too. Usually, you would just push it to the back of your mind, keep going on and on and on. If you didn’t stop, you didn’t feel.

Which is probably why everything had caught up with you a lot more these past few months.

For the first time in your life, you were slowing down. Stopping to breathe, to take note of your surroundings and to listen to what your body wanted for comfort rather than survival.

And so, everything that had been bottled up and restrained had begun to seep out.

Including your powers.

Din ran his thumb over your hip again, in lazy circles, “It doesn’t make you weak, needing help.” He always seemed to know the direction of your thoughts, “It makes you strong. Being able to admit that you need help, letting yourself feel everything. And I’ll always help you with whatever you need. And however much you want to give me, that’s okay too.” He squeezed your hip lightly, “We’re a clan, remember?” He let you go gently, and you would never know that he was referring not only to your trauma, but your powers too. Trying to tell you subtly that it was okay. He wasn’t scared of you, or what you could do. And he would wait.

But, instead, you turned to him, smiling softly with the light back in your eyes that he adored to see, “Okay… thank you.” You reach up, gently caressing the side of his helmet, “And you remember that you can share with me too… always.” You rose up on tiptoe, kissing the side of the helmet and then dropped back down to your feet.

Din nodded slightly, his hand caressing up your side once more and then he let you go, “I’ll leave you to get dressed.” He grazed the back of his finger to your cheekbone and then left the room.

~~~

A few hours later, you were back travelling, playing with Duru’s tail as she laid across her spot next to the big open window.

Din turned around in his seat to look at you, hands resting on his thighs in that achingly familiar pose, “I have to pick something up from somewhere today… Would you mind staying here to look after the kids? I’m not shutting you away or keeping you grounded, it’s just that it’s not the kind of place I want Grogu in… and it’ll only be for about an hour or so.”

The vagueness of his explanation piqued your curiosity and you looked over at him, “Pick something up from somewhere? My my, Din, you have such a way with words!” Playfulness filtered through your tone, but it didn’t quite hide the small hitch in your voice as you said his name.

You would never get used to it, you didn’t think.

The fact that you knew his name. That you could say it, whenever you pleased – as long as you weren’t around anyone else of course.

By the way his chest stuttered, you knew he wouldn’t either. You could sense the eye-roll though, “Ahaha. I have to keep a few things to myself; you know. How else am I going to keep you around?”

You blinked at him, feigning surprise, “Oh, you – you think I stay here for you?” Shaking your head rapidly, you held up Grogu, who had been toddling around on the floor in front of you, “Me and Duru stay here for him. You’re just an added body.”

Grogu cooed brightly, raising his arms in the air and patting your cheeks as you lifted him. To you, it sounded like he agreed.

You smiled widely at him, lifting your eyes back to Din, “He agrees with me.”

Din mock sighed loudly, turning back around with a mutter that sounded something like, “Maker, save me.”

You chuckled, leaning back in your seat and holding out Grogu’s ball to him, “But yes, that’s fine. I don’t mind staying here whilst you go about getting things from places.”

Truly, you didn’t mind. You needed to sharpen your vibrobrade which was looking a little worse for wear lately. And besides, you would be more than happy playing with the kid and Duru for an hour or so – you needed some privacy to have a little meltdown over last night.

~~~

A few hours later, Din had landed the Crest and had set off to ‘pick something up from somewhere.”

Before he left, he’d ruffled the kid’s ears, stroked Duru’s chin and then ran the back of his finger across your cheekbone, giving you a lingering look – through the helmet, of course – and then set off.

You’d then brought your blade up to the cockpit where the kids were, and settled into the pilot’s seat, beginning to sharpen your blade.

The Crest was sealed tight, so you were all safe, and the landscape outside of the windows provided you with a dusty, barren view.

As you sharpened your blade, you let your mind wander, allowing it to take the flow of whatever thoughts it decided.

Naturally, it was going to be one of two things.

Din, or your powers.

Today, your mind chose the topic of powers.

You knew that you couldn’t hide them from Din forever. It had been months now since you’d met, and he still had no clue about it, about why you had such a bounty on your head.

And he’d given you so much, not only by choosing to spare you and keep you safe, but by also given you his name.

And not only that, but every single little thing in between. From making sure you were fed, to coming to check on you after your nightmares.

He would give you his cape if you were cold or offer up extra blankets.

And it wasn’t that he thought you were incapable of doing those things yourself, or that you needed to be ‘cared for’. He knew that you were capable and resourceful, and he knew how strong you were.

He knew that you were stronger than you believed yourself to be, so it wasn’t that at all.

You knew it was because… he liked having someone else there.

Sure, it disrupted his routines and he still wasn’t used to it, which you could tell because you felt exactly the same. You still hadn’t become accustomed to waking up in someone else’s presence or going to sleep and trusting another person to stay awake – and not kill you.

And perhaps the biggest change for him was that now, with you there as well as the kid, there were even less chances for him to remove his helmet and armour and let his skin breathe.

He had mentioned as much to you before in passing, that he had to be more careful with Grogu around, and even though he hadn’t said it, your presence meant those times were even rarer.

He didn’t even have the privacy of his own room to do so – he had given that up for you.

Another thing to add to the list.

He deserves to know.

You knew the voice was right. He did deserve to know.

And not because you felt you owed him for what he’d given up for you – that wasn’t it at all.

This journey you were on, the way your lives were tightly woven together… who were you to watch him put a bigger target on his head – and not even tell him why?

A sigh heaved its way out of your chest.

You wanted to tell him so badly, you felt it in your chest.

But you didn’t know how.

How would you bring it up?

“Hey, Din? I have something to tell you… The reason I have the highest bounty ever on my head is because… well... I’m Force Sensitive. I’m not a Jedi or anything but I have the ability to use the Force. Oh, what’s the Force, you ask? Well, it’s the energy that flows in and around every living thing.”

That just sounded cringey and ridiculous, and you doubted he would even know what the Force was. He didn’t even know that’s what the kid had.

Hell, you had never even acknowledged to yourself out loud that it was the Force.

It just… seemed ridiculous to you.

The Force belonged to the Jedi. If you had the power, you trained to be a warrior and a guardian of peace and life.

You didn’t go on the run and kill people.

You didn’t deserve to be associated with that kind of honour. Even if you never trained to be an actual Jedi… you didn’t deserve it.

But you couldn’t go on like this, hiding it.

Every time a silence fell, it was sitting there, waiting to burst out and just finally tell him, tell someone. And you knew that once you started, you wouldn’t stop.

The whole story would come out.

Your parents, the market, the first time you killed to save your own life and every time after that. He would learn about how good it felt, the sick power that washed over you and then the horrendous shame and guilt that had you vomiting for hours after.

The story of how you ended up on top of that cliff and then in the water would come out.

All of it, every single thing that had tied you to this life would be revealed.

It would all be laid bare to him, leaving you as open and exposed as if he had removed his own armour.

And that’s what terrified you.

He would know every single thing, and it would be his decision how to take it.

And you would respect it, whatever it was.

If he wanted you gone, far away from himself and his kid, then you would go. Willingly.

Sure, it would kill you, but you would understand why.

But if he looked over it all, the darkness, the running, your power… If he looked at it, acknowledged the bad but saw how it had created the good, the fun, the way you’d gone from tripping over a bow to being able to shoot with your eyes closed and the light that had grown in you… If he saw every single thing, and still wanted to be with you…

Well, you didn’t quite know how to take that.

You might well cry.

And… if you were honest, you’d built yourself up to telling him. You decided yesterday that you were going to tell him this afternoon.

But then you had that nightmare.

Of course, you knew that he would never harm you, never hold a knife to your throat and drive it into your heart. That wasn’t what you were worried about.

It was your reaction.

The way the power had exploded and destroyed him.

What if you got too worked up when you told him, and you couldn’t control it?

You’d restrained it for so long, for twenty years and it was started to come out.

And you hadn’t admitted it to yourself but… it was becoming agony.

The aches and pains that you had tried to write off as from hunting or the thin bed…

You knew it wasn’t.

It was the strain of holding back your power.

You needed to let it go, to finally open yourself up and accept it, whatever it may be.

You just didn’t know how.

A soft coo brought you out of your rapidly spiralling thoughts.

You lifted your attention from your knife, and found Grogu holding his metal ball, sitting in your usual co-pilot’s chair. He waved it in his hand, gurgling and you just knew, somehow, that he was asking to play catch.

A broad smile lit your face, and you sheathed your knife, stowing it to the side, “Of course, little guy, I’ll play catch with you.” You turned your attention to him fully and held out your hand, “Whenever you’re ready, Gu.” The affectionate nickname had developed a few days ago, and the kid loved it.

He lifted his hand, his little forehead furrowing in concentration, and then the ball lifted, floating in the air slowly toward you where it dropped into your palm.

A feeling of warm pride filled your chest, and you laughed a little, clapping your hands, “Well done!! You’re getting better at that!”

Din had told you that sometimes he struggled to use his powers and if he used them for a particularly long time, or for something intense, it would completely wipe him out.

He told you he’d been gently coaxing him to use them, to be more confident with them and praise him for every small achievement - at the recommendation of a friend.

You lifted the ball up, “Ready to catch it?” You threw it across the cockpit, gently, so he would have time to stop it.

Which he didn’t.

It fell straight into his lap… but that may have been because he didn’t even bother to lift his hand. He just looked at you.

You tilted your head slightly, remembering Din’s words, “That’s okay, you can try again!” You held your hand out ready.

A few moments later, it plopped back into your palm. You praised him, then threw it back, but yet again he let it land in in his lap without trying.

Four turns later, and he started to huff every time you threw the ball, his ears twitching like he was annoyed.

You sighed a little, “Gu, c’mon buddy… Try at least? For me? You send it to me perfectly, why won’t you catch it?” You raised your eyebrows a little, voice still encouraging but a little firm – again, as Din had relayed back to you as the best way.

The kid just grumbled, his ears raising and falling again, and he pointed at your hand.

Lifting the ball, you nodded, “I know you want the ball, but you have to try and catch it with yo-“

His rapidly shaking head stopped you. He pointed more emphatically at your hand, his glossy eyes wide and then you realised exactly what his problem was.

He wanted you to throw the ball, sure… but not physically.

He wanted you to use your power.

Shaking your own head, you feigned innocence, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Grogu simply wiggled his little feet and waited.

And so did you.

You stared him down, rolling the ball in your hands, “You know, I really do not know what you’re referring to. You’re mistaken. Now, catch the ball, you little womp rat.” You let your affection for him show in your tone, so he would know you weren’t being mean. You tossed the ball toward him.

His palm lifted and it stopped mid-air, before whizzing back at you with speed, straight toward your head.

Your own hand whipped up and you caught it just before it could bonk you on the nose, “Hey! Don’t throw things at me!”

His ears flapped in annoyance and he make some kind of noise, waving his hands.

And then he opened his mouth to cry.

With a groan of defeat, you rubbed your forehead, “Fine! Fine. You’re right. I have the same powers as you.”

His mouth immediately closed and broke into a wide grin.

Cheeky little thing.

You held yourself very still, gazing down at this tiny creature, who had apparently guessed your one big secret. Tilting your head the other way, you narrowed your eyes a little, “How did you guess?”

Grogu mimicked your head tilt but revealed nothing. He just watched you, smiling happily and patting his hands together to wait for the ball.

All of your life a secret, and a tiny green baby with an affinity for frogs and space macarons had managed to work you out.

You couldn’t help the laugh, shaking your head at the whole situation, “You are a clever little baby aren’t you, huh?” You watched him for a little while, and then lifted up your hand flat, letting the ball rest in your open palm.

You took a deep breath, focusing on the ball.

Easy. Just concentrate.

You closed your eyes, slowing your breathing, allowing it to relax in time with the beating of your heart. Ignoring the beeping of the Crest, the worry of using it, you focused simply on the ball, and the air around it. Imaging it rising from your palm, gliding across the air and landing in Grogu’s little hand.

As simple as that.

You swallowed, and then opened a tiny gate in that cage, a small gasp releasing from your lungs as the power thrummed through your blood, letting you feel the space ahead of you, the empty air becoming a malleable thing, and you tried not to flinch as the weight of the ball vanished from your palm.

A breath in, a breath out. Focus.

Like an invisible hand, you began to guide the ball across the open air, as if it caressed the ball like a boat and carried it across the ocean.

You were nearly there; you could feel it. The ball was nearing Grogu’s palm, and you were dimly aware of his delighted noises, pride in his own glee like you had for him.

Nearly there.

You were doing it. You were controlling that wave, keeping it restrained and focused where you needed it. It was easy and it felt… it felt good. Natural, like breathing.

This was what you’d missed for the last twenty years, being able to spread it wide or bring it in narrow.

You didn’t need to be scared, if you could focus it in minimal amounts like this.

It was okay, you were okay and –

“Sweetheart? Grogu?”

The suddenness of din’s voice broke your concentration and the ball fell to the floor with a soft thunk.

Your eyes snapped open as your heart leapt into your both and you looked toward the entrance to the cockpit, hoping he was below, hoping he hadn’t seen.

It was empty.

The sound had come right from below, as he looked for you.

You swallowed, keeping your voice even, “Up here.” You turned your gaze to Grogu, knowing you looked as pleading as you sounded, “Please don’t tell him…” You whispered the words, but you knew he understood, the ball zipping to his hand as if he had been playing with it the whole time.

Gratitude for the small creature flooded your heart and you smiled at him, a little shakily as Din’s shiny head popped up the ladder.

“Hey, sorry I was a little longer than expected…” He reached the top of the ladder, rising to stand at his full height. He saw you in his seat, one of his hands coming to rest on his hip, “Oh, I see it didn’t take you long to replace me.” He motioned to you in his chair, the husky tone of his voice teasing.

You leant back in the chair, swaying it from side to side slightly with a grin, “Nope. Not at all. We don’t need you. You can go back out if you want. Shut the door on your way out.” You tilted your head back against the chair, one leg lounged over the arm like it was a throne.

He called you princess still, so why not play on it?

Did you not deserve a fancy dress and a crown?

Of course, you had no idea what this sight was doing to him, playing on a fantasy he’d had for a while now about this cockpit and that particular pilots chair.

He laughed, shaking his head and he rested against the side of the cockpit, arms crossed and pulling the fabric of his clothes tight – much to your own delight. “Right, I’ll just grab my things and leave, then. It’s been good knowing you, princess.”

This.

This was what you loved. The fact that you could have moments like last night, intense and passionate – or snarling and angry – and still retain the playful teasing that had always hovered between you.

You shook your head, grinning softly, “Nah, I’m kidding. I need you around to fly the ship… I have actually no idea how to.” You looked over your shoulder at the control panel, the mass of buttons and switches and lights.

Put you in front of a forest to track an animal or spot a hunter or present you with a variety of leaves and plants and you could identify them all. Give you a few meagre supplies and you’ll have a selection of weapons crafted in minutes.

But flying a ship?

No, thank you.

Din chuckled, and you knew he was grinning beneath the helmet, “I’ll teach you one day.” He straightened up suddenly and held out his hand, “Come with me.”

With a tilt of your head, you unwound yourself from the chair and slid your hand into his, the worn leather soft against your palm and fingers, “Where are going?”

Din tugged you gently toward the ladder, “I got you something...” His voice was a little quieter as he waited for you to descend the ladder.

You peered up at him, pausing to lower yourself down, “When you were off getting things from places?” You tried not to smile, your lips twitching.

Din huffed softly, and there was an implied verbal eyeroll there, “Get down the damn steps before I push you down them myself.”

Your laugh floated up as you descended, “And I would grab your foot on the way down and take you with me.”

A few moments later, you were making your way through the ship again.

Din stopped at the weapons cabinet, then turned to face you, “Close your eyes.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, eyes flicking to the weapons cabinet and then him, but you did as you were told, closing your eyes.

“Hold out your hands.”

Lips twitching again, you held out your hands obediently.

There was the sound of the cabinet opening and then rustling from within.

A pause.

Then you felt smooth, cool metal resting on your palms, across them both but you could tell it was wider.

You tilted our head curiously, brows furrowing a little as your fingers curled around the mysterious object.

Din’s voice sounded again, sounding… almost hesitant, “Open...”

Light filtered back in as you opened your eyes, looking down at the object in your hands.

Your breathing stopped in awe as you beheld the most gorgeous bow you had ever seen.

The metal was a sleek matte black, dimly reflecting the light of the ship back at you.

Inlaid into the metal was a gorgeous swirling design which spread across the arch of the bow. In the centre, where your arrowhead would rest against, a full moon created the focal point of the engraving.

Just like your tattoo.

Din silently extended his hands, and he was holding a matching quiver and arrows. Everything matched the bow, and the same gold design was etched down the body of the arrows. They ended in wickedly sharp, curved heads and just be the feel and weight of them, you knew they were deadly accurate and fast.

Quite simply, it was the most stunning weaponry you’d ever laid your eyes upon.

It was the perfect size for your body, and when you held it up to test the flexibility, it was exactly as you were used to, just like the bow you had lovingly cherished before you lost it on Sorgan.

This had been made purposely for you.

Din had taken your measurement – of course he knew them, - and somehow got every single tiny detail perfect. The string wasn’t too taught or hard to maneuverer. It responded to your touch, exactly as you wanted to.

You lifted your eyes to Din, your expression one of awe and… just simple adoration.

It took you a few tries to speak, finding your throat has closed up a slightly with tears. You cleared it, though your voice remained husky, “Din… This…” You shook your head, no words being strong enough to relay to him how much you loved it, how perfect it was.

Din was fiddling with his vambrace as he watched you, “Do you like it? I hope I got your measurements right… I had it commissioned a few weeks ago and it was only just finished. I… The design is a play on your tattoo.” He audibly swallowed, “If anything isn’t right, we can take it back and get it changed. Or if you don’t like it, you can have something completely new m-”

“Din, shush.” Gazing across the bow, you caressed the design with your fingertips, “It’s… beyond perfect. Truly. I couldn’t have designed it any better myself.” You lifted your eyes back to him, a swelling feeling in your chest, “This must have cost a fortune…”

He shook his head a little, his shoulders relaxing and his hands stilling when he saw how much you truly adored it, “Cara told me that you were discussing your favourite weapons one day… You’d told her that as familiar as you were with knives, you missed your bow.”

Oh, you did. You knew it wasn’t always the most suitable weapon – considering the number of different blasters and rifles that your pursuers used – but sometimes it had allowed you to escape before the fight had even begun. Perched high in a tree, an arrow whistling you the air in deadly silence and then it was over.

And now you had one.

An absolutely stunning one at that.

A soft laugh of delight slipped from your chest and then you were grinning broadly, “Oooh, I can’t wait to use this. You think I’m lethal with a knife, you should see me with one of these.” You nocked one of the arrows, testing the resistance now it was loaded, and you sighted along it, “We have to go play, soon, I beg you.”

Din chuckled adoringly, fully relaxing at your excitement, “Of course...” He watched you quietly for a moment, leaning back against the cabinet. “In Mandalorian culture… giving weapons can sometimes symbolise – well, not all the time but within some households and clans – it can.. uh-“ He lifted a hand like he was going to scratch the back of his neck, another awkward habit that seemed so out of place.

You looked over at him, carefully setting the arrow back in the quiver, “What can it mean?” You kept your voice light and casual, as if you didn’t notice his fumbling.

Din cleared his throat, “It can sometimes mean a marriage proposal.”

The quiver fell to the floor in a rattle of metal that broke through the air.

He was playing you, right?

You stooped to the quiver, carefully scooping the arrows back in, “I – uh.. You mean-“

Din was watching you intently, “It doesn’t always mean it, but some couples present each other with a new weapon to signify their bond. And that they want to spend the rest of their days together.

Blood pulsed through your ears, making your belly feel funny and your bones feel light. “I… I mean, I know a lot has happened between us, and-“

Din suddenly burst out laughing, lifting a hand to his chest like he could try to contain it, but it just kept coming.

Rising back to your feet, you raised your eyebrows at him, confusion etched on your face at the sudden turn of his behaviour.

The laughter poured from his lips like sunshine, stirring your chest out of its confusion and filling it with adoration. “Oh, you should have seen your face.” He tilted his helmet to you, trying to quell his laughter.

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “When we go and use these, remind me to put you in front of a tree.”

Din tried to speak straight through his chuckles, “And why’s that?”

Walking toward him, you poked him in the chest, “So I can use you as target practice, you shiny asshole.” You tried not to laugh, to keep a straight face. The truth was, if you could have bottled his laughter and gotten drunk on it forever, you would have. It was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, as rare and lovely as a shooting star. And you just knew that this man didn’t often laugh like this, so easily.

His hand snaked around your wrist, gently pressing your palm flat to his chest as he contained his amusement, “I wanted to play with you… It is true, but I didn’t get them for that.” He tilted his head just slightly, “You’re a warrior, and… a goddess. So… you deserve the weapons to match.”

So simple. Such easy words for him to speak, but the meaning and casual pride and care in his voice completely floored you.

You still weren’t used to such compliments and showering’s of affection – you didn’t think you ever would be.

The fact that he had complimented you more in your life than anyone else (save for your parents) had your eyes turning glass again, your throat closing a little as that realisation truly set in.

This man believed in you, saw you, more than anyone.

You gazed up at him, through the visor of his helmet and not for the first time, you had the truly selfish thought, that you wished he could take it off.

So you could show him just how much he meant to you, show him how his words held you above water when you were drowning.

You weren’t good with them, no better than he was really, but you just wished you could show him. He deserved it, to feel those same feelings in return, to be praised and adored for the brilliant man he was.

Din tilted his head further, his thumb running over your knuckles, “What’s going through that magnificent brain of yours, cyar'ika? Tell me…” The soft, low tenor of his voice never failed to skitter over your bones like fire.

You bit your lip, the words tumbling out before you could stop them, “I wish I could kiss you.”

Not even two seconds later, it crashed through your brain just how that sounded, how ungrateful and selfish it came across. Your eyes closed in disgust at yourself and you flushed in shame, “Maker, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry for how that sounded, please believe me, I didn’t-”

Suddenly, Din moved. He leant down and rested the forehead of his helmet on yours.

The metal was cool, the weight of it gently pressing against your skin, shutting you up with the unfamiliar gesture.

Din lifted his other hand to your waist, resting his hand there lightly – respectfully. “Kov'nyn.”

You blinked a few times, “Kov… huh?” You guessed it was Mando’a, but you had no idea what it meant.

His thumb lightly rubbed over your hip bone, sending tiny shockwaves through you, “Kov'nyn.” He used his other hand to gesture at the position you were in, “This is called a keldabe kiss. It can be used in battle, as a headbutt or something but it can also be a show of affection. Mandalorian’s don’t show each other their faces until marriage… so instead we do this. A keldabe kiss.”

You were quiet as you absorbed that, the soft sweetness of the gesture, your head tilted up to Din, and something in you told you he was gazing into your eyes.

It was incredibly intimate too, despite the later of armour separating you.

He couldn’t quite offer you the kiss you meant, but he could give you this. And… this was as good as showing each other the affection you intended.

You didn’t know how long you stood there, his hand lightly on your waist, yours still on his chest but then you started to laugh at something.

He tilted his head slightly against your forehead, “What now?” His voice was light though, curious as to what had tickled you this time.

You grinned cheekily, tapping your fingertips over his chest. “Again with the marriage talk. Are you sure you don’t need to tell me something?”

