#ive been trying to use them in threads a little more because. need to throw them out there. toss em out of the nest. go on. get out /j | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

poptod · 4 years ago

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Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 10, (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Relief.

Notes: now ive said this before, but i need to say it again and add on to it. This chapter will NOT make much sense if you do not read Mahjur's story, None Like You. The experience of reading this chapter will also be enhanced if you read Piye's story, Miscreation, but it's not as necessary as Mahjur's story. theyre also long as fuck so heres the important stuff: Piye was born blind and went on a mission when they were about 14 in which they grew their dark skin, massive height, and white hair, and gained some of the sight they'd lost. Mahjur gave up everything to be with Ahk. in the end, Ma'at (Goddess of Truth and Order) forced them apart in the name of the 'holy law'. Ma'at did this because mahjur, as a god, was not supposed to be interfering with the lives of people.

WC: 6.4k

Throughout the entirety of your two-day journey, you never left the canoe, leaving your muscles cramped, and strained, and restless. Still, you supposed you were in a better state than Piye, who had yet to sleep or rest from their rowing. On the other hand, Ahk was fine. At one point you asked him if he was worried about the coming events, but he told you that he wouldn't stress until it happened, and continued to swim beside the canoe without a care.

How you wished to have his capability to simply not think about things.

As you passed by Thebes in broad daylight, you looked far across the river from the western bank, searching for the falcon soldiers. Like Aswan, most of what you saw looked vacant or abandoned. Despite that you continued to stare, watching civilization pass by slowly, till city walls faded away to the flush green of the Nile.

"When will we get there?" Ahk moaned, his neck on the edge of the canoe, allowing him to dip his head upside-down, the crown of his hair soaking in water.

"Shut up," Piye said. The Pharaoh obeyed, although begrudgingly.

Night came and went in the blink of a sleep-heavy eye, passing into the dark early morning. Birds had yet to stir, leaving you in the eerie silence––the quiet before the battle. The only to feel such stress appeared to be you and Piye. Ahk slept on as usual, and the rest of the world remained ignorant to your journey.

"How did you meet Ahk?" You asked, desperate for someone elses' voice rather than the one in your head.

"My father was employed by his father, the Pharaoh of the time. I was... nine, maybe?" They said, taking a moment to remember. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem very close."

"I suppose we are." They paused. "He was a great comfort to me when my father died. And other... such things."

"He seems to have a habit of winning people over," you noted quietly.

"Yes, well... he has a certain charm."

As the sun's light began to crest the horizon, Memphis appeared in the distance, and Piye pulled the canoe to a stop on the western shore. Ahead of you lay the city you had so eagerly fled, the silent white walls foreboding in the worst of ways. You were certain the city would be flooded with falcon soldiers, as well as people who had heard of Ahk's treason, and who had decided Gyasi would be a better ruler. There would be few friends in those walls. Those of standing who had openly expressed their support of the Pharaoh Ahkmenrah had been banished.

Once the boat hit the riverbanks, Piye jumped out of it and pulled it the rest of the way onto solid ground. From there they donned a head covering, and shook the water out of their sandals, before helping you out as well onto dry land. No words were exchanged as you fully dressed yourself as well, sheathing knives you had been toying with.

You stepped to the side, tapping Ahk's head and laughing when it lolled to the side. It took a few more pokes before he truly stirred, moaning about a poor night's sleep, before he noticed you above him.

"When are we gonna be there?"

"We're here," Piye said flatly.

"We are?!" Ahk jumped to his feet, nearly falling over in the canoe. "How's the city look? Is it burned?"

"Look for yourself," you said, manually moving his chin to face the city behind him.

"Beautiful as the day I left," he said, seemingly satisfied. "So what are we doing?"

"Following a Goddesses' orders," Piye said as they finished pinning their head covering.

Ahk haphazardly dressed himself, but refused to wear a head covering. Piye explained thoroughly how screwed the three of you would be if Ahk was instantly recognized, and though the Pharaoh argued back for a little while, he was eventually won over. With that decided, the three of you abandoned the canoe and made way for Memphis.

The flush bushes and trees lining the river soon disappeared into empty sand, the land having been cleared for the construction of the great city. From where you now stood you could see guards inside the entrance of the massive walls. Your heart thrummed in your chest, crashing against its' own strings, sending your thoughts into a flurry. Disappearing was your act––returning was not. Facing the consequences of your actions was something you rarely did, since you weren't locked down anywhere, and didn't require anything from anyone but yourself. Now, you had a self-appointed duty––keep your friends safe. After the many years of your travels, you finally had something to lose.

And the thought of that terrified you.

"We aren't using the front entrance, are we?" You murmured, mostly to Piye.

"Of course not. Have you ever scaled a wall?"

"Well... once when I was trying to escape Ahk," you said reluctantly.

"Oh, I remember that," Ahk said with recognition in his eyes. "Then I tied you to the bed."

"Yeah, and then I cried."

"You two are.. I don't even know. You're insane," Piye said. "Now stop being insane and help me here."

You had yet to reach the walls of Memphis, so Piye stopping halfway there confused you for a moment.

"What are we doing?"

"I can't throw a grappling hook straight up that far," Piye said, kneeling and digging into their bag, "so we have to set up here."

Before they could find the hook amongst the mass of other tools set carelessly in their bag, they stopped suddenly, raising their head and looking off to the city. It didn't catch your eye at first, but when they didn't move for a good minute, you noticed, as did Ahk.

"Piye?"

They stood suddenly, the tools in their lap clattering to the ground. Long threads of white hair began to rise, floating mid-air as though Piye stood underwater, or stood suspended in nothing.

Your attention alarmingly caught, you circled round them, finding their eyes white and glowing on a face of night-black skin.

"Piye, this is not a good time to have a revelation!" Ahk chided, reaching for their wrist. Before he could do so, Piye flicked his hand away, making him recoil with a pained gasp.

"There is..." their voice spoke in double, in triplicate, echoing in your skull like the resonance of a gong, "... much to do."

You and Ahk looked to each other, both searching for answers that neither of you had. Piye continued their path forward, leaving you and their belongings behind, as they headed in broad daylight towards the city's gates. Without ever having to reach up, their head scarves and chest coverings fell away till all that remained was their skirt.

What the fuck do we do now, came through your head, but you had little time to voice your question before Ahk ran to Piye. You followed, mimicking his actions when he tried to stop Piye or direct them the other way.

"You're going to get us killed!" Ahk scream-whispered, all too aware of the soldiers surrounding the city's entrance. He leant the entirety of his weight on Piye, attempting to pull them back, but they showed no sign of strain.

"It is meant to be," they said in a hush. "It is meant to be."

Their mouth closed but the words remained, whispered over and over again in your ears. Your own breathing had already hastened, fingers tense with your own terror, worsening as you met the eye of one of the guards.

"Ahk, they're looking at us!" You hissed behind Piye's back, still grasping helplessly at Piye's hands to attempt at pulling them back.

Panic stewed in your heart and leaked into your head, leaving you in a daze of confusion, unsure what to do to protect yourself and your friends. The soldiers were now focusing their attention on you, and Piye's eyes were still glowing.

It was then, within full view of the falcon soldiers and about ten feet from the city itself, that the magi released themself of your terrified grips, rising into the morning air. They opened their mouth and out came a voice that did not belong to them, lodged in their throat as they screamed over the rustling of guards and soldiers readying themselves for battle. Bells began to chime in the city, alerting officials and citizens to the threat now floating above the white walls of Memphis.

"If ye are in Heaven or on Earth, I am the Only One in your bodies," Piye spoke, loud enough to be heard throughout the city.

The sheer volume and the vibrations within the earth that followed had you crouching down, and covering your ears with your hands, a position Ahk soon adopted as well. You watched from the corner of your eye as the soldiers fell victim to that same, screeching pain digging into either side of their heads. Swarms of people began to leave the city through the back entrance, trampling over each other like fleeing rats.

"I am the Pure one – I shall not die a second time. I am He Who is Not Known."

Ahk's eyes darted upwards, recognition flooding him.

"They're calling in Amun," he murmured, just loud enough to hear between the pauses of Piye's words.

"Already?!"

"I don't think they can control it," Ahk said, but as Piye continued, he was forced to cover his ears once more, wincing away.

"Your forms, indeed all forms, are my habitation. My moment is within your bodies. I am The Unveiled," Piye said, and suddenly the aura around them stilled, fixed on a glow brighter than the sun.

For a moment all was silent. Then their mouth opened, gaped and unhinged from the skull as they looked to the sky. An ear-splitting note came from them, running through the earth and sky, even through the water that now bubbled on the shore as though heated by fire. Horror filled your chest, spreading quick through your veins till your body trembled and shook.

Light flooded out of their mouth, a great beam of sun cast into the dark morning sky. Their still-glowing eyes now gave their skull a hollowed look, filled with nothing but light, pouring out with the overflow. Such multitudes could not be contained to a mortal body.

"We need to get the hell out of here!" Ahk yelled over the horrifying screeching, attempting to cover his ears best he could while still reaching for you.

Hopeless, you reached out as well, finding his hand in the space between you and grasping it as though he were a ship in a storm. He pulled you along, stumbling on his feet just as you did. The deep hum running through the earth and water had already worsened, till the ground began to crack, the water of the Nile turning into steam at an alarming rate.

You said nothing to each other, but he led you into the city and you followed without question. Every two seconds you cast looks behind your shoulder, watching events carelessly unfold, and stumbling over yourself whenever Ahk increased his speed. Together, you barrelled down the straight pathway to your destination––the gleaming palace.

"Ahk, what are we going to do?" You asked in a shaky voice, burdened by stumbling feet and a racing heart.

"I don't know," he admitted in his own fear-laced tone. "We need to hide you."

"We can't hide forever!" You wrenched yourself out of his grasp, pulling the both of you into a side alley hidden from Piye's––or Amun's––eyes. "That Goddess wants us here for a reason. We have to face him eventually."

"What if they were just dreaming?" He grasped both your upper arms, looking into you with wide, terrified eyes. "What if that Goddess doesn't come? I. Cannot. Lose you."

"It's our only hope. Don't you believe in your own Gods?"

"Not since Amun tried to steal you from me," he said, still searching your face for something he clearly couldn't find.

"That's your fucking friend up there!" You said, pointing behind you to Piye, who was now floating above the city walls, their hair suspended as they continued to bellow with that horrible ringing sound. "I know for a fact Piye would give their life for you and you should do the same."

"I know, I know," he hissed. "But I won't risk you. I have to hide you –"

He reached for you again, but you swatted his hands away.

"I will not be hidden!"

"No, no, no, no, no," he began to murmur, his gaze flickering between you and Piye, far behind you. "No, you must stay away. Far away."

"Ahk, I'm n––"

He tore his sleeve, a habit he had apparently used enough to become good at, and promptly tied it around your mouth. You protested greatly, pushing and shoving and kicking him away. In the end it was that same struggle you never won––your hands were tied behind your back, quite literally, and your legs followed. Even as you writhed and yelled, you could note the tears streaking down his face.

"Don't you do this!" You said through the gag, your words muffled as he threw you over his shoulder.

"I must keep you safe. I cannot fulfill my role if I am worrying about you," he explained in a weak voice.

With that, he hid you away in an underground cellar, locking the door as he left. Try as you might––and you did try, from yelling to thrashing to crying––you couldn't move from your spot, tied to one of the pillars holding up the dirt ceiling.

As much as he promised not to hurt you or bind you in any way, he sure had done it a lot. Tears began to burn your own eyes, and soon they were falling, soaked up by the gag wrapped around your head.

Piye's unholy screeching had yet to stop, even within the earth. The vibrations you'd felt so fiercely were dulled with distance, a fact you were very relieved about, as any risk of cave-in would've held you mortified. It was a small comfort compared to the severity of your situation, but you tried to revel in it nonetheless.

Every now and then you'd thrash in your bonds again, hoping your continuous struggle had done you some sort of good. Each time you were proven wrong, and still you rubbed your ropes against the splintered wood that kept you there, praying the bonds would break.

A soft hum reverberated in the room, and for a moment you were terrified Amun (in Piye's body, of course,) was knocking at the door. But a popping sound marked the end of the tune, making way for a person to appear, their form tall and still nothing more than a white silhouette.

How many god-damned magic people am I going to meet in Egypt? you thought tiredly. Piye was already enough for you, but the bushy, almost circular hair of this person had you convinced it was someone else.

Eyes pulled themselves open. The only trait on the glowing, ethereal form, and you recognized them. The heat on your skin. The crawling unease trickling down your spine. You recalled a night's sleep spent in a restless haze, and it clicked––it had watched you. This had watched you, now reaching forward as though to touch you. Instinctively you flinched away, but you couldn't go anywhere, not bound to the pillar. You tried your best to cringe and strain away. It still touched you, first by its' fingertips, and the burning heat reached down from your forehead down into your sternum.

"Stop!" You cried when the entirety of its' hand spread over your forehead, sending searing pain through your nerves like electricity. With your shout it withdrew, seemingly surprised by your reaction.

"Whhhat iss your naammmee?" It asked in many voices that spoke one after another, stretching the words.

"... Amoke," you said quietly, still pushing yourself against the pillar, but thankful it was no longer hurting you.

Slowly, starting at their crown and spreading down to their feet, their image appeared through the light. Who stood before you was not someone you recognized, but there was something unearthly about them––as their mouth opened, you found long rows of sharp teeth, all ordered as if it were normal to have that many teeth. But they towered above your shrunken form, fiery gold eyes staring down.

"You are... a friend of Ahkmen's?" They breathed out.

"Y - you mean Ahkmenrah?"

"Yes," they said with a relieved sigh, a smile stretching too-wide across their face. You curled further into yourself at the sight of their sharp teeth. "How is he?"

"Fighting Amun, I think," you said, hoping it would help them along.

"Oh, right," they said, jumping back into action.

Circling you, they bent to untie your ropes, grabbing your hand and wrenching open the lock on the door. Without pause they bounded up the steps with you in tow, leading you out of the alley and back onto the main street. By now the sun had risen, now shining bright with its' familiar warmth, circled by a sky of blue.

"Come, we must –"

"Wait, for one second," you said, pulling on your hand to release their hold, but you couldn't shake them off. "Who are you?"

"... my name is Mahjur," they said in a quiet voice. "I don't know if you know of me."

"I've... heard some things," you said vaguely.

"Shall we go now?"

You nodded, and the two of you were off. The main street still led straight from the gates to the palace, Gyasi to your right and Piye to your left. You had no way of knowing which way Ahk had decided to go, but Mahjur seemed to have some idea, as they set off straight away for Piye.

When you reached the city gates, you found the ground ripped into pieces, lightning-like strikes running through the earth. You stumbled over them and jumped, reaching the riverside where Amun had unleashed a special hell of holy wrath. The Nile was still boiling, and the height of the water had gone down drastically already, matched by the haze of fog and steam now hiding Amun, and Piye, from view. Spilt blood soaked your sandals, reaching up to the soles of your feet in a sticky liqueur. Sickness suddenly overtook you, nearly vomitting from the sensation even despite your previous run-ins with blood-soaked limbs, memories of dry blood tainting your tongue.

"Who has brought me to this form?" He asked from Piye's mouth, too deep for them, too roaring and ear-piercing.

"I am," said a woman, and your attention zipped to a figure standing atop the city gates, looking up at Amun. "I came to a magi in a dream and asked them to summon you."

The Goddess.

"Who is that?" You asked Mahjur quietly.

"Ma'at," they answered. "Goddess of order. I asked her to help. Knew she wouldn't stand by if she knew a God was breaking the natural order."

"Can we help her?"

"Yeah. Just need to wait for Ahkmen to get back from the palace," they said, looking back over their shoulder towards the shining palace in the distance. "He's fetching his royals and their soldiers under the guise of protecting the city. Once they're here, we can take down Amun, and Ahkmen can deliver a final blow. That'll reinstate him as Pharaoh."

"You've thought this through."

"Of course I have. I actually plan ahead, unlike Ahk."

"You can say that again," you mumbled beneath your breath.

Mahjur didn't respond, but took your hand again, pulling you out past the giant walls. The cracks in the ground were large enough that, at times, you needed to jump over the crevices, dodging the crumbling earth leading into a bottom you couldn't see. Before you could ask what to do, Mahjur began to search through the stalls still put together after Amun's rampage.

Caught up in whatever Mahjur was searching for, you remained unaware of Amun's argument with Ma'at, one that had digressed into nothing more than angry yelling. His eyes inevitably fell to you, and the glow within them tripled.

"Amoke," he said in a whisper that still echoed like drums.

You whirled around with eyes big as the moon. He, Piye and Amun, looked upon you with a smile that crawled across the darkened skin, illuminated by both the glow in his eyes and the rising daylight. Petrified into place, you could do nothing but watch as he lowered himself to your level. In Piye's body, Amun still towered over you, just as he had inhabiting his golden statue.

"Don't you look away from me, Amun!" Ma'at yelled from the top of the wall.

Even as the Goddess yelled, he did not tear his gaze from you. You began to back up, looking behind you to try and find Mahjur, but they were as scared stiff as you were. They would not help you, and Ma'at was too far away.

He snatched you in his arms, grinning as though he'd won some sort of prize. In Piye's face, glowing with Amun's power, you found something familiar––hunger. Ahk's hunger, of cannibals, of the rich. Your hands shook, followed by your heart thundering in your chest till you were sure your veins would explode. His smile was too wide, like Mahjur's, but empty and near expressionless.

"Pretty little thing," he said softly, scanning your face.

Wings of green and gold spread out above Amun's head, catching your eye as he attempted to lean in closer to you. Your eyes further widened when they began to descend, growing larger till the ground shook with the landing of heavy feet, marking Ma'at's footprints in the earth that burnt at the touch of her skin.

"How dare you look away from me," she said in a voice that trembled with her fury, barely contained in her mortal form.

A large hand came over Amun's head, wrenching on his––or rather Piye's––long, silver hair. Under Ma'at's control, he turned to face her with ire in his gritted teeth.

The Goddess, who had at first seemed rather small and delicate, had grown to twice the size of even Piye, meaning she seemed much like a statue to you and Mahjur. Her wings that came from nowhere now flared out, appearing to crown her head that she held high. Her eyes did not glow, but her anger reverberated in the air, thrumming in your bones.

"You claim to be a lord of all creation," she said through a fixed jaw, forcing Amun back and kneeing him in the face, hard enough to hear an audible crack that you winced away from. "And then you kill your children, betray the one who saved your armies, attempt to steal from the one who gave you back your power. You were not born yesterday, Amun."

When Ahk left you tied up in a cellar, the tears that lined his face grew cold in the wind of his running footsteps. His pace was slowed by the uphill slant, but he pushed himself as far as he dare, and made it to the bottom of the palace entrance in a short amount of time.

He noted throughout his run an astonishing absence of people. No people in their homes, no markets setting up, no guards at the palace door. As he made his way up the stairs, the reason for it became clear––the sound of many footsteps all trampling over each other came from within the pristine white walls of his home, coupled with fretting voices talking muted behind the walls. He cracked open the door to the inner chambers, and found his hypothesis to be correct.

The whole of the city––or those who had decided not to flee––were hidden within the palace. At the other side of the room sat the raised floor of the throne, and upon it sat Gyasi, flanked by the lesser advisors of Ahk's father. He kept a perfectly still expression, but Ahk knew better––Gyasi panicked under stress but seeked action in times of peace.

Keeping his head low, Ahk crept through the crowd, a hand on the wall to ensure he wouldn't lose himself. A few of the people he passed had hanging swords attached to their hips, and so he stole two just in case, hoping he wouldn't have to use either. Through the mutterings he heard, there were a good deal of complaints about Gyasi––a fact he definitely liked, though his delight was shortlived, as he soon heard a fair amount of criticisms on himself as well.

Murmurings and voices grew louder, more concerned as Amun's voice pierced the thick walls, sparking panic among the crowd. People began to move, bumping against each other and pushing one another aside. Ahk was inevitably hurt as well, thrown against the wall and landing on the floor.

It came to such a height that Gyasi stood, yelling a call to attention above the crowd, who stilled on command.

"Amun will not kill his devotees," he ensured, the skin of his neck dangling as he shouted. "He is searching for the False King and his whore."

Ahk could physically feel his irises shrink as he singled down on Gyasi, hatred boiling in his head.

"He is seeking a citizen," Ahk said, projecting his voice to speak over the old man stealing his throne.

Gasps came from those around him, the crowd suddenly parting completely, leaving him centered out from the bustling heads. Gyasi narrowed his eyes as he saw him.

"A citizen named Amoke. They are my friend, so I must protect them, but I will not abandon my people, leave them helpless in the hands of an artifact," Ahk continued as he stepped forward, making his way to the throne, where Gyasi began to back away. "Do you really think keeping everyone here is going to work?"

"We are dealing with your mess! It is undignified to insult someone cleaning up after you," Gyasi said with furrowed brows, a grimace and a sneer forming simultaneously on his crooked lips.

"I think it's alright if they're doing a godawful job at it," Ahk said flatly. "You need to get the citizens out of here, hide them in the brush of the Nile. If Amun breaches the city walls, this is the first place he will look, and he will demolish every living thing he sees. He is aiming to kill my friend, Amoke, and he does not care if others die in the process."

His words were doing little to quell the audience's worries, but that was his aim, as detrimental as it might be to the health of his citizens.

"You think you know better than I? I have been protecting the people of this city longer than you've been alive."