Din laughed too, that heart-stopping, gorgeous laugh, filling the space with starlight and joy, “No. At least not yet, sweetheart.”

~~~

You gazed down at the comms unit.

The code on the back of Rena’s card had been typed in and staring at you for the last twenty minutes. You were sitting cross-legged in your room, door firmly shut after your wash in the ‘fresher.

Din was in there now; you could hear the echo of the water splashing down.

You were only going to change clothes and go back to the cockpit, but when you’d taken them off, Rena’s card had fallen out and… here you were.

Just call him.

Your thumb hesitated over the call button, nerves whispering through your blood.

Was this a good idea? To ask for help?

There was still the matter of how he knew about you, and how he found you in the first place.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea.

Din would be furious, he doesn’t trust him. He thinks he’s a legend come to life.

True, Din would be so pissed.

But… this wasn’t Din’s decision to make.

It was yours.

Ever since your parents died, you had been running. From hunters, from the law but mostly... from yourself.

You were being stalked and hunted for your powers.

The very thing that you once adored and made you unique, and special, you now viewed as… a burden?

No... that wasn’t it. It was never a burden.

Yes, it sometimes caused you more trouble than it was worth, and you did fear it but… you longed for it.

With every fibre in your being, you wished you could utilise it. To once again make it a part of you and feel the purity of it. The energy that flowed in and around every single living thing, responding and allowing you to manipulate it.

The little experiments you had started to conduct, testing to see if you could control even a small amount… they were making you crave it even more. Even though it terrified you and your nightmare had flashed back in your mind, you had managed to control it this afternoon with Grogu.

Even if it was just a tiny ounce, it had listened to you – like you were one again.

Rena had told you that there was nothing to fear from him. His sister had been gifted with the same abilities.

Din would understand when you explained it to him… but you wanted to at least know more about how to control it. That way, you could tell him and… show him. Show him what you’d been hiding this whole time.

Maybe it was time.

Maybe it was time to stop being scared of it, of who you were.

Maybe it was time to embrace it and become who you were meant to be.

And so, you pressed the call button.

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#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #reader insert #star wars #the force #force sensitive #rogue #the mandalorian #din djarin & grogu #pedro pascal #grogu

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the-volume-is-astronomical · 3 years

Text

The Crown, The Sword, and The Gay

Not So Stormy Knight

A/N: there's a lot more people in the taglist lol. I'm still working o an upload schedule but yeah enjoy! (its on of the shorter chapters I have writing but yeppers)

(also let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!)

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words: 1490

summary: Virgil doesn't want to deal with this mess but he was sent to deliver a message so, theres not much he can do

pairings: eventual prinxiety, eventual intrulogical, eventual moceit, Remile

warnings: some potty language (not much), stress, anxiety, pretentious character, violence (near the end), talking down to someone

(let me know if there's any other)

Virgil didn't want to deal with this weird shit so early but, he didn't really have a choice. He made eye contact with who he could only assume was the prince, who was not panicked in the slightest and just shrugged. When Virgil got a good look as to who this servant lady had pinned to the ground he almost laughed out loud, it was none other than the stuck-up, self-centered, overall piece of shit Trent. Now he was actually glad to be delivering this stupid message.

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

Virgil was awoken in the early hours of the morning (incredibly rude but that's besides the point). “Get dressed and meet me at the workstation in 20 minutes.” When Virgil's brain finally decided to be awake enough to process words, his blood ran cold as he realized who was speaking to him. Commander Arlott. Virgil knew better than to question his superior so he did as instructed.

The Commander wasted no time to speak as Virgil arrived,“Virgil, I need you to deliver this message to Sir Trent Ortiz” Arlott held a letter with the royal crest sealing it “Sir, with all due respect, why not send one of the squires?” Virgil had always been careful with how he spoke to people in power since they could make or break his entire life plan, “Since Trent is ...assisting King Leonardo, by keeping Prince Roman safe, he is in an undisclosed location. I need someone of trust and my Seneschal recommended you.”

Commander Arlott always talked slow and calmly, no matter how much stress he was under, Virgil always appreciated that. “Understood?” Arlott sounded a little irritated, “Yes, sir.” Virgil didn't want to make that worsen, he knew his commander was known to have a temperament.

As Virgil loaded his things, he took a moment to examine the map. The Commander had explained it was going to be a three to four hour trip, so at least he could get back the same day if he was quick enough.

He arrived, about three hours later, at this secluded tower in the middle of nowhere. He had almost believed he was lost as he couldn't see the tower from above but it was meant to be a lot lower than the trees around it so as to not be spotted and spark curiosity. The Tower was incredibly daunting. He had to admire the measures taken for the tower to be hidden. They built the tower deep into the forest, very far away from the path, they made the tower shorter than the coast redwood trees surrounding it, and they made it incredibly hard to find as the path was infuriatingly confusing and it was located in a dense part of the forest.

After he got over how intimidating a tower can look, he noticed a carriage near the entry of the scary building. Virgil remembered how his Commander had told him there wasn't supposed to be anyone there other than Trent and the Prince. But he could clearly see someone waiting in the carriage.

Virgil noticed how his stomach felt like it was a black hole, he didn't really want to be the person to inform the death of a Royal. He left his horse near the edge of the forest and started sneaking closer to the Tower, as to not be spotted by the man in the carriage. He quickly climbed the steps of the tower and reached a door, yet there were more steps. He decided to check anyway, when he opened the door he saw nothing but a room with a few recognizable belongings, similar equipment as his, definitely where Trent was sleeping, that or the prince had an affinity towards knight equipment.

He heard some commotion at the top of the tower, so he begrudgingly headed up the steps. As he heard the voices rise even more, he quickened his step and tried to listen in. He wasn't able to make out what they were saying but he recognised Trent’s unpleasant and overall irritating voice and a random lady. As he reached the door he heard the voices stop and a thud, followed by groaning.

Virgil opened the door to see something that till this day he will say was one of the most hilarious sights, Trent Ortiz being held at an armlock by some servant woman. He tried his hardest not to laugh at the sight, which was pretty easy considering he still felt anxious and overwhelmingly confused, as funny as the sight was, what in the world had happened? As he raised his gaze to look around the room, as if it would have any answers, he locked eyes with a browned eyed boy, who he quickly identified as the prince Trent was supposed to be protecting, his robe gave it away. The prince just shrugged and yawned as if this was a common occurrence, which it may as well have been, he didn't know much about what being a royal felt like.

Ruth looked up and spotted the young knight with a terrified look on his face, in an effort to comfort him, she gave him a smile “Hi darling, what brings you-” she stopped talking as Trent tried to get out of her grasp “Don't struggle, you’re going to break your arm!” she tried to warn him.

“As if, get off of me, witch!” Ruth sighed and was about to give him another warning but Trent saw Virgil and spoke up again “Virgil, what are you doing standing there?! Get this old hag off of me!” Before Virgil could do anything, Trent continued trying to break free from Ruth’s grip but ended up breaking something else. His arm to be exact. Trent screamed in pain. Ruth immediately let go, it was never her intention to actually hurt him. Trent curled up holding his arm close to his chest.

Roman wasn't really paying attention to the situation, until he heard the scream. He got close to see both, the knight and nurse were okay. Ruth pushed him back as Virgil kneeled down to try and help the knight in pain. Ruth went to one of the trunks and got some fabric that could be used as a temporary sling. She tried to get close to Trent but he backed away slightly, Virgil spoke up “Maybe, I should put the sling on him.” Ruth nodded and gave him the fabric.

When Virgil finished tying the sling, he stepped away from Trent and Ruth decided to speak “It’s in his best interest to see a doctor, he should probably head back.” Virgil nodded, seeing that as the best option. Ruth spoke again.

“You should probably take him back soon, we don't want the injury to get worse.” at that Trent broke his silence “Prince Roman is supposed to be under knight supervision at all times.” Roman rolled his eyes and tried to reason with him

“My father will understand. You’re hurt and need to go get your arm checked out. I can be without a knight for a few hours.” Trent didn't budge “No. Your father gave me a direct order and i’m not going to disobey.” Roman looked at him like he was mad.

Ruth decided to ask the young boy who had stayed silent in the corner. “Virgil, was it? Honey, are you a knight?” Virgil looked up and nodded. “Well, he can stay with Roman and I can take you to a doctor in the carriage.” Trent scoffed. “They made me the Prince’s knight because of my skill; you can’t just replace me with someone who acts as a messenger.” Ruth did not like that at all, Virgil reminded her of Remy and her motherly instincts were kicking in

“Right now you arent of any help because you're hurt!” he fired back quickly “And who’s fault is that?” Ruth didn't want another screaming match to start “I warned you didn't I? Just let the boy be Roman’s temporary knight and later on they'll find a ‘better fit’ replacement as you put it.” Trent looked annoyed but begrudgingly agreed.

Virgil looked at the Prince as the other two were arguing, he was quiet and his eyes seemed to be distant, his posture made him seem annoyed but his face didn't show it. Ruth signaled him to help Trent to get down.

Virgil seemed to be doing the same as the prince and ignoring Trent arguing ‘how Roman couldn't be left alone in the tower’. He helped Trent into the carriage and turned back to see the servant lady talking to the prince, she gave the royal a hug and turned to the carriage, Virgil helped her in.

Roman and Virgil watched the carriage leave. Virgil turned to tell the royal how it’d be better for them to head inside. But he saw the monarch already headed to the tower, and he quickly scrambled to catch up with him.

taglist:

@meowthefluffy @shade-romeo @pattonsmile @sevencreepycatsinacoat

@mychemically-imbalanced-romance

@innerpostturtle

some aren’t working i’ll see if I can fix it :(

#prinxiety #roman sanders #ts roman #roman angst #virgil sanders #ts virgil #prinxiety fic #moceit #intrulogical #remile

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poptod · 3 years

Text

The Breeding Kings, pt. 3 (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: The blacksmith.

Notes: I Love this story but i know yall arent that interested in it which is kinda yikes for me but theres no way im not finishing this fic whether its now or two years from now WC: 7.8k (again im so sorry)

By the time you and Ahkmen actually made it out of the pyramid, most of the stars had vanished, and the dawning light of the sun sparked a panic in the Prince's heart. He hurried you back to the shore, picking you up and setting you in the boat before pushing the boat far into the water. Constant glances over your head let him keep an eye on the shore, on the rotating guards at the gates, and where was best to tie the canoe back up.

In the end, he found a spot as far away from the gates as possible, securing the boat before helping you out of the rickety contraption.

"Have you school?"

"Unfortunately," he muttered beneath his breath, adjusting his belt.

With that he took your hand, jogging down the wooden docks until you came to the entrance. He ran through that as well, terrified of anyone recognizing him, and didn't leave enough time for you to think on it long. Ever respectful, he saw you home before sprinting back to the palace by himself, wind burning his eyes all the way up.

For the next couple days he took extra care in his physical health. Learning to calculate the time of day and its' relation to the curvature of the earth, while in the blazing heat of the sun, had not fared well on his sleep-deprived mind. When he returned home that evening, he slept over 12 hours in a dead faceplant on his bed. Upon waking he found Piye looming above him with a knowing expression.

"How much time have you been spending with that Yogi?" They asked in a clearer, less clogged voice than Ahkmen had been able to manage through the amount of beer he'd had recently, paired with how little sleep he had.

"Didn't come home one evening," he grumbled, raising his hand to wipe away the tiredness from his eyes. "Got a lot of sleep last night, though."

"I can see that. Get up. We've got some time yet before the weekend," Piye said with a clap that roused the young Prince.

"Good morning, my Prince," said Naguib, who slipped in through the door. "The Pharaoh's dinner with the emissaries from Ebla is tonight. He wants you there."

"I have other places to be," Ahkmen whined, his shoulders drooping as he looked up.

"So does he," Piye said flatly.

School passed by without him ever seeing you, a fact that disappointed him more than it saddened him. His mood got him into a small verbal bout with one of his teachers, and though Piye tried to hold him back, the school day ended with him in one of the study rooms watching Yafeu argue with his father.

Ahkmen huffed, resting the weight of his head on his open palm balanced on the table in front of him. Yafeu couldn't tell him that he wasn't allowed in the school anymore, but the Priest would do his best to make sure Ahk got the second best punishment.

"I expect more from you, Ahkmen," his father said quietly as they walked side by side back to the palace. "None of your brothers have the skills or the wherewithal to lead a country. That responsibility may fall to you."

"Kamun is the oldest, isn't he?" Ahkmen grumbled. "He's the one who's going to be Pharaoh."

"Nothing is set in certainty, my son. Now then, in a few hours the Eblans will arrive, and a dinner will follow."

"Does that mean I have some free time, then?" Ahk asked with a sudden, bright change in tone.

"I want you to get ready," Merenkahre said, frowning. "Not play around with your friends."

"I'll only be there an hour at most," he said, playing off his own innocence.

The Pharaoh paused in the street to look down at Ahkmen, before letting out a long sigh.

"Very well. One hour."

Ahkmen didn't wait to return to his room––he turned and immediately set back off down the road, dashing and twisting through the crowds that formed the closer he got to the temple of Osiris. He barely looked to see where his hands and feet were as he climbed over the familiar crates, landing back in your alley and ducking back into your home.

To his surprise, Piye was already sitting in your waiting room, their feet set on a high shelf with their butt in a pile of blankets.

"Oh, hello Ah–"

You entered the room with massive goggles on.

"-hhh whhhat's up?" Piye corrected with wide eyes.

"... not much," Ahkmen said slowly. "I have a dinner with my parents in an hour, so I can't stay for long."

"I do need one help," you said as you pulled your goggles off, examining the material in your glove-clad hands. "I need a.. a..."

You snapped your fingers, attempting to recall the name of something. Ahk and Piye waited patiently.

"A kaentam," you muttered before a curse. "It is the rocks that kiss."

Piye stared at you dumbfounded, their mouth half open.

"You mean a magnet?"

"I think, yes," you said, though you didn't look sure. "Panya and her rock are still not... I do not know the type of her rock. I need your 'magnet' for to find the – the name."

"Well it's not exactly easy to find magnets," Ahkmen said slowly, picking at his chin as he thought.

"No, yeah," Piye agreed in the same contemplating tone. "I know they're used in medicine, but it's a... an unconventional treatment. Kind of expensive."

Ahk stared at the ground, continuing to play with the skin of his jaw.

"I think I know where we might find some," Ahk said after a moment.

"What is it?" You asked, stepping nearer.

"Osiris' temple. Priests have areas for medicine, and we already know the layout of the place."

"It's late, though. We're not allowed to enter after sunset," Piye pointed out.

"That's why it's good we know the layout!" Ahk said as he stood. "Now let's go."

"Don't you have a formal dinner in an hour?" Piye asked, watching Ahkmen leave out the door with a quirked brow.

"Let's gooo!" Ahkmen sang from outside.

Anything to distract from the coming responsibilities––anything to earn your favor, to win you over in some fashion he was convinced he hadn't already won you over in. You followed him out with a smile, murmuring a small greeting and thanks before Piye also appeared from behind you.

"And onwards we go, to Osiris, to Osiris," Ahk sung as he scaled the crates, followed by you and Piye in order.

"We have obtained," Piye continued the song with a grunt, "forever and ever, what your Grace will gift us."

"You talk like your heads have nothing in their side," you said, to Ahkmen's great amusement.

As Ahkmen originally suspected, most of the temple's inhabitants were too preoccupied with the evening adulations to notice three children, however strange looking, entering the complex. Ahk entered first, donned in his usual golden fabrics, followed by Piye, who by themselves always looked out of place no matter where they were or what they wore, and then you, a child at Piye's side, dressed in an unfamiliar but royal fashion.

Murmurings and voices could be heard from the tall roof of Osiris' temple, where many of the hour priests gathered to scan the heavens. Already the brightest stars shone through the light of sunset, a fact Ahkmen was quite glad about, since it would keep attention off him.

"Yafeu's room here has many, many supplies," Ahkmen whispered as the three of you crept down the open hallway.

"How do you know that?" Piye asked.

"I was sent there so he could yell at me and he's got bookcases and chests worth of things in there. What a monetary bastard," Ahk said with a tut, chuckling from his own humor.

When he reached the door to Yafeu's office, he slowly turned the lock, letting the wood door swing open with a creak. He motioned Piye in, then you, before following in himself, locking the door behind him.

Although Ahkmen might've been privy to the private belongings of the high priest, you and Piye shared no such knowledge. Piye, who had to bow down slightly due to the height of the ceiling, slowly scanned the room, from the pots to the jars and tapestries hanging from the walls. A reed mat had been set on the floor, keeping away the dirt and sand anyone might drag in.

"Where does he keep his medical supplies?" Piye asked quietly, taking a ginger step forward as they scanned the shelves with their eyes. When they spotted nothing useful, they began to rifle through them with their hands.

"No clue. Let's start, shall we?"

The three of you set to searching the room, categorically searching the different shelves––Piye for the tallest two, Ahk for the middle, and you for the lowest. You tried your best to keep quiet, wary of those who passed by outside the door.

"Why do you need a magnet again?" Ahkmen asked after several minutes of silent searching.

"Panya's rock seems iron in a... clean.. way? It is.. not how you see it in earth, and I don't know it. But your magnet will," you made a motion with your hands of them colliding together, "if I am right."

"You must know quite a lot about metals," Piye said, not bothering to tear away from the work at hand. You and Ahkmen, however, had stopped to look at each other when he spoke.

"My family is... kaghruppakal, moving.. metal, to make into things," you said as you reluctantly returned to the baskets on the bottom shelves.

"Blacksmiths," Piye said.

"Thank you," you said. "My father father's had it learned by the Kings in my home. They give us a good home for years, but they give no... money. So when new King comes, we had no home after."

"What do you mean, new King?" Ahk asked with a confused furrow in his brow.

"It is long and I do not know the how to say in Egyptian, but a man killed the King and stole his name," you said quietly.

"Is that why you left your home?" Ahkmen asked. "There was a revolution?"

"More of a usurping," Piye muttered.

"A little, yes," you said with a nod, before falling quiet.

Ahkmen waited a moment to see if you would say anything else, and a moment to wonder if he would say anything else, but ultimately returned to scavenging through Yafeu's belongings.

Statuette.

More gold bracelets.

Ancient scripture.

"You have to leave for that dinner pretty soon," Piye said in a dull voice.

"I don't need to leave for anything or anyone."

"Ureka!" you suddenly cried, a toothy smile coming to you as you forgot yourself.

Ahkmen and Piye both shushed you, to which you quickly apologized in a much quieter voice.

"I saw them," you said, extending in your hand a pair of magnets stuck to one another.

"Oh thank Gods," Piye said in a rush of breath, their hands immediately falling from the tall shelves. "Let's get back and see if it reacts to your stone."

"No, no, I bring it here," you mumbled distractedly as you dug into your large pockets, pulling out the shiny metal.

He watched in bated breath as you raised the magnets to Panya's stone. The whole of the process meant little to him, but it was part of your job, and he enjoyed partaking in little bits of your life.

This handicapped understanding of your work left him rather confused at your excitement when the magnets stuck to Panya's rock. You gasped, marveling at the reaction. As you moved to your feet, you never looked away, holding it close to your chest.

"Irumpu," you said through your smile. "Iron."

"I'm quite glad you've figured this out, but for the time being, we need to get out of here without being spotted," Ahkmen said, putting his hands on your shoulders before gently moving you aside, and opening the door a crack.

Piye spoke in a mumble with you as he stuck his head outside, the cool air of night filling his lungs, distinct from the stuffy walls of Yafeu's office. There were few people in the courtyard, as most of the priests and workers were still preoccupied with their finishing tasks for the night.

He motioned the two of you over, leading you silently outside. You crept along the wall with quick feet, skipping out of the temple, and running back into your home in a smiling rush.

The rush of adrenaline in his blood soon dissipated, comforted by the familiar shades of red and gold always resting upon your crown. Still staring at the metal, you collapsed down in your cushion pile, moving to hold the ball above your head as you stared. Ahkmen chuckled at your behavior, taking a seat beside you as Piye fell in a similar manner as you did across the room.

"Happy?" Ahk asked teasingly.

"Very," you said. "I must to find who had made it. The old King shows my father father's how to make it, but I never ask. And," you snapped your fingers, "then it is gone. When they go."

"Your grandfather knew how to purify and mold iron?" Piye asked in a low but loud voice, sitting quickly up.

"Yes, and it is good for..." you made a stabbing motion, "things that make people dead."

"Weapons," said Ahkmen.

"Etuvaka. Not many know how it makes, and that is how – why we come here. Makes better money, more than a city. Our city, people know how to," you mimicked squishing and molding things in your empty hands, "do with iron, so it is all every shop. Here, it was my family, only my family."

"That must've been quite the business at the time," Piye said in a softer voice, still low as they contemplated your words.

"We make good money," you said with a nod. "But I know this not. I want... to see.. find the maker. Hear his words."

"You'll probably want to see Panya, then," Ahk said. "It was her who found it, right?"

"I think yes."

"Wonderful. You'll go find her, and I will take him home," Piye said as they stood, gesturing to Ahk with their chin. "Dinner, remember?"

"Has anyone told you how irritating you are?" Ahkmen said, but nonetheless obeyed and stood.

"Your father reminds me every day," Piye responded flatly as the two returned to the palace.

Ahkmen drummed his fingers against the table below him, leaning the weight of his head on his raised knee. His mother had forced him into his royal clothes––the actual royal clothes, not just the expensive ones––and the crown his parents had made him gave him headaches with its' weight. Pure gold was heavy.

Ebla was a trading nation from the north who supplied a small but important type of material rarely found in the desert; wood. That was what Merenkahre and the Eblaite queen spent two hours talking about. Wood. They brought other goods such as rarely-found textiles and handcrafted artifacts as well, but they focused on the wood. It made sense, since that was what Egypt required the most, but it still bored him terribly.

Piye was much luckier by his reckoning. They didn't have to attend duties such as these. All the things they had to do were fun, things like gathering ingredients from the markets or the side of the Nile, going off on quests to defeat mythical beasts.

The young prince huffed, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from tapping his fingers too loudly. Walls of grandeur surrounded him, a good enough difference from your home that he was nearly shocked when he entered his own home, staring up at the towering ceiling. His style was slowly changing, as it usually did, to accommodate new aspects of his life; this had happened before on many occasions, as he suspected it did with many other teenagers his age.

A dream to look at. He would reckon your smile would match against any angelic beauty––anything holy was a common miracle in comparison to the subtle, entrancing magic of your laughter, his hand holding yours as he dragged you, pretending not to notice the racing of his heartbeat. A dream.

He wanted nothing more than to scoop you up and drown you in kisses. In order to avoid his own disappointment at his fantasy not currently being reality, he bit deeper into the inside of his cheek, pressing down harder on his open palm.

Hours later, he stared up at the canopy of his bed, the sheets tossed around his body till most of them hung half of the bed. His breathing was the only noise in the still room.

Until his breathing irritated him so fiercely he sat straight up in a huff, a frown on his forced expression.

"Fucking... thoughts," he muttered to himself, halfheartedly punching one of his pillows.

He could not manage to tear his mind from you. Every time he closed his eyes, he thought of you, and adrenaline built in him as he unwillingly imagined your face. Would you mind if he came to see you? It must've been past midnight. You worked during the day. He shouldn't bother you.

Ten minutes later he was fully dressed and sneaking out of the palace, a shroud of cloth concealing his identity as he moved along the shadows. He reckoned Piye, who also slept inside the palace, did not want to see you at this hour, and he left them to sleep.

Ahkmen wasn't sure what he was looking for in returning to you, but as per usual, fantasies spared no expense in the luxurious self-indulgence department, scenes playing behind his eyes of the two of you 'naturally' finding yourselves in intimate situations. Most of it consisted of him finally getting some sleep, this time with you in his arms or wrapped around his waist.

Despite his embarrassment concerning previously mentioned fantasies, they did inspire him to move faster, and before he knew it he found himself standing in front of your tent, hesitating for the first time.

Again his doubts plagued him. He comforted himself with the fact that he had come all this way, and it seemed a rather foolish idea to give it up now.

With that he entered, his eyes immediately falling to the one candle lit in the shadowed room. The usual rushlights set about the entrance room––where he and his friends usually sat about and did nothing––had disappeared, leaving much of the folds of cloths in shadows that casted stark against the single flame.

"Yogi?" Ahk said in a much quieter voice than required.

The sound of rustling blankets had his heart sinking in his chest. He had hoped, at least, that he wouldn't bother you from your sleep––most of him believed you would be up all night working.

"Aganu?" You murmured softly, high and quiet with the sleep pulling at your lips.

"Uh, yes," he said, trying to peek behind the curtain separating your bedroom front your shop. "I'm sorry to disturb you so late. I thought you'd be up, I – I can leave."

"No, no," you mumbled. "Is good. Come here."