"You are a remnant of my father's rule. A relic from a time of barbaric violence and meaningless bloodshed. Now get the people to the nearest outcrop of the Nile. You and I have a God to face, if you're truly ready to protect Kemet," Ahk said, offering forward one of his swords.

"... very well," Gyasi said slowly, grasping the sword and drawing it to hilt on his hip. More murmurings came from the crowd that watched the argument. "Pikta, divide the populace and take them in groups. Divide soldiers evenly as you can."

"Yes, sir," said a soldier, who bowed and ran to the front of the room to obey.

"Is Amun outside?" Gyasi asked as he made his way to the entrance of the palace, Ahk at his side.

"He's at the city gates in Piye's body," Ahk said, and as the two of them breached the threshold, he found he could still see Piye's flying body in the distance.

"That beast?" He said with raised brows. "We have quite the battle ahead."

"Hopefully, we won't have to use these swords. We should have the help of a Goddess," Ahk said. "She came to Piye in a dream a little while ago and instructed us on the beginnings of a plan. It is our duty to help her."

"How do you know it isn't a trick?"

"We don't."

The two men began to run down the pathway, both sets of eyes trained on the distant crumbling walls of the city, allowing them to see a tall woman holding a man by his neck against the reflected sun on the Nile. As Ahk noticed two much smaller onlookers, his pace doubled in speed till he bounded down the street. He reached the end much sooner than Gyasi, but it didn't take long till both of them stood shocked, watching Ma'at raise Piye––Amun––into the sky on long, emerald and gold wings.

"I am the Lord of this world," Amun growled, a statement that sent him crashing towards the earth, Ma'at's muscled arm pounding him down.

She stalked over to him, footsteps drumming against the ground till she knelt at his side, grabbing his hair and pulling his face out of the mud.

"I want you to say that to Ptah," she said, before letting his head fall back down. "Mahjur."

Ahk's heart froze at the name. You watched it happen, how his body seized, eyes darting to the God beside you. He lost feeling in all his limbs as Mahjur stepped forward, glancing at Ahk before quickly looking away and joining Ma'at's side.

The two Gods––Ma'at and Mahjur––spoke to each other quietly, and most everyone present listened in with shocked expressions. What you didn't notice, caught up in Ahk's reaction to his old friend, was Amun sinking into the earth. You only realized this as you, too, began to lower into the earth. Beneath you, hands had grasped your ankles and pulled you down.

"Um, Ahk...!" You said in hyperventilated gasps, helpless on how to save yourself.

You no longer had control of your legs, unable to pull them upwards, and there was nowhere your arms could hold onto. Ahk looked to you, shouting when he caught the tail-end of you disappearing wholly into the ground. He ran to where you stood, but it was too late, and Amun was raising himself into the sky with you bound to him.

"Amoke!" Ahk cried.

“They do not belong to you,” Amun said with a smile, unsheathing a knife and baring it to those watching him in an act of vanity. “It’s mine.”

From above, those gathered at the city gates seemed small––even Ma'at, who was twice your height. You watched, unable to breathe through your bindings, as an object materialized in Ma'at's hand and was handed to Ahk with words you couldn't hear. The point of it directed to you, and in an instant you recognized it.

A hornbow.

The tip of the arrow pointed straight to you, and you writhed, desperately trying to escape Amun's grasp and worm out of the way. But he held you fast, and through his speech you couldn't hear over the thundering of your flowing blood, he laughed and held you tighter yet.

Twang.

The drawstring shot back into place, sending the arrow zipping through the sky, and straight into Piye's chest. Amun's arms and magical bindings faded away, and you fell through the open air. Ahk ran to catch you, careening straight into the still-steamy river with open arms. His efforts were not for nothing, as he caught you, using the water to ease your descent as well.

"They asked me to do it," Ahk said through tears pouring out of his eyes, falling as a rainstorm does, as waterfalls do, as blood does from the tip of a sword. "They asked me to shoot them. I didn't think. I saw you, and – and – I didn't –"

"It's going to be alright," you whispered in a shaky voice, comforting best you could even with your trembling hands. His shoulders wracked with heavy sobs as he hid his face in the crook of your neck, wide, haunted eyes cast over your back.

You looked upwards, watching what Ahk could not bear to see. Piye, and Amun, were suspended in open space, the end of a glittering arrow buried in their chest. As the body began to rise higher, your gaze fell to Ma'at and Mahjur still on the shore. They were chanting, both of them––something you couldn't hear, but their eyes began to glow, the veins in their body shining through their skin. You tapped Ahk's shoulders, asking him in a murmur to look. He reluctantly turned to watch.

The heavenly glow emanating from Piye's bones and eyes began to separate from the physical body, peeling away from itself till all that remained of it was a golden shell, shimmering and translucent. Your mouth fell open, watching the two forms pull away from each other.

Once Piye was fully separated from what you guessed was Amun, they fell down into the river, where Ahk also stumbled weakly to catch them. They did not wake, but the slow up and down of their chest marked that they were still breathing despite the arrow piercing them.

You turned back to the power of Amun, transforming from Piye's body to the symbol of the sun. The spells falling from Mahjur and Ma'at grew slowly louder, lifting Amun's essence through the sky, till it dissipated, and fell into the sun.

Silence.

The hum of magic, of broiling Gods and Goddesses came to a halt, and time stood still. It felt as though the world around you had been imbued with enchantments, marinated in it, and then separated entirely, cut off from the feeling of holiness. Your chest had caved in, leaving you near unable to breathe.

No wind. No movement in the water.

Someone was sobbing––you turned to search for the source, and found Ahk knelt in the water with Piye in his arms. His face was buried in his vizier's neck, quiet apologies coming from his trembling lips, matched by fevered hands.

"Bring them here, Ahkmenrah," Ma'at said softly, beckoning the Pharaoh.

He turned to face her, slowly breathed away the tears still building in his eyes, and carried Piye to shore best he could. When he reached Ma'at's feet, he set his friend down to life flat on the earth.

"Oh you young men," Ma'at murmured as she knelt, a hand poised over Piye and the arrow. "Shu of the morning... who have power over those who flash among the sun-folk, whose arms move about and whose heads sway to and fro... may they move about every day."

Piye's eyes fluttered slowly open, a soft groan escaping them as they blinked. The arrow lodged in their chest dissipated to no more than ash. Ahk gasped, a wide grin spreading across his features as he once more knelt to his knees, helping Piye to sit up.

"Are you alright, my friend?" He asked hurriedly, scanning over the healing injury.

"I... I can't see," Piye murmured in a breath, still swaying from the weakness of their muscles. They fell against Ahk. "I can't see anymore."

"What? How –"

"Oh Gods," Piye said, their breathing quickening. "It's as if I am a child again."

"Amun claimed your magic," Ma'at said softly. She hadn't ever looked you in the eye, but she met the magi's, a kinder look on her than ever before. "To save you and your.. friends, I locked Amun into the sun, with help from Mahjur."

Mahjur gingerly stepped up behind Ma'at, looking to you, then Piye, and to the ground below Ahk.

"I am afraid your magic intwined with Amun’s, and I had to lock it into the sky as well, to rid of him," she finished. “Your magic is what gave you eyesight to begin with, if you remember those years.”

"I... do I look.. the same?" They asked in a shaky voice.

"Taller than anything," Ahk said instantly. "Dark skin. White hair. You look the same."

"But with no... magic," they murmured.

"You may still have remnants. Most people do have a base magic. You might be able to do small spells," Mahjur said. You watched Ahk bite into his cheek and look down.

Piye cried––you expected little else, and you waited patiently as they came to process everything that had just happened. When they requested a rundown of the events (as apparently their memory was not fantastic), Ahk happily explained what had come to pass, with his usual dramatic debonair. Ma'at stayed and chuckled at certain points, but stood when Ahk finished.

Movement caught the corner of your eye, and your gaze darted upwards, ready for any return of danger. But what you found instead were people––lots of people, coming from several different directions and circling you, Ahk, the two Gods, Piye, and Gyasi. They were muttering amongst themselves, and from what you heard they appeared to be discussing the validity of Ahk's story.

"I must return to the Duat before anything else decides to unhinge itself from the natural order," Ma'at said at the end of Ahk's retelling. Mahjur, who had taken a seat beside the Goddess, stood as well.

"Wait, Ma'at," Ahk said, standing with a hand out, hoping to halt her. She turned expectantly. "Can I... Mahjur..."

She glanced between the two, who even now were too nervous to look at each other. You watched on though, watched how timid and shaky they both grew, itching terribly to acknowledge one another.

"... very well," Ma'at sighed. "I'll give you a moment."

Ahk didn't even leave time to thank Ma'at for the allowance. He went straight to his friend, colliding with them and wrapping his arms so tight round them you could swear it'd kill a regular human. Mahjur had much of the same attitude, tears and laughter coming simultaneously from them.

"I will be waiting for you," they said with the biggest grin, parting for a very short moment to stroke the side of his face. "I wait for you in the field of reeds."

"I await my death, then," Ahk laughed giddily, followed by his friend bursting into giggles as well. You couldn't help but grin, but you hid it behind your hand.

"Come now, Mahjur," Ma'at commanded, and the two friends reluctantly parted, allowing Mahjur to rejoin Ma'at.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, though Ma'at was still a great deal taller than everyone present, and in a flash they were gone. Murmurings in the crowd grew in volume, people drawing closer as they realized their Pharaoh had never lied.

They had truly seen Ma’at, the Goddess of peace.

Relief––that was the only way to explain it. Pure, unaltered relief, flooding your veins, flooding your thoughts. Tremors in your hand that you didn't even notice were there disappeared, the knot in your brow fading with it. Air felt like it had been made anew, refreshed after a hundred years of a solitary cave, and you could smile. No more Gods.

Finally.

#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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roman-writing · 4 years ago

Text

no great revelation (6/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 6,797

Summary: Jamie just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself caught up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please note the rating change

read it below or read it here on AO3

VI.

—

It was somewhat gratifying to know that Jamie wasn’t the only one who was absolute shit at meditation.

“This is pointless,” said Dani with her eyes closed.

“You’re telling me,” Jamie muttered, her eyes also shut.

They were both seated on the massive bed, cross-legged and facing one another. Jamie had ordered the ship’s computer to dim the lights, so that the room was dusky, the ship’s computer even going so far as to project pinpricks of light onto the high ceiling like a map of stars. Back when Jamie had been a padawan, the Jedi Masters used to do something similar back on Tython to encourage that e’er-elusive quest for inner peace. Jamie used to take the opportunity to take a quick nap while she pretended to meditate, but she couldn’t do that now because she was trying to set a good example or whatever.

“Have you tried slowing down your breathing?” Jamie asked, keeping her eyes closed and straightening her shoulders a bit.

“This is just how I breathe.”

“Yeah, but have you tried slowing it down?”

“When I do that it just feels like I’m slowly drowning.”

“Okay, then what about relaxing your body one part at a time?”

“One -? What?”

“You know. Think about relaxing just the muscles of your face, and then move on to your shoulders, and so on.”

Dani huffed, and Jamie heard her shifting her weight on the bed before going still. All was silent but for the pattern of their breathing and Jamie’s heartbeat accompanying it like a percussion instrument. Sitting still. Being still. Thinking and doing nothing. In short, the most difficult activity for Jamie to attempt ever in her life. She would rather be back on Peter Quint’s flagship, dodging blaster fire.

Okay, maybe not that far. But honestly sitting still for long periods of time really was her own personal hell.

The air whispered with a hint of cold, like standing in a room with a window open, the tendril of an icy draught threading its way inside. Jamie shrugged against it, but kept her eyes closed. It was only when the whisper of cold lifted to a prickle, when the sound of Dani’s breathing grew too shallow, that Jamie’s eyes flew open.

Dani was still seated on the bed, eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed, every exhalation through her nose a plume of white steam, shivering as if she were on the surface of an ice planet instead of in the warm safety of the luxury cruiser.

Immediately Jamie grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Woah. Woah woah woah. Not that way.”

Dani jerked as though she had just been shaken away from a deep sleep. Her eyes were on the edge of wild as she looked around the room, her breathing heavy and sharp and slowing when she remembered where exactly she was.

“Oh,” she said with a guilty glance towards Jamie. “Did I - Did I do it again?”

With a stroke of her thumb across the back of Dani’s cold hand, Jamie nodded. “Yeah.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean -”

“I know,” Jamie murmured. “I know. Don’t worry. This time tomorrow, we’ll be on Tython, and we can get you a much better teacher than me.”

Dani swallowed and nodded, but her expression was unsure, reluctant even.

“You’ll like Hannah and Owen,” Jamie insisted. “If anyone can teach you, they can.”

“It’s not that. It’s just -” Dani turned her face away and exhaled. She chewed at her lower lip. “What if I’m caught? What if The Order doesn’t care that I was - that I’m not -”

Frowning, Jamie asked, “Not what?”

“Good,” said Dani.

“What like -?” Jamie grinned. “Not good at the Force? ‘Cause they’d throw me out on my ass with nary a care if that were the case.”

“No, that’s not what I -” Dani’s teeth were clenched, the muscles bunched up between the line of her neck and her jawline. “I killed people. I killed a Jedi. There’s already an investigation into his murder. And I can’t even channel the Force on my own without slipping into the Dark.”

Jamie shook her head while she listened. “You weren’t yourself. And once we find a cure for whatever is going on with you, then you can be trained properly.”

“What if we can’t?” Dani whispered. “What if there’s nothing to be done? What if I’ll always have this - this angry, empty, lonely thing haunting me?”

Jamie rocked Dani’s hand beneath her own gently. “We’ll find a way. We just need to take it one day at a time.”

Every muscle in Dani’s body seemed to be held taut. The tightness of her jaw. The flex of her hands. The bunching of her shoulders and the muscles all along her spine. Her hand was still cold under Jamie’s grasp, though the wintry edge had been blunted from the air around her. Jamie offered her an encouraging smile, but did not receive one in return.

“We should get some sleep,” Jamie sighed, pulling away. “We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow -”

But Dani was scrambling to her knees and she was gripping Jamie’s hand tightly in her own before Jamie could fully let go. Her fingers trembled and her eyes were overbright, fixed and unblinking upon Jamie’s, holding her fast. “Not yet,” she said quickly. “Not - I want to feel it again. Please. I want to feel good. I want - I want to feel you.”

Jamie could already feel the thrum beneath her skin, the Force like a tether between them, on the brink, but there. As if Dani were reaching out then waiting for permission to drag her in.

For the last four years, Jamie had been telling herself to keep her head down. Don't get involved. Mind her own bloody business. Don't do what she did back in ExplorCorps and paint a great big fuckoff target on her own back. And for four years, she had done exactly that. Telos IV and the AgriCorps were a fresh start, a good life, a simple, boring life. All it had taken to completely upend that life was a week of Dani Clayton.

Jamie nodded. Because it made relief sweep over Dani's face. Because it made Dani smile at her with that big smile that crinkled her eyes and creased her cheeks. Because it meant that connection snapped taut like a wire, drew them together into something more than the sum of their parts, more than this crude matter. Because it did indeed feel good.

Each brief contact of the Force between them had remained discrete in the past. Stolen moments in which Jamie tried to coax Dani towards the Light on her own. Now, Dani gripped her hand to keep the connection alive, a current like static, like the movement between the inchoate and the flourishing, and it extended to the horizon. Dani's eyes dropped to her mouth and Jamie should've known this was coming, shouldn't have been as surprised as she was when Dani leaned forward to kiss her.

Bad idea, Jamie’s pesky little inner voice kept saying over and over like a mantra. Bad idea. This is a bad idea. A very very bad -

She should have pulled away, called this off, cut the line. Except Dani was warm and solid and groaning low into Jamie’s mouth, a sound that coiled heat in the pit of Jamie’s stomach. She cupped Dani’s cheek with one hand, allowed herself to welter for a lingering moment in the softness of Dani's mouth, in the texture of her jaw, before she pulled them apart just enough to breathe, their foreheads still pressed together.

"I want -" Dani murmured urgently, so close Jamie could taste the words on her lips. Her free hand had grasped Jamie's collar, rumpling the starched white fabric in her fist. "Can I -?"

"Yeah," Jamie breathed, throwing any vestigial scrap of self-preservation out the airlock.

Dani kissed her again with a grateful sigh. Jamie couldn’t remember ever being kissed quite like this. With singular focus. As if there was nothing else in the world for Dani to do but kiss her and pour everything of herself into it.

"Kept thinking about this," Dani mumbled against her lips.

"Explains why you're so shit at meditation."

Dani huffed out a laugh and pressed her smile to Jamie's. She pulled at Jamie's collar shifting forward on her knees so she could lean over Jamie and turn the kiss from giddy glee to hungry in an instant. Jamie took off Dani's headband and threw it onto the bedside table beside the lightsabre so she could rake her hands through Dani's hair. With a tilt of her head, Dani opened her mouth and Jamie would've been appalled at her own weak whimper if she'd been in any state to care. She couldn’t. Not when Dani was kissing her like this. Not when Dani was pushing Jamie onto the bed and straddling her hips. Not when Dani was tugging the buttons of Jamie’s shirt free with trembling fingers.

They didn’t break contact even when Dani paused to gasp at Jamie’s thigh pressing up between her legs. Always some section of skin was touching, so that the link remained, buzzing around in the back of Jamie’s head like an amplifier. Every movement, every sound an echo caught on a feedback loop, building to something impossible to miss. Jamie could feel the way Dani’s blood stirred in her veins, the way Dani was grinding down against her thigh, the way Dani was tugging the shirt down her shoulders and casting it aside, as though the sensations were her own, but muted — a phantom feeling.

When she had imagined this — and over the last few days on the luxury cruiser, Jamie had in great detail imagined this — it had always been a slow, coltish thing. All start and stop, lazy hesitance and careful exploration. In her mind, Dani was keen but skittish, wanting but indecisive. Something to do perhaps with the long glances sent in Jamie’s direction, or the distrustful ventures into the Force. When it came to this however, Dani was uncertain about nothing.

Dani made excited little sounds against Jamie’s exposed neck when Jamie began to fumble with the button that fastened her pants. Jamie tugged at the zipper and Dani lifted herself up just enough so that Jamie could slip her hand down. Tugging lightly at Dani’s hair to get her to tilt her head back, Jamie sought out Dani’s pulsepoint with her mouth just as her fingers sought out slick heat.

There were too many clothes between them, far too many, but neither of them could bring themselves to pause for long enough to fix that. The pants shoved partway down Dani’s thighs gave Jamie little room to manoeuvre, but she had two fingers inside of Dani, and Dani was sitting upright to rock her hips at a better angle, eyes lidded, lips parted on a stuttered sigh.

“That’s -” Dani’s breath hitched. “Yes - Right there - Please -”

Jamie had to bite back a groan of her own when Dani bucked against her hand and made a high desperate sound, clenched and shivering, and the moment going on as it echoed back and forth, mirrored and caught between them. Feeling this good, this alive, this conjoined, then chasing after it with a fervor as Dani leaned down at the same time Jamie pushed herself up to kiss her hard.

“Keep going,” Dani panted against Jamie’s mouth, then gave a feeble cry when Jamie did exactly that — curled her fingers and ground her palm up until Dani was shuddering again, until she was spent.

Dani’s forehead dropped to Jamie’s shoulder to catch her breath. Jamie placed her free hand against Dani’s back, holding her close. She twitched the fingers still inside Dani, just an experimental press, and received a sharp inhalation.

“Too much?” Jamie asked softly.

“A little. Do it again.”

There was no building up to anything with it, just an extension of what had come before, flickers of pleasure that sparked at the edges of her vision, until Dani reached down to slide Jamie’s fingers out and lift them to her mouth.

“Fuck,” Jamie hissed as Dani licked her sticky fingers clean then nipped at her fingertips.

Dani glanced down Jamie’s chest, one hand drifting inquisitively over the high-waisted hem of her black slacks. “Is it all right, if I -?”

Jamie was already nodding before Dani could finish the sentence. “Yeah. Yeah. Whatever you want.”

When Dani pulled away to quickly shed her own clothes, Jamie felt the loss of that link like a light suddenly going out. She blinked and skimmed her fingertips along the curve of Dani’s elbow just to re-establish that contact until Dani had finished, until Dani was tugging the slacks down Jamie’s legs, smoothing her hands up Jamie’s bare thighs and watching her with hunger in her eyes.

Jamie settled back on her elbows, biting her lip, gaze fixed upon Dani as she lowered her head and parted Jamie with her tongue. She wanted to watch — eyes glued to the way Dani’s mouth moved against her, the way Dani urged her knees wider — but Jamie could not help how her eyes rolled back and she sank back onto the mattress with an embarrassingly loud sound despite how she tried to trap it behind her teeth.

She twined her hands in Dani’s soft hair and guided her head, shivering when Dani moaned against her in return. Maybe it was the sequence of events, being the one to make Dani completely fall apart while feeling the echo of that pleasure, but soon Jamie’s hips were jerking out of rhythm and she was raking her nails down the back of Dani’s neck and shoulders — anywhere she could reach — desperate and hurtling over the edge. Even after she had finished, breathlessly staring up at the star-studded ceiling, Dani toyed at Jamie with the tip of her tongue, just softly, just enough to keep her suspended like a bridge held aloft by the tightness of a rope.

And as Dani crawled back up her body to curl up against her, Jamie could think only that — of all the bad decisions in her life, this one would surely have the most dire consequences. She just didn’t know what those might be, and she was afraid of ever finding out.