He gulped, gingerly stepping forward and pulling away the cloth door. Behind it, you lay in a pocket of space built into your fabric wall, drowning you in luxurious blankets of red and gold. All that remained visible was your eyes, an adoring sight in his mind.

"Why've you got that light in the other room?" Ahk asked quietly, kneeling down in front of you.

"More not strong. It is very red," you said, poking your finger out to gesture to the room as a whole. "Good for night sleeping. Why are you coming here?"

"You mean your house or your bed?" Ahk said, stepping away as he became aware of his closeness to you.

"My house."

"Couldn't sleep," he said with a shrug. "Thought you might be able to help."

"Why?" You asked, before backtracking. "Wait, that is not the word I mean. Um... how do you want help?"

"I don't know. Maybe you have a potion, or just a better bed than I do," he said, chuckling.

"I have both."

"Hey, you haven't even felt my bed," he said in a teasing manner. "How do you already know your bed's better?"

"Because it is not hard."

Fair enough point––Egyptian beds were essentially a table built for the purpose of sleeping. Good for the hot weather, bad for the joints.

"I don't want to disturb you, though," he said quietly as you began to rise, sheets and thick blankets falling from your shoulders to reveal the naked expanse of your chest and stomach. He gulped, though fortunately not audible, as you stretched your hands up.

"It is no problem," you said, sighing deeply as your arms fell.

Rooting around in your bed, you found a large but thin blanket, wrapping it around your body before you left your comforts. You yawned as you stood, but faithfully wandered to your potion storage. Ahkmen had never seen any of your potions, as he didn't believe a hangover cure counted as one, and thus he looked eagerly over your shoulder when you knelt down. Glass and pottery clinked together as you searched.

"What kind of potions do you make?" Ahk asked, stepping back when you once more rose to your feet.

"To help bodies," you said, gesturing to your own body, "and soul." You tapped your heart.

He frowned. Obviously.

"Do you have like, a love potion?"

"Why you ask that?"

"Just curious," he said quickly.

"I have... khamam potion. You make a man drink it and they will.. have..." you trailed off, unable to explain fully. "Love to you? When they make the children."

"Sex?"

"Sure. They do the sex. Man or woman," you said with a dismissive wave of your hand.

"How do you make a potion like that?"

"You think I give it with no paying? I must make money, Aganu," you chuckled softly, bopping his nose with your finger, before sobering to speak. "This is a potion that will make you calm. Ready for sleep, yes."

"Oh, thank you," Ahkmen said, taking the small, clay bottle. "How much do I owe you?"

"Speak more about the sky."

He quirked a brow.

"That's your price?"

"I want to know more. I go to school to clean, not hear, but I want to," you said, taking his hands in your cloth-covered hands, and staring upwards. "I am alive to see and hear and I want to hear you."

You couldn't be aware of the effect of your words. Not with eyes that innocent. But, as usual, his heart raced painfully in his chest, overflown with an affection he had no choice but to hold back.

"... very well," he murmured, and led you back to your bed. You crawled in, surrounding yourself in blankets once more as Ahk sat on the floor, carefully watching your sleepy, fluttering eyes.

"The sky––well, more specifically the night sky, is a woman. Her name is Nuit. At sunset, her head in the west consumes Ra, and in the morning, she births him again. Her eyes are the sun and moon. Her lover, Geb, is the earth, but they are forever forced apart by Ra, who placed their father to separate them," Ahk said, reciting information he had long known. "His name is Shu. He is the air that lets us breathe."

"Why did Ra want them apart?" You asked quietly, muffled behind your blankets.

"Nuit became pregnant by Geb. Ra found it an abomination, cursed her to never give birth on any day of the year. But Thoth helped her––won a few games of Senet against Khonsu, god of time, and earned her five days in which she gave birth to five children."

"Who?"

"Osiris on the first day. That's his temple you work at. Then I believe it was.. Horus.. Seth, Isis, and her sister, Nephthys." He paused to yawn. "Those are the epagomenal days, at the end of the year. Pretty big celebration."

"I like to see this," you mumbled.

"I'll take you this next year," he said. "There's plenty of food and beer for everyone."

Your breathing was beginning to slow, and when Ahk noticed that, he fell into silence. Instead he stared at your closed eyes, your cheek squished into your pillow. Too much to look at. The better half of him yearned to reach out and touch you, but the remaining bits of his conscious reminded him that that was, beyond anything, an incredibly strange thing to do.

He was even more grateful for his decision to remain still when your eyes opened on an inhale, blinking slowly as you met his gaze.

"Tired?" You asked. "Potion does not takes long."

He chuckled, "yeah. I'm pretty tired now."

"What time does it take to walk to your house?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe thirty minutes."

"You are.. you will fall by then," you murmured.

"Asleep?"

"Yes. It is a strong potion."

You paused, scanning his body and its' position near you.

"Remain here," you said, soft as the silk you drowned yourself in. "For the night."

The rope around his heart tightened at your request. His imagination, somehow, had come to fruition.

"Where will I sleep?" He asked, fighting back another yawn.

"All places. Do what you want," you sighed. "Or you fall sleep in the street."

"Very funny. Scoot over."

You glared up at him, but eventually gave in, scooting closer to the wall to make room for him. He pulled his jewelry off him before sidling in, hoping to avoid hurting you accidentally.

When he turned to face you, he found his forehead crowning you, his nose just barely brushing against yours.

"Thanks," he murmured. "You didn't have to."

"I know," you whispered in a breath, closing your eyes.

Only a few hours later he was awakened by something prodding at his face. His eyes fluttered open, blearily finding Piye above him, poking his cheek with a fireplace fork. Ahkmen groaned, turning over on his side.

"Don't you ignore me, you royal pain," Piye said, prodding him harder yet. "Do you know how many lies I had to tell to your father?"

"Piye, it's way too early in the morning for this," he said groggily, throwing his arm over his eyes.

"It's midday!"

"I got here late," Ahkmen said as he slowly fell out of the bed, sliding onto the floor.

Piye grasped the top of Ahk's head by his hair, lifting his face and kneeling to meet him.

"I swear to the Gods if you had sex with a ci–"

"I did not," Ahk hissed, wriggling till Piye's grip loosened.

Reluctantly, Ahkmen rose to his feet, brushing the wrinkles out of his clothes and pulling your blankets off the floor, placing them back on the bed. The lumps in the cloth suggested your presence, but as he pulled them away he found the rest of the bed empty. He stepped back in surprise.

Piye looked over his shoulder, frowning as they, too, saw your absence.

"Isn't this Yogi's bed?"

"It was last night," Ahk said.

"I am here," you said from behind. Ahk whirled around, coming face to face with you struggling to pull on a large, ornate coat.

"Oh. What are you doing?" Ahk asked with a frown.

"I am placing my coat."

"We can see that," Piye said flatly. "It's hot outside. Why do you need it."

"Pockets," you said, opening your jacket to reveal a plethora of pockets sewn into the inner seams. "I do go to market now. I will see for the man that had made this."

You reached into one of your pockets, pulling out the block of pure iron some blacksmith had thrown away.

"Will I go to Panya? If she wants to?" You asked, pocketing the metal once more.

"Probably should," Ahk said with a yawn, stretching his hands high enough that they raised the cloth ceiling. Piye nodded in agreement.

"She likes to stay in control," Piye added.

"I can help you get there," Ahk offered expectantly.

"Oh! Thanks many," you said, grinning wide. "I do not know to find her."

"I better come too," said Piye, who crossed their arms. "He always seems to get into trouble without me there."

"You say that as though I don't get into trouble when you're with me, too," Ahk chuckled.

"I'm not in the mood today, Ahk," Piye whispered, gripping Ahk's upper arm tight enough to leave temporary marks.

"Then don't come along," Ahk whispered back. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

Piye glared at him but said nothing, walking swiftly out the door and closing the flap behind them. It left Ahkmen once more alone with you, awkwardly shuffling his feet as you prepared yourself, carefuly to remember all your tools.

"Thank you, again," Ahkmen said after a moment of silence. "For letting me sleep here."

"Yes, yes. Go now."

You pushed him out the door, following as you fixed the tassels of your pants. Thin ropes flipped every which way till you knotted them, tightening around your waist, before you set off towards the common streets. Ahkmen followed, though he couldn't see where Piye had gone.

Murmuring conversations surrounded him, circled by flocks of people heading towards Osiris' temple. Shoulders and feet pushed on him, shoving him about as he headed in the opposite direction, always searching for your scarlet red robes. They set you quite wide apart from the usual crowd, and thus the Prince used them as an identifier.

People cast looks in his direction as he continued to shove and push, a constant stream of shaky apologies tumbling from his mouth. He considered himself adept at moving through crowds, but he had clearly not gotten as much practice as you did, which combined with your smaller size, led you to stop far ahead to wait for him.

He panted as he reached you, pausing with a heavy chest.

"Feel you good?" You asked, quirking a brow.

"I don't do well when I haven't eaten in the morning," he said, his voice cracking as he bent over slightly, his hands on his knees.

"Funny Egyptian man," you laughed, reaching up to ruffle his already messy hair. "You are... too full of money."

"I wouldn't doubt that," he muttered, recalling the many luxuries his father had given him throughout his life.

"I buy your food, we will go," you said as you returned to walking, slow to allow him time to catch up.

"Oh, don't worry about that," he said, waving his hand dismissively as he rose to follow you. "I can pay for it. Don't waste your money."

"Right?"

"... yes," he said, after having given up on trying to decode what exactly you'd meant.

As the two of you entered the main streets of the city, the conversations of strangers grew louder, more densely packed between houses and stalls full of goods. Through the street you now walked down, there must've been at least five different spice carts. Careful mountains of cumin and ginger were placed in the corner of nearly every stop.

Near the end, he found a small stall of a woman selling beer. He reached for you, pausing your step as he dug into his own pocket, pulling out a silver ring.

"One cup, please," he asked, to which the lady politely acquiesced. He set the ring down on her counter. "Will this do?"

"... one more than that," she said, her gaze flickering from the ring to Ahk's eyes.

He pulled out another ring, and with that she handed him the cup, taking the rings simultaneously.

"Have a good day!" She said as the two of you left.

Ahkmen sipped at his drink with a satisfied sigh, relaxing into the sweet, familiar taste. Your drinks were good, but far too alcoholic to be worth any sustenance.

"I want a little," you said, moving on your toes so as to see inside his cup.

"Sure," he said, and handed it to you. You returned it after a couple swallows.

"We look for Panya, yes?" You asked.

"Oh, right. I'll take you to her house."

Panya didn't live far away from the center of town, so in a matter of minutes you were already knocking on her door. What you didn't expect, however, was for the High Priest of Osiris' temple to answer it.

He eyed you up and down, your odd way of dress, the dot on your forehead, before his gaze fell to Ahkmen. It was then his eyes narrowed, coldly recognizing the prince.

"What do you want," he said, leering down at you.

"Your daughter," said Ahk, who was leant against one of the pillars outside Panya's mansion of a house.

"You may not have her."

"I –"

Before Ahk could finish, something tugged on the inside of his arm, pulling him away from the doorstep. You didn't seem to notice, busy conversing with Yafeu. He turned round, stumbling with broken balance before he looked up, meeting Piye's eye.

"What are you doing?" He whispered, glancing back to you and the priest.

"I've been thinking," Piye murmured, leaning down to lessen the space between them, "I don't think we should go around the markets just talking about a purified iron. I think it might land you in trouble."

"Why?" He scoffed.

"I’ve been at all my father’s meetings with the Pharaoh and his generals and they’re talking about iron. How to get it, how to use it, how to control it, everything,” they said.

“Well why’s that a problem? They did the same thing with wood.”

"Not like this! Iron, it – it's incredibly strong. If we had armor made of that, shields made of it, weapons made of it, it'd give us an enormous amount of military power, and with your father in rule, I don't think that's a good idea," they said in a growing volume before they remembered Yafeu was there, and quieted down again.

"What's wrong with my father?!" Ahk gasped.

"Nothing!" Piye hissed, eyes darting back up to Yafeu to see if he had noticed. "He just has a habit of oppressing people!"

Ahkmen snorted. His hand shot up to cover his mouth, quiet giggles wracking his body.

"I'm sorry," he wheezed, "that shouldn't be funny. Sorry."

"It's fine," Piye said with a long sigh. "You know what I mean. If word gets to him that this little immigrant over here has a key to finding how to shape iron, he isn't going to take a visit and credit them with the discovery. He's going to deport them, cover it up, and claim he learned it from the Gods. You know everything’s a game to him."

Ahkmen's breath caught in his throat as Piye laid out the consequences in plain, simple terms he could understand. That would be the end of your friendship, but more importantly, it was also the end of your livelihood. You were still young––around his age––and you didn't know much else except living in Egypt. If he were to take your word, your home to the east was far, far away, and ruled by an unjust dictator. You would not make the journey there alone, let alone when you actually reached your city.

"What do you suppose we do?" Ahkmen said after a minute or two of deep thought.

"I think –"

"We can go here," you said, passing by them with Panya and, unsurprisingly, Unas bringing up the rear.

"Wait –"

He went to stop you, but Piye stopped him first.

"Best you don't tell them. We're not from the palace, remember?" Piye muttered, before promptly following you off the steps of Panya's house. Ahkmen, however disgruntled as he was, followed as well.

"I wish I was poor," he grumbled, walking alongside Piye, who kept a fair enough distance from you and your customers.

Piye struck him with a flat palm against the back of his head. The weight in his neck rolled forward, kinking it awkwardly, to which he let out a yelp of pain.

"Don't say that. Others in your country, in this city, starve. They would give anything to be you."

His frown drew tighter, irritant clogging his thoughts. Every inconvenience angering. He breathed deeply, willing the feeling away, and sped his pace to catch up to you. Panya might've been up there, but her presence would be a small price for yours.

The markets approached faster than he realized, and soon he was once more surrounded by strangers bartering and advertising. Thin tarps of orange and dusty yellow spread from one side of the thin street to the other, sheltering merchants from the hot sun, and allowing them to hang different products on the lines. He ducked under rings of cloth and over piles of incense, shakily following your wavy trail through the walkway.

Heat began to redden his cheeks, and it was then he realized that you'd made it to the blacksmith area of market, near to the kitchens. Fire stoking bread and metal filled the open air, made much clearer by the absence of the shading tarps.

"Uh, Yogi," he said, grabbing your shoulder to stop you before you could enter. "I think we should keep on the down-low, this purified iron, people might start talking."

You looked him up and down.

"Okay," you said, turning back round to enter the shop.

It took until evening before you made any progress. Most everyone you met was skeptical of you, which wasn't surprising considering the size and age of your group. But the last man you came to was still working, even as everyone around him ate dinner, readying to leave for home or staying for music.

He had long hair––longer than Piye's, trailing down to his mid-thigh. Unlike theirs, his was black, and much stringier in comparison. The knotted rope used to hold his hair back as he worked was crude at best, and one he had to constantly fix. Ahkmen didn't see it, but you noticed he was much skinnier than most of the other blacksmiths, who had grown muscles over the years of their work.

You approached him much like you approached everyone; a bright, commercial cheerfulness that came across as dangerously fake. To those who had spent good time in the markets, it was easy to see through. Those who hadn't, however, couldn't quite decode why you were unsettling, other than you being foreign.

"What did you say this was for again?" The man asked, his voice a quiet, low rasp. He had seated himself amongst your menagerie, matching the height of Piye, who was of course the tallest member.

"We are trying to find the owner of an amulet," Panya lied smoothly, pulling off one of her many necklaces and handing it to the man. "Or rather, the maker."

He took the necklace with skinny fingers, twisting it round in them as he surveyed the whole of it.

"Gold, ruby.. copper," he muttered, pointing to each of the different beads as though you could understand him mumbling. "Silver?"

Panya gestured for the amulet back, which he gave, and she strung it back around her neck.

"Iron. It's the purest we've ever seen and we're looking for the source," she said, pointing to the rest of the group.

"The durability is incredible. I would love to have access to that kind of things in my buildings and such," Unas added.

"I know," the blacksmith said, his hair still drooping long in front of his face. "I have been searching for a way to purify the ore, but I cannot get my fires hot enough. I keep getting... what might be iron, but it never looks right. Then again, I – I don't know what the correct product would look like."

Well then, Ahk thought, that explains why it was in the junkyard.

You leant over to Ahk, moving to your knees so your lips met his ear as you whispered.

"Can I show him what we found now?"

"Um.." his eyes darted over to Piye, who was listening intently to the man's woes, "sure."

Tapping on the blacksmith's shoulder, you brought his attention to you and the heavy malformed metal in your hand. His eyes widened, near imperceptive behind all his hair, but certainly filled with shock.

"Is that my...?"

"It is iron," you said with a grin. "I live in a city where lots of iron everywhere. Here, not so much, but that is iron."

"Unas found it in the junkyard in the southern part of Memphis," Panya said, pointing a thumb to her friend.

"Shit," the man breathed out, combing a hand through his hair. "I don't know which one that was."

"Which what?" Ahkmen asked.

"Which heat level," Unas answered for him. "It takes a specific amount to actually purify different ores. Otherwise you might burn it into a charcoal."

"And the all other rocks and," you motioned grinding your fist into the palm of your other hand, "the rocks you smash until they are sand."

"Powder," Ahk said.

"Yes. I see, when I was 5, my father has powder in his furnace, in the iron," you said with a variety of questionable hand motions. "Red, and... a bright black. Shiny."

Ahkmen listened intently for the next hour and a half as you, Unas, and the blacksmith conversed about smelting techniques. Apparently, all of you had, at one point, attempted to smelt iron out of the ore, a fact that was made appalling because Egypt didn't have any iron. Most of the iron within the country was either imported or from the meteor, which was confined to only serving the royal family.

Even Piye eventually tired of the conversation that never seemed to stray from smelting, though you did for a short time discuss techniques for copper. Piye had an incredible sense of patience, so when they tapped Ahk to tell him they were leaving, Ahk realized he usually would've left ten minutes into the conversation.

It clicked quite quickly that he wasn't really listening––he was watching you, and that had somehow occupied him for a full hour and a half. A creeping sense of embarrassment had him hunching his shoulders.

"Unas, we should go, we have that thing in the morning," Panya murmured into Unas' ear, though Ahkmen still caught it.

"Oh, right," he said in a deflated tone. He stood, brushing off his skirt before facing the blacksmith. "Thank you for your time. Is it alright if I come back sometime? Might be better to have more than one person working on this."

"How old are you?" The blacksmith asked in his usual mumble.

"16."

"... okay," he said after a moment. "You're old enough."

"Oh, good. Well thank you, anyway," Unas said, before motioning to Panya to leave. He bowed his head slightly as he left the circle of conversation, following his friend back into the markets.

As she left, Panya turned to walk backwards, holding her hands out to you. You quickly caught her drift, and threw the ball to her. She thanked you from a distance.

"We should leave soon as well," Ahk whispered to you.

A few minutes later, the two of you were once more walking side by side, wandering down the now-vacant streets. Ahkmen had no idea where you were going, but was along for the ride no matter where you ended up. As you hastened your step, you took Ahk's hand, forcing him to match your pace with a giddy laugh.

"The night is clear," you said, walking backwards to face him without halting your step. "You will show me the star shapes, yes?"

"The constellations," he said with a soft chuckle, his body filling with a warm, lighthearted haze. "Of course."

You led him back towards your home but ignored the alleyway entrance, instead reaching the doors of Osiris' temple. The tall walls marked themselves steep against your small stature, casting long shadows in the moonlight, that tonight shone like a shell of the sun. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died stillborn as you tugged him into you. His chest met yours as he stumbled clumsily.

"Be safe, funny man," you giggled, looking down at him as his head's weight rested awkwardly in the crook of your neck.

What little citylights remained in the dead of night faded away as you scaled the tower, your neck craned upwards to the heavens. No matter how tall the roof of the temple was, no matter how high you climbed, the stars never seemed to move any closer. Their distance must've been incomprehensible, but inconsequential when grasping Ahk's hand to help him onto the roof.

He panted softly as he stood on his feet once more, brushing off the dust that came from the temple walls. You left him to wander to the center of the stone plateau. His breathing slowed, attention centering on you as your eyes still stared up into empty space.

You turned, noticing the heat of his gaze.

"Speak to me," you said in a voice that moved like music. "You tell on Sopdet, yes? And.. Sah. Nuit and Geb."

"Lie down with me," he said.

You dutifully obeyed, sliding down next to him, your clothes and hair splayed out.

For a good hour he pointed up, tracing the outlines of constellations he had studied all his life. Since you didn't know their shapes on paper, he drew the images in the dirt and sand collected on the roof, showing you how random collections of dots made up women and beautiful creatures, the everlasting Gods in the sky.

"I want to be... something beautiful," he murmured, looking down at his own shoddy illustrations. "Like the stars."

"You had say that when you will die, you will go to the stars, right?" You asked softly.

"In death," he said with a small nod. "I will not be able to see this earth. I will be one amongst millions. It's strange, but... I wish I could stay here forever. A star close to home."

"You are scared of being nothing," you said. "But we are nothing. We are nothing to birds, or to other cities. We are already nothing and everything. It is what you choose to make of you––make more of your everything, or sleep in your nothing. There is happy things in both."

"No time wasted in happiness is truly time wasted?" He said, remembering a familiar anecdote from school.

"Yes," you said with a smile.

Silence filled the space for a few minutes, stilled by the slow breathing of Ahk's chest. He closed his eyes, exhaustion tugging at him, all of which he ignored.

"Aganu?" You said, nearly whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I like my hours with you," you murmured, wide, warm eyes staring bashfully at him.

"I do too."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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dilxq · 3 years

Text

How Haikyuu boys would react seeing you sleeping only in their old volleyball jersey 💛

Ft.(aged up) Team Captain’s; Oikawa, Bokuto, Kuroo, Daichi, Ushijima

>Oikawa<

After you begged him for 10 minutes straight to buy you some ice cream at literally 1am he just couldn’t say no to such a cute pout on your adorable face so he was forced to get up and buy you some of your favorite ben & jerry’s.

With a small grin on his face he was thinking about to prank you and tell you that he accidentally ate it on the way back to your shared Appartement. But what he didn’t expect was only seeing you in his old Aoba Johsai jersey..sleeping.. just like a princess.

The jersey was way too big on you, it reached halfway down your beautiful thighs. He scanned your sleeping form all the way down, from your hair that is tied up to a messy bun to your sleeping face what is adorable btw down to your body that he loves everything about, down to your lovely thighs he likes to kiss and lastly to your small feet covered in fluffy warm socks. He was about to melt at that sight so he decided to keep it memorable. After he took out his phone mf actually did a whole photo-shooting because he loves you too much.As much as i love him pls kick him

Of course he would tease u the next day about the pictures he took.

>Bokuto<

After his practice he went straight home so he could cuddle u for the rest of the night. When he reached the Appartement he opened the door and stepped in. The smell of food in the kitchen made him drool so he went there and saw u standing at the stove. He gave you a kiss on the top of your head after he sneaked behind you and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.

You chuckled and right after that you started yawning.

“Im going to take a quick shower, alright? Wait for me baby !” Take me with u

You just nodded and walked to the couch to sit there and wait. About 15 minutes later Bokuto walked out of the Bathroom with new fresh clothes. He called for you but you didn’t answer him so he walked around until he found you sleeping on the couch. He started to smile at the cute sight but he instantly froze when he realized it was his old Volleyball jersey you were wearing right there. How could he not have seen it earlier ? He was so exited and kinda happy to see how attached u were to his clothes especially this jersey. He walked up to you on his tiptoes and picked you up as gentle as possible so he wouldn’t wake you up and walked with you to the bed and cuddled u from behind as he kissed that little spot behind your ear.

“You are beautiful baby, i love u” oh my god pls i love him

>Kuroo<

When he arrived home he went straight to your shared room to surprise you because he finished work earlier than usual. He opened the door and wanted to greet you but what he saw let his mouth fall open. U were lying on your side, facing him, with his old red nekoma jersey and some fluffy socks they also belong to him but nvm He was literally about to drool over the whole floor but he didn’t give a f .He changed his clothes to something comfortable and walked back to the bed. After he climbed up the bed he laid down next to you ,also facing you. He watched you breathing and played with your hair. He even found himself touching your face and gently caressed your cheeks as he wandered down to softly flick your nose. He let out a small giggle and continued studying your face *dead*. When he reached your lips he gently touched them with his thumb and moved closer to you. He stopped when he was very close to your lips and whispered “I could watch you all day ,babygirl”

After that he placed a small kiss on your lips and wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you even closer. Hes definitely tryna kill us that mf

>Daichi<

The two of you were cooking food for the coming evening. Both of u loved it to cook together and even see the results and how the food turned out. After u ate you talked about the food and how good it turned out and what you two would cook next time. After both of you finished cleaning you told daichi that your just changing into something comfortable he nodded and told you he was waiting for you on the couch.