—

There wasn’t much to pack, if anything. The majority of belongings they had begun with on this trip had been abandoned back on the Czerka flagship. Jamie was still lamenting the loss of her favourite pair of overalls and band shirt combination — wrecked at the courtesy of none other than Peter fucking Quint himself — as she pocketed her handheld mining laser. Behind her, Dani was fussing with her headband, trying to tease her hair into just the right shape all without the aid of a mirror.

“Does this look okay?” she asked, hands still tucking stray strands back.

A little flatter than usual, but all Jamie said was, “You look great. Better than me. Not that that’s hard.”

Dani smiled, lowering her hands only to approach Jamie and fix her starched white collar. “I think you look wonderful.”

Jamie made a face. “These clothes make me feel like I’m a conductor for a galactic circus.”

“You look very rakish. Like you’re about to strike some shady business deal.”

“Oh, well, if I’m rakish, then that’s all right.”

Dani’s smile ticked up at one corner and she leaned forward to kiss her. Jamie remembered waking up to a similar scene not long ago. A morning spent in much slower exploration than the previous evening until they were finger-mussed and kiss-bruised and had to go seeking a much-needed shower, during which Dani had ignored the mirrors in favour of pressing Jamie up against a tiled wall and putting her hands between her legs.

Now Dani put a hand to the small of Jamie’s back and pressed lightly, just enough to brush their hips together. Jamie opened her mouth as Dani’s tongue swept against hers.

A low chime from the ceiling. “Excuse me,” said the ship’s computer. “But we have arrived.”

Jamie pulled away. “We should probably go.”

“Yeah,” Dani nodded, but her gaze was fixed on Jamie’s mouth, as though she wanted nothing more than to lean back in and pick up where they’d left off this morning.

Jamie patted her arm and reached around to remove Dani’s hand from her waist. “Later.”

“Promise?”

With a soft huff of laughter, Jamie answered with another lingering kiss. A coil of heat wound tight in her stomach, and she stepped back before it could take root. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

Only reluctantly did Dani let herself be led from the luxury cruiser by the hand. The ship lowered the gangway for them with a jettison of atmo as it repressurised. The muggy air of Tython bore with it the old familiar smell of dense vegetation, even here on the planet’s major space station. As the station was revealed and all its bustling people and droids, Dani squeezed Jamie’s hand. Jamie looked up to find Dani nervously chewing her lower lip and staring out at the people, many of them wearing robes of various cut and colour, though their occupation was clear.

Squeezing her hand back before letting it go, Jamie opened her mouth to give an encouraging word, but before she could speak there came a low chime from the speaker ports.

“How would you like me to wait for your return?” the ship’s computer asked.

“Oh, uh -” said Jamie. “How much is it to dock here?”

“One hundred and thirty-five credits per day.”

“A hundred and thirty-five?” Jamie repeated, incredulous.

“Do you not have enough credits to afford this?”

Scowling, Jamie fired back, “Are you always this much of a tit?”

“Query irresolvable,” the ship’s computer responded. “I have no anatomy, because I have no body. I do, however, have a stockpile of credits from Czerka Corporation in a private account tied to this vessel and accessible only by this vessel.”

Jamie shot the speaker ports a puzzled glance. “And how long could you remain docked using this private account?”

“Approximately two hundred and three years.”

Jamie’s eyes widened as she did some quick maths in her head.

“Would you like me to dock here for two hundred and three years?”

“What?” Jamie shook her head. “No! Just - stay here until we get back. And don’t let anyone else aboard.”

“Affirmative, Bollocks.”

Muttering expletives under her breath, Jamie continued down the gangway.

“So, you’re rich now?” Dani asked.

“Only if I survive the next week,” Jamie said. “I’m going to worry about that later. C’mon. I see Owen over there.”

Dani’s head jerked up and she glanced around with wide eyes. Jamie smiled and shook her head, walking along with Dani trailing in her wake. Owen stood near the station entrance, wearing blue robes dusted with flour handprints, and a sheathed lightsabre at his hip. His moustache twitched in a smile when he noticed her approach and he stepped forward to squeeze Jamie in a hug that picked her up a good half meter off the ground.

“Oooof,” said Jamie as he set her back down, hands remaining on her shoulders.

“Look at you,” Owen said. “What do they feed you on Telos? Raw air and nothing else?”

She swatted his hands from her shoulders. “Fuck off. And why do you look like you’ve just escaped a bakery?”

“I’ve taken an interest in cooking while you’ve been away.”

“Thought you were supposed to be a healer, mate.”

“Food,” said Owen very seriously, “is healing. And I’ll not have you - oh no. Jamie. You didn’t.”

He was staring over her shoulder at something behind her. Jamie turned, only to find Dani standing there awkwardly toying with her own fingers as she witnessed their reunion, her mismatched eyes wary. Owen’s face went from confused, to aghast, then to hard and guarded.

“I can explain -” Jamie started to say.

Owen pointed — not at Dani but at the sleek luxury cruiser they’d just disembarked. “You told us you were done with smuggling for good.”

"It's not like that!" Jamie insisted.

“You wait ‘till Hannah hears about this, young lady,” he said with faux gravitas, wagging a finger under her nose.

“Oh, come off it!”

Grinning, Owen stepped forward to Dani with his hand outstretched. “You must be Miss Clayton. I trust you’ve been making sure Jamie hasn’t been getting into any trouble?”

With a breathy laugh, Dani hesitated to take his hand before finally shaking it as if expecting to be struck by sudden lightning. “To the contrary.”

He narrowed his eyes towards Jamie. “That doesn’t sound right. Has she been ill?”

“Oi!” Jamie snapped.

Owen chuckled, letting go of Dani’s hand and making shooing motions at the two of them. “Off we hop, then. I have the landspeeder parked outside and dinner in the oven.”

“Is that a euphemism?” asked Jamie.

Owen made no gesture, but Jamie felt a light repreminanding flick of the Force at the back of her head. “Don’t be naughty, now. We have a guest.”

Rubbing at the back of her head, Jamie followed him to the landspeeder. She offered Dani a brief encouraging smile, receiving something tremulous in return.

“He seems nice,” Dani said in a low voice.

“I am,” said Owen without turning around. “Thank you.”

Leaning closer to Dani, Jamie whispered, “And he’s got big ears.”

“I do, yes. Who wants the front seat?”

Jamie let Dani take it, so she herself could sprawl across the whole back seat and lean her head over the side of the landspeeder, the wind ruffling her unruly curls. In the front seat, Owen did his best to put Dani at ease while he drove, occupying her with polite talk of her home planet, Alderaan, how it compared to Tython, etc. Jamie only piped up when she heard her own name spoken, usually to correct one of Owen’s tall tales about her, which made Dani’s mouth curve in a smile that Jamie wanted to kiss away.

They had landed on the planet at dusk, and by the time they arrived at Hannah’s apartment in the outer fringes of the Temple complex it was dark. Hannah was sitting on a couch and scrolling through a dry holo feed depicting ancient texts, when Owen ushered them through the front door and into the lounge. In robes of rich burgundy hues against her dark skin, she was a picture of elegance just as Jamie remembered. Immediately she swiped the holo feed away and rose to her feet, crossing the room to pull Jamie into a warm hug and greet Dani with an outstretched hand.

“Do you want drinks?” Hannah asked. “Only I believe Owen had a specific wine he wanted to pair with tonight’s dinner.”

“Did you turn off the oven at -?” Owen started to ask but Hannah simply patted his darkly stubbled cheek.

“Of course I did, silly man. What do you take me for?” Hannah chided.

He grinned but made no move to lean into the gesture or otherwise react, and soon Hannah dropped her hand. Owen disappeared into the kitchen while Hannah urged Dani and Jamie to sit. Jamie sat on the couch, and when Dani sat beside her it was so close their thighs pressed together. Hannah’s dark eyes flicked down to note this, but she simply smiled and inquired about their trip.

With a hand towel tossed over one shoulder, Owen emerged from the kitchen not long later with a platter of savoury pastries, which he set on a table for easy access. Jamie swiped one up with an eager hand.

“Not bad,” she said to Owen, mid-chew. “I can feel my latest scar healing up already.”

“Shush you,” Owen said, swatting at her knees with the hand towel. Jamie snickered and reached for another pastry.

Meanwhile Hannah had sat on a lone armchair and turned her attention to Dani. “Jamie mentioned she had a Force Sensitive friend with a peculiar - ah - predicament, so to speak. She brought you to the right place.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Dani said with a flighty motion of her hand, “Force Sensitive.”

Hannah tilted her head. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s not me that uses the Force. It’s -” she pointed to her eye, the one that burned a constant gold these days, “- whatever this is.”

“And what makes you think you have nothing to do with it?” Hannah asked.

“Well,” Dani fumbled for a response. She was perched at the very edge of the couch, knees tucked together as if expecting a scolding from a teacher. “Peter said -”

“Peter?” Hannah rounded on Jamie with a flinty expression. “Don’t tell me you’re still getting yourself tied up with the likes of Peter bloody Quint.”

“I’m not!” Jamie said, trying to sound indignant but doing a very poor job of it since her mouth was full of pastry. She chewed quickly and swallowed so she could better defend herself. “Besides, he’s dead now!”

“Oh, that is a shame,” Owen sighed dreamily. “I would’ve liked to have seen it myself.”

“Who was the lucky bastard who killed him?” Hannah asked.

From the couch, Dani cleared her throat uncomfortably, then lifted her hand in a miserable little wave. Both Owen and Hannah exchanged surprised glances.

“It was an accident,” Dani said in a small voice.

“Well, brava,” said Owen.

Dani closed her eyes. “Please, don’t. I - uh -” she drew in a trembling breath and forged on, “I don’t know exactly what Jamie told you, but he wasn’t the only one.”

“Ah,” said Hannah shortly. “Yes, she did mention something about that. The dead Consular out by Vurdon Ka. Edmund, was it?”

Dani’s only reply was to nod and stare down at her socks; they’d all removed their shoes at the front door and set them into the cloak closet.

“Can’t imagine the investigation will come poking around here,” Owen added. “They’ll think you’ve run off to the Outer Rim to hide.”

Hannah hummed. “Yes, well, best we keep Miss Clayton inside for the duration of her visit, anyway.”

Dani stared at them in utter bewilderment. “But don’t you - Shouldn’t you be reporting me to the authorities?”

Owen tipped his head towards Jamie. “If this one vouches for you, then I believe you.”

Placing her hand over her heart, Jamie said, “That’s so romantic. You going soft on me?”

He knocked his foot against her ankle. “You wish.”

“If what you say is true,” said Hannah, ignoring their antics, “and you’re being inhabited by some Sith entity, then I rather think it our duty to help you, not put you down like a rabid dog.”

Owen cleared his throat. “About the Sith entity thing. Can we go back to that?”

"Quint said something about a -" Jamie trailed off, then turned to Dani. "What did he call it? The glowy box?"

"A holocron," Dani said.

Both Hannah and Owen turned to look at them with such sudden sharpness that Jamie nearly took a step back in surprise.

"A holocron," Hannah repeated. “You’re sure?”

"What colour was it?" Owen asked Dani before she could answer Hannah’s question. "Was it blue? Please say it was blue. I'll even take green."

Dani blinked, taken aback, and glanced nervously between them and Jamie before she answered, "It was red."

Hannah drew in a sharp breath and Owen grimaced as though he'd just been shot in the leg.

“Where is it now?” Hannah asked.

"Gone," Jamie said with a shake of her head. "In bits and pieces back on Quint's flagship."

"Not all of it."

The three of them — Hannah, Owen, and Jamie — all turned their attention to Dani, who was wringing her hands together in her lap. Then she reached into the sewn up makeshift pocket of her cloak and pulled out a single shard of black gold metal.

"I kept one of the pieces," Dani explained, holding it out towards them. "In case — I don't know — in case Peter tried to put it back together again."

“May I?” Hannah held out her hand.

Dani passed it over to her. Carefully, Hannah inspected it. Thin, triangular and gleaming darkly in the light. Jamie thought she could almost hear a faint whisper when she looked at it for too long, a cold fingertip brushing against the back of her neck, travelling down the length of her spine.

“There is part of an inscription here in the old Sith Tongue,” Hannah said, and she spoke a series of guttural words that seemed to darken the very air around her before translating them. “I sleep. I wake. I walk.”

“Mmm,” said Owen. “Hate that.”

“I’m so glad you two know what the hell is going on,” Jamie said dryly.

Shooting Jamie an exasperated look, Hannah handed the shard back to Dani. “Thank you, dear. What you have there is a piece of a very rare storage device made with the Force. Undoubtedly Sith in origin, and very ancient, too. Jedi use them as well. Holocrons contain information. Secrets. Wisdom. Power.”

Dani turned the metallic triangle over between the fingers as if trying to read the same inscription, or to glean something more. “And what did this one hold?”

“I haven’t the foggiest,” Hannah said with a soft smile. “Whatever that holocron once held is long gone now.”

Dani clenched the triangle in one fist. “But what if we had all the pieces?”

“Perhaps that would accomplish something. I doubt it.” Then Hannah added wryly, “You might be able to make a very fine lamp.”

In the other armchair, Owen snorted. Without looking in his direction, Jamie aimed a kick at his leg, which he easily dodged.

“That can’t be everything,” Dani said, knuckles going white, voice going shaky. “You have to know something more. There has to be more.”

Hannah shrugged. “I’ll look through the archives tonight. Maybe then we will have more answers.”

“That’s -”

"Tomorrow," said Hannah firmly yet kindly. She stood and urged Dani to her feet as well.

"But -" Dani started to say.

Hannah put a warm hand on Dani shoulder and steered her towards the dining room. "Tomorrow," she repeated. "We cannot solve the galaxy's problems in an evening."

—

After dinner, they retired to the lounge over a glass of wine. Hannah took Dani aside, where they murmured away together in a corner, while Jamie and Owen sat in armchairs across a polished stone firepit that had been dug into the ground. Dani wandered off to bed not long after with a lingering glance in Jamie’s direction, then Hannah left for the comforts of her archives, murmuring that same phrase in the old Sith Tongue as she went.

I sleep. I wake. I walk.

Jamie shivered in spite of herself. Owen watched her knowingly over the rim of his glass.

“How are you really?”

“You know me. Bold as brass,” Jamie muttered.

He glanced down the hallway, where Dani had gone and not emerged after the sound of a door shutting. “I shouldn’t have to tell you to be careful, so I won’t.”

Jamie grimaced. “Yeah. I know.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I won’t. Besides,” she reached out to nudge his elbow so that it slipped off the armrest of the couch. “I can always count on you to patch me up again.”

His answering smile was strained. “I can only do so much with lightsabre wounds.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Owen took a sip of his wine and hummed, the note echoing slightly around the glass bowl. “I defer to Hannah in matters of balance in the Force,” he said, “but I’m not sure I can do anything for your friend without more information. And even then — I’m saying this might be a lost cause, Jamie.”

Jamie gripped the stem of her wineglass and rolled her head back to sigh at the ceiling. “If I had two credits for every time someone told me that, I’d have twelve credits.”

“You could buy yourself a decent stimpack with that,” he said with a snap of his fingers.

She let her head loll forward again and leaned her cheek upon her fist. “I know what you’re going to say.”

Owen smiled sadly at her and then he said it anyway, “You need to prepare yourself for the worst.”

“I don’t want to hear it, mate.”

He leaned forward, setting aside his wineglass on a side table, and said in a soft yet serious tone, “You cannot let your judgement be clouded by personal attachments.”

She laughed, a short bitter huff of laughter. “That’s rich, coming from you.” With a gesture around the room, she said, “Awfully cosy here in Hannah’s place, innit? Was that your spare cloak and set of boots in the closet I saw?”

If Owen was put off his stride in any way, he did not show it, nor did he falter. “As a member of The Order, it is your duty to help everyone you can. And in that regard, you have always been the best of us.”

Jaw tight, Jamie glared into the firepit, a flicker of flame sending up sparks. “I’m not a Jedi.”

“No,” he murmured, his gaze dark and warm and unyielding. “But you act like one. If strength and power were what made a Jedi, then we would all be Sith. You are not defined by how much of the Force you can control. It’s what you do that matters.”

Jamie eyes burned from staring at the fire for too long. She cleared her throat, lifted her wineglass and drained its contents.

“Thanks for the drink and for the food,” she said, setting the wineglass aside and pushing herself to her feet. “And for the shit pep talk.”

Owen did not stand or attempt to bring her back when Jamie turned and walked down the same hallway Dani had vanished down about an hour ago. He let her go with a soft, “Good night,” that Jamie caught just on the edges of her hearing, and which made her fists clench.

At the end of the hall, Hannah had given them each their own rooms across from one another. Jamie stopped in front of Dani’s door. There was a soft light shining beneath the gap at the base, indicating that either Dani was still awake, or she was too afraid to sleep alone with the lights off. Jamie lifted her hand to knock, but stopped before she could touch the door. Instead she ran her hand down her face and rubbed at her eyes. Then with a shake of her head, she turned around and went into her own room.

It was the first night in nearly two weeks that Jamie slept alone. She tossed and turned, looking back towards her own shut door, seeing the echo of that pale sliver of light across the hall. Telling herself she was being ridiculous, she shut her eyes and struggled in search of sleep.

—

“I did a bit more research last night,” said Hannah as a greeting over breakfast.

“Oh, aye?” Jamie mumbled to the contents of her teacup.

Late morning sunlight washed through the tall windows of Hannah’s apartment, and Jamie was combating a pervasive grogginess with her third cup of the morning. Sleep last night had been a futile effort. Sitting across the table from her, Dani looked no better off; her eyes were circled with dark rings and her hair lacked its usual polished care. She had already been out in the kitchen for some time when Jamie had finally emerged from her room to find Dani helping Owen prepare breakfast and set the table. Both she and Owen had greeted Jamie with varying degrees of enthusiasm — Dani with a small private grin, Owen with a boisterous call of ‘Good Morning!’ that could’ve woken the dead.

Now they were all seated at the dining table. Owen had prepared a spread of food that would have given the ship’s computer a run for its millions of credits. He and Dani had tucked in, while Jamie and Hannah nursed their cups of tea in lieu of food.

“That inscription,” said Hannah. “I sleep. I wake. I walk. IT was specific enough to give me a small lead.”

Jamie lowered her cup, while across the table from her Dani did the same with her knife and fork, suddenly alert.

“So, what did the holocron have in it?” Jamie asked.

“Not what. Who.” Hannah pointed around her cup towards Dani, who had gone stock-still. “The echo of a soul. An ancient Sith Lord, whose sunken tomb is said to lie beneath the waters of a planet lost to time after the Hundred-Year Darkness. I could find nothing more than this, and at first I thought it a mere legend. Here. These images were taken from The Valley of the Dark Lords on Korriban.”

Hannah tapped at a link on her wrist, bringing up a holographic display which she set to the middle of the table so the rest of them could see. A collage of pictures from various sources. Old texts written on parchment or carved into stone. Weathered statues emerging from bodies of water in dark caves, and vast frescos painted upon plastered walls depicting a woman. All of them somehow defaced. Sections of writing blotted or chiselled away. The heads of every statue, every painting smashed or blighted as though taken to by a hammer.

“Spooky,” Owen muttered.

“What’s wrong with her face?” asked Jamie.

“It seems even other Sith feared her. Or envied her. Or hated her. Who knows? But her very name and image have been desecrated beyond repair, condemned to damnatio memoriae,” Hannah highlighted a section of writing that had been left unscarred. “They call her only: The Lady.”

Jamie stared at one of the statues, and even though it lacked all discernible features she could not shake herself of the horrible feeling that it was watching her back. “A Sith feared by other Sith? Well, that’s not terrifying at all.”

“All Sith eventually turn on each other in the end,” Owen scoffed. “This was probably just the work of some ambitious apprentice. You know how they are.”

“That’s very possible,” agreed Hannah.

“So instead of knowledge,” Jamie said slowly, “the holocron was holding a piece of her soul? Why?”

“A piece? No.” Hannah shook her head. “More like a shadow. A reflection of what once was whole. And for what purpose, I cannot say. Did she even make it herself? Or was it made of her unwillingly? Perhaps to preserve her own life. Or even to trap her, to interrogate her. All of these are plausible.”

Owen hummed a contemplative note, nodding to himself, then he abruptly said, “More tea?”

Hannah held out her cup. “Please. Thank you, dear.”

Meanwhile, Dani had spoken not a word. Her gaze was glued to one of the holo images, the one of a fresco depicting The Lady, faceless, with her hands on the shoulders of a young child with gold-graven eyes.

Jamie nudged her foot under the table, and Dani started, blinking at her.

“Sorry,” Dani breathed.

“S’alright,” Jamie said. She nodded towards the holo images. “This sound familiar at all?”

Dani licked her lips and then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s her.” Hands clenched and trembling around her cutlery, she said, “I’m sorry, but can you please turn that off?”

Without question, Hannah killed the feed, and Dani breathed a sigh of relief. Owen topped up Dani’s teacup as well, and she smiled gratefully at him. He winked and set down the teapot.

“As fascinating as Sith history is,” said Owen dryly. “What does it have to do with Alderaan? Why target children of House Thul?”

Hannah looked to be deep in thought, sipping at her tea with a furrow to her brow, while Dani shrugged.

Meanwhile, Jamie groaned and rubbed at her eyes. "I don't know," she said, "but I know someone who does. Do you have a transceiver?"

“Oh! Yeah. Give me a tick.” Owen pushed back his chair and went off in search of a transceiver. He returned a moment later holding a blade-thin screen, tapping at it to pull up the right application before he handed it to Jamie and sat back down in his seat. “Here.”