10 minutes later and you still didn’t return so he decided to look for you. He went to the room and saw your sleeping body laying on the edge of the bed so he walked to you and picked you up. He carried you to the center and laid you back. He grabbed a blanket and wanted to cover you with it to keep you warm but when he saw what you were wearing, he needed a moment cuz u look stunning gurl. You were lying there. Him on top of you. You in his jersey. He scanned your whole body from your head to your feet. Not once. Not twice. He really needed a moment.give him that moment girl stop being so attractive It’s not like it’s the first time he sees you in his clothes but u right now u just looked perfect in his eyes.actually you always do So he laid down next to you and pulled you close to him “we don’t need these covers, i will keep you warm”.im crying pls

>Ushijima<

When he came home he was so tired, he couldn’t wait until he would lay down with you in his arms, cuddling like theres no tomorrow. As he stepped in he called you by your name and took off his shoes to go to the living room to sit down and rest his legs, that where hurting as hell. Wenn he turned on the tv he was confused why you didn’t come and greet him cuz every time he came home you would jump on him and hug him very very tightly while wrapping your legs around him. He would carry you through the rooms and you would tell him about your day, but today none of that happened. He was confused. Maybe he did something wrong or... He decided to look for you so he called you again “ Y/n baby.. im Home..“, just to make sure he continued „it’s me Ushijima Wakatoshi-.. but i think you already know that sinc-„ the sight cut him off and gave him goosebumps all over his Body. He walked to your beautiful sleeping figure and sat next to you on the edge of the bed. He looked a your face for quite a while and took your hand only to placed it in his and that made you smile in your sleep.my heart ahhHhhhh. To make him smile is really really really hard but when it comes to you he is a small little cute softie.”No matter how much i look big and strong u always make me soft” he leaned down to give you a small kiss on your forehead and smiled again “You’re really dangerous you know that, mhmm?” SIR- i aHHhHhh

~ 💛

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yeoldontknow · 4 years

Text

Kissing Vermilion: Teaser

aslkdjal i am so much more late with this than i intended to be. getting the pace right on this is proving to be a challenge BUT! heres a small sample of what im trying to have completed by next weekend. this was meant to be up yesterday for joons BD but i was busy and couldnt write as much as i wanted to :((( you can all thank @jamaisjoons for the utter filth that this will become. happy birthday namjoon im sorry im late and will continue to be late *tosses confetti* (sorry theres no graphic im saving it for the full thing eep)

↠ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader ↠ Full Story Summary: It was never your intention to sleep with your brother’s best friend, but it happened. It was never your intention to fall in love with him, but it happened. It was never his intention to fall in love with you, either, but it’s happening. Against his better judgement, Namjoon just can’t seem to stay away from you. ↠ Genre: fwb!au; smut; angst; the full story is going to be the most filth ive ever written im so sorry ↠ Rating (teaser): R ↠ Warnings (teaser): nothing terribly smutty but she thinks about it...a lot...theres a lot of mature concepts here ↠ Tentative post date: 9/19

March, 2013

You really must remember to thank your roommate.

As the condensation rolls down the chilled glass of your vodka lemonade, the eyes of the man beside you do their best to stay focused on the lush crimson of your lipstick. Every now and then, at the end of a sentence or at the end of a joke that does not necessarily land, his brows narrow, ensuring his gaze does not fall, lower and lower still, to the provocative shape of the red dress that hugs your body. For the moment, he is nameless, an unintroduced stranger whose eye you caught just by standing next him and ordering a drink. You have not let him go, even as your mind wanders. Or, rather, it's the red that refuses to let him go, red and the way the shade kisses you with reverence.

All your life red has been your dearest companion, your first of many experiences and your best of even more. Red was your first lipstick, a scarlet transgression against your mother at twelve years old. It was sacred only because it was forbidden, the cream from the bullet now a fleeting memory of cracked concrete behind your middle school and the wide eyes of boys passing by, likely wondering if they should tell your brother. Red was your first Solo cup, and the first you’d crushed beneath your spine as you lost your virginity sophomore year.

Red was not your first hickey, and also not your first scarf to cover the evidence, but it was your best one, your most favourite one. It was small, and it burned against your skin for days, the same way your nails ripped scarlet down your boyfriend’s back, the scratches stinging beneath all his shirts. He’d said he loved you, and you believed him, giving him red as a promise of your loyalty. Red was the wine you poured in his bed and the flush against your chest when you found him with another woman, her legs too slow in the effort of unwinding from his hips. Red was his lies, your slap against his cheek, and the paint of Yoongi's car, which you'd borrowed to not lose your campus parking spot.

Red has always been yours, oftentimes the only thing you trust, the only thing that has never let you down. Now, it sits on your skin like you belong to it. You chose the dress for the shade, your roommate made you buy it because of the shape. You don't usually toy with such a deep cut against your back, a low swoop as alluring as the moon and turning the line of your spine into a promise of treasure or victory. But this red turns you into something special, something dangerous.

And now, with his eyes on you, you really must remember to thank her.

The man beside you flashes you a smile he thinks he is dazzling, rolling the base of his whiskey neat in slow circles against the bar top. He waits for you to flush, anticipating a rush of blood to your cheeks or your lips, but you merely offer him a thin lipped smile, remembering to be polite. His eyes dart from your face to the seductive contour of your hips, and back again, and he tries to be respectful, tries to play it off like he's positively twitterpatted, but you can tell. You can always tell.

As his eyes flick away once more, admiring the supple skin of your shoulder, you wonder if you would be interested. Your mind starts to wander for a moment, and you envision yourself leaning close and letting him have his fill. It would be so terribly easy, and you'd let him feel like he'd won even if you had no intention of it going any further than this. If it was just you and just him, you'd be good. At the end of all his jokes, you would laugh and peer at him through the thick curtain of your lashes. At all the right places, you'd rest your hand on his arm and make him believe he mattered. For one night, you would be so good.

But his eyes are on you, the searing heat of Namjoon's intense and focused stare kisses at the small of your back from across the room. He sits at a table with your large group of friends, expression entirely neutral except for the power that lurks ominously in his jaw and dark irises. His gaze has walked from the small of your back to settle at the warm highlight of your cheekbone, and, now, you are aching. Feeling him all over you is just the same as feeling his hands at your throat, your heartbeat rattling in your chest as though lingering on a knife's edge. There's something different about it tonight, about him. There's something different about the way you feel under his unwavering attention, and somewhere amidst the laughing and the talking and the indiscernible number of drinks you have convinced this stranger to buy you, you have started to learn you want Namjoon to stay.

Tonight, you are learning that his attention makes a kingdom bloom beneath your skin, amongst your blood, and you are asking, silently willing, him to claim it.

You should not want him here. You should not want him nestling into crevices long untouched, and long unnoticed. Namjoon unfurls in the spaces between your bones and your joints, curling into the gaps between your ribs, and you wonder if he can feel it. Have you done the same to him, just by standing, and talking, and quietly wanting? If you're being honest, you've always wanted him, at least a little. If you're honest, you can distantly remember the time your brother brought him over their final year of high school and he had grown into the baby fat of his cheeks, his white shirt somehow battling the muscles of his chest for dominance, and his smile, and the dimples he so often kept a secret, felt sweeter to you than honey.

If you're honest, it was your family, the proximity of your relationship to him that decided he was not for you. There’s something forbidden about craving a person you’ve known all your life, someone your brother has spent his whole life calling his best friend. It was your family, and it was Yoongi, who made you turn away from your infatuation. You were eighteen when you finally swallowed your crush on Namjoon whole, convinced you had rid yourself of it while taking the appropriate lesson you were meant to learn: you no longer wanted a boy, you deserved a man, your hunger to be touched deserving of confident, unyielding hands.

So you set your attention on other guys learning how to grow into their adulthood - even if they had never mastered the strength or dominance of it, even if they never tasted quite right against your tongue. It’s been a long time since you have wanted him to look at you like this, even longer since someone has done so without demanding you witness them, without expecting you to bend for them.

Namjoon looks at you like you matter, like you're something worth keeping. He watches you intently, refusing to look away until you are certain he could devour the very flesh of you, and still find away to take more, still find ways to keep all your lonely parts begging for him. He looks at you like he needs you, simultaneously uncovering the terrifying truth that you have always needed him, and as the man beside you slides his phone number over to you on a napkin, a number you know you will lose or forget as soon as it is out of your line of sight, you are certain you are toeing a line that, once crossed, offers no point of return.

'You should come see it.’ Abruptly, your thoughts are broken by the gruff voice of your conversation partner. Raising his voice slightly, he regards you knowingly, silently insisting your attention return to him. 'I think you'd like it.'

Ever since he started speaking to you the conversation has been mundane, likely because every topic of discussion has somehow revolved around or worked its way back to him. There’s an edge of pride in his voice, the sort that expects respect alongside awe for his, ultimately banal, accomplishments. Offering him a small, lopsided smile, you tilt your head to the side and feign interest, exposing more of your smooth skin.

'Oh?' you hum, amused that even something as simple and unaffected as this noise of inquiry will provide him a sense of self-security.

'Yeah, I can show you around.’ He takes a long, slow sip of his whiskey, as if his statement is a promise of something meaningful. ‘You can bring some friends, too, if you want. I admit, the frat is a mess but it's still a good time.'

You’ve forgotten which university he goes to, where he’s from, his name. Idly, you wonder if he’s a member of Namjoon’s friend group, though you doubt it. Over time, your college friends have merged together, Sunhee’s interest in Jackson bringing them together since she met him at the gym. You’re meant to be celebrating her birthday at the table, beside your friends and beside Namjoon. Removing yourself from his orbit has proven to be a test, but, at this angle, Namjoon sees all of you, keeps you rooted to this position at the bar just so he can have his fill, and this, you think, is hardly a sacrifice.

Having nothing to say, you simply nod, offering yet another generic question that will keep him talking and keep Namjoon watching you. 'All frat houses are a mess,' you shrug amiably. 'Do you like the campus?'

Immediately, he begins nodding, lips flattening into a sly grin. 'Yeah, it's a nice place. A little cloistered at times. If you stay too long you feel like you're in a bubble, you know? But I chose it because the law program...'

Tuning his voice out, your focus returns to the raised hair and gooseflesh that dimples along your arms. It’s been months of this, of your friend groups coming together to play matchmaker in the effort of being supportive, and through all of this you have become acquainted with who Namjoon really is when he’s liberated from the influence of childhood. Without your hometown, Yoongi’s deep laugh, or the distant chatter of your parents in the other room, Namoon’s identity has stretched and morphed into something almost unrecognizable in its alluring temptation.

Yoongi makes him warm, soft, a voice of wisdom and reason that has, more often not, left you feeling comforted and protected. At home, he is clumsy, sheepishly so, endearing in the way he trips over his own feet or drops things even if he’s being careful. Namjoon laughs first, even if his laugh is not always the easiest. He is the most curious and, simultaneously, the most distant, miles away in his thoughts even as he considers every word you say. And even tonight, he still is this way, the rich texture of his voice ringing out above the din when he laughs, genuine and encouraging, doing his best to make sure everyone feels comfortable.

But the more you’ve seen him with friends he’s made by choice and by interest, university friends who both challenge and offer a mode of relating to his own adulthood, the more you have watched him separate from the things that made him Joonie. He has become someone who carries eroticism in their bones, his smile no longer just a comfort, but one that is altogether too full of temptation even in its patient inertia.

The confidence in him has your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth every time he's with you, your walls clenching around nothing every time he looks at one of your friends with more than a little interest. Joonie has abandoned the childhood endearment in favor of his whole name, Namjoon a word that gets pressed against his neck and shoulders like a brand. He’s become fluent in more than one language and also in the destructive language of ruin, a single look from him and you feel naked all the way down to your nerves.

Reclining in his seat, his hand moves languidly up and down the glass of his cold beer while he remains poised in his consideration of you, your round ass, and the way you lick your lips to keep them moist when you presume no one is watching. His broad shoulders are rolled back and even when you aren’t looking at him, even when he is not directly in your line of sight, you still toy with the idea of getting on your knees and begging him. For what, you are not certain, but you think it is likely the simple request to stay with him, wherever your feet, your finger, or your bones rest.

You’d like him to invade you like that. You’re certain he’d excel at such a carnal delight.

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAMJOON #its coming i swear #not tagging a whole shebang because?#its just a teaser lmao #enjoy

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years

Text

The Lion and The Lamb

Draco X Gryffindor!Reader

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Summary: Now that you two had to face other people and interact, knowing what happened... can the two of you do it? And how will it work even if it does?

A/n: This part is SO CUTE and I love it. I hope you guys know that this is far from over... I was serious when I said that I would rewrite the entirety of the series. I hope you guys are staying safe and stay tuned I have big plans for our confused lovers. Let me know what you think! ((Also, guys, please sleep and do your school work--don’t make me mother you))

Tags: @un-limiteddd @geekysimmerthings @coffee-addicti @ilikestuffproductions @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18 @whygz @crazywritingbug @dolphincommander @bisexualbumblebeesstuff @fuzzy-panda @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @jillanaholland @shookyungsoo @savingdraco @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @chaotic-good-gemini @memalfoy-spidey @theres-a-dog-outside-omg @queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe @spicyshenanigans

I woke the next morning, still by the window, a letter on my lap and Penelope nowhere in sight. There was a familiar green seal on the parchment.

A fresh layer of snow covered the grounds of Hogwarts, it was almost enchanting. Stretching, I took my blanket and the letter and sat on my bed. Hermione was absent from her bed. I could only assume that she had gone down to breakfast.

Opening the letter, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and blinked through reading it.

Y/n,

You should be asleep, not writing to me. Ask Madam Pomfrey for sleeping potion if this continues.

I can only imagine that you are talking about how the antidote made us feel and then how we feel about another. I understand what you mean—and when have I ever made fun of you? We should look into it. I can ask Snape. He might know.

I know you’re scared, but you’re also a Gryffindor, courage runs in your veins. Don’t forget that no matter what happens. You are strong and stubborn and a real pain in the ass sometimes and now isn’t a time to just throw that to the wind. They hit, you hit back harder like you always have—at least with me anyway.

I wrote to your mother already. She’s right you do worry too much.

Yours too,

Draco,

I smiled at the letter and folded it, tucking it under my pillow with the others that I had from him as well as the one I had from my mother. I would have to find a safer spot for them soon. Maybe I could jinx a box or something...

Knowing it would be colder today, I threw on an extra sweater over my uniform and grabbed my scarf that had been retired for the summer and fall until now. Sometimes I missed living in a warmer climate all year round when the coldest it got was maybe freezing.

Not thinking about much other than getting to the Great Hall on one piece—and Draco’s advice about living up to Gryffindor courage— I hardly noticed that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all waiting for me in the Common Room. My eyes met Hermione’s as I silently questioned her about what was going on. A few straggling students quickly scurried away as they watched the scene unfold.

“How much trouble are you in?” She asked softly, fear in her voice. “You’re not expelled, are you?”

The boys, looked to me concerned, with the same fear that Hermione had.

“What? No,” I backtracked. “Of course not!”

The three of them visibly relaxed.

“Is that what you guys have been worried about? Why you waited for me?” Part of me was touched that they did still care about me, despite what happened last night.

“Well, you were gone for hours, we weren’t sure what happened.” Ron defended Hermione. “Knowing Malfoy, we thought sure he’d get you kicked out.”

“No, we didn’t.” Hermione clarified. “They did. I did try and stay up to talk to you, but...”

I gave her a soft smile, letting her know that it was okay.

My eyes met Harry’s and my mood shifted as we stared each other down, both giving away nothing. There were accusations behind his eyes and threats behind mine. I dared him to say something.

“I’m not kicked out. I’m not in trouble—neither is Draco for that matter. You don’t know anything about him, and I really don’t want to hear it from either of you. I will tell you what I can if you want to listen. If not... not a word.” I threatened softly.

Ron and Hermione nodded, and I looked to Harry for his response.

“So, you two are on a first name basis then?” Harry remarked.

I gave a curt nod, narrowing my eyes.

“Are you two dating?” Ron asked, sounding innocently curious and disgusted.

“Well, we never really reached an answer to that...” I frowned, thinking.

Were we dating? Is that what this was? Surely it had to be more than what a boyfriend and girlfriend meant. Didn’t Draco mean more to me than that? My mother’s suggestion of Consentire Animi Pace, the bond of two souls in an effort for peace, made a bit more sense. Draco was right, we’d have to look into that later.

“Where were you last night if you weren’t getting expelled?” Harry asked—demanded.

“With Draco,” I answered coolly. “Anything else?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow and I knew she had a lot more questions for me, but not in front of the boys at least. There had to be a time that I explained it all to them and how long Draco and I had been at this. From the outside I guess it did look very sudden.

Hermione fell into step with me as we made our way to the Great Hall with many other students who—not that I noticed—stared at us more than usual. Well, stared at me more than usual. Harry had just won the first task not too long ago and he was getting the normal amount of over attention.

“So, what happened!?” She asked excitedly, trying to whisper. “I need to know!”

I recounted in a low voice Draco and I’s adventure over the few hours: McGonagall’s office, the Astronomy Tower, my mother’s letter. I left out some details of the two of us that were only meant for each other. Hermione asked to see my mother’s letter later and I was hesitant to hand it over.

“No, I understand, it’s not meant for me,” She nodded, not looking sad at all. “I just can’t believe that you and Draco actually kissed in front of like everybody.” She whisper yelled. “It’s all anyone has been talking about!”

I got really red and looked down, sheepish.

“How bad is it?” I questioned, my eyes darting around the halls to other students—I met curious stares, some gaping at me, and some wishing that looks could kill.

“Not too bad I think,” She encouraged, “But then again I don’t know why they’d tell me about how they felt.” She shrugged. “But what was it like? Kissing him?”

I smile ghosted my lips as my cheeks grew warm. I could see Harry and Ron stiffen as they overheard the question.

“Not here,” I hissed, giving her a sharp look.

“To think, you being with a Slytherin, a Malfoy!” She laughed.

“He’s not so bad,” I defended softly, my voice and thoughts trailing off.

The Great Hall, to my relief, was not all staring at me as we entered. Instead everyone was quite calm and talking about a lot of different things, a main topic the Yule Ball. Part of me dreaded it, but then again... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Taking a seat, breakfast was served—magically. On my plate was biscuits and gravy, fruit, and hard-boiled eggs: my usual. Ron eyed the greyish sludge as he did every morning but said nothing. I suppressed a smile and began to eat. Comradery began to fall over us as the meal went on and George and Fred sat with us.

“Who knew what all it took was a kiss to shut Malfoy up?” Fred snickered, as did George. “Nice work Y/n.”

“So, you guys have been kissed!?” I smiled brightly turning to them. “That’s great!” My cheery dispositions faded to a glare.

I leaned across the table toward them, narrowing my eyes.

“Remember that I have access to where you sleep,” I threatened, a bright smile on my face.

“Good lord she’s terrifying, they do belong together.” George muttered under his breath, his joking tone gone as he looked at his breakfast.

I sat back smugly as the twins began to argue with Ron over using their owl.

“So . . . you lot got dates for the ball yet?” George asked.

“Nope,” said Ron.

We all exchanged looks. Hermione grew red and looked down, the twinkle in her eyes that she knew something, but refrained from saying it—she had a date. A smile stretched on my face as I thought of who it might be, my suspicions landed on Krum. Good for her.

“Well, you’d better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone,” said Fred.

They continued to talk of dates and Fred stood, asking Angelina to the ball, to which she said yes. Good for him too.

My mind drifted off to Draco. Would we go together? Should I hope for that? What would he think? Would he not want to because of all the attention it would attract? Surely his father would find out who he went with... could we risk that?

“Her nose is off-center,” said Ron when I finally tuned back into the conversation.

“Oh, I see,” Hermione said, bristling. “So basically, you’re going to take the best-looking girl who’ll have you, even if she’s completely horrible?”

“Er — yeah, that sounds about right,” Ron said, his ears going pink. Hermione huffed, clearly annoyed as she stood.

“We’re going to be late.” She snapped.

“We have plenty of time,” Ron complained.

“Well, I’m going now.” Standing, she grabbed her bag and stack of books. “Are you ready?” She turned to me, a softer note in her tone.

“Yeah,” I nodded looking at my half-eaten breakfast. “I need to look for something in the library anyway,”

Hermione was still livid as we walked down the hall toward the library. I smiled and left her to her thoughts, mine again drifting back to Draco. I didn’t notice him at breakfast. I hoped he was up and eating.

“So, are you and Draco going together?” Hermione asked as we strolled through the shelves of books.

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “We... we have a lot to figure out.”

I pulled a book (An Extended Guide to Souls) hoping it would give me what I was looking for. There were a few others that the librarian had suggested that I look into, but I couldn’t find one that seemed the most promising: Harmony Through The Ages: Souls and the Magic Behind Them.

“What’s with all the soul stuff?” She asked, looking at my book stack.

“Something my mother said...” My eyes trailed the books looking for the final spine. “Thought I’d look into it.”

“About you and Draco?”

I gave her a look and she went quiet again.

“Not that I don’t want to tell you,” I explained quickly. “I just don’t know what to tell you without... I don’t know. Talking to him about it first? This is... so much bigger than I thought Hermione and I’m kinda freaking out,” I confessed.

“You’re not alone Y/n,” She encouraged. “Whatever is going on, you’re the most capable to figure it out. I’ll be there, and even if they don’t like it, so will Ron and Harry.”

“Thanks Hermione,” I relaxed a little bit. “Where is this stupid book!?” I yelled at no one in particular.

“Use a Summoning Spell,” Hermione suggested.

Humming, I pulled out my wand, twirled it once, and looked at the title again before casting the spell. The book flew into my hands.

“Oi! What stupid buffoon just—”

My eyes met livid blue ones, as I hid slightly behind it, trying not to laugh.

I couldn’t find the book because Draco had it.

“Sorry?” I felt my face going red as his anger turned to disbelief and faded.

“I’m... I’ll leave you two to it then. Don’t forget, class starts in fifteen minutes,” Hermione stammered and quickly made herself scarce.

“You could have just asked for it,” He huffed, coming over and taking it from my hands. “Contrary to popular belief, I do respond well to manners,”

“I do believe I apologized,” I smirked, looking up at him.

He was so close; I could feel his warmth as his robes brushed against mine.

“So, you did,” He mused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But I’m afraid that I simply cannot hand the book over,”

“And why not?” I demanded, watching him circle me as predator did prey. “

I’m reading it of course,”

“Oh, so you’ve learned to read? Wonderful,” I teased.

His calm teasing demeanor fell through as he smiled and rolled his eyes. He didn’t give me the book, however. He looked at the other ones that I had gathered.

“You think these might have answers?” He asked thoughtfully, picking one up and adding it to his pile.

“Hey, those are mine,” I grabbed it from his pile and added it back to mine. “And anything might help.”

“Am I not allowed to carry your books then? Is that not what I’m supposed to do?”

Oh, he was toying with me and he knew it. My fists clenched as I struggled between wanting to punch him and kiss him and then wanting to do both.

“I don’t know,” I drawled. “I don’t see any other guy offering... well not at the moment anyway,”

He narrowed his eyes at me, and I knew that I had gotten under his skin. I gave in, maybe too easy, and reached up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“You’re the only one I’d ever let carry my books,” I affirmed. “They’re very important to me,”

His cool exterior softened as he grabbed the rest of my stack as we headed out to the hall. The few students that were out in the hallway gaped at the two of us, but with a look from either me or Draco, their attention diverted elsewhere.

“Good job on the Summoning Spell,” He noted as we walked along.

“Thank you,” I smiled. “Maybe though, we look at this stuff together?” I asked, almost embarrassed—even though it was stupid to be sheepish at all.

He nodded lost in thought. We paused in front of the Divination’s stairwell, knowing that this is where we parted ways.

“Y/n?” He asked, his cheeks growing red as he looked at the floor.

“Yeah?” I nudged him softly, a reminder that he was okay, and I wasn’t going to yell at him.

“I... well...”

I waited, an amused expression on my face as hope and excitement fluttered in my chest. There wasn’t much that could get him flustered like this and I really wondered what it was, I had two guesses, but I waited anyway.

“I’ll see you at lunch?”

Oh, come on you stupid boy ask me out already.

“I’ll see you at lunch Draco,” I fought the urge to roll my eyes and took my books from his hold.

“I... yeah,” He flashed a quick smile and started the other way down the hall towards his first class.

I rolled my eyes and dragged myself up the stairs for another lesson on “The All-Seeing Eye.” It was going to be a long hour.