“Cheers.” Jamie took the screen and typed in the relevant frequency and hit a green button.

It rang. And rang. And just as Jamie was about to kill the feed, the screen flickered and a familiar face appeared.

Rebecca smiled. "Well, that was fast. Miss me already?"

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #star wars #roman writes #no great revelation #damie #dani clayton/jamie

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random-mha-thoughts · 5 years ago

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No Idea (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Anon asked: "yooo sketch was so cute and he was so in character! if you're taking requests could you write a fic where basically all of 1a is at the dorms besides the reader who's patrolling and she gets attacked by dabi and has to fight him off alone meanwhile 1a and dadzawa watch from the dorms via news channel? bonus points for a water quirk reader! you can match the reader up with either deku or bakugou!"

Genre: Action, angst/comfort

Word count: 2,005

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: Basically this entire ask is describing just a portion of what I’m preparing for my multi-chapter Todoroki fic that I’ve already teased about for my 500 followers special, you can call it maybe an alternate pathway, or a separate continuity that helps to characterize my OC. And I guess this one is well-timed because I just hit 1K yesterday?? I don’t know how it happened either tbh There will be a special event and a separate mushy post to come, but thank you all so so so much from the bottom of my heart.

This ended up longer than I expected, but that’s okay because I haven’t posted in a few days and I had time today to bang it out in one sitting. I know this request came from a fluff like Sketch, so I hope you also like angst because that’s my specialty ;) (not to mention I was waiting for someone to request something angsty because I’ve had that photo saved and ready to use it for the LONGEST time). Thank you for requesting it anon!

"Kinda sucks being out on patrol on the weekend," I sigh to myself, biting into my taiyaki. "But it isn't all bad I guess."

Mirko had called me out to do a quick patrol this weekend. This part of the city has been pretty quiet lately, and I don't mind showing my face. A few passerby's wave at me and I respond in kind. I like this part of the job, being the hero that everyone knows, respects, and trusts to protect them. It gives me more drive to save them in time of crises.

"Blue!" a middle school girl walks by and waves.

"Hi, Mina," I smile and wave back. "Going home from cram school?"

"Yup!" she flashes me a toothy grin. "Dad's making dinner tonight for once! It's Mom's birthday!"

"That's wonderful," my smile softens. "Wish her happy birthday for me, okay? And get home quick before she worries!"

"I will!" the girl runs off down the sidewalk, waving behind her.

So cute, I think, watching her small figure weave through the crowd of people. I swallow the last bite of my fish treat and continue on my patrol. Thankfully, it's another laid back day: I direct a few lost pedestrians to their destinations, make small talk with more familiar faces, help a few elderly carry groceries to their houses, and the like. I'm content with the mundane flow of a lazy Sunday afternoon.

While talking to a grocery store employee, a sudden explosion in the alley across the street breaks routine.

"Everyone get inside the nearest building or run as far as you can!" I scream out instructions to the citizens nearest to me as I keep an eye on the alley for the next explosion and help anyone within reach to look for cover. That explosion wasn't normal, I know those blue flames like the back of my hand.

Looks like my Sunday stroll is over. I dial on my phone as I thread through the frightened crowd toward the alley. "Mirko san, I might need backup. There's a very high possibility that the League is involved here, but I'll confirm-"

Right when I'm within a few yards of the alley's opening, another bright blue light flashes, triggering the surrounding crowd to scream and run away faster. I assist a few others, waiting for the smoke to clear. A silhouette appears amidst the dark fog, and I know exactly who it is.

"I'm confirming, it's-"

Before I can finish, the shadow stretches out its hand towards me and blasts flames straight at me. Immediately, I put up a water shield in front of me, then start building it wider so the people near and behind me can get away without damage. I already know what happens when something - or someone - touches those dangerous blue flames.

"It's-It's Dabi of the League," I force myself to say, the name burning as it rolls off my tongue. "He appears to be alone."

"Roger. Try to apprehend him by yourself before I get there! I'll hurry over as soon as possible!" my mentor responds and cuts the call.

I make sure everyone within the immediate area is evacuated from the streets, scanning every inch wildly for stragglers. Heat increases around the me suddenly, and darting my head back around shows the fire eating through my water defense without faltering. Before it completely penetrates my defense, I jump over to the side behind a car, right before a giant hole is ripped in my shield.

I catch my breath calling the water back towards me into my water nodes and compartments in my hero suit.

"Looks like you've improved a lot since the last time I saw you, (Y/n) (L/n)."

His menacing yet familiar voice as he drags out my full name sends shivers up my spine. Damn it, of all the villains, I had to face him!

"Aw, don't be shy now, I know you're happy to see me too." His voice moves towards my left. "We don't even get to see each other anymore."

"I'd prefer it that way," I snap, readying myself for another inevitable attack.

"You better give me a good fight, little one."

His voice-!

At the last second before hearing the crash, I jump out from in front of my cover, the intense heat from the blue flames just millimeters from burning my fingertips. Dabi had jumped onto the top of the car, his voice being evenly split in both of ears signalling that he had moved from my left to right behind me in the nick of time or else I'd be ashes.

I finally got a good look at his face. The stitches and staples etched into his face down to his chest and arms are all-too-familiar, along with his raven black hair and turquoise eyes.

"Reminiscing?" his head tilts, gravely voice taunting. "I don't think you have time to do that."

I sprint off and around for more cover as he throws more fire pillars from his hands, trying to find a fire hydrant of water fountain to give me more material to work with. Otherwise, I'm only limited to manipulating what's in the air and the stores in my costume. To my dismay, there's nothing around.

All I have to do is slowly manipulate the water particles around him and condense them over his hands to stop his quirk temporarily. That's the plan in my head that I'm going for. But he's way ahead of me, predicting all my moves and constantly jumping to move away from where I've gathered the water particles and forcing me to start over, leaving me to dodge him and put some distance between us.

"I already know all your plans, you can't defeat me that easily by yourself," Dabi mocks me.

I'm at the end of my rope. It's difficult to keep running and there just isn't enough water in the air to work for a fast attack. I dodge another one of his attacks and wrack my brain to think of a different strategy. My mind can only come up with one all or nothing plan, but if it doesn't work, I'll be done for quickly.

It's a risk I have to take. I slowly start collecting as much water as I can into my suit and immediately around me. Knock him out as quickly as possible, face him head on. I take a deep breath. My body shakes from exhaustion, anticipation, and fear. I'll have to use my body's own water storage to help me, making this plan dangerous.

Right when Dabi's about to burn me at my new hiding spot I jump out and summon all the water I've stored to mobilize. Drown him! A sphere of water forms just around his head. In his moment of shocked hesitation before he strikes, I force the water to go down his airway to suffocate him. He catches wind of exactly what I'm doing somehow, raising his hands to send another blast at me. I summon another set of water from my costume stores to surround his hands to keep the explosion tamed. Come on, fall unconscious already!

But it's curtains for me. He's summoning a larger blast to his hands, neutralizing my watery protection around them and I don't have enough stored up to replenish it. Desperately, I start using up the water inside my body. Damn it hurry up! I can't-!

I feel myself reach my limit just as he completely disintegrates my water seal with an explosion, sending me flying backwards down the street until I roll to a stop. I'm exhausted, I can feel my blood pressure and heart rate dropping, and I'm too weak to try anything else.

Through my dizzied vision, Dabi staggers towards me, coughing and sputtering. "Damn kid, you really almost had me."

It didn't work, I'm a failure. I don't have the energy to say anything back.

"Get your hands off her!" a female voice resounds, and stomps reverberate through the ground.

"That's my cue." I crack open an eye to see him smirk down at me before using his quirk to lift himself off the ground. "Until we meet again, (Y/n) (L/n)." He rocket away without a hitch.

Damn it...

After waking up in the emergency ward attached to an IV for my severe dehydration, Mirko tells me Dabi got away and she rushed me right over to the hospital to treat me since I was unconscious. They won't let me leave until I've replenished all my stores and my urine's clear.

"Also, your teacher's coming to get you," my mentor adds.

Aizawa is going to kill me.

"OI! WHICH ROOM IS IT?!"

Oh for fuck's sake, I know who else is gonna kill me.

Bakugou stomps in, his head trying to be held back by Aizawa's capture weapon to no avail.

"YOU DUMBASS-!" my boyfriend starts off before the scarf comes over his mouth to muffle his screams.

"This is a hospital, control yourself," Aizawa grits at him deathly and walks next to my hospital bed. "I guess you did the best you could, but I won't praise you for almost getting yourself killed. It was a good strategy, it would've worked if you had backup." He pats my head before smirking. "Bakugou was about to cry when you collapsed."

"SENSEI!"

"I'll leave you two alone to talk."

Him and Mirko step outside the room, leaving my high-strung boyfriend to rush me. "Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was, you dumbass?! You almost got yourself kill, look where you ended up...!"

I drown out his screaming, noticing how bloodshot his crimson eyes are from crying. He was so worried about me. I reach my hand up weakly and touch his cheek, cutting his reprimanding screams off short suddenly. If I had the tears to cry, I would. Instead, I offer him a tired, melancholy stare of affection. "I'm sorry," I manage out. "I know I said I wouldn't use up my own body's water, but I didn't want to die, Katsuki."

The aggression melts away from him face and his hand reaches up to hold mine. "I guess it was instinctive," he admits, closing his eyes and I feel him start to tremble. "Why would you face a villain like that alone?"

"I called for backup-"

"You should've stalled for as long as you could!" he sobs out, gripping my hand tighter.

My own body starts to well up, feeling the tickle in my eyes but no tears can escape. "I tried," is my soft reply. "I'm sorry."

Bakugou envelopes my body in his, trembling warmth blanketing me with his high emotions. "What would I have done without you? When I saw you get hit by that explosion, I almost lost it. Did you think about how I would feel if you pulled something like that and didn't survive it?"

I feebly return his embrace, tangling my fingers in his puffy hair to comfort the sobs wracking his body. "I'm here, Katsuki. I could have been in a worse condition, but I'm still here now."

His trembling and cries slow down to a calming end, and he remains wrapping me with his affection. "You did well, except the almost dying thing, I guess. I'm proud of you for holding your own as long as you did against a villain like him."

"Wow, a compliment? You must have really been shaken up," I poke fun at him to lighten the mood.

"I can be nice..." he mumbles into my neck. "You better drink a whole ton of water so we can go back together. Everyone else is worried about you too."

My mind wanders back to Dabi. I'll have to face him again eventually, and he knows what I'll try to do in the future. I'll need to be ready. But until then, I have a hotheaded Pomeranian boyfriend to comfort me from my past and build towards my - hopefully, our - future.

Sequel

#Bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #gender neutral reader #action #comfort #bakugou scenario #bakugou imagine #request #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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dimonds456 · 5 years ago

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What was “A Picture Perfect Hollywood Heartbreak” Really About?

What was Zach Callison’s A Picture Perfect Hollywood Heartbreak really about?

Hey all you people out there! How are you surviving quarantine? I had a bunch of spare time, and so I decided to write an essay that focuses on Zach Callison’s album, A Picture Perfect Hollywood Heartbreak. The album has been out for a while, but most people either only know Interlude IV or are really confused about the story it tells. I think I’ve finally got an answer, and I wanted to share it with you all.

If you’re only here to better understand Interlude IV, you can skip down there if you want, but you’ll still be pretty confused. Besides, you should listen to the rest of the album. The whole thing bops.

Personal favorite song is Phantom Love, but I’m pretty sure no one cares about that.

Anyways, on to the show! One song at a time, in order.

WARNING: REALLY, REALLY LONG POST UNDER THE CUT!!

Phantom Love

Phantom Love sets up the whole story for us. Juanita is Zach’s old GF, who appears to only have dated him so she could get ideas for a music album she was writing. However, she had no ideas and/or is a masochist, and so wanted to get Zach to either break up with her, do something horrible to her, or just create drama in general she could write about. Whatever happens happens, and she is successful.

Juanita seems to be suffering from some form of depression, but whether that’s actually the case or she, again, just wanted something to write about is up for debate. But either way, it’s hinted at several times that she slit her wrists and other self-harm-inducing activities.

Many people follow her- she seems to be popular enough (which makes sense, due to the album being about two celebrities dating each other, just like Zach’s irl relationship). However, she has two different faces- her showbiz the-cameras-are-on face and her real face. Zach seems to have the same thing, as hinted at in She Don’t Know, but we’re not there yet. Point is, Juanita used Zach to try and get a tragedy out of the whole deal.

It was a phantom love- it never existed.

“Made me promise I would never break your heart

How was I to know that’s what you wanted from the start?”

Both people got into Hollywood from a young age and grew up with it, and so were surrounded by drama constantly. This takes a toll on Zach, but he tries to deal with it whereas Juanita actively wants to partake in it. She causes drama- little triggers to get him to snap- until one day, he does.

Interlude I - Frantically

This one is pretty straight-forward. After the two break up, it’s the perfect excuse for Juanita to start spreading rumors and stirring tension. She’s quick to make Zach out to be the bad guy, when in actuality, he was the one who was being loyal in their relationship.

We’re clued in that these rumors aren’t true from one line: “I heard he got fired from that cartoon he does. (Nooo wayyy…)” We, as the audience, know for a fact he didn’t, but things get shaky as we realize that some of them are also true.

“I heard he does coke now and, like, screams a lot.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

[laughter]

Zach overhears them talking about them and runs away, going off somewhere to be alone. Once he’s alone, we get the disturbing audio of him sniffing some drugs, implying that he actually does, indeed, do coke.

DISCLAIMER: Irl Zach Callison did NOT turn to drugs! It’s a metaphor for how many people he knows who have decided to do so, and so he;s aware of what it does to one’s mind. Don’t worry; Zach is okay in that department.

She Don't Know

After gaining the following knowledge, this song is easier to understand. Zach really did love Juanita, and he misses her, even though he knows at this point that she used and abused him.

“There ain’t no drug in all the world like loving you

Cocaine and cigarettes will have to do

Won’t somebody save me? My heart’s beating outta m’ chest

I just wanna hold you with those hands I once possessed.”

Juanita isn’t aware of the effect she had on him, and he laments this quite strongly (hence the title). Once she had her heartbreak, she ran off, leaving a broken lover behind.

Trigger warning: there are hints of suicidal thoughts in this song. They get more prominent as the album goes on, which becomes important later. This is where we really start seeing them, though.

“F***ed up on my bedroom floor

And my first thought’s ‘let’s do some more’

They say it all kills for thrills

And I hope it does!

Can you hear me, love?”

He speaks about “where did I go” later on, meaning that he is losing himself/doesn’t feel like himself. He still wants to be with her, and her absence has utterly destroyed him. He’s still in love with her, and wants her to know that. However, Juanita doesn’t give a bat of the eye in his direction, only caring that she now had the material she needed to write her album.

Interlude II - Christie Only Knows

Here, we are introduced to Zach’s make-believe sister, Christie. Only she is aware that he is going through this, and we find out quickly that she isn’t supportive.

“It’s getting late now, but to me, it’s just beginning

‘Cuz life’s tearing me to pieces and I know I’ve been defeated

Oh, no

And Christie only knows.

Never seen someone like this before

An eight-ball power on the floor

And I’m staring at the ceiling

Wondering if the reaper’s close

But Christie only knows

That there ain’t no drug in all the world like being you

\Glory on the silver screen just had to do

Won’t somebody save me? I am screaming out of breath

And my shadow, he’s holding a gun…

With those hands that I once possessed…”

This is the only time I’ll put all the lyrics in here, I swear. However, this one is important as it paves the way to Nightmare, bridging the gap between the two moods. She Don’t Know is angry, stressed, unsure, and frustrated, whereas Nightmare is just… depression. Interlude II is the middle ground, showing us that once Zach got all that off his chest, he feels… numb. He doesn’t know what to do.

Now, who exactly is Christie? I don’t think she really exists, in the context of the album, that is. I believe that Christie is someone he’s hallucinating, an embodiment of all his most negative thoughts, sugarcoated into something pretty and worth listening to. We’ll explore her character later on in Interlude IV - Showtime, but for now, what you need to know is that his suicidal thoughts are getting more and more intense now that she’s here.

A sister is someone who you’re bonded to, whether it be in blood, relationship, or cause. In this case, I think it’s more relationship. She is telling him to let go, to accept that things are this way and won’t get better. It’d be easier to end it. And Zach is listening to her. We know this because of the line “And my shadow, he’s holding a gun with those hands that I once possessed…” He is seriously thinking about it, and the fact that it’s his shadow shows that the thought is always in the back of his mind. The same thoughts that led him to love Juanita are now ready to kill him- those same, once-steady hands he used to hold her with. And he’s done. He’s holding on by a thread.

Nightmare

This song is told in the 3rd person as Zach really explains what he’s been going through each and every day that lead him to this fateful decision to end it. He is done. He’s decided it.

Every day, he cries. He hates himself, he hates looking at himself, he hates all of it.

“Prosecutor at his own trial,

The floor below him becomes so fertile

by his very own vile, Nile, and exile source

By the pitter-patter of his tears on the bathroom tile…

...you’re nothing more than your feelings

from your floors to your ceilings

and out the all-bloodshot ocular faucets…

Boy vs brain, white noise vs the sane,

always vs the same, cries for help exclaim

that he’s beyond repair. He’ll swear, he’ll despair, he’ll stare

straight ahead in the mirror at the source of his waking nightmare.”

There’s an instrumental break, during which he says “Are you writing this down, Christie? Yeah…” This shows that he’s lamenting to himself, as again, Christie doesn’t really exist. He’s venting to her, jotting down everything that’s wrong with him.

This tells me that he’s writing a note. He is telling someone where he’s going and why he did what he’s about to do. Remember, Christie is in Zach’s head, and so if she is writing this down, that means that Zach is writing this down. His worst, most negative thoughts are writing all this down, showing him that this was the right decision. This will end all his suffering, and whoever reads the note will understand and be happy for him. This was his solution.

“He’s standing on a bluff overlooking the city

The city’s biggest bluff is making itself look so pretty

He tells himself to be tough, isolated and gritty

But gritty’s kinda hard when his brain’s run by committee”

This is how he decides to die. Now with a gunshot like Interlude II hinted at. He is willing to jump for it.

Look at the album cover. Did he go for it? I don’t think so, but we’ll get to that.

The song concludes with him saying this:

“So who do I speak of and why is he grey?

He rejects all his love, see the prices he pays

To his vices he caves, in a crisis of fates

No tragic history, only a mystery

So I say to you, ‘who?’

Why don't’cha tell me?”

This is him confirming to us, the audience, that this is Zach’s character speaking about himself. He’s been hinting and clueing at us to this song all along, and now he is making sure that we know what’s going on in his head. He’s ready to end it.

His love for Juanita broke his heart so severely that it left him broken and bruised beyond repair. And if you can’t fix it, it’s time to throw it away.

So he heads back out to the bluff to jump.

Interlude III - Second Thoughts

He’s standing on a bluff overlooking the city. The bluff’s height is making itself not so pretty. Is this being tough? Or just being petty? But petty’s not likely, it’s a selfish, single entity…

Doe she really want to do this? Looking down, Zach thinks about what made him come here. The drugs? They’re messing him up. He’s aware of it, he’s been aware of it. Would jumping be giving in to their influence? Or Juanita’s?

“We put his record on until he’s bleeding on the needle

And he’s weeping in the street

Cut down on his curtain call

That’s where he’s gonna sleep.”

Standing on top of the bluff now, he looks down onto the road. He can see that there is where he could die, but he’s suddenly not so sure. The idea just slammed into him, reality slapping him in the face. “Do you really want to do this?”

“Take aim with these hands he once possessed

A dozen roses on the pavement laid the rest

Oh, my dear sister Christie, will I feel some remorse?

She says ‘no, pull the trigger, ‘cuz he’s left us no recourse.

His brain has a sickness, so kill it at the source.’”

He steps closer. He can see, in his mind, the image of his dead body lying on the road, forever resting. But, was that the right call? To just throw in the towel like that? So, in true metaphorical fashion, he turns and asks Christie. His inner demons. They’ve been straight with him before, right? And, of course, they say “yes, go for it.”

But Zach still isn’t sure.

I believe he backs off for now, leading the way to Curtain Call.

Curtain Call

This is where it really starts to get difficult when it comes to dissecting this album, and from here on out, I guarantee that I got things wrong. However, stay with me, because I’m open to and want to discuss what everyone else thinks it all could mean. I’m going to share my ideas, and if you have a better one, tell me and I can either agree or argue it with you. Point is, like English class (in high school), if you have the evidence to back it up, you’re not wrong. Let’s have a serious discussion about this.

On with the show! Now, it appears as though Zach is arguing with himself in this one, one wanting to show people that he’s hurt so he can get help- the side that wants to live- but on the other hand, his other half knows that there’s nothing they can do if he does. He’d just weigh them all down. Because all of him agrees that he’s useless and hopeless.

He sends up a prayer (I think Zach is Christian, so this makes sense), asking for, basically, karma of some kind. He’s done feeling this way, and wants it to stop. So he asks for “some price to pay,” hoping that there’s a solution, but knowing that the solution isn’t going to be handed to him on a silver platter. He’d need to work to get better, and this is him saying that he’s willing to do that. He WANTS to live, but he’s just not sure he can anymore. And that’s his main argument. Can he do this? Was it even worth it?

Obviously, with Zach being a famous actor (both irl and in the album), he has a double life. One is bringing joy to others, while the other is a constant internal struggle. The world is a stage, and at this point, Zach is basically admitting- through metaphors- that he has been acting. Pretending.

Consider this lyric, put there- side by side- very intentionally:

“I find that I’m anything but fine.

No, I’m okay. Oh please just look away!”

It’s all a mask. And it’s one he’s tired of wearing. Notice how tired he sounds when he sings those lines. He’s done. He’s been done.

“Bourbon to kill my pain

Curtains to hold my shame

No, they can’t look away

Cannot contain my rage…”

These lines are telling us that people around Zach have started to notice that he’s off, but he wants to believe that he’s okay, that he’ll be okay. So he continues his career (“curtains to hold my shame”), even though it’s hurting him to do so at that point. And people are starting to notice. And that’s making him frustrated. At himself. At them. He’s tired. Let him rest. He just wants to rest and forget. Bourbon, alcohol, kill the pain. Make it go away so they can’t see. But they already see. The mask is old and withering in decay.

Towards the end, Zach’s voice becomes more echoey and distant (discluding the Italian that I have no hope of understanding, which is why I’ve yet to mention it). This shows that he’s distancing himself, running away, if you will.

Running back to the bluff.

And this time, he jumps.

Interlude IV - Showtime

Okay, meme time. This is the one everyone knows. However, we are not going to be talking about a Connverse fight that honestly makes no sense given the limited context of the song (as cool as those animatics are). We will be talking about, however, Zach facing and challenging his inner demons. Christie does not exist. Why should she rule over his life?

Let’s break this one down, since this one is the hardest to fit into the story.

He jumps, but survives the fall. Maybe dazed, maybe broken. Maybe it was just a dream. Maybe this song IS the dream. We can’t be sure. Everything is metaphorical in this one. Perhaps he didn’t jump at all. We can’t be sure.

Christie congratulates him. She tells him that he’s free. He did the right thing, and now it was just the two of them. They could do whatever they wanted without feeling so weighed down!

Zach disagrees, coming to a realization.

He jumped. Christie had said that it’d make everything okay again, that it’d be bliss. Well, he jumped, and it wasn’t. It was worse. He felt anger and fear, and this leads him to finally, for once, counter her.

“The world is ours!”

“No it isn’t.”

“Get in the car.”

“This isn’t finished.”

“...What?”

She’s shocked that Zach openly argues with her, and as their bickering goes on (which I’m sure a lot of you reading this can hear perfectly in your heads, so I won’t write the exact lyrics down), Zach gains more confidence. He accuses her of murdering him. “And they’ll all think that it was suicide, but Christie, I know that it was you inside.” Remember, she’s not real and therefore didn’t really “kill” him, but he blames her as he allowed her to control and manipulate him.

Christie is shocked, stating that everything she did, she did to comfort him. ”I saved him! I held him ‘til the moment he [Zach’s “innocence”] died!”) However, Zach realizes what she really is now, and decides that enough is enough. (“You choked him out of his goddamn mind! Promised the world to him, a goddamn lie!”) He knows what she is, and won’t let himself be manipulated by her again.

Now, the whole time, they’re talking about someone who is dead. Who is that someone? Zach. However, it’s all a metaphor. When Zach jumped, a part of him died. The last of his humanity? His sanity? I think his “innocence,” which I say in quotes because I’m sure there’s a better word for it out there somewhere. He’s done being blind to the truth, blindly following Christie around. The part of him that was naive enough to do that, to listen to her influence and complain about the world, is gone. He’s dead.

And that means Zach isn’t taking anymore s***.

C: “I won’t help you take [Juanita] down.”

Z: “Fine. I’LL DO IT BY MYSELF!”

C: “You don’t need it!”

Z: “Oh, I know that I need it.”

C: “She’s been gone for years, I know you can beat it!”

Z: “Oh, look in the mirror, you know we both fear her…

But you let me kill him, you’re WORSE than Juanita!”

Juanita herself never killed him. She never physically harmed him, not in any way that counts here. However, Christie did. She pushed and pushed him, taking a fragile boy and breaking him even more. Zach is now his own worst enemy, not Juanita, and this is him realizing it. But he doesn’t want to be his own enemy.

C: “I won’t help you take her down.”

Christie doesn’t want Zach to face her, because she knows that that would be him really facing his demons and starting down the path to healing. Juanita is Zach’s biggest obstacle, aside from himself. He has to face himself first, and that’s why this song is so powerful. Zach is taking a step back and realizing what he has to do, who he is, and why things are like this.

Z: “Oh, look in the mirror, you know we both fear her.

We’re one and the same, we’re afraid to be near her!”

There’s that mirror metaphor again, except that he’s not looking at himself with hatred; he’s looking at himself with understanding (and a side of hatred). He’s ready to face her. He’s ready to get everything to stop.

“1, 2, 3, 4

Is this what love is really for?

Is this all I get for being yours?

The kid in front of me in blood and gore?”

The kid is, again, Zach’s “innocence.” He understands, he’s ready to not only move on, but also confront her.

5, 6, 7, 8

Years left to waste for all I hate

They’ll all know Juanita’s fate!

Show’s about to start; don’t be late.”

He knows that it’s going to be a showdown, a big, epic throw down. And Christie isn’t coming with him. He’s leaving her behind. He’s leaving his demons behind, breaking free from them and moving on.

War!

The ultimate throw down begins!

“A wise man once said, ‘time is money’

So how much money did I lose to you, honey?

Find it kinda funny you wanna keep this feud runnin’

But I’m glad I’m on your mind, keep that canon fire coming, woah!”

This is 100% a diss track. Zach confronts Juanita in front of a lot of her friends (we hear multiple girls go “huh?” as they realize that Zach’s here and he’s ANGRY), and immediately starts in. No introductions, no “hey it’s nice to see you again”s, nothing. He’s here to make a statement, and he’s gonna do so.

He realizes Juanita for who she is now, and she has done so many horrible things to him. Spreading rumors and lies to ruin his life, after dating him just to get a story to write about. He’s sick of it and done. He calls her out, and it’s important that he does this in front of other people so they see what she’s really done. He’s hurt, he’s been hurt, and it’s because of Juanita, this amazing person a lot of people looked up to and liked (“I know, Juanita deserves so much more [Interlude I]”. “Step inside the life of the men weak enough to follow you [Phantom Love]).

Juanita also appears to be dating someone else by this time. This is really important, because now due to context clues we got from before, the only reason Juanita dates is to get a heartbreak out of it so she can have the motivation and drive to write her own album. That’s why she dated Zach. So, if she’s dating again, that means she either lost the motivation and drive again, or she never had it in the first place since it wasn’t a real love between them. She didn’t truly experience a heartbreak at all. This is further backed up by the claim that “we’ve been waiting on your album for ages, no traces, and baby, we’ve already run out of patience!” She’s only dating to get that experience again.

This means that, at least in Zach’s eyes, she hasn’t changed. “To your new boy, let he be warned: you’re her new toy for blood and gore! What, you didn’t know?” She is going to destroy him emotionally, and he’s going to go down the same path as Zach, ending in death- blood on the pavement. The gore part is to emphasize how horrific the whole ordeal was.

“Sit down with me and sign this armistice

Get your big proboscis outta my s***, miss”

A proboscis is the butterfly equivalent of a tongue. They use it for sucking nectar out of flowers. So, what he’s saying here is that they need to settle this between them (“sign this armistice”), and that she needs to mind her own business. By her talking about Zach like that, she ruined his life and he’s sick of it. She literally sucked the joy out of him like nectar.

“Welcome to the new me!

Paint your nails black and unscrew me

But that’s okay, Juanita

Know my business is booming”

His business is a reference to his own album, the very one you’re listening to. His music career took off now because of her and the fact that she broke his heart, not the other way around. Juanita can never understand that because she “only loves to be broken [Phantom Love].”

“That’s alright, that’s okay!

You barely wrote them anyway

Half your songs got thrown away

Like ballets on voting day

All my ballads had more to say

Like a bullet through a motorcade”

In a twist, Zach got the story Juanita had wanted. He experienced a heartbreak, while she never really did. So he writes an album instead of her. It’s a cool kind of karma that Zach- or, at least, his character- can’t resist.

The whole song ends with him forcing her/her friends to sing along with him, repeating her name, then yelling. She screams, and it cuts out.

I think he’s lost his sanity (or again, his “innocence”) here. He gets carried away, and either attacks her or makes like he’s about to. I think he makes like he’s about to, but stops. This is the final song; if Zach killed her, there would more than likely be another song depicting the consequences and an Interlude V to show the aftermath of the incident. But because he stopped himself, he’s satisfied. Juanita learned her lesson, Zach got everything off his chest, and the people around them know the truth.

That’s all he’s wanted for longer than we can possibly know.

Final Observations

Zach Callison has gone on record to say that “Juanita” has finally published an album of her own, but that happened months later. I don’t have any specific dates for anything, though. No one knows who the real-life “Juanita” is, which in my opinion, is noble of Zach. He had a lot of anger to get out, but unlike her, he wasn’t going to ruin her life to try and get something out there. He can make a statement without ruining someone else along the way.

With that knowledge, let us all stand and clap for this man.

Not only is the album just a really good listen, but each song tells a cohesive story. The tones each song sets, as well as the far under-appreciated interludes (or over-appreciated in terms of Showtime), really shows how his emotional state changes. Phantom Love is a lament, She Don’t Know is a classic “I’m sad bc my gf broke up with me :(“ which is how Zach perceives that incident at that point in time, whereas Nightmare is him falling into depression stronger than anything he’s ever felt before. Curtain Call is him arguing with himself about whether or not he should even live anymore, and it all comes back around with the upbeat, heavy-rock literal song of War!. The interludes take the tone of the next song and combine it with the lyrics of the previous to show that smooth transition between emotions as he grapples with his mental state, the only exception really being Interlude I, as it has an overall bouncy tone to it.

Zach not only made every single song enjoyable, but also unique and heartfelt. Just listen to how his voice shakes during Christie Only Knows. He is genuinely upset and lost, and because of this, he’s better able to convey the HUGE emotion dump that was his album.

Do I recommend it? Yes. I think there’s something in there for everyone, even if you only enjoy one of the songs. However, doing a review is going to be an entire post in and of itself.

Thanks for reading, guys. Now go listen to the album and tell me your thoughts. Does my explanation make sense? Do you have a better idea? Let me know. I want to have a real discussion about it with other people who have listened to the whole thing, not just Interlude IV.

If you haven’t listened to it yet, it’s on YouTube and ITunes. Do yourself a favor and check it out. The whole thing is ~45 minutes long.

Have a link to the playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_n1rA_1uUBtxoATot0ixiTgvdEHhj3lAn4

#zach callison #a picture perfect hollywood heartbreak #picture perfect hollywood heartbreak #long post #meta post #theory post #pphh #pphh zach callison #zach callison's music #zach callion's album #juanita pphh #Personally I think War! is the best song in the album #but Phantom Love is my favorite to just listen to #War! is the best in terms of vocals and especially the instrumental tho #And Interlude IV is my fav of the four

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writing-gifts · 4 years ago

Text

datura (moth!bruno x butterfly!reader)

—–

A/N: this fics 30k+ words now and im happy that ive stayed with it this long, but yea thats it lol

First Chapter || Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Reader is gender neutral!

-----

[Late Fall]

You didn't think you'd be meeting Abbacchio so soon--perhaps sometime after Winter. But one day you're taking shelter from the cold when Bruno comes to visit.

These days you never really know for sure when he'll show but this was definitely earlier than usual. Nevertheless, you're glad to have someone to cure your boredom...until you see there's someone else very familiar with him.

You hide partially behind your door trying to slow your racing heart. Was this excitement or fear? Maybe both?

“Er, you’re Abbacchio right?”

When the wasp nods but doesn’t further speak you look at Bruno, but he simply gives you an encouraging smile. You wanted to scold the moth for the nonexistent forewarning, but at the same time with a surprise visit you didn't have time to fret before the actual meeting.

You’ll have to go along with this either way so you put on a polite smile. “You guys want to come in?”

“No, I'd rather stay out here,” Abbacchio replies.

Your brows furrow and your smile becomes more forced. “Uh…”

But it's cold! What the hell, do you two not get cold or something!?

It takes you a moment but then you realize that the wasp was being sarcastic. Probably. But you’re not sure if it’s because he’s trying to be funny or if he doesn’t like you. Or maybe he was messing with you?

Bruno throws him a bemused look. "It would be more comfortable inside don't you think?”

The wasp stares at you in a way that makes you feel like you're being sized up but eventually relents. “Alright.”

You move so Abbacchio can walk in, but Bruno stops next to you.

"Don't be intimidated. He can be like that toward new people and he’s a little grumpy that he had to walk all the way over here," he whispers.

You look over at the wasp already sitting on the daybed remembering his lack of flight and nod. But you weren’t sure if you wanted to deal with a bitchy bug right now.

Bruno goes to sit, but you scuttle to your room with some quickly mumbled excuse so you can collect your thoughts.

What were you supposed to do? Entertain them both? You were far removed from having to actively entertain Bruno when he came over so you felt out of your element.

This meeting should have happened in Spring instead.

You must have been in your room for too long because Bruno shows up.

When he sees you sitting on your bed he raises a brow. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing really. I’m just unsure what to do so I'm hiding. Are we like hanging out?”

Bruno shakes his head. "I don't understand. You don't need to do anything."

"But I feel like I have to since Abbacchio is here though. And he really doesn't look like he wants to be here."

"Well, we aren't going to stay too long if that makes things better. He just wanted to see you. Of course he's too prideful to admit that though."

"Well…He could just be more polite though," you grumble.

"Then he wouldn't be Abbacchio…" Bruno sighs. "Don't worry I talked to him so it'll all work out."

You purse your lips. "...Hey next time just give me a heads up if you're bringing someone over, okay?"

If your unexpected guest was just a little amiable then you wouldn't have cared but that wasn't the case.

Bruno looks a bit surprised that you seem genuinely annoyed, but he gives you the affirmation you want. So even though you're still reluctant, you move off the bed.

“Okay we can go back.”

You walk ahead of Bruno and when you get to the main room you try to talk to the wasp again.

“Uh...Do you want anything to drink?”

"No thanks."

"...Okay."

Instead of sitting down you stand there. Bruno wouldn't lie to you but the wasp's behavior said otherwise. Your friend gently grabs your arm and leads you to the daybed to sit.

"Do you want me to get you something to drink ____?"

"...Sure? It can be whatever."

You realize too late that if he's getting drinks, he’s going to leave you alone with Abbacchio. You squint at Bruno as he exits the room. It shouldn't take long but you're sure Bruno's going to take as long as he sees fit.

So while he’s gone, you sit there quietly sneaking peeks at the wasp trying to figure out how to move things along. He sits, leg spread, looking at nothing in particular.

You had seen the occasional albino insect but this was the first wasp. Which isn’t surprising since you kept clear of any. Until now.

“What?”

You flinch from the sudden break in silence. “W-What?”

“You keep looking at me.”

You try to smile but it definitely comes off more as a grimace from the weird look you get in return.

Sighing, you frown. “I’m sorry. I’m going to be straight forward and say that I feel super awkward right now, and I don’t know what to say or do.”

The wasp crosses his arms. “...You don’t need to say anything. I actually prefer the silence.”

"Oh."

You continue to sit in silence that's slightly less awkward, but again the wasp breaks it.

“How’s your leg?”

Your eyes widen a bit from him trying to start a conversation. “Oh, it’s okay.”

You stretch out your leg, bending it a few times. There was no more pain but a bunch of scars were left behind around your thigh and calf.

“That's good.”

Since he was here you could show your gratitude in person. You hesitate for a moment but remember what Bruno had told you at the forest clearing. And you didn't want to let this possible conversation die.

“Hey, thank you for helping me that day. You really saved my life. And the fact you managed to open that lizard's mouth was pretty amazing!"

You see the stern expression on the wasps face slightly fall, and he gives you a nod. “It wasn't anything--I mean….You're welcome.”

You give your first genuine smile today and Abbacchio looks away looking a bit flushed.

A moment later and the moth finally returns.

"I’m back with your drink ____."

You turn towards Bruno as he walks towards the daybed.

“What the hell were exactly doing in there Bucciarati?” Abbacchio looks over, sounding unimpressed with Bruno's little plan.

"You're not slick Bruno," you add.

He raises a hand in surrender. “Okay you got me. But it worked didn't it?”

You look at Abbacchio.

“...I guess it’s a start,” Abbacchio says.

"I saw you blushing from the kitchen," Bruno says.

“I--Leave me alone.”

You hold back your laugh lest you want to be scowled at by the wasp next.

Bruno hands over your drink and you thank him and relax back into the daybed. Maybe it's okay if they decide to stay longer.

----

For the first time this season, you can't fly. Even after trying to warm yourself up with all your blankets, you'd only be able to stay off the ground for a short time before your wings would give up. And unless you were planning on climbing up the stems of the flowers near your home there was no way you were getting any nectar.

So over the next couple days, whenever you couldn’t fly, you were content with spending most of your time sewing, knitting or sleeping. Even the days where you could fly you'd find yourself spending most of the day inside anyways.

But after a while you start to feel confined in your home, and you suppose you need to do something different. So you finally gather the courage to venture a good distance from your home by yourself.

You decide to use this opportunity to visit a neighbor--a self-proclaimed “vegetarian” spider--so you can get started on Bruno's 2nd gift.

Before you were hesitant to go, even with the gift on the line, but after everything that's happened with Abbacchio you were more at ease with the idea.

Once you actually see the spider's small home, you notice there's no webs for you to get stuck in.

With the spider's help, you hope to learn how to create sheer cloth or lace as he called it. In return, you're willing to part with the rest of the honey you had sitting around.

There was the option to trade for already made lace but you were hellbent on making this gift all on your own. When you tell the spider, Ilyas, this he seems even more excited to share his passion.

“Rarely anyone likes to visit me!”

You smile feeling a bit sad for him. Now that you actually had met him properly you can tell the "rumors" about him being completely harmless were true. He only seemed to use his webs to make lace. How it wasn't sticky was a mystery to you though.

After trying for the first time, Ilyas tells you that you're a natural but that feels like an over-exaggeration. You decide to visit more often though because of his enthusiasm.

He encourages you to practice with small squares first before doing any complicated shapes, and to also experiment with different lace patterns.

When you try to practice on your own, you struggle with making the lace without the spider's help, and the strange tool they had to speed up the process. All you had was your needles, threads, and your inexperienced hands.

There were many times where you would miss a stitch and not notice until you had finished the square. It was frustrating but you would keep at it, trying to finish at least one square a day.

You stare at your most recent square. You didn’t miss a stitch this time so that was good, but you didn't really like the pattern the threads were forming.

You rest your head in your hand, absentmindedly tracing your scars as you study the intricate web-like lace.

The sleep schedule you had somewhat managed to fix at Abilene’s house had slowly drifted back to the way it was before. Along with the days becoming shorter, you felt like you spent a good chunk of the night wide awake. So even though it was pretty late, you weren’t tired at all.

You guess you could start another square with a new pattern but even with your lantern, making lace in the night was a strain on your eyes.

You pull the covers sitting around you on the ground over your shoulders and rest your head on the table.

I wonder if Bruno will show….

While you stare at the lace, you somehow manage to fall asleep. You're not sure how long, but you're woken up by a knock at the door.

Knowing it's Bruno, you quickly get up to answer.

He greets you with a smile. “Did you just wake up?”

“Yea, I didn’t even feel like going to bed at all so I don’t know how that happened."

“Too bad I woke you up then.” He pulls out 3 canisters. “I brought you nectar though.”

“I don't have any to trade though? I stayed in today."

"Don't you think we are past that point in our relationship? I’m just giving it to you as a friend."

"I guess you're right. I’m so used to trading...” you trail off and take the canisters.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"You just seem down."

You open one of the canisters to see what's inside and avoid Bruno's analyzing gaze.

"Honestly, I guess I do feel strange? I want to go back to sleep but I don’t really want to at the same time. Maybe I slept weird…"

"I know you probably don't want to hear this right now but maybe you should go out. It might make you feel better."

You shrug. Other than walking to Ilyas's and sometimes getting nectar close by, you spend most of your day inside. Maybe your body wasn’t used to being inside this much. Even during Winter you'd try to go out when you really shouldn't.

“Maybe you're right.”

"Do you want to go to the lake, obviously not near it of course."

Bruno seemed to be trying to tread carefully with you. It was appreciated but at the same time you want him to treat you like usual.

You huff out a laugh. “I know that, but sure let's go.”

You were already dressed in a sweater but invite Bruno in so you can go find a scarf.

While wrapping one around your neck you remember the moth's sweater and see no better time to give it to him.

You grab it off the chair you left it on and walk into the main room.

"Bruno, I finished your sweater!"

You hold the off white sweater out to the moth and he gently takes it from you.

"You finished it that fast?"

You nod.

The moth unfolds it and holds it out. You made it so it would be on the baggier side so he wouldn't feel constricted.

You watch as he turns it around and pulls it over his head. Once he puts his arms through the sleeves he pats down his hair.

You watch as he fiddles with the buttons on one of his sleeves until it comes off allowing his forearm to be free.

"Feels comfortable?"

He nods as he rebuttons the sleeve. "Yes, thank you! I don't even want to take off the sleeves either."

You grin, pleased that he likes it that much. "That's great! Honestly this looks quite good on you..."

"You think so?" The moth strikes a subtle pose.

"O-Obviously! Honestly I think you'd be able to pull anything off."