_______________________

Draco was all out of sorts in his first class. He barely payed attention to Professor Flitwick all hour. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look on your face after he had about... never mind that... for taking his book. His ager short circuited around you.

And the flippant comments you made, they were no different than before... but you were different from before, and so was he. And he knew then that you two had shifted from jeering to... flirting.

Ugh.

He didn’t know how to flirt, he never had reason to, but there you were... looking at him through your eyelashes, quipping with him, trying to make him jealous—not that it worked.

And why were you the only one he couldn’t talk to properly? He had talked to plenty of girls before and not once did he stammer or stutter or feel nervous about anything, and now... well,

now he struggled to ask you to be his... was girlfriend the right word? He thought it was too dull to describe you, but it would have to do for now he supposed.

“Mr. Malfoy!” Flitwick called. “What is the purpose of the Muffliato Charm?”

He blanked. Sitting up straight, he ransacked his mind for an answer.

So that no one overhears us, your voice whispered in his head. It’s just for you and me.

“So that no one overhears,” He stammered out, recalling after your hint. “It creates a buzzing in the person’s ear so that they can’t overhear a conversation.” He finished confidently.

“Very good,” Flitwick narrowed his eyes and continued to go over the method and wand movement behind the charm as Draco tried his hardest to keep paying attention.

____________________

Taking my seat next to Neville, I gave him a soft smile as Trelawny began her lesson on the planets and stars.

“Tell me, Ms. Y/n, when were you born my dear?” The professor came over to our small table.

“Late February,” I replied, flipping through my notes and the charts I had revolving around my birth and the stars.

“I see, a water spirit resides within you. Like the sea, both beautiful and foreboding. You must learn to control that my dear,” Trelawny warned. “And... I see another. A sea and a shore... one cannot exist without the other...”

My cheeks grew warm as I scribbled down what she said, thinking that was another thing to look into.

“So... you and—Malfoy,” Neville stammered.

Part of me wanted to snap at him like I would Harry, but I remember that Neville had always been kind to me, and I had no reason to attack him.

“Looks like it,” I nodded, skimming over the book in front of me trying to multitask.

“Is he taking you to the Yule Ball?” Neville was now flushing and stuttering worse.

My eyes snapped up as my eyebrows quirked. What was it with the guys around here today? I wasn’t that intimidating... was I?

“Not that I—” He stumbled. “I just— you’re really—”

I smiled and let out a soft laugh.

“It’s okay Neville, don’t get so worked up.” I soothed. “And I don’t know. He hasn’t asked me yet.” If he even is, I thought in vain. “You should ask Ginny,” I smiled warmly.

Neville nodded and looked down. I took a deep breath and sighed as we worked together through the rest of class, my thoughts elsewhere.

Part 9

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brelione · 4 years

Text

The Surfer And The Siren

Chapter Three:The Conspiracy Blog,The Investigation and The Shitty Sister In Law

Chapter One Chapter Two

Warnings:Mentions of racism,homophobia

S0rry that this chapter is kind of short.The next one will be longer.

You didn't understand how you had never found out about this.The article was from 2012 by a conspiracy blog.There were dozens of photographs of you,a bright red circle showing where you was in group photos that were taken in the fifties and more from the seventies.There were a few photos of your large scales the size of quarters that had been found on coral reefs and posted on facebook with captions asking for someone to tell the finder what animal the scale belonged to.Another photo showed a photo of your fluke splashing out of the water.In some your hair had been tucked into your old red hat so the mess of blue waves wouldn't be seen.But somehow those photos had been linked to others from the bridge of your nose and the color of your skin.You kind of missed the old days before all the facial recognition technology.

You went through the photos to see paragraphs and paragraphs with quotes from the interview with Linden. “Linden Sislip,sister of poet and former pawn shop owner claims that her brother was in love with the sea monster of Outer Banks.For decades a murderous mermaid-like creature has haunted the waters and supposedly lured multiple men to painful water related deaths.Outerbanks is known as Paradise on Earth and is home to countless millionaires AKA the sea monsters preferred prey.Some think the creature has migrated elsewhere because of a string of similar deaths closer to California.What do you think?”That article had to be the most bull shit thing you had ever read.Luckily most of the comments agreed,calling the photos fake and saying the scales were that of a tuna’s.

That was pretty insulting to say the least but at least they didn't actually believe you were a serial killing sea monster.That made you feel better but knowing how much Linden hated you definitely hurt a bit.She had hated most people though.She hated the poor,people of color,lgbt+,cats and babies.What kind of sociopath hates cats and babies?You couldn't wrap your head around the fact that somehow she was raised by the same parents he was yet she ended up like that.He was ahead of his time.He was respectful and kind and he loved everyone regardless of social status,race or sexuaity.That’s what made you feel so close to him.Linden had always stared in disgust when he bought extra newspapers to bring to people who couldn't afford them or when he saved his food to bring to children whose parents worked three jobs and still couldn't pay for a decent meal.

You pitied Linden,you couldn't even imagine being that closed minded and ignorant.Things were much worse in the South for sure but you tried your best to get to people.After he had passed away Linden had forced the rest of the family to completely shut you out.You couldn't go to the funeral or even go into their home to grab things that you could remember him by.She blamed you fro his death when she should have blamed herself.It was a terrible thought because in reality there was noone to blame but he had spent so much time in his life trying to convince her to be a good person and convince her to respect people.It had been a waste of years trying to wear her down and make her good but you cant help them all.

The interview didn't really shock you that much.She had always been bitter about you and your origins bit what did shock you was the fact that she had a son in 1950.A son named Bellamy Maybank. “Shit.”You whispered under your breath.Richard waited for you to explain your shock but when you didn't say anything he grew impatient. “What?”He asked.You just nodded,trying to form words.This was real life.This wasnt some weird dream or a conspiracy.This was actually real.This article was published 8 years ago and you had never seen it.

How could you have never seen it?You wondered if Richard knew and had hid it from you but that couldnt be.He knew just as little as you did. “You were right...but theres a time gap.How good are you at investigating?”You asked.A wide smile came across his mature,wrinkly face. “Are you forgetting about how I sunk Ward Cameron’s boat and completely trashed his plans in like...two hours?”He asked.You laughed quietly.Richard had always been so proud of that. “God,how could I forget?”You grinned,looking back up at the TV. “So what do you need me to find out?Make me a list in my notes app.You know which one the notes app is,right?”He teased.You rolled your eyes,opening the app and making a new note.

Close the time gap (after 50-now)

Learn about JJ,Pope,Kiara and the other one.

Check up on Ward’s plans

It had been a hot minute since you had Richard investigate someone.Last time had been nearly 20 years ago.Turns out Ward Cameron was hunting you down in attempt to kidnap and sell you.he was a fucked up son of a trout and you would most definitely say that to his face if given the chance.You placed the phone down,looking back up at the tv.The main character was threatening a rude looking blonde boy with terrible fashion sense. “Could we drive around for a while?”You asked.He nodded,standing up from his chair.His feet were sore but he always pulled through for you.You two went back out to his car.He turned on your favorite CD that belonged to Billie Eilish.So much had changed since just a few years ago.Someone like Billie would absolutely be an outcast back when you were her age.

Something about the way that cars moved made you happy.It was strange to see the world shifting around you.How poor people rode horses and the rich had cars and how the tables had turned.You had seen so many wars and so many deaths yet you had watched multiple births.You watched segregation end and witnessed people of all races and ethnicities get the right to vote.You had seen the day that the lgbt community finally got rights.And you had helped with it all.You had experienced the life of the poor and of the filthy rich and you were only a quarter through your life.You had been a friend to Marilyn Monroe and saw the day that JFK was assassinated.You had seen so much that no one else had experienced.

You had heard so many old folks complain about the music of today and how it had been so much better back in their day but you could not disagree more.There was no reason to bash the modern ones music.All music is good music except for country music,of course.Richard drove through figure 8 so you could gaze at all the houses.It was quite disgusting that there were only an average of three people living in huge mansions with six bedrooms that they didn't need yet there were families of eight suffering in tiny houses made for three people maximum.The rich were greedy,bitter and overall selfish and annoying.

The poor were generous and grateful for everything they did have and were more likely to be kind and understanding.It was really just a sad place but you didn't want to go anywhere else.A lot of other areas had water that was far too polluted but definitely had better people and a better atmosphere on land.It didn't really matter how great the land was when you could only see it once a month anyways.Plus OBX had a great cave system and pretty nice weather.Richard turned his car,going back to The Cut.If you were to live anywhere in Outer Banks it would most definitely be The Cut.It had an all around better atmosphere,friendlier people and better hiding spots. “So how are the naiads?Have you heard from them?”He asked,purposefully driving slowly.You sighed,turning down the radio.

“Not really,the only river entrance got blocked off by a ton of fallen branches.I haven't gotten any calls from them though so thats good.Its not that I don't like them or anything but they're just….god,they're so annoying.”You leaned back in your chair.He chuckled. “Does Esmerelda still have a crush on you?”He asked,turning down the dirt road.You nodded. “She’s just….she’s cute but she’s annoying,you know?”You asked.He nodded. “That ones always been kinda strange in the head.”He agreed.Once you got back to the house the sky was lightening up which meant you had such little time.You sat in the backyard in one of the camping chairs with your paper bag in your hand and the drawstring bag hanging off your shoulders.Blue sat with his head on your knee,staring up at you with his big shiny eyes.

He knew the drill by now,his drool making a dark puddle on your jeans as he whined for attention before you had to leave again.Richard had tried to bring the dog out to see you before but it never worked out.Blue got eager and excited and walked to fast for Richard and it wasn't safe for a dog to walk along rough and bumpy rocks.It wasn't exactly safe for an elderly man either but it sucks to suck.You stared up at the sky,wiggling your toes while you still could.As the sun began to come up over the horizon a similar aching pain spread from your heels to your thighs,your body feeling heavy. “I’ll see you next week,(Y/N).”Richard stood up to hug you.You hugged him back,tears pricking at your eyes.

Blue pawed at you,licking your jeans.You kissed his forehead lightly before limping down to the water.You dragged yourself into the water,collapsing when you were at your knees.Your legs tingled,your head slipping under the water as your legs knit together in a painful mess.From below your hips your tail grew,your hair falling in your face as all evidence that you had been human left you.Your hend clenched the deteriorating paper bag as you swished your fins,gaining control over your body again.The sun was now reflecting off the water,nearly blinding you.You ducked under the water,going deeper and deeper.

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honeyvbarnes · 5 years

Text

Mission: Home

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You make it your personal mission to help Bucky feel at home after he moves into the compound, returning from Wakanda.

Warning: Slight angst???

A/N: Hello kind people! This is my very first post and fic! Please reblog and share! As of, right now I have like two followers, and I would very much like to grow as a blog and make new friends! I am very nervous, so please be kind. I just want to share my love for fics and Marvel babes. So here goes nothin, Enjoy!

A new recruit. All you were told is that there will be a new recruit. As the newest, and youngest Avenger, you were pretty damn excited to be getting a new recruit.

After waking up at your usual time, you made your way down to the gym to train with Steve, like you did every morning. Pushing the doors open you quickly realize the gym is empty. This was very unusual, but you shrug it off and start on your morning stretches. Maybe Steve took an extra long run this morning, you think to yourself. Thirty minutes go by and you’ve already ran a couple miles on the treadmill, but you can’t shake the feeling that something is definitely wrong.

“Friday? Where’s Steve?” You ask the AI, stepping off the treadmill.

“Captain Rogers is in the main conference room, with Mr. Stark and -”

“Thanks Fri!” You reply, promptly cutting off Friday before she could finish. As you made you way to the elevators you wonder why Steve and Tony are having a meeting, as well as why Steve didn’t cancel your training session. It must be about the new recruit.

Lost in thought, you make it to the conference room and enter without permission.

“Steve, I really don’t like to be stood up, and I still need to perfect that move you were teaching me yester-“ you stop right in your tracks as you’re met with three pairs of eyes. Tony is standing at the head of the table while the two other men stood as you barged in. Steve stands stiff, nervous even. While the other man, on the opposite side of the tables looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“I- oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Y/N, didn’t you see that we have a breakfast meeting scheduled at eight?” Tony asks with a raised brow.

A scheduled breakfast? In all your one and a half years as an avenger, your team has never once had a “scheduled breakfast”. Everyone always ate at their own times. Confusion clouded your features which prompted Tony to tap on his wrist. You look down at your Stark Watch and realize you have a scheduled event at eight. Completely embarrassed and still confused, you spurt out another apology as you rush out of the room.

Two hours later you make your way to the dining area. You’ve dressed in your usual casual attire, but you’ve done your hair and simple makeup. First impressions are important, am I right? You are the last one to the kitchen and Natasha waves at you as you enter.

“Here I saved you a spot next to me!” She says with a smirk.

“Alrighty everyone, quiet down I’m speaking now.” Tony says as he stands. “It’s new recruit day, and well I thought we’d do some team bonding over brunch. Most of you have already met Tin-Man over here. After a much needed vacay, he’s ready to officially become one of us! So enjoy, and thank me later.”

As everyone starts to eat, you look across the table at the LARGE man sitting next to Steve. He’s sitting with his shoulders hunched over and his long chestnut hair is slightly covering his face.

“Hi! Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N, we kinda met earlier.” You introduce yourself with a bright smile. Suddenly everyone stops talking and looks between you and the recruit. Almost as if they’re waiting to see what he’ll do next.

As he lifts his head, he looks almost stunned. His crystal blue eyes meet yours, and you swear theres a slight blush to his cheeks. This man has to be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, but he still has yet to speak, or smile. He’s highly aware that everyone is staring, but you simply just smile at him even more to assure him that it’s okay.

“James. The name’s James, but people call me Bucky.” He finally says, voice quiet and gruff, mouth forming a small smile.

Throughout the next couple of weeks you notice that Bucky doesn’t talk much. He tends to stick to Steve, which is obvious now that you know their history, Sam and Natasha as well. You’ve also come to learn about Bucky’s history. Although he went through extensive therapy in Wakanda, every one still treats him as if he’s a ticking time bomb. Which has apparently made him doubt his decision in moving into the compound, says Natasha. Now, every time you pass him in the halls or run into him in the gym you make sure to say hi, anything really to let him know you aren’t afraid of him. Yet, he has still not warmed up to you yet.

It’s late one night, insomnia truly doing its best work, as you lay on your bed, scrolling through your phone. The compound is quiet, you figure everyone has gone to bed or at least returned to their quarters. Suddenly you hear a loud crashing noise, as your headboard to your bed shakes. Your senses kick in and you’re on your toes ready to attack, if needed. But then silence returns. The sound came from Bucky’s room next to yours. As being the newest members of the team he was put on the same floor as you, Wanda, Vision, and Loki. As you peek out into the hallway, you are met with darkness and more silence. The sound hadn’t seemed to wake anyone up, but you decide to check on Bucky.

“James? Are you alright?” You ask after knocking gently. The door suddenly swings open and Bucky stands before you wearing nothing but low cut sweatpants and socks. His chest is heaving, light layer of sweat coating his upper body. His hair is damp and messily pulled into a bun. His eyes are wide and you notice the slight quiver in his lips. Theres blood on his knuckles of his right hand and you quickly look past his shoulder and see that he had punched the wall.

“Oh, James what happened?” Concern spilling out of you, you reach out to touch his arm, but he flinches so you quickly pull back.

“May I come in?” He nods in return.

“I… I don’t belong here” he suddenly whispers. He sits on the edge of the bed, elbows to his knees. You take a look around his room, and it is sterile clean. Nothing has been touched, or rearranged. You open your mouth to speak but he starts again. “I don’t deserve to be here with the rest of you. I thought I was ready to start my life, free from my past, but nothing feels right.”

“James, I know how difficult it is. When Natasha first brought me to the compound I think I stayed in my room for like a week straight. I’ve done bad in my life, never thought I’d be forgiven for all my wrongs, but sometimes you just have to accept what you are given. Everyone here has been given a second chance.” Sitting next to him you reach for his bloody hand, “May I clean this up for you?”

“Sure” he says still staring at the ground. Knowing his room is set up just as yours is, you search the restroom cabinet for the first aide kit and return with a wet rag and bandages.

“Ya know, Stark is going to make you pay for that.” You joke as you wrap his knuckles.

He doesn’t reply, so you look up and he is watching you with a confused face.

“Why are you so kind to me?” He asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone seems to keep their distance from me, but you don’t. It’s actually very comforting, you seem to pull me out of my doubt.”

“Well that’s exactly why, when I see someone feeling down I automatically want to comfort them. Even though I’m the youngest on the team, everyone calls me mom, because I tend to smother people with affection. When I see that you’re having an off day I just wanna roll you up in a fuzzy blanket and snuggle you all day.” Suddenly you realize what you had just said quickly add “you know, just to see you happy. Not in a weird way or anything. Oh god I’m sorry, I just wanted you to know that I’m always here for you, if you need a friend.”

Bucky had calmed down since the moment you started talking and is now staring down at you with a dreamy smile. “Thank you Y/N, you really did make me feel better. And as a friend, do you think you could stay with me for a while? Maybe roll me up in that blanket over there, and snuggle me?” He finishes with a smirk.

“Ha Ha very funny” you laugh with an exaggerated eye roll.

“I mean if you don’t want to…” he nudges you jokingly. The eye waggle and goofy smile he gives you makes your cheeks blush and your heart flutter.

“Well I never said I didn’t want to!”

You and Bucky lay on his bed and talk until sunrise, sharing stories of his time in Wakanda and the times before war with Steve, and your stories from childhood. Somehow you do end up getting tangled in Bucky’s arms as his head rests on your chest. He’s sound asleep and you run your fingers absentmindedly through his hair.

You joined the Avengers to change the world, to help those in need. You never realized that you’d be the change in someone else's life, the change that they so desperately needed. The more you thought about Bucky’s confession, the more determined you became to make him feel at home no matter where life took you.

#bucky #bucky x reader #marvel #bucky barnes #marvel fic #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #honeyfic

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

Text

and then there was light [3] {Roger Taylor}

Anon asked: Prompt: angst Roger and y/n because he’s jealous after a party

A/N: 5981 words!! What?! Like, it’s not explicit, but I might have given the reader a slight praise kink. Some sexual content. There is mentions of cheating, just to let you know if that makes you uncomfortable. There might be a problem with pacing but like... suspend your disbelief. Also.... you’ve got a big storm coming.

[part 1] [part 2]

Your grip is white-knuckled on the armrest as you felt the plane rumble beneath you; anxiety is clutching at your chest as the world falls away beneath the wings of the machine and you’re rising into the sky. Roger isn’t outright laughing from where he’s sitting next to you, but it looks like he wants to. Thankfully, for his sake, he contains himself, resting a hand on your thigh, rubbing it in a gentle, comforting rhythm.

“You’ll be fine, love, these things hardly ever crash, and if this one does, it’ll make the news, probably.” He shrugged, and you glared at him, trying to push down the anxiety curling in your stomach.

“You’re the single least reassuring person I’ve ever met.” You snapped, but he just grinned wider, his hand moving higher on your thigh, your legs part just a little, out of instinct, and you’re too anxious about the flight to even blush at it.

“I could distract you instead.” He offers, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. Something eases in your chest and you relax your grip on the armrest to put your hand on his. “Love?” He asks, watching how you’re leaning your head back against the headrest, eyes closed, like you were trying to go to your happy place, wishing you weren’t trapped inside this plane. His hand twitches to move away when he doesn’t get a response, but then your own hand is guiding his a little further up, and you’re wearing a little, playful smile, though it’s strained. Roger has to bite back a laugh.

“Could you please wait until the seat belt sign is off?” John’s voice interrupts both of you, pressing his face into the space between your headrests where he’s sitting behind you, sounding characteristically exasperated.

“Or wait until we land, like any decent human being.” You can hear Brian’s sigh from where he’s sitting beside John, his words followed by a world-weary sigh.

“You were both cuter when you thought we didn’t know.” Freddie says, matter-of-factly, and Paul hums in agreement, the two of them sitting in the two seats in front of you.

“So were you.” Roger snaps back, leaning back into his chair, sullen at the sudden onslaught of bullying from his band-mates. “And get your bloody face away from mine.” He smacks John’s forehead with his free hand, which has the man retreating, but you’re silently thankful. Despite this, you’re also flushing with embarrassment, which is only quelled when Roger flips his hand over on your thigh to lace his fingers with yours, giving your hand a comforting squeeze.

It’s weird, to be in public, well, sort of public, and to be allowed to actually be with Roger. You’ve always been so hyper aware of his image, careful to keep your distance where prying eyes might be lurking, the last-performance kiss notwithstanding, but here, in the relative safety of first class - and god, that was a mind-boggling realisation - he’d wrapped his arm around you. Once the seat-belt sign has been turned off and the in-flight movie has started, he pulls you into his lap on the luxuriously spacious seat. Everyone on the flight has headphones to listen along to the movie, and the plane is almost silent as everyone looks to the overhead screens. It starts innocently enough, except sitting on Roger isn’t exactly comfortable; he’s got one hand resting on your thigh, innocent enough, and the other on the armrest, but you find yourself shifting every few minutes trying to get comfortable, but it isn’t really working.

“Are you right there?” Roger moves your headphones off of one of your ears, speaking low and quiet, only to you. When you look at him, he’s not even looking you in the eyes, he’s looking at your lips, and you feel your chest tighten, though in a very different way to the plane taking off earlier.

“What?” And you shift again, trying in vain to get more comfortable before you feel him hard and pressing against your ass through his pants, and it dawns on you. After a moment, you lock eyes with him, finally, and wiggle again, deliberate, suppressing a smile. He leans in to kiss you, rough, insistent, his hand on your thigh moving dangerously higher.

“Let’s not ruin everyone’s movie,” he breathes as he pulls back, his hand moving to give your ass a light tap, and you take the hint, taking off your headphones and making a beeline for the bathroom. You find yourself waiting for almost five minutes in the stall before there’s a knock at the door and Roger’s whispering your name. You haven’t even fully locked the door before he’s pulling off your shirt, murmuring about how you both had to be quiet, though he was grinning in that way that made you melt, and made you want to be anything but quiet.

When you head back to your seats none of the others comment on it, though they do seem pretty enraptured with the movie. Your anxiety at flying had dissolved; you’re feeling all warm and syrupy in the afterglow, and Roger clicks down the armrest that separates your two seats, and shifts so that you he can still wrap his arm around you, but you’re sitting next to him, your legs stretched out and arching over his. He puts his own headphones back on, smile supremely satisfied, and you give yourself a little, mental pat on the back, but don’t bother with your own headphones, resting your head on his shoulder and falling asleep, feeling secure and safe with his arm around you.

When you land, you find yourself whisked almost directly to the new tour bus, and you suddenly find yourself filled with a new uncertainty. The space, at least compared to what you were used to, was lavish, not a single road case in sight.

“You guys live like this?” You crowed, eyes wide as you raced through the spacious vehicle, plopping yourself down on the cushioned bench beneath the back window while the rest of the band, and the crew travelling in this bus started getting settled in.

“Well yeah, was the other bus really that different?” Roger asks, joining you, sprawling himself out across the seat. The sheer absurdity of his question takes a moment to sink in, but after that you’re laughing, loud and a little bit uncontrollable, mind alight with memories of hot, bump afternoons riding along at the back of the equipment bus, sat atop a road case, holding a light and gels and trying not to touch the drum kit where it was stacked up beside you.

“God, I would have killed for a cushion.” You breathe, wistful, relaxing further, if it were possible, into the seats. After a beat, you look around at where everyone’s gone quiet; Freddie and John were setting up a board game and Brian was lounging on one of the sofas running along the inside of the bus; you’re pretty sure Roger’s the only one who hears you anyways. “I much prefer it to flying though,” you admit, shifting until you can rest your head on Roger’s shoulder.

“Really?” He asked, voice quiet enough that only you could hear it. “I thought it was a pretty decent flight.” And he reaches up to pinch at your side playfully when the bus starts up. The two of you dissolve into play-fighting, which the others don’t pay much attention to, entertaining themselves as the trip to the first destination began.