This gives you even more motivation to make that lacy top for him.

"Okay, let's go before I say anything else embarrassing," you say.

You both head outside, but you find yourself struggling to get off the ground. Apparently the temperature had dropped slightly too low.

"Do you need help?"

"No, no I got it."

You flap your wings a couple times hoping for the blood to finish circulating and with a little more struggling you're off the ground.

“Oh this sucks!”

You couldn’t help being jealous that Bruno could still fly so easily.

"You really don't need to push yourself."

“It's fine. I just needed to stretch out my wings. You do the vibrating thing to warm up and fly right?"

"Yeah."

"So lucky,” you say with a sigh.

"Have you ever tried doing it yourself? It'll get you in the air quicker."

"Hmmm…"

You momentarily stop flying. Clenching your fists, you tense your whole body and try to vibrate, but it’s literally impossible for you to reach the speed Bruno is capable of.

You notice Bruno is covering his mouth as he watches your sorry attempt.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"I’m sorry, the look on your face was cute."

You open your mouth but actual words struggle to come out.

"You--! Don't….Let’s just go already."

While the two of you make the flight to the lake, the moth insists on holding your hand 'just in case your wings give out'. Even though flying so close to someone can be a pain, his hand kept yours quite warm so you don't complain.

The lake feels so much different when you arrive. Without all the insects around, singing, dancing and playing, it felt somewhat lifeless. Even the lilies from before were shut.

“It’s so quiet…”

“Yea but it can be nice like this too. Sometimes I prefer it.

You both sit at the same place you did last time. Even though the rock's surface is cold, you already feel better. You had been nervous stepping out to places that weren’t busy, but with Bruno that nervousness was almost nonexistent.

You wish you had taken the time to come out more often like this with the moth, because once Winter came you wouldn’t be able to see him. You look over at Bruno. He seems lost in his own thoughts.

“Are you ready for Winter?”

He glances at you. “I suppose so…I won’t be able to visit you anymore though. It’s going to feel quieter.”

You hum in agreement. "Why does Winter have to exist? It's like Fall's terrible older sibling."

That gets a chuckle out of the moth. "That's the first time I've heard some describe the season like that."

"Well it is…"

"I guess you could say that."

Silence settles between the both of you but you move slightly in your spot from the restlessness you were beginning to feel. An idea had come into your mind and you were nervous to try it.

Holding your breath, you lean against the moth, but keep your eyes focused on the lake too afraid to make eye contact. If your time with him was going to be limited then maybe you should send even more hints.

A tense moment passes before you feel him shift against you. Your heart jumps when you feel a hand brush against your hip.

"Is this okay?" Bruno’s voice is low and it makes the action feel more intimate.

Don’t panic. This is a good thing!

“Y-Yes.”

You take a moment to calm down and continue speaking. “Is the sweater still comfortable?”

"Definitely. I think you’ll be happy to hear that I don't want to take it off.”

There was a weird sense of pride within you from getting the moth to willingly wear clothes.

"Then my work here is done. Well I'm going to make you more stuff though.”

You cross your arms and snuggle more into Bruno’s side when a particularly cool wind blows through. The moth's hold on you becomes more secure as he brings another arm to your side.

“Too cold?”

“Definitely underestimated it.”

As much as you wanted to stay in this position, you didn't want to stay out here any longer.

“Let’s go back,” you say.

Bruno gives your side a gentle squeeze before removing his arms. He helps you to your feet, but he doesn’t let go of your hand.

With that you're ready to go. But when you try to take flight, you can’t, no matter how hard you try.

You look at Bruno unsure what to do.

"I can carry you, if that’s okay with you?”

You didn't exactly have another choice so you agree.

He places his arms on your back before he bends down to lift you behind your legs.

You immediately wrap your arms loosely around his neck as soon as he’s off the ground. This was the first time you had been in a situation like this before so you're kind of nervous.

The air passing by as he flys gives you chills. When you shove your face into the fur on his neck to protect your face, you feel him pull you just a little closer.

"You okay?"

"Cold!" The word comes out muffled. Your tolerance to the cold was almost nonexistent.

"Don't worry, it shouldn't be much longer."

You pull your face away just an inch to peak up at the moth “I'm not making you uncomfortable am I?”

"Of course not. We should actually do this more often."

“Flying together?” you ask confused.

"No. Me holding you."

That has you sputtering and you shove your face back in his fur.

Was that...flirting?

It couldn't be anything else but you still try to convince yourself otherwise.

You try to think of other things but just end up thinking about Winter again. Soon you wouldn't be able to spend time with him like this so casually. You wouldn't get to see him for a whole season!

You frown and your arms tighten around his neck.

When you reach back home you feel reluctant to let go of Bruno. Partially because he's so warm.

"____? We’re back.”

The moth lowers your feet to the ground so you can stand but you still hold on.

"____?"

You finally pull away and look at him.

"It’s--Don't you think It’s gonna suck not being able to see each other everyday?” Your voice wobbles. “I don’t want to wait that long...”

Your only option during Winter was to walk but you’d be dead before you even reached Bruno’s home.

It wasn't forever but if you ever messed Abilene she was a short walk away. Maybe you just weren't used to this.

“What if you forget about me?”

“You’re exaggerating. I wouldn't forget you that easily and Winter will pass before you know it.”

"You say that but you’re frowning! What...What if I stayed with you?"

Any shame you had in your body was dwindling away the longer you stayed up apparently.

"I mean...Isn't it weird that you’ve visited me so many times and I’ve never been over to your home once?"

Bruno seems surprised by your sudden suggestion but not displeased.

"I'm not against this but are you sure you’ll be comfortable staying there all Winter? You won’t be able to come back for some time."

You haven't been away from your home for that long ever, but you can’t think of any heavy cons to being away other than not getting to see Abilene.

You sigh, Winter really was cruel.

“...I’m actually already looking forward to it. The next time the temperature increases I'd better fly over there! Or you could just carry me if that doesn't happen soon enough.”

Bruno is unconvinced though. "You don't look completely sure."

"Because I don't want to be seperated from Abby for that long either..."

You look at the moth hoping for him to solve your predicament for you. "What should I do?"

"I have no problem taking you with me, even if it might upset Abilene, so I don't feel right making this decision for you."

You groan. It was definitely a commendable answer but it still left you with a tough decision. But after some pacing you come to a conclusion.

If you're struggling this hard to just stay at home then it would be best to go….Right? And Bruno wants you there too...

You nod to yourself. "I'm going. I don't want to regret staying here. Even if I have to say goodbye to Abby for some time."

"Okay. I know it's selfish of me but I was actually hoping you would still want to come."

At least someone here wasn't conflicted.

You immediately start mentally making a list of the stuff you need to take over. The biggest hill would be your necta.

“Um Bruno…”

After you explain the situation and show him how many jars you have stored up Bruno looks a bit perplexed, but you both accept that you'll have to just start moving things now. So that night Bruno takes bags of your jars home with him.

The next time you’re able to fly, you make sure to head over to Abilene's to tell them where you plan to spend the Winter.

You expect them to be disappointed, and they are, but they mostly end up teasing you.

"What if you guys are dating by the end of Winter?" they ask with a smirk.

You shake your head at the ridiculous statement, but was it really that improbable? A hopeful part of you said no. Bruno obviously didn’t mind being close to you so maybe...

Abilene touches your arm taking you out of your thoughts. “But seriously, I’m happy for you.”

“But will you be okay by yourself?"

They put their hands on their hips. "It will definitely be more quiet but I'll be okay."

You purse your lips but nod. You wish that the distance between here and Bruno’s home wasn’t so far.

"Do you have your stuff already packed?"

"Actually I kind of need your help, if that’s okay. I need to move a good chunk of my nectar over to his home and it’s a lot."

Abilene shrugs. “Yea, sure.”

"I’ll definitely make it up to you!"

"You don't need to make it up, I want you to get to spend time with your little boyfriend."

You almost deny it but know that you’d be reacting just how they want. “Whatever, let’s just go and start moving everything!"

You, Abilene, and Bruno spend the next several days making multiple trips between you and the moth’s homes. With the help of Abilene, the work doesn’t take as long and helps make up for the days you can't fly.

However with Winter getting closer and closer you decide to leave some of your stash behind. You would just have to be extra careful with how much you drink. Bruno reassures you that he has extra nectar just in case though.

You also make sure to bring all your sewing, knitting and lace equipment, AND all your blankets and pillows!

By the time you finish your last day of moving, it's already night and you and Abilene had said goodbye way before the sun set. You were already planning on making them an extra sweater for all their help. Or maybe a hat?

When you finally get to properly take in Brunos home you already feel at home. It was embedded in a tree stump. And the surrounding area had way more trees than your own home. You could tell sunlight struggled to get through even on the hottest of days.

The thing that amazes you the most is that the inside of his home is lit with multiple lanterns.

Bruno drops the last of your blankets on his bed. "Since you’re diurnal we can just switch out sleeping here--well until it gets too cold."

“Where are you going to stay then?” You had already been reluctant to take up his bedroom but he insisted. Not sleeping in a proper place would start to affect you negatively so it was probably for the best.

"There’s space in Narancia’s room."

You nod before yawning, today was a long day and you wanted to put everything away quickly so you could get into bed.

“You're still up?”

At first you think that Bruno’s talking to you but then you see he’s looking behind you. You turn and see a very young insect walk into the room from behind the wall at the entrance.

Your eyes widen slightly. You had expected to see a squishy baby caterpillar when you first met Narancia but what you see instead is a bumblebee already growing out of grub stage. He was a long way from growing out his wings though.

He wasn’t the same as Bruno?

Still you see the messy, random tufts of yellow and black fur on his small body and can't deny how adorable he is.

“I was but ____,” he says.

The youngling then runs towards you and stops in front of you shifting from foot to foot. You smile down at the energetic little bee.

“Hello, Narancia!” His energy was almost infectious.

“Hi! Papa talks 'bout you. A lot!” His small hands raise out and above him.

You grin at the slightly embarrassed look on the moth's face. He was doing his best to hide it though.

So this whole time I wasn’t the only one.

"Narancia--"

“What type of stuff does he say?”

Bruno deadpans at your interruption.

The bee tries to explain but part of it comes off unintelligible. You nod along though to the stuff you can understand like 'nice' and 'flowers'. You think you catch something about your wings too.

“Narancia, it’s bedtime,” Bruno says after his son seems to run out of words.

“Why? I’m not sleepy."

“I know, but we need to fix your sleep schedule.”

Looks like you weren’t the only one struggling to sleep at the “proper” times either.

The bee huffs. "I wanna stay here..."

Bruno holds out a hand to him, which Narancia pouts at but grabs.

“I’m going to go put Narancia back to bed and I’ll come back to help.”

“Goodnigh’,” Narancia says to you.

“Night. We can play later, okay?”

The bee nods obviously still not wanting to leave.

Once he and Narancia leave you use this chance to properly look around his room. Other than the bed and the small table next to it, there's a small dresser (where he probably kept some of the clothes he never wore) a floor length mirror, and a shelf.

This room was also lacking in lanterns compared to the others. You take notice of one of the lanterns sitting on the shelf in between some books and get the feeling the moth put them in here for you.

Other than that, the room was quite neat and the furniture looked elegant and costly. It was definitely a bedroom that said ‘Bruno Bucciarati’.

You decide that's enough investigating and go back to organizing, and soon after Bruno returns to help.

The both of you work, talking about small unimportant things but you finally ask what has been at the back of your mind since you saw Narancia.

“Um...why is Narancia living with you?”

A bee usually lives within a community of other bees of their type their whole lives--kind of like ants or wasps--so you were curious, but almost not surprised since Bruno seemed to have a penchant for gathering deviant insects.

“...I found him alone in a dead hive and I took him in.”

Bruno seemed reluctant to go into it and honestly you didn’t think it was your place to intrude, so you accept that answer with an “Oh”.

Bruno stops stacking jars in his closet to look at you. "I should have told you he was a bee sooner, yea?"

"Hmm, not really. Does it really matter?"

"...I guess you're right,” Bruno says but he doesn’t sound too sure.

Maybe some insects told him it was weird.

“Well it’s great that you found and took in Narancia. Nature isn’t exactly patient with larvae.”

The moth nods. “That’s true. The only problem is our different sleep schedules and the feeding. Well it was until you told me about how honey can be watered down."

“So you gave the honey I gave you to Narancia?”

“Well I might have eaten some too.” He smiles a bit. “But I got more ‘straight from the source’ so it’s fine. And Narancia doesn't go through the supply as quickly anymore now that it's better quality.”

You feel pleased that you had managed to help the moth, even if it was unintentional.

By the time you, Bruno, and Narancia--who wouldn’t stay in bed--finish finding spots to put all your jars, it’s well into the night.

You lay in Bruno’s bed under numerous covers and among all your pillows. It smelt faintly of flowers, ones you would usually smell on the moth. It’s almost like you're shoving your face into his fluffy fur.

For once you’re ready to go to sleep the moment you’re in bed. You shut all the other lanterns in the room but kept yours open. At this point, sleeping with it was necessary for you.

As you feel yourself drifting off, a knock on the door pulls you back.

“Come in…” you say through a yawn.

Bruno slowly opens the door and walks in.

“Did I wake you up?”

“Not this time but you tend to show up when I am.”

“Sorry, I’m not doing it on purpose I swear.” Bruno comes over to sit on the edge of the bed.

You smile at him feeling even more relaxed under your covers.

“It’s okay, seeing you is better than sleeping, “ you say through a yawn. “Thanks again for letting me say. I’m really happy I'll get to see you everyday.”

"Me too. I know I tried to act like the Winter would go by quickly but...I was actually dreading it.”

You feel relief and almost happy that Bruno felt the same way.

"Why'd you come?" you ask.

"I...I just wanted to see you."

The both of you stare at each other in the dim light for a moment, you mostly confused. Then for some reason Bruno leans over closer to you, but you don’t move away.

"Can I kiss you?"

Maybe you're too tired to overthink but you feel surprisingly calm. You don't trust your voice though so you nod instead.

When he closes the space and his lips press against yours you’re unsure if you’re dreaming or not.

You feel his tongue brush against your bottom lip and you think he'll deepen it, but his hand caresses your cheek and he pulls back.

You stare into his faintly glowing eyes as you struggle to speak. "Was...was that a goodnight kiss?"

Bruno’s finger traces your bottom lip. “Do you want it to be?”

"I um--Maybe it can be more?"

His stare feels so intense and you struggle to keep eye contact but you don't want to look away either.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), the moth presses a soft kiss to your cheek before standing up.

“Goodnight ____."

“N-Night Bruno.”

Even though your body feels warmer, you pull the covers close. The fatigue you had was practically whooshed away. So you stare wide-eyed at the lantern--the only thing keeping you company.

-----

A/N: I made art for narancia! anyways im gonna make the next 3 chapters as fluffy/domestic as i possibly can (the next updates might be a little slow tho, kind of stressed with real life stuff so please bear with me)

#bruno buccellati x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno x reader #reader insert #jjba x reader #my writing

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 5 years ago

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Breakable Heaven (pt. IV) - p.l. dubois

part I part II part III

Oh my gosh, I seriously can’t believe this little series has come to an end. I’m so so happy with how it’s turned out, and want to thank anyone who’s stuck with Laurel and Pierre-Luc throughout this month. It’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever done, and it’s yours to enjoy now. Please please let me know what you think of this part, what you think about the series - getting anon comments is amazing, my inbox is always open, and I LOVE reading tags. Reblog if you like what I’m putting out, it helps me know that!

Warning: Smut (It’s light, but it’s there, so no one under 18 please!)

Part IV (7.8k)

September 23 (thurs)

Laurel was running through the Toronto airport, her carry-on bag bouncing on the tile behind her as she frantically searched for her gate. Thank God Air Canada domestic flew from the international terminal; her layover was only an hour and ten minutes and even more time had been shaved off by a departure delay in Montréal. She had forgotten that flights from Toronto cleared U.S. Customs in Canada, and if she hadn’t been able to skip the line and slap her American passport on a kiosk reader she would have almost certainly missed her connection.

No matter how many times Laurel had tried to insist on an economy ticket when she and Pierre were booking flights for her visits, he refused to cave. “They don’t include a checked bag in economy, but they do if you fly business,” he had said, shrugging, with a small smile on his face. “Baggage fees alone would make it pretty much a wash.” Laurel doubted that, and she doubted that she’d need a checked bag for a four-day trip, but her husband had made it clear that he wasn’t budging.

So needless to say, she was more than a little bit out of breath as she finally arrived at Gate F66, which was conveniently almost as far away from her arrival gate as humanly possible while still being in the same terminal. She handed her boarding pass and passport to the gate agent, smiling apologetically as she hurried down the jetbridge. It was barely past noon, but there was nothing in the world Laurel wanted more than to sleep. Maintaining a full-time schedule at the hospital while also trying to organize a trip to Columbus that lasted more than two days meant she had to switch shifts. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue; that week, however, the only open slot was the 12-hour overnight shift on Wednesday. Which meant that she’d been awake for some twenty hours straight, but almost all of that had been on her feet at work, or walking from the parking lot to the check-in counter in Montréal, or running through the halls of Pearson Airport in Toronto. She took her seat, half-listened to the safety briefing, and passed out as soon as her head hit the headrest.

Much to her chagrin, the flight itself was only just over an hour, and she was really only able to get in a generous nap before their descent into Ohio. Sitting in the second row, she exited the plane in record time, flicking her phone off of airplane mode and waiting for a text from Pierre-Luc. At least she didn’t have to go through TSA again. He wrote back in record time, letting her know he’d be in his car at the curb right outside the terminal. She waited at baggage claim, grabbing her forest green suitcase; the same one she had when she’d moved to Toronto for university, fresh-faced and 18 and so, so unaware of what the world had in store for her. If only she could see herself now. Laurel ran her thumb along the side handle for a moment, pulling at a loose thread, before hefting it onto the floor and turning towards the sliding exit doors.

As promised, Pierre was waiting right outside the door, flashing her a bright smile and throwing the driver’s side door open as soon as he saw her. “Welcome to Columbus, babe!” he exclaimed, wrapping Laurel into a deep hug and kissing her on the cheek.

She laughed as the trunk popped open, each of them grabbing a suitcase. “It’s a little bit funny, don’t you think? That I’ve lived in the Midwest for almost my whole life and the first time I go to Ohio it’s because I’m living in Canada?”

“Maybe just a little bit,” Pierre said, holding his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart. “I’m really happy you were able to come, though, Laurel. I got used to having you around.” His face was softer now, looking over at Laurel with an expression that wasn’t quite placable but seemed like it was somehow communicating so much in a single glance.

“Me too,” Laurel replied. The ride to Pierre’s Columbus apartment took just over ten minutes, and Laurel was in the door, petting the dogs, before the clock struck 3:00.

Pierre approached her from behind, his hands on her shoulders as he leaned around to kiss her on the cheek. “You want to take a nap?” he asked. “We’ve got that thing with the team at 7, and I know you’re probably running on fumes right now.”

Laurel nodded, giving him a weary smile, dropping her bag on the floor of the master bedroom with an all-too-satisfying thump. “Nap sounds good.”

---

The nap was good, so good, and Laurel woke up at half past 6 feeling like she’d just had the best sleep of her life. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, and looked around the room to see Pierre with his back towards her, buttoning up his shirt. He turned around, catching her eye, and grinned. “You like the view?” he asked, gesturing to his half-naked torso.

Laurel rolled her eyes, pulling the sheets up to poorly conceal her embarrassment at being caught. “And if I do?”

She heard a loud laugh, peeking her head out from under. “I’d say my wife has every right to appreciate it.” He walked around the bed while fastening the last few buttons, holding his hand out for Laurel to take. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but we’re going to have to get going in fifteen minutes or so. I was told that ‘we’ve waited this long to meet her, the least you could do is get your damn wife to the party in time,’” he said, adding air quotes for emphasis.

Laurel nodded, tossing back the covers and walking over to her suitcase, intending to rifle through the stacks of clothes to find something for the night’s festivities. Instead, she was greeted by an empty bag. She wheeled around to look at Pierre, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at her suitcase. “I unpacked your stuff,” he said, nodding over towards the spare dresser. “It’s in there. I’m sorry if that seems weird and I won’t do it again if you feel like that was pushing your boundaries, but I know for me when I’m on roadies I like to unpack, even if it’s just one night. Makes it feel more like home.”

Laurel was too overcome with how sweet the gesture was, small as it may have been, to realize that that meant he had touched four days worth of bras and underwear. It shouldn’t have bothered him anyways, and if he hadn’t said anything about it, it clearly hadn’t. So instead, she pulled him into a warm hug, standing on her tiptoes to bury her face in the crook of his neck. “Thank you, P. One less thing I have to do.”

“You do still have to actually get dressed, though,” he added, giving her sleepwear an appreciative once-over. “Unless you’re planning on wearing that.”

She let out a giggle. “As much as I love wearing a massive Cloquet High Lumberjacks t-shirt and no pants, somehow I don’t think that’s the move,” she said, ambling over towards the dresser. She found the tops on the first try, pulling out a wine-colored wrap shirt and grabbing the same pair of light-wash jeans she had worn on the plane. Pierre moved to duck out of the room, presumably to give her privacy to change. Laurel made a split-second decision to call after him. “You don’t have to leave.” Pierre stopped in his tracks.

Laurel slipped the shirt on, tying it in the front, and fastened her jeans. Mascara on and booties zippered, and she was good to go. “So what is this thing, anyways?” she asked Pierre as they drove to Foligno’s house.

Pierre tilted his head. “Little bit of this, little bit of that. Half the typical beginning-of-the-year preseason party, half the wedding reception we never had. They were very insistent on bringing gifts, so be prepared.”

“Will do,” she said, laughing. “And by they, you mean…”

“Some of the guys, but mostly the wives and girlfriends. Their parties are the stuff of legends, so you can imagine how excited everyone was when I told them we never had a proper reception.”

“But they don’t know why we didn’t have a proper party,” Laurel reminded him.

“About that…” Pierre started, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Laurel froze, her thumb hovering over her phone screen, halfway through composing a text to Kristen. “Pierre,” she swallowed, her voice deadly soft, “did you tell someone?”

---

It was the Saturday before, and the team had gone out to celebrate the end of the first week of training camp. Sunday was an off day, so Saturday night found all the over-21s — and anyone who could get a good enough fake — at a bar in the city. Pierre had just crossed the line into tipsy, and as his captain was about to find out, tipsy Pierre was an oversharer. It was common enough for families to be a topic of discussion on nights out or in the locker room; that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that, as the old adage goes, drunk words are sober thoughts. And, if he was being honest, Pierre was still harboring some guilt from having to hide the truth of his and Laurel’s marriage from everyone, Nick included. Pierre hated that he couldn’t tell Nick the truth. He was his captain and his friend, and he felt the least he owed to him was not to lie.

“It’s just so weird being away from Laurel, away from Montréal, for this long,” Pierre sighed.

“Sure,” Nick said sympathetically, “but you said you’d been friends for a few years, so you’ve had feelings for her for a while, no? It’s obviously not ideal, but you’ve been away from her for longer.”

Pierre turned towards Nick, some of his beer — his fourth of the night — spilling out of the cup. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Nick rolled his eyes, thinking he was going to be hearing some dumb high school confession, that he had asked out a senior girl when he was a freshman, or filled his QMJHL captain’s gloves with shaving cream or something. He didn’t expect what he heard next.

“We got married so she could stay in the country, for her permanent residency. I never met her before June.”

Nick sucked in a breath. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

“Nope.”

“You realize how much trouble you guys could get into if they figure out, right?” he asked.

Pierre nodded, looking down at his clasped hands nervously. “We both do. But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

“No, of course not,” Nick said. “I trust you, and I know you and Laurel were just doing what you thought was the best and most logical thing given the circumstances.” Pierre let out a somber nod. “But,” he continued, “I feel like this whole...situation just leaves open the opportunity for things to get really messy really quickly.”

“Messy how?” Pierre asked.

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking at a spot just beyond Pierre’s head. He didn’t want to, not really, but it was his job as Pierre’s captain — more importantly as his friend — to make him consider every angle. “Someone catching feelings, one of you falling for the other, or God forbid, someone else. There’s already so much at stake in a ‘normal’ marriage, but yours just has added complications.” Pierre felt a twinge in his heart. He didn’t want to admit it, he really didn’t want to admit it, but Nick was right. “Do you love her?” Nick asked softly.

Pierre sunk back into his chair. “I don’t know. She means a lot to me, more than I ever thought she would, but I don’t know. Plus, I have no clue how she feels about me, and I wouldn’t want to say something like that only to have her pull away.”

“Did you guys talk about that?” he asked.

“About what?” Pierre responded.

“About what would happen if one of you caught feelings. Because I’m assuming it was supposed to, is supposed to, be a strictly platonic thing.”

Pierre shrugged. “Not really. We didn’t like make a pact or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. We really didn’t talk much about it at all,” he said, finishing his beer. “I mean, obviously we agreed that we wouldn’t be seeing anyone else, dating or hooking up or anything like that. It was just too risky. But no, we never really addressed how we’d deal with it if one of us ended up...falling for each other. I guess it was just supposed to be a ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it’ type of thing.”

“And have you come to it?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know.”

---

Pierre finished the story, hazarding a glance over to Laurel, who was wringing her hands as she looked out the windshield. “I’m not mad at you,” she said finally. “If Nick said he wouldn’t tell, I trust you when you say he won’t. One of us was bound to let it slip eventually.”

He turned his eyes back towards the road, still feeling a pang of regret. She was almost being too good to him. “We’ll be okay,” he said, saying it just as much to himself as he did to her.

Laurel gave him a small smile as they pulled into the Foligno’s house, parking on the stone-paved driveway. “We will be.”

Janelle opened the door practically the second after they knocked, greeting Pierre and Laurel with warm hugs. “Laurel, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” she said, squeezing her hand. “We know how hard it is to find the time off and make the trip down, and everyone’s excited to see you.” She led them through the entryway to the living room, where Laurel was passed around to some twenty-odd players and their partners, where she introduced herself over and over again as “Pierre’s wife, yes the nurse from Minnesota who none of you knew existed.”

Dinner was a barbeque outside, Nick, Pierre, and some of the others manning the three grills as Laurel helped set up the drinks table. He held her hand under the table as they ate, his thumb gently rubbing across her thigh every so often in reassurance. “You good?” he murmured in his ear as Laurel sipped a beer, half-listening to some story Korpi was telling about a near-miss incident with a water ski back in Finland during the summer.

Laurel nodded, squeezing his fingers. “I’m good.”

Plates were cleared, dishes were washed, and everyone was herded into Nick and Janelle’s enormous family room, where a small mountain of wrapped boxes and bags sat in the far corner. “I don’t know if you know this,” Janelle said conspiratorially as Laurel sat down, “but NHLers make more than a little money.”

She laughed. “So I’ve been told.”

“Which means that, clueless though they may be, you’re going to be getting some very nice presents.”

And very nice presents they were. A wine club membership, a set of dutch ovens from Seth — “It was my mom’s suggestion” — Jones, an espresso machine from Boone, a set of matching, personalized dog bowls for Phil, Georgia, and Piper. Laurel honestly wasn’t sure how it was all going to fit in the car, let alone how she was going to manage to stay under the baggage limit on her way back to Canada, but the thought and kindness that went into each gift was what really made it special.

“From me and the other girls,” Janelle said, passing Laurel a bag.

“Oh, this is too much,” Laurel said. “You already got the knives and the mixer, I don’t need anything else.”

Cam’s wife, Natalie, shrugged. “Would it help if we made it, didn’t buy it?”

Laurel’s brow furrowed in confusion, her fingers moving to undo the ribbon that tied the handles together, taking out the tissue paper. “Oh!” she gasped quietly as she pulled out a denim jacket, a Blue Jackets logo ironed onto the back, Dubois embroidered where a name bar would be. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re still a part of the family,” Natalie said, smiling. “Even if you’re not here all the time. We want you to feel as included as anyone else.”

Laurel folded up the jacket carefully, tucking it back in the bag as Josh walked up to Pierre, holding out a small box, clearly wrapped by himself. “Well now I just feel silly.”

Pierre shook his head, smiling at his friend. “Don’t, Josh. I’m sure we’ll love it.” He thumbed open the folds on the wrapping paper, setting it aside before pulling off the top of the box. He fell silent.

Laurel peeked over, trying to catch a glimpse of the box’s contents. “What is it, P?”

Instead of answering, Pierre just held the box upside-down. Condoms of all colors and sizes rained down onto the hardwood floor as Pierre stared at Josh, clearly trying very hard not to laugh. The side of his mouth twitched. “Interesting choice of gift, you don’t think?” he asked.

Josh shrugged helplessly, his cheeks red. “It’s practical?”

November 28 (sun)

Laurel caught every Blue Jackets game she could on the TV, even the ones in early November when Pierre was out for a few games with a mild concussion. She was his wife, but she was also a nurse, and made sure to get daily updates on his condition, restraining herself from FaceTiming him to help limit his amount of daily screen time. But he had been back for a few weeks, making second star of the night with a goal and an assist, so naturally he was pulled away for a few postgame interviews.

Laurel watched the screen, trying not to get distracted by the sweat drenching his Underarmour. Reporters, the good ones at least, were usually considerate with steering clear of asking personal questions, but sometimes an injury, or the birth of a child, or, as luck would have it, a wedding, begged an answer. “So, Pierre, I think a lot of us were surprised to see you announce on Instagram that you had gotten married this summer. Congratulations, by the way,” the journalist from the Dispatch said.

“Thanks,” Pierre replied, smiling.

“And I hope I speak for everyone here when saying that we entirely respect you and your wife’s decision to keep things quiet and announce it in a much more subdued fashion than usual. Players often speak a lot about how integral support from family and friends is, and just how important it is to have that kind of a support system in place.” Pierre could see where the question was going. “Obviously you’ve got the boys down here, but it doesn’t look like your wife Laurel is based in Columbus like you are. Is there a reason for that, and do you think that’s affected your game?”

Pierre sucked in a breath; it was a fair question, and a reasonable assumption to make, but that didn’t mean he liked answering it any more. But it was almost suspicious how quickly he had an answer. “Uh, yeah, it’s been interesting for us to have to navigate. You’re right, Laurel’s back in Montréal, she spends most of her time at our place in the city. She’s a nurse in the intensive care unit of CHU Saint-Justine, so she does pediatrics there. She loves what she does, and she’s so good at it, and it just wouldn’t be right of me to ever ask or expect her to leave on my account. I know we’ve got a great hospital at Nationwide Children’s, but she loves where she is. We both do. So yeah, it’s rough being away sometimes, but luckily she’s able to move shifts around and make it down twice a month or so when we’re not on the road. But we keep in contact daily, obviously, and I’m able to lean on the guys, especially the other married ones, on how to deal with the stress of being away for so long. But it’s rough. I miss my wife,” Pierre finished.

Laurel clicked the remote, turning the TV off, her hand scratching behind Piper’s ears, and tried not to replay his words in her mind as she crawled into bed and fell asleep.

December 18 (sat)

Laurel stumbled through the door of Pierre’s Columbus apartment, laughing breathlessly as she tried to lock the deadbolt. “You need some help there, L?” Pierre asked, raising one eyebrow.

“I’m good,” Laurel said, taking two more tries before it would actually lock. The eggnog from the Christmas party was starting to take its toll; Pierre had agreed to be the pair’s designated driver for the night, so she had had maybe a glass too many. The night had genuinely been so much fun, Laurel had initially been worried at how well she might fit in with the group in a more casual situation. As much as she loved being able to hang out with the team and the other WAGs when she was in Ohio — and she did — she couldn’t help but be nervous that she didn’t have the same level of camaraderie that could help turn a night from good to great. Laurel couldn’t have been happier to be wrong. She was embraced from the moment she walked in the door, a glass of wine pushed into her hand and her Secret Santa gift deposited on the entryway table.

Laurel used to always roll her eyes at the idea that “time flies when you’re having fun,” but that couldn’t have been more true for the party. It seemed like only minutes had passed, but suddenly it was almost midnight, and the couples with kids had to head home to relieve the babysitters, and Laurel and Pierre were headed home.

“Let’s get some water in you, no?” Pierre murmured, walking to the kitchen and opening the cupboard.

“Thanks,” Laurel said softly as she took the glass from him, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under her on the couch.

Pierre perched on the arm, absentmindedly playing with his watch. But while a tipsy Pierre was an oversharer, a tipsy Laurel was always emotional in one fashion or another. “How’d you like the party?”

“It was great,” Laurel said. “I’m not sure why Alexandre thought I’d be into a Blue Jackets scarf, but I guess it’s the thought that counts?” She pulled the offending object out of her bag, running her fingers through the fringe on the edge. “Seeing how amazing so many of those couples are, Janelle and Nick especially, it was awesome…” She trailed off. “But it was hard.”

His brow furrowed. Why would it be hard? “How so?”

“I always thought that, when I got married, it would be once and that was it.” She screwed her eyes shut. “And that’s not to mean I’m not grateful for what you’ve done, it’s so incredible and goes so far beyond just plain kindness. I just thought it would be a forever thing.”

Pierre’s heart dropped. Of course she’d feel like that. If marriage was something she wanted to take that seriously, how could she not feel like she was cheapening its meaning by treating it as nothing more than an arrangement of convenience? It wasn’t even like he felt any differently; hockey was obviously still his first priority most of the time, but he’d always seen himself as someone who wanted to settle down and have a family one day. He guessed that he just hadn’t let himself think about it. “Laurel,” he said quietly, reaching out to her. But she wasn’t done.

“It’s just,” Laurel sighed, one hand tugging on her hair, tears threatening to escape her eyes, “knowing this is all temporary. Knowing that in a couple of y-years, when I g-get my citizenship and we get d-divorced, this is all going to end,” she said, hiccuping through her words. “I won’t be able to come to your Christmas parties and fly down for games and sit up in the WAG box with my friends and that jacket and a jersey with your name on it. I won’t be able to do any of that any more because it wasn’t real, it wasn’t ever real, and that fucking kills me inside, P.” Laurel sat on the corner of the couch, a spot as precarious as the words tumbling out of her mouth.

“Why?” Pierre asked, even though if he was honest, he’d stake his career on the belief that he already knew the answer. “Why would it hurt so bad?” His voice was so quiet that if Laurel hadn’t been sitting two feet away, she wouldn’t have heard.

“Because I’m fucking in love with you,” she whispered. “And that’s the single most terrifying sentence I’ve ever said in my life.” Even though Pierre somehow knew that’s what she was going to say all along, it didn’t stop her words from stealing the breath out of his lungs. Laurel looked up at him through her tears, her eyes beginning to redden. “Say something, please, P.”

Pierre knelt in front of her, his thumb resting gently on her cheek, wiping away her tears. “God, Laur, how could I not be in love with you?” She blinked rapidly at him, trying to process the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. You’re so caring, not just for me, but for everyone in your life. You’d give a stranger the shirt off of your back. You’re probably the smartest person I know, way smarter than me.” A giggle escaped Laurel’s mouth. “The dedication you show to everything in your life is amazing. At your job, you treat every patient like they were your own sibling or your own child. You make the trip down to Columbus once a month, twice a month. That’s not easy, all the flight time and having to leave Piper and switching shifts around so we can see each other. You’re gorgeous, not just on the outside — though you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen — but the light in your eyes when you talk about a new book you read, or how happy you look when you let me taste a new recipe you’re trying, or how passionate you get when you see something wrong and know there’s something you need to do to change it. So what if we’re doing things a little backwards? First comes marriage, then comes love.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I fell in love with you awhile ago. I think it just took me a second to realize it.”

January 26 (wed)

Laurel thought the distance and space between them would be easier now that she knew how he felt, now that they both knew how they felt. She couldn’t have been more wrong. So the All-Star break, and the Blue Jackets’ bye week, couldn’t have come at a better time. Pierre had made plans for the break a few months earlier, but after everything that happened over Christmas, it didn’t seem right to ditch Laurel for a boy’s trip with Alexandre and Seth. So Hilton Head was traded in for Saint Lucia, and his teammates were traded in for his wife. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Laurel was using three of her paid vacation days and Pierre was able to make the schedule work just right to get five nights in the Carribean. “A belated honeymoon, if you will,” he had said, cracking a grin over FaceTime as they booked the flights. The flight from Columbus was much less straightforward than hers from Montréal, but by a chance airline scheduling his first layover was in Toronto. Laurel met him at the gate, hauling her own green suitcase behind her as he flung his arms around her, kissing her with everything he had in him. They may have missed the not-so-subtle fans taking pictures that later circulated around Twitter that may or may not have led to some grade A chirping in the team’s group chat. But Pierre didn’t care. He cared that for a few days, he could forget about the stress of hockey and trying to make a playoff run and all the rumors floating around and just be with his wife. And, Pierre thought as they walked through the airport door into the Carribean sun, there really wasn’t anything else he wanted.

They hailed a taxi, the twenty minute drive to their resort rushing by in a blur of palm trees and seas so blue Laurel thought she could fall into them just by looking. Pierre jogged into the main office to check them in, coming back with their key cards before the taxi continued on its way, dropping them off in front of their villa. Laurel spun slowly as they got out of the car, smiling up at the sky as Pierre pressed a few bills into the taxi driver’s hand with a nod of thanks. “You okay there?” he asked with a grin.

“It’s so warm,” Laurel said in wonderment. Even in January, the weather in Saint Lucia hovered in the mid-70s, a far cry from the twenties and teens of a Montréal winter. Laurel was no stranger to the cold — Cloquet had seen temperatures pushing thirty below when Laurel was in high school — but the idea that she could be somewhere and wear shorts while it was snowing in her hometown was a concept so novel she hadn’t quite grasped it yet.

He nodded, looking at Laurel with a gaze so soft she thought her heart would maybe burst. “We’re in the Caribbean, L. It’s warm all the time.”

She rolled her eyes, bending over to get her suitcase, but not before Pierre snatched it up himself, holding the key card between two fingers. “Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to check out our honeymoon suite?” Laurel’s words dripped with suggestiveness, her sandal-clad feet dragging their way up the path to the villa with tantalizing languor.

“Coming.”

Even after the six months of their marriage, and even after everything that happened over the holidays, they hadn’t had sex. They’d gotten close a few times, both on her trip in December and in ones since, but never managed to go all the way. First Laurel needed a new birth control prescription — the last thing she would do would be have sex without being extra safe about it — and then she was too tired after a night out, and another time Pierre had scored a hat trick and they had partied way too hard to even think about sex. So needless to say, it had been a while for Laurel since she’d gotten release by any hands other than her own, and even longer for Pierre. And it certainly wasn’t because she didn’t want to. Laurel was well aware that her husband was hot as fuck, and she’d be lying if some of her lonelier nights weren’t filled with thoughts of exactly what she wanted him to do to her. But it felt different than any of her other relationships. Obviously, it felt different, she hadn’t been married to Oliver or Ryan or Carter. And that didn’t mean she wasn’t invested in those, but just that the stakes were so much higher and she had fallen so much harder for Pierre than she ever thought imaginable. She didn’t want to have sex with him until she was sure. Sure that it was going somewhere, sure that it would last, sure that he loved her in the same way that made her heart ache every time he dropped her off at Columbus International Airport.

---

By the time they had unpacked, eaten, and gotten a few rum punches in their system, it was well past 7 and the sun had long since set. Laurel peeked out the door onto their balcony, nodding at the private plunge pool. “We’ve got quite the setup here.”

She walked over to the dresser, grabbing a swimsuit out and crossing over to the bathroom, her hand hovering over the knob. “Just something to think about.” Pierre put his swim trunks on in record time. Laurel padded out of the bathroom, the top straps of her bikini dangling, the swell of her breasts peeking above the cups. “Do me up?” she asked.

Pierre’s fingers brushed the baby hairs at the base of her neck as he tied the straps of her white-hot bikini. “Sure you don’t want to go out to the beach?”

Their villa came with a stretch of beachfront, and it seemed like such a shame to let it go to waste. Laurel shook her head, a smile playing on the edge of her lips. “We’ve got a couple of days to enjoy the beach. I’d like to stay somewhere a little more...secluded.” She bit her lip as she opened the door to the balcony, dipping her toes in the pool and sighing at the warmth of the water. Laurel looked back at Pierre, one eyebrow raised. “You coming?” Pierre couldn’t follow fast enough.

They stayed in the water for a while, lazily kissing and staring at the stars and sipping drinks that had lost their potency hours ago, but neither of them really cared much. Sometime during the night, Laurel had made her way onto Pierre’s lap, where she reached over to the balcony, lofting herself out of the pool and wrapping a scarf around her body. “Getting a little cold,” she said, bending down and giving him a soft kisss. She walked into the room, drying herself off; he followed. Laurel threw the towel over a chair in the corner of the room, walking over towards Pierre, stopping when their noses were almost touching.

Laurel’s wrap fell from her shoulders, pooling on the wood floor. Pierre’s hand skated up her arm to rest on her cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She stood on her tiptoes as her left hand tangled in his hair, her right pressed against the back of his neck. She whimpered into his mouth; it took everything in Pierre’s power to keep the blood from rushing south. The kiss got more frantic, tongue and teeth clashing against each other as he walked her back to the bed. The back of her knees bumped up against the edge.

Pierre pulled away slightly, letting out a moan as he saw Laurel’s face. Her lips were puffy from kissing, her chest heaving with the force of her breath, and her wild hair had long since been taken out of its ponytail. In other words, Pierre was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurel, in that moment, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “You sure you want to do this?” Pierre murmured. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But he’d never do anything without making sure that she was absolutely comfortable. Laurel nodded, biting her lip. “I need to hear you say it, babe,” Pierre said, taking a step forward, their noses almost touching.

“I want you to ruin me.”

Pierre audibly groaned, capturing her lips in his before throwing her back on the bed, his hand moving to her back to undo the tie of her bikini top as his lips trailed down her neck. He threw the top off to one side, paying exactly zero attention to where it landed, as his hands slid up her waist to cup her breasts, his thumbs ghosting over her sensitive nipples. Laurel’s breath hitched in her throat. “You like that, baby?”

“Mhm,” Laurel whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence.

He smirked, lowering his mouth to her chest, flicking his tongue over her right nipple as his hand pinched her left. The air was filled with breathless sighs from them both until Pierre’s hands left her breasts. Laurel whined in protest until she felt his fingers toying with her bikini bottoms, his head lifting just enough so that his eyes could meet hers. “This okay?”

It was all Laurel could do to choke out a single word. “Please.”

Pierre pulled them down her legs, kissing down, down to her hips, down to her inner thighs, down to everywhere except for where she needed him. “You need something, Laurel?” Pierre asked, his voice dripping with sex.