“You’re- you- they call you Spotlight, don’t they?” The voice that greets you before for the first crew meeting is bright, eager, faintly accented, and when you turn, you see it belongs to a sweet looking boy with big, brown eyes, clutching at a clipboard. Laughing a little awkwardly, you nod, and his whole face brightens at the confirmation. “I’m Robbie; I’m stage managing, and they’ve got me operating the lights.” He sounds so damn excited, it’s a little endearing, and after a beat, he’s peppering you with questions about the American leg of the tour, which you answer with ease.

You’d been worried, not that you’d ever admit it, integrating into a whole new crew; the American tour was staffed with people you’d been working with for years, and here, everything and everyone was new to you. Seeing Robbie smile, so kind and welcoming, it felt like you could breathe.

“How the crew?” Roger asks, and he’s stuck with fond deja vu, sitting behind his drums, watching you cut a whole new set of gels. You’re humming something he can’t quite pick, but you seem happy enough.

“Yeah good,” you concede, only half paying attention as you work, “they’re nice, very welcoming.” You tell him, and he makes his way to you, sitting beside you on the drum risers, picking up some scraps of the gel. After a moment, your hands still, and you watch his, smiling with confusion, before looking at him. “What-” but he’s looking back at you, and he leans in to kiss you once you look up. Putting the gel and the scissors down, you take his face in his hands, giving him an endearing smile.

“I’m working.” You said softly, but he just grinned, leaning in to kiss you again. It’s fun and easy to be with Roger at times like this, times when neither of you had to worry about what other people thought, or who saw you together; you were happy and so was he, and that’s what mattered.

It gets a bit harder, you realise, when in Glasgow you’re leaving the hotel with the band and a few paparazzi come after you; at first they’re shouting at the band but then they spot you where you’re by Roger’s side, trying to keep your face hidden. You see your picture in some gossip rag the next day when Robbie gives it to you with a long suffering and apologetic look.

“The boss wants you to be more careful about being seen.” He’s rolling his eyes at the boss’s words, however, when you ask him what he means, you learn that you’d been photographed with them in America, and people were starting to speculate that you might be part of the tour group. The Boss thinks it reflects poorly. The rest of the band is in the photo, but you’re the one being accused of being a world-travelling gold digger in the article.

When you tell Roger, or more specifically show him the article and make an offhand comment about not really being seen with the band in public anymore, he throws the magazine across the hotel room, scowling.

“They’re printing lies, Spotlight, what do you care?” He asks. You’re gentle when you step towards him, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“I care about my career and my reputation, Roger, you understand, right?” Voice soft, you don’t move until he looks at you, expression a little hurt. “I know I’m not a gold digger, but if I want to get anywhere in life, I need other people to believe that too.” You explained, and he didn’t exactly seem happy about it.

“You’re fantastic at your job, babe, isn’t that enough?” He asked, and you felt yourself flush, suppressing a grin at the praise.

“I wish it was.” You told him, voice a little forlorn, and he leaned in to kiss you, a silent agreement to your request. After a moment you pulled back, actually letting yourself grin. “You think I’m good at my job?” You asked, giggling, and Roger’s expression brightened as he huffed out a laugh.

“You know I do.” And it’s the most gentle you think you’ve ever heard him, the sweet sincerity shifts as his hands come up to rest on your hips. He knows all too well the effect he has on you when he compliments your work. “How many times do I have to tell you?” He asks, a single eyebrow raised, teasing edge to his tone.

“I mean, if you told me too much I think we both know I’d never get anything done.” And your fingers are nimbly undoing his fly. With a cheeky grin, he kisses you again, rougher, biting at your bottom lip before you pull away.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He muses, watching the way you wet your lips, smiling at him. “You’re very good at other things too, love.”

“I know.” You watch him through your lashes, biting your lip to keep from laughing as his whole face lights up and he’s snorting out a laugh at your response, and you fall to your knees, already pulling down the waistband of his jeans.

He doesn’t like that you insist on leaving the hotel at different times, becomes a little clingy in the mornings when you go to get up, but he always manages to tug you back down to him, and you get lost in the way he smiles in the early morning sunlight, the feel of his lips on yours, the way he laughs softly against your skin.

Despite this, he keeps his distance around other people. The band he doesn’t worry about, but he stays up by his drums during lunch, and sometimes during the after parties you attend, he’ll disappear for a few hours at a time, and you find him at the bar, reasonably hammered, surrounded by fans fawning over him. He always goes home with you though, so you try not to feel too jealous.

“Hey, Light? I’m getting lunch, do you want anything?” Things start going downhill the day Robbie pops his head in during your lunch break; you’re at the top of a ladder, fiddling with the angle of a parcan, and Roger’s at his drums.

“No thanks.” You call back, chipper, shooting the ASM a smile, and when he leaves, Roger frowns at you.

“Did he give your nickname a nickname?” He punctuates it with a laugh, but it sounds more angry than anything else.

“That’s Robbie,” your explanation does not seem to placate him. You’d been spending a lot of time with Robbie, the two of you bonding over both having worked on Bowie’s last tour. “He’s German.” You add, as if the fun fact might warm Roger to him.

“I know how to pick accents.” He snapped back at you, and you actually stopped your work to look at him, a little shocked and defensive at his tone. He’s not looking at you, he’s gone back to watching the door.

“He’s the ASM, Rog, chill out, we work together.” You tell him. He doesn’t respond, and all you can do is go back to your work, a squirming discomfort making itself known in your chest.

He disappears after the show that night, not coming to find you after bump out like he usually would, and you try to assume the best; that he’s too high from adrenaline and the endorphins of such a good show that he’d wanted to ride the hype the rest of the band. It wasn’t deliberate, you told yourself.

“You going to the after party?” Robbie asks carefully, hands in his pockets, still wearing his own theatre blacks. You realise you must look a little lost, and when you decide that you are, you tell him, and he offers to walk with him. He’s sweet, excitedly gushing about how he can’t wait for the Munich show so he could see his girlfriend, and you find yourself enthusing about how exciting it is to be travelling around Europe. Once you step foot in the pub, the two of you part ways, Robbie heading for the bar, and you seeking your own boyfriend.

His whole face lights up when he sees you, and the anxiety that had been building in your chest dissipates when he wraps his arms around you, spinning you around.

“I’m sorry, I got caught up.” He told you, but he doesn’t kiss you, just pulls you down to the sofa with him where Freddie’s in the middle of an animated discussion with Brian.

It happens again at the next stop, he leaves you behind and you make your way to the after party talking with Robbie. He’s kind, sweet, looking forward to marrying his high school sweetheart. If you’re being honest, it’s nice to have someone to talk to who understands your side of touring, being another interchangeable face to the talent you’re helping, someone down to earth and . He gushes about how jealous he is of your friendship with the band, starry eyed in the cool night air.

Again, when you arrive at the venue, Roger’s already there, and he doesn’t get up this time, just beckons you to him with a bright smile. It doesn’t ease your discomfort like you hoped his smile would.

“Are you mad at me?” You ask gently one night; the two of you were walking in relative silence, side by side, not touching for fear of paparazzi, you try to justify.

“No, why?” He asked, and you look at him, eyes narrowed as you examine him, and his smile is a little far away when he looks back at you. After a long moment of silence, he takes your hand, pulling you both to a stop, facing each other. He wraps his arms around you, still giving you that far away smile, and he kisses you. “I’m sorry I keep leaving you behind, love.”

“So you’re not mad at me?” You confirm, stepping back and taking his hand, continuing to walk.

“Of course not; should I be?” And the way he says it, so perfectly fucking harmless, has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

“No!” You defend, and he’s laughing easily in the moonlight.

It keeps happening, sporadically, and it always seems to coincide with whenever he sees you and Robbie together, or Robbie comes in to offer to get you lunch, and you know what’s happening before you dare to admit it.

On some of the nights where you opt to go straight back to the hotel, you’re woken by him flopping into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to him, warm and protective, at odds with the discomfort in your chest.

“Missed you.” He yawns, smelling of alcohol and cigarettes, and one time, of faint, fruity perfume that you don’t recognise. When you ask him, he says that someone spilled a cocktail on him, and you realise you can’t even tell if he’s lying or not.

“You jealous?” And you can hear the sleepy smirk in his words, and your own tired mind is unguarded, unfiltered.

“A little.” You whisper into the silence of the hotel room. He doesn’t answer you, but his grip on you tightens, and he hums, the meaning of which you can’t decipher. It takes you a long while to get to sleep after that.

It comes to a head a few weeks later, however, the night they perform in Paris.

“I miss her so much.” Robbie bemoaned you as the two of you walked together, his arm tucked into yours as he waxed poetic about his now-fiance. “She sent me a care package and I swear I almost cried in front of the sound operator.”

“Why?” You laughed, and Robbie groaned.

“I opened it in the bio box because I picked it up from the front desk on my way here, like right after checking in.” By the time you get to the after party, the music is already blaring, and like always, you split up to go your respective ways. Roger greets you warmly, making room for you on the sofa he was sprawled on, wrapping an arm around you as he continued his conversation with a starry-eyed groupie, who didn’t even acknowledge your presence. You make conversation with John, who’s hovering near the arm of the sofa, bopping along to the music, looking a little bit longingly at the dance floor.

Roger goes to get a drink a little while later, smiling and asking if you’d like anything, and as soon as he’s gone, Robbie, now quite plastered, pours himself into the empty seat.

“I called her- Spotlight, I miss her so much - and she told me she loves me and she can’t wait until I get home; should I walk back to Germany? I wanna see her.” He asked, words blurring together a little from his accent and his inebriated state, and he rests his head on your shoulder.

“This is Robbie; he misses his fiance.” You explain to a confused looking Freddie, who’s expression melts into one of adoration, and he ‘aww’s at that. Robbie is starry-eyed for a long moment, before he turns to you.

“Should I walk to Munich? I miss her.” He reiterates, and you burst out laughing, petting his head fondly.

“No, don’t walk to Munich, you should go home, we’ve got a big day tomorrow.” You tell him, and he groans, clearly not having received the answer he wanted. Instead, you get to your feet and offer him your hand. “I’ll walk you back, we’re staying at the same hotel.”

You find Roger at the bar with one of your arms around Robbie’s shoulders where he’s pretty much legless, the lightweight. There’s a muscle jumping in Roger’s jaw when he sees you, and you hesitate, giving him a confused look.

“Hey, I’m just going to take Robbie back to his room, okay? I’m probably going to bed after.” You tell him. He doesn’t smile, just offers you the drink he got you and blinks slowly when you wave it away. “I’ll see you later, okay?” You ask gently, hoping to get a response from him, but he’s just giving Robbie a sour, calculating look. Robbie is transfixed by the lights behind the bar and does not notice.

When you finally get Robbie into bed, much later than you would have thought since he insisted on stopping at everything that caught his interest, and taking five minutes of standing still and explaining how beautiful his fiance’s eyes were, he’s still wearing his shoes. Once under the covers, he grabs your hands and looks you in the eyes, suddenly serious.

“You’re good. You’re a good sort, Spotlight.” He tells you, his accent coming in just a little thicker with his sincerity, and he pets your hands, before abruptly turning away from you and pulling the blankets up to his nose, clearly tapping out for the night.

The room you shared with Roger was just a few floors up, and you’re in the elevator when you realise you’d left your keys in your room. You usually did, you always went back with Roger, so you usually didn’t need them. When you approach the door, you think you hear murmuring from the other side, but it could have been from across the hall, you don’t think about it too much as you knock. There’s a giggled ‘shhh’ from the other side of the door that’s less easy to play off, but you’re tired enough to think it’s just mostly-asleep Roger. You knock again, but no-one replies. It’s too late to knock too much, and you know he’s a deep sleeper, so with a heavy, tired heart, you make your way down the hall.

“What do you want?” Paul’s frowning at you when he opens the door, wearing his blue pyjamas, squinting at you.

“Keys to the bus please, I need somewhere to sleep, Roger’s not answering.” You tell him, and punctuate it with a yawn. After a beat more of watching you, as if assessing your motives, he disappears back into his room and reappears with the keys.

“Don’t lose them.” He warned, before closing the door on you.

The sofa in the bus is long enough that you can spread out, and you find someone’s fur coat to use as a blanket. It’s comfortable enough, a little cold, and it’s only when you hear a banging on the door and feel the sunlight on your face the next morning that you get up.

Opening the door, you see Roger standing there, looking up at you, waiting for entrance. Moving back to your makeshift bed, you take a seat, giving him a confused smile.

“I... didn’t think you’d actually be here.” He already sounds like he’s in a mood, bitter, but a little bit hesitant.

“Of course I stayed here, I knocked but you didn’t answer- what was up with that?” You asked, punctuating it with a yawn, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. He watched for a moment before he slid his sunglasses down his nose to glare at you over them.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, voice a little hoarse and scratchy, moving from hesitant to just quietly angry, the venom in his words hurting like a physical slap, and you sat up straighter.

“I’m-” And you’re searching for the words, but none come to mind.

“Why are you still on this bus?” He explains in a hiss. After a beat, he slides his glasses back up his nose, and turns to look away from you, a clear dismissal.

You’re at a loss as to how to explain that you’re here because... well, you’re always here, it’s where you were now. He’s the one who’d brought you here.

“What do you mean? You’re the one who wanted me here.” Standing your ground, you don’t dare let your voice betray how confused and hurt you were feeling.

“Yeah, well now I don’t.” He snapped. His words hit you squarely in the chest, and he leaves you in your shocked, dazed silence, moving to the back of the bus. “Fuck off back to the equipment bus, since you prefer it so much better.” He snarled, and that’s what unfroze you.

“Christ, I don’t get paid enough to deal with whatever this is and ride in that bus, so that’s a resounding ‘no thanks’. And more importantly; what the fuck has gotten into you?” Emotion comes crashing back into you, rage tearing through you like a tidal wave, and you turn on him, jaw clenched.

“’Whatever this is’” he snorted, low and bitter, “yeah, but you get paid enough to fuck that little, brown-haired cockhead?” He asked, and your eyes went wide.

“Who? Robbie?” You asked, voice dangerously calm. “You think I’m fucking Robbie? Our assistant stage manager? Who just proposed to his girlfriend at our stop in Munich? That brown-haired cockhead?” You snarled, advancing on Roger like a predator cornering her prey, bitter tension gathering across your skin.

“Was he the one crying on your shoulder last night at the after party?” Roger raised an eyebrow, but the sting had left his words. Narrowing your eyes, you confirm with a single, venomous ‘yes’. “Oh.”

“Is that why you locked me out last night? You thought I was-”

“I was angry, okay?” He cut you off, sitting down at the back of the bus, and though his tone is angry, his demeanour, the way he’s avoiding your gaze and fiddling, it’s... almost guilty. In that moment, it was as if you’d been splashed with cold water, an icy realisation slithering down your spine.

“What does that mean?” Voice level, you try not to jump to conclusions, but your heart is already sinking. He doesn’t answer. When he turns away, you see a hickey on his collar that wasn’t there yesterday. “Roger, what did you do?” You asked, and the hurt was already bleeding through into your words.

“I was... I was so fucking angry.” It’s not a real answer, it’s not even a real excuse. The way he says it, jaw clenched, heart in his throat, he’s all but bleeding guilt, too proud to ask for forgiveness.

“Bullshit.” Your can feel tears welling in your eyes and threatening to spill, but your hands are shaking with anger, hurt, betrayal, and you don’t even care. “You’ve been weird for weeks, you were just looking for the first out you could get.”

“Y/N.” He stands, reaches out to grab your shoulder, but you step back, out of his reach.

“No.” Your voice is firm, but your lip is quivering. “I don’t want you to ever touch me again,” wrapping your arms across your chest, looking at his outstretched hand with disdain through your tears. “Being angry isn’t an excuse. Jumping to conclusions isn’t an excuse. I get that it must be fun fucking around with the girl who makes you work for it by your standards, but,” shaking your head, you sniffle, holding yourself a little tighter with one hand, you wipe away your tears with the other, “the moment you have to work, have to put in a little bit of fucking trust? You couldn’t even do that.”

“Spotlight, please-”

“I’m in fucking Europe for you, Roger! What in your fucking, dumbass mind thinks that I’m someone who travels halfway across the world with someone just to cheat on them?” You’re yelling now, grateful to be alone and worrying that others would join you at any minute. You didn’t want them seeing you like this.

“For me? You’re here for work! I’m opening doors for you in the industry that you’d never have opened yourself!” And he knows even as he’s saying it that it’s the wrong thing to say, but he’s too furious at himself, lashing out at the only person he could. He watches as your expression turns shocked, before shattering, and you start bawling your eyes out, holding your face in your hands. Regret floods through him, but as he steps forwards to comfort you, you yell for him to fuck off.

“I can’t- I can’t leave can I? If I leave the tour, they’ll think the tabloid are right, that I’m some dumb groupie.” And you turn, distraught, and curl up on the sofa along the inside of the bus, still bawling, loud and ugly, great heaving sobs wracking your body as you realise the full extent of what had happened, and what it would mean for you. “You’ve ruined my fucking career.”

“That’s a bit of an overstatement.” He can’t even bring himself to apologise, sitting back against the window of the bus, watching as you curl yourself into a ball, the only sound filling the silence being your sobbing. It hurts, his heart is fucking aching, but he couldn’t admit it. When you raised your head to look at him, your eyes red rimmed and lip trembling, he feels only a white hot guilt fill him from the inside out.

“You don’t get it, this industry is about who you know, and if all I am is some girl who Roger Taylor fucked, flew across the world, and got bored with, it doesn’t matter how good at my job I am, I’ll just be another groupie with aspirations.” And you bury your face in your hands again.

“We could... pretend like nothing happened, until the end of the tour.” He offers, quietly, the weakest hail mary pass you’d ever heard, and you roll your eyes at him.

“I’d rather have my dignity, thanks.” You spat, taking in a deep shaking breath as you finally sat up, wiping fruitlessly at your eyes as tears continued to flow, though you tried to pull yourself together.

“You’re not under contract, you can leave if you want.” And it might literally be last on the list of things you’d wanted to hear at that moment.

“I get it, Roger, you don’t want me around.” You snap, standing. “You are who you are; I was stupid to think you were better than that.” You sniffled. When you turn and leave, he’s silent, replaying your words over and over again in his head until he’s absolutely livid at what he’s done.

When the rest of the band returns almost a full half an hour later, he’s trashed the entirety of the bus, even going to far as to rip up the cushioning on the bench beneath the back window.

“So you’ve heard the news I take it.” Brian looks at the scene before them, voice and demeanour both surprisingly nonchalant, and Roger, breathing heavily amid the carnage, gives him a sharp look. “Spotlight’s heading home, something’s come up with her family.” He explains. Behind him, John’s already started picking up a fractured mug, and Freddie is just frowning at Roger.

“Yeah?” Is all Roger says, snatching up the cushions from where he’d thrown them, and flopping himself onto the back bench, facing away from them all.

“She’s just talking to the production manager if you’d like to say goodbye.” Freddie offers, carefully neutral, and Roger suspects he knows something’s up with the story.

“She doesn’t want to see me.” He huffed sulkily, and the others lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. They can tell it’s a touchy subject but they don’t pry. They don’t hear from you, don’t even know how to contact you if they had been able to, instead they watch Roger pick up different girls night after night, trash hotel rooms, and grow shorter when interacting with the crew, especially the assistant stage manager.

“I am who I am.” Is all he says, lips around a cigarette where he’s chain smoking in the empty theatre at lunch when Freddie finds him and finally asks what’s wrong. Freddie wants to ask what happened, wants to ask why you really left, but he knows Roger well enough to figure most of it out. Roger’s a ticking time bomb nowadays, so he doesn’t pry.

The band doesn’t talk about you, not when paparazzi and reports yell out asking where you are, not to the crew, they barely talk about you to each other, and they never talk about you around Roger.

The bus is quieter now.

Roger’s louder now.

There’s an ache in his chest that won’t go away, that he’s filling with meaningless sex and too much booze because he can’t stand waking up alone, and he still thinks about what you said, and the way you had smiled at him before it all went to shit. He remembers how you’d risked your life for a light beneath his drums, and sometimes at breakfast he finds himself thinking about how you’d thrown a plate of food in his face before you were even real friends, and he wants to yell, to scream, because how could he be so fucking stupid? You’d seen him for who he was, and chose to be with him despite it, you thought he could be better than his reputation, but he’d just managed to prove he wasn’t.

It hits him when he’s got his hands on some girl whose name he doesn’t know that all he can think about is you, and he hates himself when he leans into the fantasy, not that the other girl notices. He’d rather fuck around than admit he’d developed feelings for you, and so he does, and pretends like he doesn’t miss your sleepy, morning grin, or the casual way the two of you would chat as you were rigging the spotlights for the band.

The day he finds out they’ve replaced you, the kid they’ve got is at the top of the ladder during lunch when he walks in, and he’s hit with such a sense of deja vu that he stops in his tracks.

“I was told this is the best time for me to get work done.” Her voice, thank god she sounds nothing like you, is hesitant, with none of the calm confidence you exuded at the top of the ladder.

“It’s none of my fucking business.” Roger snaps, and turns on his heel and leaves, pretending like it hadn’t felt like he’d just seen a ghost. He gets another drink.

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #bohemian rhapsody imagine #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #and then there was light #queen #queen imagine #content #the angry lizard writes

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captiancap · 5 years

Text

Man eater (pt. 2)

You decided to meet in the town square. Plently of people and in the middle of the day. Although Mastiff had promised you there would be no funny buisness you still wanted to be safe.

You sit on the ledge of the fountain, arms crossed, foot tapping and try to pretend your heart doesn't skip a beat when you see him in the distance. He's in all black, as usual. He looks no different from when you were dating.

He sits next to you and stays quiet. You remain silent aswell, he's the one who wanted to talk. After a few minutes Mastiff sighs. He looks at you and up close you can see he looks tired.

"I'm not going to apologise." He says.

Oh. This. Motherfucker.

You go off. You hadn't meant to. The plan was to sit and hear him out and depending on how you felt at the end, report him to the police or not. But looks like that wasn't happening.

He listens to you rant. Every angry, anxiety filled word was taken in by him. You talk about how you feel like you're going crazy, how you aren't sure you'll ever trust him again, how cold it is at night without his arms around you, how disgusted you feel knowing that he's kissed you with the same mouth that he eats people-

He clasps a hand over your mouth and pulls you back down so you're sitting. Apparently you had been pacing and shouting that whole time, drawing a crowd. He turns his head in the direction of the people, being thoroughly terrifying with no need for words, and they go back to thier buisness.

His hand is making it a bit hard to breath so you tap his arm and he lets go. "That," he sighs, "I will apologise for. I didn't mean to grab you. I panicked. I'm sorry." He sounds so genuine when he says this.

You glare at him. You say nothing, mostly because if you tried you'd probably start crying. He sighs again and runs his hand over his face. He acts like this is hard on him.

"I am not going to apologise for being honest with you, and I'm not going to apologise for my biology. Yes I could've told you sooner. I also could have kept it from you my whole life but I saw no point in it." He says, sounding rather sure of himself as always.

You ask him why there would be no point. He's hidden so well from so many people for so long he sould be an expert. Hell, you were convinced he was a normal guy for well over half a year.

He smiles a little bit, "I didn't want to be a 'normal guy' to you. I wanted to be something more serious. And lets be honest, if I was a normal guy you wouldn't have even given me a second glance." He chuckles and it seems just like old times.

You can't help the blush that creeps onto your face. It's true that his strange nature was what drew you to him. Admittedly, looking back on things now, there were some odd things that you should have questioned.

He never ate infront of you, he would sit with you at meals but only eat the smallest amount, but he was always so big. You never saw his eyes or back, you figured he was just self conscious and didnt want to make him uncomfortable. The sheer amount of strength he had would be enough to tip someone off but all it did was make you hot under the collar.

You were so stupid. Maybe love made you blind? No. Never again. You see through his tricks now. He's a monster.

You look at his face and the sentence you were about to say dies on your tongue. You feel him peering through his bangs at you. He's tired, you're tired. God you need a nap.

You jump slightly when you feel the cool touch of his hand on yours. You glance down to where he's lacing your fingers together. You should pull away but it's been a long time since someones held your hand. It feels good.

He sighs, "I won't apologise for who I am. Or what I need. But I can promise you, if you choose to have me, there will be no more secrets. You'll never have to he scared or confused ever again." He brings his other hand to your face and caresses your cheek softly.

"Please," He says "I love you."

Thats when you break. You rip your hand away from him and stand up so fast you get whiplash. You start briskly walking away from the foutain, away from the square, god, just, away from him.

You can hear him calling for you as you leave but he doesn't chase you. A small part of you wishes he would. Have him run after you and tackle you to the ground, out right refusing to let you go. But he would never do that.

You cry the whole ride back to your friend's apartment. When you walk through the door she sees you and rushes over. She comforts you as best she can and listens to the whole story but... It's not as good as him.

You can see it in her face that she doesn't understand but she's trying her best. You knew she was your friend for a reason. As you finish telling her the whole ordeal she pats your back and nods. Theres silence for a bit but it's broken when she takes a deep breath and says the dumbest thing you've ever heard.

"I think you should get back together with him." She says rather fast. You stare at her. She takes this as an okay to continue.

"It's just... You were so happy with him. And yeah this is a rough spot but he sounded like he really wanted you back. You always said he was reasonable. I'm sure if you gave him another chance he'd be willing to like... Go vegetarian or something?" She said with a shrug.

You stare at her. Then the wall. Then the floor. You feel like you want to throw up and cry. This is crazy. You can't go back to him. He could eat you.

But... Maybe he could change... Or at least try.

You head to the guest room where you've been sleeping for the past few weeks and flop on the bed. You want to just sink into oblivion. This is all crazy. All of it. The fact that you are considering what your friend said is also crazy.

You eventually fall asleep.

When you dream its similar to one you've had long ago. You are back in that cursed warehouse, poking around without fear or care that these belongings aren't yours. You hear the scuttling again.

You shine your flashlight at the wall, seeing nothing, then at the floor. When you look down there are tiny spider crawling about. They aren't swarming or trying to hurt you, just minding thier own buisness.

You step over then and head to the container you know is in here. It seems to appear out of nowhere. Plops down right infront of you. The lid is gone.

You shine your light inside. There's nothing. The tiny spiders start crawling into the container and a large wave of them brings the previously hidden lid. They set it down in front of you and you take it.

They all look so cozy in the dark cramped space. You can feel the thousands of tiny eyes staring at you intently. You look at the lid in your hands. You should close this. Cap it off and send them back in the dark where no one has to look at them any more.

You throw the lid across the room. It smacks against the wall and the whole room shakes. The spiders stir in thier plastic prison. Without thinking you plunge your hand into the containter.

You get bitten, yes. Tiny fangs dig into your skin but you feel no regret. You search around in the bottomless abyss, what exactly you're looking for is unclear.

You feel something cold brush against your hand. You pause for a moment. It seems to be grasping for your arm. You take a deep breath and grab hold of the object.

He holds your hand, fingers laced together, like always. You're both coverd in spiders but it's okay. He's holding you and that's what matters. The spiders don't bite you and it feels good to have his weight against you again.

You can hear thousands of hissing whispers. He says something to you but you cant hear him over the hissing. You ask him to repeat it. The whispers seem to double over each other making your head hurt.

He holds your hands together and rests his forhead on yours. Theres a soft rumbling coming from his chest. You look at him and smile softly.

"I want to show you something." You manage to hear over all the other noise. You're about to ask him what it is when you suddenly get woken up.

You flail slightly in the bed and look around for any danger. You don't see any immediate threats, however, there is a vibration in your pocket. You rub your eyes and roll over.

After the fourth vibration you manage to tug your phone out of your pocket. You look at the collar ID and almost choke. Its him. He's calling you. What are you going to do?

Answer it of course. He's your boyfriend after all.

You press accept and sit against the head board. It's quiet for a few seconds. He mumbles something in Russian that you can't make out. You ask him to repeat himself.

"I want to show you something." He says, cautious. You think for a minute.

"I was serious when I said there would be no more secrets. I want to show you I mean it." He elaborates. You remind him that he only said that would be the case if the two of you got back together. He's silent.

You sit there for a bit then sigh. You get off the bed and look through the closet for something to wear. He hears the noise and asks what you are doing. You tell him that if he planned to kill you then you at least wanted to die wearing something nice.

You hear him wince a bit at the joke, but he chuckles after a second.

"I'll be at your work." He says and hangs up.

You are definitely crazy.

#monster boy #monster love #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster lover #my writing

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dolanswhore · 5 years

Text

Moonlight. (4) natural instincts.

warning: before reading this book you must understand it is fictional, and the twins are both werewolves and have animal like personalities. also this is a Grayson x reader x ethan story :)

|| series masterlist. || Chapter 3. ||

Ethan couldn't help as his body filled with desire, it practically oozed from his pores. On the other hand Y/N was terrified of the yellow irises that looked her up in down in desire. It was natural extinct to need for her, to desire her.

Suddenly in seconds she was crushed between the wall and his body. His skin hot with desire as her finger tips meet the arm of his skim extinictly. The moment his hardness pressed against her stomach her hands met with his chest with an attempt to push him away but it was no use as he stood tall like a brick wall.

His lips found the scent of grayson along her neck pressing into the delicate skin. His wolf was suppressed inside but growled internally at the scent of his brother along her skin. His soft lips pressed against the softness of skin, the most valuable part of her whole body. Despite being dangerously close to her jugular he wished nothing but to feel her skin, to get rid of Gray's scent. Despite the close proximity, too close for her comfort, goosebumps of pleasure ran up skin. A shiever sinking into pores causing bumps to appear rapidly against skin. "Ethan stop!"

All extinct had taken over Ethan at this point his wolf had completely taken over, ready to take what is his. His lips met hers with desperation as she pushed him away again. "Why won't you kiss me my queen?"

"She said stop brother." Grayson basically roars as he weakily climbs to his feet, teeth snarling at his brother.

Ethan gently let's her down without a thought of her protection first. In minutes his teeth were bared to his brother, in stance mode ready to attack at any given time. Despite being weakened Grayson stands his ground, head held high. An alpha never backs up from a challenge.

In the exact moment Y/N realized this is what would happen. The two males destined for the role of alpha fighting over the female they claimed was theres. No matter the circumstances she would always be the reason for the brothers fighting, who was she to tare to brothers who have been binded since birth?

"What will you do brother? As from my sight you can barely stand let alone fight me." Ethan snarls as Grayson continues to hold his ground. Ethan's eyes were still yellow indicating his wolf was still in charge.

This change was hard for the twins of the moon. Not only did it take a toll on their bodies from breaking every bone in their body to controlling the extra testosterone that was admitted with their mate being around.

"Stop already!" Y/n's voice raising with annoyance at the constant bickering of them. Grayson immediately stood down when an order came from his other half. Ethan's wild on the other hand snarled, wanting her to back down. Ethan was the alpha, not her and he demanded respect. Grayson pushed Y/n behind him in attempt of attacking his brother but he was to slow as Ethan dodged it, sinking his teeth into his neck pulling a patch of skin from it.

Blood pumped profusely from the wound, sliding down his neck and onto the tanned skin of his muscular chest. In a split second she took stance on front of ethan. "What is wrong with you?!"

Ethan was internally fighting himself trying to suppress the wolf back into his mind. Grayson's touch, his hand wrapping around hers brought the feeling that scared her so much. These men in front of her are complete strangers but give her fulfillment like no other.

"I'm sorry." Ethan apologizes quickly to his brother which is clearly accepted as he nods. Ethan's unsure eyes meet hers with fear of her hating him. "I didn't mean to scare you. Sometimes he still has a hold on me."

This was true. He had spent decades being trapped in the back of his wolf form, he was still conscious all those years just not in control. Y/n nods unsurely as Ethan sighs. His heart was heavy with her unsureness but he chose not to push it any further.

Hours have passed and the twins grow worried of her quietness. She says nothing, only sits at the small table that was crafted by Grayson's own hands. What was more worried some was she didn't bother with the food placed in front of her or the generous cup of water. The white wall seemed to speak to her since it was the only thing her eyes have met.

They decided it was best for Grayson to approach her. Ethan was worried he would only upset her more then she currently was despite how much the muscles in his body burned and twitched at the thought of comforting her along with allowing grayson to touch her instead.

"Why haven't you eaten my half?" Grayson's voice was soft as he sunk to his knees in front of her showing his most vulnerable state. With grayson's experience when dealing with upset she-wolves it was ideal to show weakness. Depsite how much she wanted to look away the pull to this male was strong, his shoulder's rounded with muscles along with his thick arms shaped by the 'moon goddess' herself. Without second thought her eyes meet the tanned skin of his neck, right at the base of where neck and shoulders meet. For some odd reason she felt the need to touch it. Her lips tingle with the thought of kissing it often like how Grayson and Ethan did to her.

"I am not hungry." It came out colder then expected causing Grayson to sigh loudly. Despite how much it stung he didn't like the uneasy feeling that filled his stomach from her. Both twins felt the affect of her mood making them both equally sad as her.

"You haven't eaten since yesterday. Please eat love." Grayson couldn't help but reach to feel her skin and the moment he does she backs away from his touch no matter how much it hurt to do so.

"I am not your love!" She exclaims loudly as the back of chair falls to the ground as she stands her ground. To the wolves buried inside these men they growled, showing their dominance, wanting to show her that disrespect wasn't tolerated. "Do not touch me. This is ridiculous. This claim you two think you have on me scares me! Just because we are connected in some weird ass moon way doesn't mean you can keep me here! I have friends and family. I need to go home."

"Your home is where we are." Ethan finally speaks with poison, anger radiating from his skin. Grayson's eyes meet his brother with challenge knowing that he was having trouble containing his wolf side.

"I don't even know you!" Ethan's growl is animalistic as it vibrates his chest. His wolf no longer tolerating the disrespect she was showing. Grayson understood, he was completely in control of his wolf but knew the situation his brother faced is difficult.

"She is scared Ethan. She was raised wrong, not the true way." Grayson tries to tame the beast with a soft tone. Y/n scoffs at the words trying to push past gray only to be stopped by the roughness of his hand.

"It is true. You belong with us. You can't deny what you have seen, what we showed you. No matter what you believe your faith has been chosen for you." Grayson argues not allowing her to finish her path to the door.

"You are a luna. Despite those humans supressing your wolf in you. She is there. A natural born leader and provider." Ethan says, "you will help guide our pack."

"What pack? Last time i checked it was only you two assholes!" Her words laced with venom as Grayson moves from his spot only to left the back of the chair with ease back into its proper spot. "Sit down. And we will not guide, we will stay here."

Ethan's attention is now on his brother. "We will go."

Grayson had promised himself to stay calm towards her but his brother was another story as he flips his lips to reveal the sharpened fangs. "We will stay. We will not go back to that life!"

"You wish to defy the queen that made us? She specifically told us what to do Grayson. You heard her, you felt her power. How stupid are you?" Once again the brothers were facing each other. The room reeked of dominace and anger. Despite her lack of wolf she could smell the musty air of the room.

"Do I get a say about any of this?!"

"No!" The twins growled together and Grayson's hand came down on the table angrily. "Now eat before we make you."

It had been two quiet for Ethan's liking as time passed. Ethan as well as Y/N were concentrated on the books in front of them while Grayson had made himself a bath. His aching muscles that still buzzed with anger from some time ago finally relaxed as the water massaged his skin. By this time the wound on his neck was completely healed other then the small print of his brother's teeth. The soft yawn had caught both of their attention, snapping their heads in the way of the direction it came from.

Despite the words said earlier and his angry Ethan's soft voice broke the silence. "Come sleep love."

Even though she was still mad the invitation of sleeping on the soft furs where Ethan sat was the best idea of the day. Gray was distracting as he rose from the water, his nudity the least of his concerns as he mets her eyes with a smirk. He wanted to tell her to look, that this body was crafted for her and her only. The pattle of her feet against the wood floor was music to Ethan's ears as he anticipated the warmth of her skin.

Ethan finally puts the book to rest watching as she quickly sits next to him. "I'm covered in goop."

Ethan couldn't help but crack a smile as he looks at Gray who was already a step ahead of him as he used his bath water to wet the rag. The cold water pressed against her face made her hiss away from Grayson's touch. "It's freezing!"

Grayson replaced the patch of coldness with his warm lips sending a small shock down her skin. Ethan had now began to rub the other side of her body. It was nice for the both of them. Being providers, taking care of their queen.

As soon as she was clean Grayson had returned with her shirt slipping it over her head.

"I'm sorry for my hostile behaviour, for yelling at you." Even though gray had said the words Ethan presses his lips against her shoulder in an apology.

The candle was blown out from Ethan's lips making the room fall dark. Once again she spent the night squished between the two men. It felt so right to touch their skin, smell their scent but she still felt rash about this and was wishing she was home.

#grayson dolan #ethan dolan imagine #grayson dolan imagine #ethan dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan x reader #dolan twins imagine #the dolan twins imagine #grayson dolan imagi #ethan dolan x reader #the dolan twins #ethen dolan x reader #the dolan #moonlight

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supacutiepie · 5 years

Text

I have headcanons... Head Cannons if you will

I thoroughly believe Bakugou is the type to bullshit his way around every little truth so honestly this shit might as well be canon bc he is Absolutely That Extra

- The new reveals told that: The reason we didn’t see his room is because it’s got shelves of romance manga.

-Therefor : Bakugou is a MAJOR BOOK NERD NESTER

-He has cookbooks, his trashy literature, his classics, his mangas, every school book he ever owned has been kept.

-This includes shit he wrote himself

-Cookbook notebooks, its a full wall to wall scenario. He has books in every language and they make a librarian weep.

-The books he can’t read?? He has notebooks filled with translations he’s jot down after hours of scouring the internet and his OTHER books.

-TBFH his self written notebook collection puts “shitty nerdy fanboy deku” to shame

-Not only does he have this many books, they have consumed him. His room is wall to wall with them and they are so neatly organized to his mind that he just AUTOMATICALLY knows EXACTLY where every little page is.

-However

-You may think, “Bakugou is the neatest of the students”

-Bullshit

-He understands his methods. You could never. I’m not shitting you, we have only ever seen his bed because its the only clean spot. He has piles of books, his closet is filled with his novelty t-shirts--

-Oh, he swaps out his wardrobe every season. Not because he cares per say but rather if he didn’t he’d drown in the clothes. His parents own a fashion line, every. single. month. he gets something new.

-Clothes mean jack shit to him. Sure, he gets it. He understands that clothes are “Expressions”... but to him its just bullshit extra merchandise that he gets in packages once a month since he born. He long since left behind any attachment to anything that wasn’t some doofy bs novelty shit. His skull shirt collection is hideous and he loves it.

-Bc he gets clothes so often, he just as often donates them.

-Everyone in 1-A has received a mysterious package of clothing. Everyone. And it’s always customized because like hell he’d just throw clothes at people puh-lease his father DESIGNS FASHION FROM SCRATCH

-It’s also ‘secretly’ his way of trying to put some kind of fashion sense in the heathens he lives with.

-So his closet is full, his walls are lined with shelves and stacks and notes.

-But the rest of the “clear space” is filled with art.

- Drawings, Sketches, Designs. Little thing stacked up or tapped together. Prototypes over a desk thats STUFFED with pencils and erasers and extra paper and books.

-Photographs of the places he’s been. So many different shots of Paris, mountains, rivers, lakes. He has a series of photo albums for the best and one is entirely dedicated to sunrises- another to sunsets.

-He has a map above his bedside. It’s the only spot big enough because it doesn’t have a big ass bookshelf on the wall.

-The map is big and delicately detailed. But it’s still just a map.

-The cool shit is that it is COVERED in tack-markers. Well, most of it is.

-Europe is washed out by tacks. France has so many different colored tacks its an eyesore. Paris has a big ass push pin bc he’s been there so many times. Enough that when Aoyama starts mumbling obscenities at their classmates he has to stop himself from cackling along.

-He has a trail of pushpins along the Alps and Pyrenees.

-The different colors mean things. But only he gets its.

* Black is Done. Been there, done it, no point going back.

*Green is Good. It’s a place he kinda liked, but its not somewhere he needs to go back to. Paris is a big ass green push pin.

*Red is for a place he wants to go back to. The mountains are a trail of red that grows inch by inch longer.

*Blue is for Potential. He marks his next trips in blue, but not his dream trips.

*Those would be his nice, doofy, silver tipped push pins. the classic “string on a crime board” kind. He has major cities plotted out with these. Theres a large mishmash over america filled with silver and blue. He has books and books and BOOKS on american mountain ranges and cuisine and he not-so-secretly plotted out a course all-might themed rest stops.

*Yellow is for his favorites. The first mountain he ever hiked, the onsen he found while his parents dragged him out to a business trip up north, the island they went on once for a family vacation. (He fell in love with the sunset. It was clear and bright and there were so many colors at once that its his ‘happy place’. He sat on top of a fucking volcano and it was AWESOME.)

-The map is obsessively picked over, the pins are carefully arranged, and the map itself its surrounded by his favorite snapshots of the places marked.

-His room is a mess. But he does know the exact inch everything belongs in.

-He may not seem it, but he is sentimental. He just doesn’t keep all the sentimental shit in the dorms. Those things are at home. On shelves and wall caddies and tucked between his even BIGGER collection of books and cd cases.

-He does have All Might merch, but again, at home. The few things he has at the dorm are hand drawn posters, so much cooler than the cheap shit you get in the store.

-He doesn’t have time for movies and shows, but when he does its either “cheesy romance serial” or “blood, guts, and glory”

-TBFH his FAVORITE movie is a bastard child of a romcom, an action, and a suspense thriller. It’s horrible, its audacious, its cheesy and the vgi is awful but its one of those Things he loves. (On really bad days, when his arms ache for hours and he didn’t sleep well the night before he lets the movie go on repeat just for the cheese. It’s a soothing ‘nothing really matters’ kinda Thing)

-Oh, lets not forget his arms.

-His quirk is DEMANDING. Its a needy little princess. He gets sick of it acting like a bitch. His arms will ache if he over does it, so he has a giant fucking box of tiger balms and compression wraps and weird fucking icy-hot concoctions.

-He DOESN’T have skin car shit. Surprise surprise, he doesn’t need it. He is soft. He is also, incredibly fucking annoyed.

-He has those super obnoxious spray colognes, some super expensive shit, and inbetweeners. Because otherwise he smells like he just rolled out a vat of butterscotch and step into a shower of caramel. But BURNT.

-Seriously, his room would be noxious from the nitroglycerin smell alone. He constantly has a fan going and the window open. And while the room is cluttered he CANNOT let it go uncleaned or he risks a build up of explosives. He has to change his sheets daily, he has a routine for covers and pillow cases, and he is damn near religious in clothes washing because otherwise he’s destined to explode Something he Doesn’t Want Exploded. (The books. The very flammable sometimes RARE books.)

-Oh, and he has MANY a blanket and throw. He swaps them out so he isn’t doing huge loads of laundry for the big shit. It’s mostly thin blankets anyways, but they’re super soft and cozy and he nestles up to read his books like a demented caterpillar. The blanket he sleeps with ALWAYS ends up on the floor.

-He doesn’t like to think himself overly conceited. But he is cocksure and arrogant and he has an image to keep. So of course he has routines to make himself look good.

-This is just a Bakugou thing TBQH.

-More of a personal headcanon, but he’s definitely gay. Not in the super obvious way, but he’s definitely confident in it. He isn’t about to go plastering his walls with flags (as if they’d fit), and he isn’t jotting down crushes in a journal (he does have journals, they’re just... incredibly volatile and profane)

-He’s just, confident. He has a single little rainbow picture, its a picture he took and its super cool and shit. A rainbow in the mountains, right after a shower. He keeps in in a frame in one of the bookshelves near his manga. It’s tasteful, and it’s subtle. He knows what its for, and the littleness of it feels nice and secure.

-He doesn’t shy away if asked. But no one asks. He’d be honest, if anyone did. It’s not something he will hide- that’d be cowardly...

-But deep down, it does give him pause. It’s something he wrestled into submission since he figured it out. He had this big dream of being N.1 and then one day he realized that, had society not advanced the way it did, he could have nothing. He’d never tell a soul but it scared him, to know that despite all his ‘perfections’ he had this one thing that would turn heads in a way he didn’t want.

-He realized though that it as just one more thing he’d own. So he noosed it, that fear, and he throttled it into submission. He’d be N.1, he’d be open, He’d pioneer that shit if he had too- but he didn’t have too. It ended up being something that added character if nothing else, and he was determined to make it a trait and not a flaw and to build his pride with it.

-That all being said, much like any self respecting gay- he does has a string of lights tastefully weaving over the wood of his bookshelves.

-Extras:

* He doesn’t get sick often. Just, doesn’t. He keeps a close watch on his health, is always good on hygiene, and in general doesn’t jeopardize his well-being.

* When he gets sick. It hits him like a FREIGHT TRAIN.

* He only gets fevers once in a blue moon and he’ll fight the damn moon itself to keep it this way because when he DOEs get a fever its like a putting a handful of firecrackers into a cooking pot.

* He pops when sweaty. He just DOES, It’s INCREDIBLY annoying but thankfully localized to the hands. But when the fever strikes, his whole body pops. He spends the majority of his fever curled up in something flame-proof to wait it out.

*If he’s sweating, and by some MIRACLe he blushes, he CRACKLES.

* He’ll kill you if you witness it.

* I said he’s confident, not that he can’t be flustered.

* On that note, he’ll take it to the grave, but he definitely made Kaminari discharge in front of the dorms that first day by kissing him. It was on the cheek though! And it fucking hurt. Touching Kaminari is like playing roulette and his finger tips smell funny afterwards so he tries to avoid it.

* Honestly, the same can be said for anyone with a quirk that can react to his.

*Fucking half-and-half actually worries him. For the sanctity of his clothing.

* That fight with Deku in ground-beta set off every nerve ending he had and for a solid 24 hrs afterwards he actually had trouble keeping his quirk under his skin. He can still vividly recall the arc of electricity over his face and it never fails to leave a lasting echo in his mind.

* Kirishima is good for this though. Ironically, he’s grounding. He’s the one person Bakugou has never worried about hurting or leaving damage behind. Likewise, he knows that Kirishima high-key needs the confidence boost that Bakugou drags with him everywhere, so he amps up his attitude when the red-head seems down.

* He has no earthly idea how to describe his relationship with Kirishima and it shows. He would never dare say it allowed, but he knows that the boy is his best friend and he’d honestly kill for him. But more so, he’d be willing to live and fight beside him.

* Kirishima is one of the VERY FEW who has a picture in Bakugou’s room. It’s from a hiking trip, and its really backlit so you honestly wouldn’t know at first glance, but its beautiful. A sunrise, right at the summit. A figure standing on a rock with a hand excitedly outstretched towards the horizon.

* The other people with photos, are his parents- and the Midoriya’s.

* It’s not as obvious this one. But he keeps a family photo on his bookself of the three Bakugous, and then theres an old photograph tucked away between some of his older school book collections.

* It’s a beach photo. He couldn’t be more than, maybe three?

* It’s a whole other life. A time before his quirk. Before he knew he was destined.

*He’s sitting on a rock with a backsplash of salt and foam. He’s got an arm wrapped around a tiny Izuku. It was the only thing keeping the other boy from tumbling off into the waves. Their moms are sitting on either side, big happy faces all around.

*The boys were burnt, both heavily freckled, and smiling like the world was endless.

* The photo...makes him sad. He can’t explain it, not even sure what words could do so. It’s nostalgic sure, but something between the pixels of ink has him at a lost. It was such a different time, and the little boy in the photo is a stranger.

*Sometimes, rarely and in the dead of night when a nightmare finally gets him awake, he thinks about life. About how different it could have been, about the paths he chose and the ones he burnt. He wonders, he regrets, and he moves on before morning.

*Bakugou Katsuki refuses to dwell. He bottles and compartmentalizes and he tucks it away like a pamphlet in a library. Notes and subscripts to be lost in translation.

( He’s vocal, he’s vivid. He writes. He loves his book collection and he writes his own short stories. His imagination is as vivid as the rest of the class, and he jots down half finished ideas all the time. He has a memory that makes an elephant cry, so his school notebooks are tiny and his idea notebooks are scattered. The words he can’t get out into the air are sometimes trapped in ink. )

#bakugou #bakuboom #bakugou katsuki #kacchan #my BOY #look I love one Good Rowdy Boy #bnha #my hero acadamy #yeah yeah heres my newest fixation #its blonde #angry #and a big ass fucking bookworm

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kpopscenariosblog · 6 years

Text

A Past In The Nile: Part 2

Jungkook x Reader

Ancient Egypt au, mystery au, Fantasy au

Word count: 2,256

Summary: Fresh out of high school you go on a trip to Egypt with your friend just to witness an ancient corpse be brought back to life.

1 | 2 | 3 |

You were on your way into the city, earlier you declared that you wanted to go home as soon as possible and refused to stay in the hot sandy place after what had just happened. Your entire being was shocked from the realization that all of the crazy things going on were a reality and not just something pulled out of a mythology book or some old folk lore story waiting to be told. It was all real.

Jimin tried his best to convince you to stay adding a “No matter where you go, he will always find you.” But you weren’t having any of it. And of course someone had to pry Jungkook away from you, well maybe more than just one person, but in the end the mission was a success.

Jin placed down your luggages in the hotel room, with a grunt

“Okay, so your all set and your flight leaves tomorrow at 12:00.”

“Thanks Jin. I really appreciate it.”

“It was no problem, have a safe trip.”

You bid Jin goodbye, making sure that the door was closed completely. You were extremely thankful to him for taking the time to get you all settled and ready to fly home instead of you having to do it all by yourself. You turned around and instantly jumped out of your skin at the intruder standing in front of the window facing you with a curious expression adorning his features. How the hell did Jungkook get into your room? You just booked the room and it took you hours to get into the city from the camping site so how did he get here so fast?

Jungkook began to take small steps towards you as your feet stayed rooted to floor. Your mind blanked and you didn’t know what to do as the boy came closer and closer.

“(y/n), my love, Why have you been trying so hard to stay astray from me?”

He spoke softly and you could feel his warm breath on your skin causing your body to break out into goose bumps. You flicked your head up to look into his eyes, registering his question, but still trying to piece together how he got here in the first place. You opened your mouth and closed it not a second later, there was no way that you could answer his question. It was meant for the you in the pass from a few thousand years ago and this was a whole new different you framed from things of the present.

“Have I done something wrong?” He asked, his eyes trained on you, you shook your head

“You frighten me.....I-I mean you were just dead and now your here alive and breathing.” you took in a deep breathe “That is nowhere near normal.”

“Do you wish not to see me because of that. It is your culture, you’ve witnessed these things many times before, you grew up around these happenings.”

“NO I HAVE NOT JUNGKOOK......... maybe in a past life but in this life time I have not.” you met his eyes with a sorrowful look as he stared at you in confusion “I’m sorry Jungkook but I am not the Bektamun that you once knew.”

“But you were supposed to be mummified with me, we were to awake together. Something is not right, if you have been born again then that shall mean that.” Jungkook rambled on before pausing as sudden realization struck him, his breathing began to grow loud and uneven, his eyes holding strong emotion

“NO, NO, IT CAN’T BE.” wrapping you into his arms he let out an endless string of apologies, the panic rising in his voice. For some odd reason the emotion that he was portraying began to seep into you. Warm salty droplets of tears ran down your face, as you felt apologetic also, as if you had betrayed him and were terribly sorry. But for what? You returned his embrace softly sobbing into his chest and as time passed by the both of you calmed down. Jungkook pulled back staring deep into your eyes for a few minutes before he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Im sorry (y/n).”

You opened your eyes and when you did he was gone. Great not only have you witnesses a bad man come back to life, who you apparently have a history with, but the dead man has some type of teleportation powers. You climbed up onto your bed, laying down to where you faced the ceiling, stuck in deep thought.

A lanky boy with longer legs than yours at the time, who could be no older than twelve was chasing after you and you giggled as you ran away from him, trying your best not to get caught. Eventually you lost sight of the boy and decided to hide behind on of the big wooden crates filled with fruit, silently you let soft chuckles slip past your lips as you waited for the boy to walk past your hiding spot “There you are” you heard from behind you and turned to be met with the same boy that was chasing after you. Letting out a loud squeal, you hop up and begin to dart away from the boy. Not even a minute passed before almost large arms wrap around your waist, causing you to howl out in laughter

“Gotcha (y/n).” was what the boy called out as you went limp in his arms

“Ahh Taehyung, you caught me.” Taehyung beamed “Now, for my reward?”

“Oh, right” you leaned down and gave the boy a peck on the cheek, which caused the him to flush red and smile uncontrollably

“ (Y/N)!!!!!!! TAEHYUNG!!!!.” The both of you looked up in the direction in which the voice came from. A girl who appeared to be in her teens ran up to the both of you “(y/n), your parents have requested to see the both of you now.”

You turn to Taehyung and give a smirk before sprinting off towards your parents “LAST ONE THERE HAS TO GIVE THE WINNER A PIGGY BACK RIDE.”

“HEY, NO FAIR.”

You sat at an isolated table located in the far back of the library, books revolving around ancient Egypt and its traditions splayed out all over the table. You were trying your best to piece together what was going on in your life at this point in time but every time you did, you would wind up even more confused than you were before. It had been a week since you last seen your ‘mummy lover’ but instead of the relief that you initially thought you would feel you for some odd reason felt disappointed, you were thirsty for knowledge and you felt as if something extreme was missing.

You huffed in irritation no matter how many times you dived in to the endless sea of books in search for information you would always come to shore lacking the material that you were searching for. You knew that you wouldn’t find anything in the books or the internet for that matter, which is what led you to where you were right now, standing in front of Park Jimin’s door. Since the incident in Egypt you tried your best to to avoid the soft eyed guy but in the end you knew that you would run back to confide in the man, He was always there treating and caring for you as if you were his younger sister. On the first knock the door swung open and you immediately jumped into jimin’s arms, The blonde haired boy holds you into a hold, giving a small chuckle.

“Ahh (y/n), how have you been?”

“Jimin I wanna know whats going on, i’m so confused and it’s killing me.”

Jimin hands you a glass of water as you sit down on the couch to face him on the couch across from you. His home was very cozy the ice grey walls trimmed in mocha giving the place a warm feeling while also being very aesthetic. This matched hime perfectly.

“Well I don’t know what exactly happened with you and Jungkook but from what I do know is that you were supposed the mummified with him and the both of you were to awake together other than that the rest is to your memories, Have they started yet?”

“They started in Egypt. But how is this whole situation even possible?”

“Look (y/n), I know this is a lot to take in.” Jimin started, shifted his position from leaning back on the couch to lean forward and continued “We are what most people would call mythical, we’re human but not quite.”

your mouth gaped “You too?” He nodded “I promise once all of the memories come everything will start making sense, just give it time-”

“(y/n)?” Jungkook calls out walking towards both you and jimin to join you in the cozy living room. You inwardly start to panic, butterflies going crazy in your stomach as your chest tightens, you purse your lips and try to calm yourself down. You were not ready to face him yet. Your breathe starts to come out ragged and when did the room get so hot? The room starts to spin, the next emotion you feel is fear, it’s shortly lived but its still there and next theres anger, anger at yourself for reacting like this. You could faintly hear some are you okays and callings of your name being thrown around but you were to immersed in your whirlwind of emotions to notice.

An ear piercing scream shoots throughout the room, bouncing off of the walls and reverberating around the room. White clouds your vision before your vision refocuses and as soon as you come back to your senses you see that everything in the room is floating above the ground your crouched on the floor while Jimin and Jungkook stand there in shock, shooting each other a look. The objects that levitate above the ground in which they belong rotate in slow circles with no intention of coming down to their respective spots anytime soon. The pair that are currently recovering from their initial shock then proceed to focus their attention back onto you

“(y/n), I’m gonna need you to calm down.” Jimin’s soft voice spoke “What is going on? What’s wrong with me.” You question, your voice cracking as each word slips past your lips. A crack of thunder sounds with a dramatic ‘BOOM’ and rain begins to pour heavily with a few flashes of lightening flashing from here and there.

“Nothings wrong with you (y/n) every things okay.”

You feel large arms wrap around you and it doesn’t take much for you to immediately know that its Jungkook. You break and sobs escape your mouth, salty tears roll down your cheeks and you confide in him, let yourself be held by the dead but alive boy. For some odd reason his touch is soothing you, letting you know that he is there for you. He’s warm, he’s breathing, he has emotions, you can feel him, he’s real, and he’s definitely alive. Although you don’t know why you got so worked up just from seeing him, his presence seems to calm you down in no time and soon all of the objects that were once floating in the air and defying the laws of gravity tumble down, landing on the flat wooden surface with loud thumps and clattering. Which leaves the once cozy living room in a mess with an array of things strewn across the floor. The storm outside carries on.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting there in that same position with Jungkook, but when you look up you see a less than impressed Jimin locking eyes with Jungkook before he shouts out “JUNGKOOK NOOO!!!!” But it’s too late. Now your in in a room lit by a few candles hanging up on the copper brown walls. “Jungkook, Where are we?” You stand up hastily observing your surroundings

“Were at home.” You turned to face him a look of disbelief etched onto your features “I’m not quite finished with the adjustments yet, but i’ll have it done in no time and we can live here together comfortably.”

“Jungkook, This is really sweet of you but I cant stay here.”

“Why not?” he frowned “Do you dislike my presence to that extent? you used to love me so much” he looked down to face the ground, sadness laced in his voice as he whispered out the last part

“Jungkook I-”

“Have you even gotten all of your memories back yet?”

“No, I have not, but I-” you tried to speak but he kept cutting you off “You need to stay here, your just now regaining your powers and you don’t know how to control them.”

“No, Jungkook I don’t need to stay here and I honestly do not wish to do so.”

“(y/n), why are you so adamant on avoiding me?I just want to love you. Why wont you let me love you?”

“Cause thats not how things work Jungkook. I’M NOT YOURS, I don’t even know you.”

You know your words hurt him, you could feel it seeping into the atmosphere. He wore it clear on his face until that hurt turned into an entirely different emotion: Irritation. “Fine” He huffed out, grabbing your arm and then you were back in Jimin’s wrecked living room with no sign of Jungkook anywhere. The storm outside was still going on strong, The hard pats of water hitting the glass of the window and the, loud thumps of thunder roaring aloud just like your emotions

~admin

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ritingsandwramblings · 7 years

Text

Camp Friend (Evan Hansen and Reader)

Anonymous said to dearevanimagine: Could you do some fluff where you meet Evan at the park he works at (you’re like the art instructor for a day camp or something) and you become friends? And like maybe you find him after he fell out of the tree or something? If that’s too much, it’s okay. I just thought it’d be cute.

Its not too much!!! No request will ever be too much!!! Always feel free to requet anything!!! :))

Warnings: suicide mention and angst near the end.

this is not written and intended to have a ship but feel free to read it as if reader and evan are together lol

***

You enjoyed working with the children, honestly, but sometimes little kids yelling about their macaroni smiley faces got old. When it came time for your break for lunch, you were ecstatic and left the cabin as fast as possible. ‘At least this will look great on a resume,’ you thought to yourself as you munched on a small bag of pretzels and walked around. Enjoying the trees, you didn’t even notice when you had come across someone else who you thought was talking to you. You looked up, startled, to find a boy that looked about your age wearing khaki shorts and one of the mandatory camp staff shirts. He was talking to himself, you found upon further look, and heard a bit of what he was saying. “Giant sequoia, the sequoiadendron giganteum. Camphor tree, the cinnamomum camphora,” he listed off the trees around him, pointing to each one and saying its name and Latin name, as if he were testing himself. He turned to find another tree, and jumped nearly a foot in the air to see you standing there. His face went red, “Oh, uh, h-hi, sorry, th-that probably lo-looked pretty weird,” he scratched the back of his neck and laughed out the last of the sentence, avoiding looking at you. “No, no, it’s fine. I-I should’ve said something, it probably looked pretty weird for me to just be standing here watching you,” you chuckled back, “No, that was, pretty impressive, you remember all these things about all these trees?” He nodded, “I’m kinda like a tree expert, not to brag or anything,” he spoke fast, rambling to make up for the lack of stutters in his sentence. You giggled a bit, watching as you could see he mentally facepalmed. “I’m y/n,” you said, sticking your arm out straight for him to shake. He went to shake your hand before wiping it on his shorts. “Yes, hi, I-I’m Evan.” These words started the summer long friendship between you and Evan, which was mostly the two of you meeting up at lunch breaks, and after camp for a bit, to sit amongst the trees and chat. Sometimes he’d spill off random facts about the trees, other times you would talk, and sometimes you guys sat in comfortable silence, taking in the nice weather and calming surroundings. You never expected what was to come the last day of camp. You wished you’d seen it coming, in time enough to stop him. But you were too late. You gave hugs to each of the kids, hearing each of their ‘thank you’s and ‘we’ll miss you’s as they one by one left the cabin. You were finally free. Of course, you liked the camp and the kids, but it would be nice to hang around ore kids your own age once more. You walked fast, excited to get to spend a while longer with Evan, now that you didn’t have to go home to get ready to be up early the next day for camp. As you approached the trees, you heard a faint sobbing. You stopped, going quiet to listen again, and heard sniffles and a pained groan. You ran, as fast as your legs could take you, towards the noise, only stopping a few ties to see if you could hear it again. You finally found it, discovering the voice belonged to Evan. “Evan? Oh my god, are you okay? What happened? Do you need help? Did yu break anything?” You frantically asked a million questions a second as you knelt down and helped him sit up, seeing Evan wince in pain when you touched his arm. “M-M-My arm,” he said, holding his arm close to his chest and wincing in pain again, “I-I-I, uh, f-fell out of the, uh, th-the t-tree,” he stuttered much more than normal, so you instantly knew something was wrong. He stuttered a lot due to his anxiety, but as he got to know you more and got more comfortable around you, he stuttered much less than when you first met. You could tell that his stuttering now was more than him being shaken up about falling out of a tree. You pulled out your phone to call for help, “I’m gonna call for help, okay? But you’re gonna tell me what’s really wrong later, promise?” He went pale, but reluctantly nodded. It took about twenty minutes for the medic’s to arrive, due to the park being a little out of the way, and then them having to find yours and Evan’s exact location. They helped him get into an ambulance; you sat next to him, letting him hold your hand tightly with the one that want broken. After a short trip back to the hospital, Evan was taken to get his arm readjusted and put into a cast. It didn’t take very long, and after a while a woman in pink scrubs, curly blonde hair, and wrinkles from years of both stress and laughter. “Are you y/n?” She asked hesitantly, knowing it was you by your park uniform. You stodd and nodded quickly. “Is Evan okay? How’s his arm?” you asked quickly, worried about Evan’s mental state more than anything. “He’s fine, a little shaken is all. Thank you. I’m Heidi, Heidi Hansen,” she extended her hand and you took it, recognizing her last name as Evan’s and assuming this was his mom. “Thank you for helping him, and, and getting him hear. I can’t imagine what would have happened if you weren’t there to help him.” “Of course. I’m just glad I found him. Uh, how, how is he? I know his anxiety must be off the charts right now,” You smiled, and then bit your lip as you waited for conformation of Evan’s status. “Yeah, he’s still pretty shaky, but I gave him some of his meds so he’s a lot better now. You two are, close. I didn’t know he had any friends at that camp, or, anywhere, to be honest,” Heidi looks down sheepishly, “You can see him if you want? He should be okay to go home now, so I can bring him out. I gotta go clean up real quick, but then I can drive the two of you home, if you’d like?” You nodded, saying a quick thank you as she turned to get her son. She stopped, turning back and surprising you with a hug, you chuckled and hugged back, hearing her say another thank you. You smiled as she went to grab Evan, seeing how much she worried for her son. After a couple minutes, Evan came out with a large white cast on his arm, looking around until he spotted you, his unharmed hand messing with the hem of his dirty polo. “Hey,” you pulled him into a hug, glad he was okay and not stopping for a second to see if he wanted one, “Are you okay? What happened back there?” “I-I was climbing the t-tree and I-I just, uh, I f-fell,” he looked down as he spoke, “Oh, My, uh, my m-mom wanted to invite you to, uh, invite you to dinner. As a, uh, as a th-thank you I guess,” he breathed out the end in an attempt to change the subject. “I’d love too! But nice try. Evan Hansen if you don’t tell me what happened then I’m fraid I can’t come to dinner.” You crossed your arms, knowing that that was a horrible threat but hoping for the best anyway. “F-fine, just, d-don’t hate m-me, and n-not here,” he mumbled before walking towards the door and sitting on a bench. It was near the door, but nobody else was outside, so the two of you were alone, “I-I-I was, uh, I was c-climbing the t-tree, and w-when I g-got up t-to the top, a-and saw the w-world, and how i-it looked from up so h-high, and I just th-thought, ‘If I jumped, n-nobody would c-care. I’d disappear. Th-theres so m-many happy p-people d-down there, i-in this world, th-that wouldn’t b-be impacted a-at all if I j-jumped.’ S-s-so I d-did.” Your hands move to cover your mouth in shock. Evan looks down and messes with the thumb hole on his cast. “Oh my god, Evan,” You whisper, tears forming in your eyes. “Y-yeah, I kn-know, no-now y-you’re gonna l-leave me t-t-too, be-because who wants to, uh, who wants to b-be friends w-with the an-anxious suicidal f-freak?” “I do, Evan. I would never forget you, you don’t deserve to just, disappear, okay? You don’t deserve to just fade out like you were never here, and you never will, okay? O many people will miss you, Evan, you’re too great to be feeling like that.” You enveloped him in another hug, this one much more comforting and lasting longer. You felt his tears on your shoulder until you pulled away, looking him in his eyes, “You will always matter, okay?” He nods, looking as though he doesn’t believe a word you’re saying. You’re determined to make him believe it.

#deh #deh imagine #deh imagines #deh x reader #dearevanhansen #dear evan hansen x reader #dear evan hansen imagine #dear evan hansen #evan Hansen #evan Hansen x reader

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leftmyurlinmyotherpants · 7 years

Text

hi i wrote a thing “Why did it have to be this way?” ~ Albert

hi so yes this is really heavy and requires trigger warnings for death, self harm and suicide. if theres any warnings that i missed PLEASE tell me. i dont want to be that person who doesnt tag something that could really mess with someone’s day. i care about you guys a lot and would hate to do that. if i knew how to do the “continue reading” thing, i would do that. if anyone wants to let me know how to do that, that’d be awesome.

@timesarehardfornewsies (you asked to be tagged so here we go)

"She was always there when I needed someone. She was everything I ever wanted and needed but never what I deserved. She could have done so much better than me but she always stayed. No matter what. I was never able to provide her with anything more than a proper date every once and a while but she never thought it mattered. She was absolutely everything to me and I wouldn't be the man I am today if it weren’t for her presence in my life. I love you to death, sweetheart. I don’t understand why it had to be this way. Rest easy, beautiful, I’ll be seeing you soon.” Albert said as he stepped down from the podium and walked around the altar. He stops by the love of his life’s casket and completely breaks down. Tears begin to pour from his already red, puffy eyes and continue to follow the stains left down his face from the past few days and the event that brought this about. He leans his head against the head of the casket for a split second before mumbling a quick “I love you baby” before hugging her family and returning to his seat next to Race, who wrapped an arm around his shoulders before the priest continued with the final blessing.

She was gripping the bathroom sink with such grip that made her knuckles go white. She couldn’t find a way to get out of her own head. She lost control. Not even the boy who is normally able to bring her out of any funk she’s in or be able to just let her get it out of her system while still making sure she knew he was there for her. Taking her final message to him off the edge of the bathtub, she slips it under the locked bathroom door. She takes a deep breath before starting to run the bath water, hot. While that’s running, she begins to rummage through their shared medicine cabinet looking for anything strong enough to do damage. Spotting Albert’s pain medication from when he had broken his wrist the most recent time, she begins to realize what she is about to do. As she mentioned in her note, she knew that she couldn’t go back now.

She grabs the pain medication as well as her own prescriptions and empties the already nearly empty bottles into her hand. She stops the water before she begins swallowing the pills four at a time. She swallows the final few before shrugging off Albert’s sweater, after all, she wouldn’t want to stain it. She steps into the bath wearing her pajama shorts and a loose tank before taking the blade that she hid under her shampoo bottle into her hand.

One, two, three, four. She eventually lost count of the deep and painful slashes that she inflicted onto her wrists. She began to slip between consciousness and unconsciousness as she began to see memories playback behind closing eyelids. The good times with her family, the times with the boys, the first time she told Albert she loves him. Everything was flooding back and as soon as she felt the regret of what she was doing, it was already too late. What was going to inevitably happen is already setting in. She tries her hardest to scream out her help but nothing leaves her lips.

The only thing that left her lips were “I love you, Albert. I’m so sorry.” Little did she know, that would be the last thing to ever leave her lips.

Albert was banging on the door while she was slipping away. As soon as he gets in, he hears her final words. He runs to her and takes her out of the tub and tries to listen for a heartbeat but instead of getting more, he ended up hearing her last breath and the last time her heart, the heart that she knew only belonged to him, would ever beat. He called for an ambulance as he tried to keep her heart going until emergency services arrived.

Once the paramedics arrived, everything became a blur to him. He blindly followed along with everything and gave them all the information they required with a heavy heart, knowing that there would be nothing they can do for the girl who is...was his entire world.

The news came just as he figured it would. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” There was nothing anyone could say or do. He had lost his entire world, his entire reason to live. He lost everything he loved.

He forced himself to call her family and be the bearer of the news but hung up as soon as they knew. He wouldn’t be able to handle hearing them try to make sense of something he couldn’t even make sense of himself. He remained generally silent during the planning process, only breaking the silence to say that he and the boys are carrying the casket and that he wants to speak at the service.

The entire service remained mostly a blur. Even the eulogy he delivered was a blur. The only thing he remembered saying was that he will see her soon. He knew of a world where the pain would go away, where they could be free. He just wanted to be with the girl he loves more than life itself and he didn’t know what else to do. So he did the only thing he could think of doing: he followed in her footsteps.

He stayed with Race because it wasn’t a good idea to let him stay in the apartment where his world fell apart. He left a simple note on Race’s counter, explaining why he did what he was about to do and that he was sorry before retreating into the guest bedroom which had become his own over the past two weeks. He grabbed the pills he had accumulated over the past two weeks from Race more or less suicide-proofing the entire apartment to make sure his best friend wouldn’t do anything stupid.

If Albert ate (which he rarely did), Race wouldn’t let him cut it himself. If Albert needed any sort of medication for anything, Race administered it so he wouldn’t be able to do anything stupid. The one slip up was that Race left before Albert took the pills. Instead of taking them, he stashed them in a small box that he kept hidden between the bed and the bedside table. Race also made the mistake to allow Albert to shave on his own, which resulted in the redheaded boy breaking apart the razors until he was left with just the sharp slivers of metal that allowed for self-punishment.

Albert began to lose control once his hand wrapped around his little stash. Before he could catch up, he had already swallowed the twnety-some odd pills that he had accumulated and had already inflicted multiple gashes on his wrist with little to no remorse. He had started to slip out of consciousness when he heard the door to the apartment close. As his eyes shut, he saw Race on the phone.

Behind closed eyelids, he saw his girl standing in front of him. She looked as beautiful as ever and looked as inviting as she always had. He stepped closer to her but every step he took toward her, she backed away. He began to grow frustrated that he couldn’t hold her as Race’s voice began to invade his mind.

“Come on dude, wake up. You just gotta, they’re thinking about taking you off and I don’t think I’d be able to handle that. Albert, she wouldn’t have wanted this. We love you here, Al. You can’t do this to us, you can’t do this to me. I can’t handle losing another brother.” Race pleads, gripping Albert’s hand before eventually breaking down into tears. It’s true. Doctors weren’t expecting him to wake up from this. He has been in this coma for nearly three weeks and never showed signs of improvement.

“Albert, baby, you can’t leave them just yet. Keep going for me.” His girlfriend’s voice took the place of Race’s.“Sweetheart, I only want to be with you. You’re not here anymore so I decided to go be with you. I can’t handle the pain of living without you.” Albert says, pleading to his girlfriend to take him with her.

Her image reappears where she stood before Race rudely interrupted. She was shaking her head. She steps closer to him and takes his hand and turns him to face away from her.“Now open your eyes baby. There’s a world down there where people love you. I never saw it. In time, I know you’ll see it. I’ll love you forever, Albert. Now wake up.” She says, her voice fading as she repeats her command for him to wake up.

He begins to feel things again.

He feels his hand being squeezed and tears drip onto his left hand.

He hears hitched breathing and Race’s broken voice asking him to come back to them. Albert tries to speak but nothing comes. He tries to squeeze Race’s hand back. That must have worked, considering he heard Race’s voice utter “holy shit”. He feels another hand grab his right hand before hearing Jojo ask him to squeeze his hand, which he does.

As quickly as Jojo took his hand, he had let go, Albert assumed he went to get a doctor, considering he heard him yelling for one. It was a blur of events but Albert eventually opened his eyes. He quickly shuts them because of how bright it was in the room he was in. He slowly opens them again, to find that the light had been turned off and to see that Race, Jojo and Mush were all by his side, all with tears in their eyes.

“Hey assholes, miss me?” Albert tries to say, but it comes out more like a mutter. Race breaks away from the group and engulfs him in a hug, scolding him for ‘scaring the shit outta him’ and saying that he’ll ‘kill him if he tries this shit again’. The rest of the boys present begin to join in the hug.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this, fellas. I’m sorry it took this for me to realize that you guys really love me. I love you idiots. You’se my family, I can’t desert my family.” Albert says, finally finding strength in his arms to hug them back.

In the back of his mind, he knew this was where he had to be right now. As usual, his girl was right.

#tw: death; self harm; suicide #please give me some feedback #i hope this didnt suck

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