Laurel groaned, not wanting to give in but also knowing that Pierre could stay where he was for hours if it meant teasing her. “Your mouth.”

“As you wish.” And then his tongue was on her, and in her, and she couldn’t help but let out a moan. And Pierre was loving every second of it. He stayed down there for a while, long enough to finish her twice.

Laurel pushed on his shoulder, trying to get him to turn on his back so she could return the favor. Pierre shook his head as he shucked his shorts off, pulling her head down to kiss her roughly. “I’m going to cum right here if I don’t get inside you in the next two minutes, babe.” He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom. “Guess I’ll have to thank Josh for these when we get back home.”

She raised one eyebrow, clearly unamused. “If you do that, I can promise you I’ll never put your dick in my mouth. Not now, not ever.”

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, the foil packet shining between two fingers. “Alright, alright. I won’t.” He paused just before bringing the wrapper up to his teeth. “You want this?”

Laurel nodded frantically as he rolled the condom down his length. He looked so hard it was painful. “So bad.” He leaned down to kiss her, propped up on one arm as he pushed into her, hair falling into his face as he closed his eyes. He was too blissed out to be able to focus on anything other than how good she felt around him, how tight and warm and how well she fit, like Laurel Elizabeth Klerken was made for him and him alone.

“More,” Laurel cried softly, and that was all it took for Pierre to grab one of her legs, throwing it around his hips as he increased his pace, head dropping to her neck as he nipped at her pulse points. It didn’t take long for Pierre to reach his high, Laurel right behind him. He pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead before getting up from the bed, going into the bathroom to tie off the condom and grab a washcloth. He cleaned up between her legs as Laurel lay there, trying to steady her breathing, absolutely spent from the night’s three orgasms. “Why didn’t we do that earlier?” Laurel murmured.

Pierre laughed, throwing the cloth in the laundry basket and tilting down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I don’t know. But it was worth it.”

February 20 (mon)

Laurel had learned early on in her relationship with Pierre that she couldn’t put much stock into what was said on Twitter. Or Instagram, or any social media for that matter. So much was speculation: about draft picks, about trade rumors, about Pierre-Luc Dubois’ secret wife, that it just wasn’t useful or healthy for her so spend much time looking around. She still had her accounts, but Instagram was the only one she went on with any regularity nowadays. And she rarely checked her phone during the work day anyways; unless it was an unusually slow day — which was never a good sign in the medical world — the only time she was even able to spare a glance was during her lunch break or when she’d run to the bathroom. So when her phone buzzed with a text from Pierre as she sat at the nurses’ station, her brow furrowed as she unlocked the screen.

Are you free right now? I need to call you.

Laurel bit her lip, nerves threatening to boil over. He knew her schedule, he knew she was at work. What could be so important that it couldn’t wait? Are you okay? Did something happen?

He typed a response as soon as her text showed as delivered. I’m not hurt, it’s not bad, really, I just need to tell you something and I don’t want to have to do it over text.

Laurel checked her watch. 11:18. It was early for a lunch break, but as long as she wasn’t needed, she could take her half hour any time between 11 and 1. She caught the eye of her charge nurse. “Claudette? I’m taking my lunch if that’s alright with you.” Claudette nodded, and Laurel quickly made her way to the locker room to grab her leftover pasta, texting Pierre on the way. Headed to the changing room now. Are you going to tell me what this is about?

Her phone rang a minute later, when she had just closed the door. She tapped the green button. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on here, P, because I’m kind of freaking out,” Laurel said, laughing nervously. “You don’t tell a girl what to expect, she starts assuming the worst.”

Pierre let out a heavy breath. She could imagine him running a hand through his hair on the other end. “I know, and I’m sorry if I worried you. I just needed to tell you before it breaks.”

“Before what breaks, Pierre?” Laurel’s anxiety was coming to a head.

“I’m coming home.”

Laurel screwed her eyes shut, even more confused than she was before. “Yeah, Pierre, I know you’re playing here next week. Why would that be news?”

“When’s the trade deadline, Laurel?”

“Last Monday in February, but I don’t see what that has…” She pulled the phone away from her ear, looking down at the screen, eyes locking on the date. “You got traded?”

She could imagine him sitting down on the edge of his couch, one hand dangling off the side, Georgia trying to jump up and goad him into giving her a pet or two. “They’re breaking it right before the noon deadline, but you deserved to know before everyone else did. You needed to know.”

Laurel leaned up against her locker, hand over her mouth. “You’re coming to Montréal?” She had seen it mentioned offhand on a few Twitter accounts she followed the handful of times she had logged on in the past week, but nobody thought it would actually happen. Even the concept of trading him seemed so far-fetched with the type of season he was having in Columbus. He was sitting near 30 goals and 40 assists, with one of the best plus-minus scores on the team. It just didn’t make sense.

“As of twenty minutes ago, I’m officially a Montréal Canadien,” Pierre answered.

“Oh God,” Laurel said, sympathy lacing her voice. She couldn’t let herself be excited, wouldn’t let herself be excited, until she knew exactly how Pierre felt about it. He had just been uprooted from the team that drafted him, where he’d played for four seasons and made friends and where everyone saw him as the future of the franchise.

Pierre let out a single laugh. “They let me know what the deal was, apparently Montréal really wanted me. First round pick next year, a second-year defenseman, some prospect from Laval.”

Laurel settled on the bench, tucking the phone under her chin. “Of course they really wanted you, P. You’re an incredible player, you’d be an asset to any team and you’re going to do great things in Montréal.” She paused. “But how are you feeling about the move? I know it’s not what you were expecting. Or what anyone was expecting, really.”

“It’s weird,” Pierre said after a moment. “Obviously yeah, I won’t lie, it’s a shock. But almost every player, even the really good ones, get traded at one point or another. Gretzky was traded to L.A.”

“Are you comparing yourself to Gretzky?” Laurel asked playfully.

“No,” Pierre chuckled. “But just trying to remind myself that it was almost inevitable. I’m allowed to be sad about it — and I am, it’s going to fucking suck leaving the boys — but I’m not as torn up as I thought I’d be if this ever happened.” He felt more than a little bad about it, but his first thought when his agent called and broke the news wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t despair at having to leave the team he had been brought up in and the men he considered his brothers. It was relief. Relief that he could be closer to his family, relief that he’d be back with Laurel, relief that he was going home. “And hey,” he said, catching Laurel’s attention. “You know what?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “What?”

“I don’t even have to marry someone to move.”

---

Pierre’s flight got in late Tuesday night, just after Laurel’s shift at the hospital had ended. He had said he wouldn’t mind taking an Uber home so she didn’t have to rush over and stress about traffic, but Laurel didn’t care. She wanted to be at the airport to pick up her husband, even if it meant she’d still be in her scrubs doing it.

She saw him exiting the sliding doors of the international terminal before she even turned the corner, practically slamming her car into park as soon as she hit the curb. Pierre dropped his bags when her car door opened, paying no attention to the thump of the suitcases as they hit the ground or the wandering eyes of passersby. Airports hadn’t always been his favorite place. They meant leaving the people he loved, going away from what was warm and familiar and safe. They usually meant uncertainty. But that had changed, Pierre thought, as his wife jumped into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as their lips met. Airports might just have become one of his favorite places. He pulled back from the kiss, their foreheads just barely touching. “Hi,” he said.

Laurel smiled, the kind of smile that lit up rooms and made crying babies giggle and that Pierre was pretty sure was his favorite thing he’d ever seen in the world. “Welcome home.”

#hockey imagine #pierre luc dubois #hockey smut #hockey imagines #hockey writing #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #nhl #Pierre-Luc Dubois #pierre-luc dubois imagine #columbus blue jackets

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aciid-eater · 5 years ago

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"Save me, Love me" Mirio Togata x reader part4

Summary: When a young girl is in need of saving from the clutches of villains, a hero falls in love with someone who wants to get her the help she needs.

Warnings: Blood, Angst, fluff

_________________

Y/n woke up in a cold empty room. The walls were beige, the bed angel white. The wall next to her bed was a window that peered onto the city streets, several floors down. All the cars and people looked like little toys in her sight. The wall parallel to it had a mirror, in which y/n assumed was a one way window. So they could see her, but she couldn't see them. She didn't dare look into it, not wanting to see her gross features or the scars on her body.

She looked down, she was wearing a pure white hospital gown. Looking under it, she realized all her wounds were healed, but her body was stiff and sore. And she smelled... clean. There was an iv stand next to her bed, but she wasn't plugged up to it. And next to that was a small table with a notepad on it, the notepad said 'UA infirmary'. Across the room there was an open door, which was a bathroom from what she could tell.

The longing summer rays filtered through her window like golden thread. Y/n held out her hand and enjoyed the temperature difference, moving her palms as if she could collect it on her fingers and stuff in in the pockets of her gown for later. She sighed a content sigh, she hadn't seen sunlight in a positive circumstance in so long.

Y/n was relived, but not exactly content. She was safe, but where was Eri, and Lemillion, and the green haired boy? she had questions, and as if the universe heard her, the door to her room rattled open. In hobbled in a very old woman, who y/n assumed to be the nurse. The woman noticed y/n awake and smiled wobbling over to the edge of her bed.

"Oh, you're awake, that's good. How are you feeling dear?" She asked, checkling the clip board next to her bed.

"Sore... How long have I been out, ma'am?" Her voice was raspy, having not been used for a while.

"11 full days, quite a long nap, huh?" Y/n's eyes widened, then she yawned.

"Yeah... How is Eri?" She asked.

"Who?"

"Eri, my little sister." Y/n stated.

"Oh, the little girl! Shes perfectly fine, she just hasn't woken up yet." The old woman replied, searching through the pill bottles in her bag.

"Can I go see her?' Y/n asked hopefully. She wanted nothing more than to see with her own eyes that she was okay.

"Im afraid not dear, no one but the doctors are allowed in her room because of how un predictable her quirk is, and you need to rest some more, your internal wounds are still healing." She said, handing y/n two blue pills. Y/n sighed, downing the medication with no water.

"Is there anything else I can get you though? A snack, some crayons, possibly a visitor depending on who it is." She stated, looking at y/n from the doorway.

"Lemillion!" Y/n called out suddenly, then she cleared her throat.

"Lemillion, please. I want to talk to him."

The nurse smiled and nodded, leaving the room.

_________

Only 30 minutes after the school day was over at UA, Mirio was standing infront of door 209 at the school's extensive infirmary. The paper in the folder on the wall read y/n l/n in nice bold letters, 'Y/n L/n, Age:17 Quirk: N/A'. The boy straightened his uniform for the fifthteenth time, and with a quiet exhale, he knocked on the door lightly. The was a little shuffling before he heard a soft 'come in'. He opened the door slowly, trying to fugre out what he wanted to say.

Y/n was leaning against the window/wall, her legs bent gracefully into the bed. She looked so calm, a stark contrast from when he first met her. This was the first time he got a good look at her face in good circumstances. She was beautiful. He froze when her eyes met his. The two were quiet for a moment, just observing each other.

"Lemillion" her voice was still soft from underuse. It was cute, she was cute.

"I want to uh... well firstly I want to thank you." She said softly, moving closer to the edge of the bed and crossing her legs elegantly. Mirio smiled brightly, pulling one of the folding chairs from behind the door and sitting a cross from her. He propped his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, throwing his head to the side playfully.

"I'm a Hero, that's what I do." He smiled. His smile was so pure. How could he smile so happily after what happened, after what she caused? She tried to smile back, but she just couldn't. She didn't understand. Mirio noticed the subtle shift in her expression, the way her eyebrows furrowed and her eye glossed ever so slightly. Without thinking, she reached out and pulled one of his hands away from his face. Placing her nimble fingers around his arm, she ran her thumb over the inside of his wrist. There was a little scar there, she remembered it because she gave it to him.

"I did this, didn't I?" She asked, trying to keep the tears out of her voice.

"Yeah b-but no worries you know!" Mirio smiled again, hoping to make her feel better better, but the sight only made a few rough tears slip down her cheeks.

"L/n I-"

"No, I'm sorry, Lemillion really. I am not the one who should be crying right now" She mumbled, leaning back to wipe her tears.

"I-I actually wanted to apologize...formally. I never should have-" Y/n was cut off by a large hand wiping the dripping tears from her cheeks, Mirio drgagged his chair closer to her, brining his hands up to cup either sides of her face.

"Please stop apologizing." he chuchkled, running his tumbs over her cheeks.

"I did what I did because I wanted to. You asked me not to leave you and I promised myself I wouldn't. I dont regret a single thing." He said softly.

"But I- you have to-" Y/n's eyes welled with tears, her voice cracking softly. Mirio pulled her to his chest, letting her cry into the shirt of his uniform.

"None of this is your fault, l/n," He mumbled, rubbing his hand over her back comfortingly. And they stayed like that until y/n's cries were nothing but small hiccups. Mirio smiled as y/n yawned against his chest.

"The important part is that you and Eri are safe." He stated, lifting the girl effortlessly and placing her back in the middle of the bed.

"Now get some rest, okay? You cant heal if youre always worrying." He chuckled.

"How about I talk to principle Nezu about letting me take you on a tour of the school tomorrow?" He asked. Y/n snuggled into her bed further, letting out a low 'sounds nice'. It made his heart swell, how peaceful she looked. Mirio flipped the light switch, opening the door to leave her room.

"Thank you Lemillion." Y/n mumbled.

"Call me Mirio, Mirio Togata."

"Then you can call me y/n."

#bnha x reader #mirio togata x reader #mirio x reader #mirio #bnha #mha #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia

112 notes · View notes

jungxk · 6 years ago

Text

just one (vi)

notes: the only guy on campus who’s track record trumped that of your best friend’s - park jimin - was jeon jungkook. not that that was a problem…until he set his sights on you.

warnings: smut (f recieving), protected sex

genre: drama, romance, humour, college!au

wordcount: 5.3k

part i // part ii // part iii // part iv // part v // part vi // part vii // part viii // part ix // part x

you watch sadly as you tip your case of empty paint tubes into the bin. they were your absolute favourite, a birthday gift from jimin almost two years ago. you had been so careful and stingy with them all this time to preserve as much as possible - at least to get you to the end of the semester - so it was disheartening to have to finally throw them out. oils were always your favourite. still, there wasn't much time for moping; if you were to get your next piece finished by the deadline you better start now because of the drying period between layers of watercolour.

"maybe jungkook has a hairdryer..." you mumble to yourself before padding over to his room. he's sitting at his tiny little work desk with his back to you when you peek over his shoulder. "kook, do you have a hairdryer?"

he points without removing his eyes from the screen. "the bottom drawer over there."

"thanks," you do a double take as you pass him with the appliance in tow, his eyes a little bloodshot and face twisted into what looks like terror. usually you couldn't so much as clean a paintbrush without jungkook all over you while you were at his place, but he barely spoke the whole afternoon. you take a tentative step towards him, because if he was anything like jimin when he's stressed he might get rabid. "you alright?"

"i dunno, am i?" he collapses back into the chair, threading his fingers through his hair which was getting wonderfully long. but the only thing you can pay attention to now are his panicked eyes and jittery knees. "i don't know what the fuck any of these numbers mean! why do i even need this for photography-"

"what is it?" you smooth your hand over his back, muscles stiff.

he deflates under your touch. "i agreed to peers taking questionnaires about my portfolio so far and i fucking regret it, noona. this stats software looks nothing like minecraft. i dont know what this all means. my prof said it'd help with cohesiveness - whatever that means - but he's off on one if he thinks this has done anything other than confuse me and ruin my life."

you try your best to hold back a smile, but jungkook is so cute when he's pouty and frustrated. "okay, well what are your variables?"

"my what? baby, i'm not in the mood right now-"

"no you dipshit, like," you gesture with your hands. "what are the things you're measuring? in the questionnaire?"

jungkook stares at you blankly. "i'm...what?"

you roll your eyes, grabbing the back of his chair to swivel him and plop onto his lap. "let me see."

jungkook has no idea what's going on, both because he doesn't know what you're talking about and also because you're covering the screen so he's spared of having to follow your clicking and tinkering. all he knows is that you fit nicely on his lap and that your bare thighs are warm on his, and it's much easier to focus on that anyway. especially since you aren't wearing underwear. after a few minutes he hooks his chin over your shoulder to at least try to keep up. "what are you doing, noona?"

"just cleaning up your dataset," you mumble. you finally perk up after a few more minutes. "oh, okay! so all you want to know is if the people who like the first half of your portfolio like the second half just as much, and whether that opinion affects the other? like a correlation, right?"

he sits up excitedly. "yeah! yeah, that's it," he stares at your profile in disbelief while you waste no time in running the analyses. "how do you know about this stuff, noona?"

"i did stats in my science major. the software i had back then, now that was a real pain in the ass. but this one isn't so bad," you reply absently while jungkook keeps staring at you like you're an angel that descended from the heavens especially for him. he has yet to believe otherwise. "hmm, you know i think you can skip all the sample level descriptives and cronbach's alpha scores and go straight to pearson's r if all you're looking for is a correlation. what would you prefer?"

he breathes in your hair; coconut, jasmine. his cologne. "you’re so sexy when i don’t understand what you’re saying."

jimin's face twists when he tests the contents of the pan. "can you tell me why this tastes like tae's dirty socks?"

“can you tell me why you know what tae’s dirty socks taste like?” you lean over the counter, swiping a finger over the ladle before bringing it to your mouth. you always used to cook for your family when you were younger, and although you had gone off it after what happened, you didn't mind when it was with jimin. with him, you didn't think about the memories of cutting onions with your father or grinding chillies with your mother and sister. it all felt new again, something that was never tarnished. which is why jimin is the only one you can stand to cook with even if he's unable to make anything but mojitos and a single pasta dish. "not enough garlic."

he squints at his phone while you manoeuvre him out of your way. "but it says two cloves in the recipe?"

"it's never two cloves," you take the knife and start to crush and peel more. "always start with four, maybe five."

"can't we just order takeout?" jimin pouts pathetically. he just washed his hair so its still damp, cheeks a rosy from the bathroom steam. you only wish his long line of hookups could see their ladies man now, bundled up in a powerpuff girls sweater that he stole from you months ago.

"no," you pluck his phone from his hand before he can dial, replacing it with more cloves for him to peel. "you've been having takeout all week! all that oil can't be good for you, what's the point of sweating your tits off in that gym if you're just gonna eat shit?"

"i don't always eat shit!"

"jimin. we share a just eat email account. i know the chinese place isn't sending me customer loyalty codes," he rounds the stool where you're sat in the small place between your back and the wall, his palm skirting behind your waist to move you gently aside. "just let me see you eat a vegetable today, i'm begging. so if you keel over tomorrow from IBS i'll feel less guilty."

"alright alright," he huffs, rubbing at his puffy eyes with his sleeve before picking up the knife again. "i don't see what the big deal is, if i was breaking out then that'd be another issue but my body can clearly handle it. maybe it's like that episode of drake and josh where his body becomes accustomed to all the junk food he eats and-"

"please don't use drake and josh as a marker for your health."

"fine," and then without missing a beat, "but what about kenan and kel? all that orange soda and kel was totally fine. healthy even."

"physically, maybe. but did you see the screw in the tuna episode? don't tell me he didn't have inner demons that may or may not have been increased by an overly processed diet," you pause. "wait, am i the kenan in this friendship?"

"depends. i want to say you're the brains but i've also seen you try to open a can with a fork, so."

"hey! that wasn't my fault!" you exclaim, but jimin ignores you purposely. "taehyung told me you fucked yeri in the kitchen, how was i supposed to know what was and wasn't contaminated?"

"___, the fork was plastic."

"well what else would you have me do, starve?"

"what is this, the fucking famine? you said it yourself, we share a just eat email so the smart thing to do would be order. besides i dunno what makes you think i'd fuck a girl with a can opener in my vicinity anyway-"

"um, you're you," you chastise. "so i rest my case."

"then i'm definitely kenan," jimin laughs when you swat at him before your phone vibrates, one after another until it almost falls off the kitchen counter if you didn't grab it in time. you don't dare to unlock your phone when you see the contact name on the screen, too hyper-aware of jimin eyeing you over the chopping board. even he sees the gist of the messages jungkook sent you.

[jungkook 7:13pm] u left ur shirt here again noona

[jungkook 7:13pm] at this rate ur never gonna get it back are u :)

[jungkook 7:14pm] i'm free all day tomorrow

[jungkook 7:16pm] wanna come over?

[jungkook 7:16pm] i still haven't washed it btw so

[jungkook 7:17pm] we can do laundry together :))

[jungkook 7:18pm] or maybe later tonight ? i can pick u up ?

you don't even get a good read of the messages - all those smiley faces gave you enough of an idea. it wasn't a surprise or anything, but you still switch your phone to do not disturb and leave it face down on the counter like you have something to hide. which you don't. so why did it feel so wrong? so disrespectful, here in jimin's kitchen? you gnaw at your cheek.

jimin has his back to you so thankfully you're spared of having to gage his expression. he's probably sent a million thirsty texts so he knows what they look like, knows that he shouldn't be surprised. still, he shifts from foot to foot uneasily. the only thing that makes him stop is you leaning wordlessly over him to lower the stove to a simmer, turning the tap on to wash some rice and hum quietly. here was jeon jungkook, arguably the biggest stud on campus blowing up your phone on a friday night but nothing felt different. you'd always choose him and jimin knew that.

"what do you think of egg fried rice?" you ask over your shoulder. "i haven't made it in ages. the one with the veggies?"

jimin smiles. "i love that one,"

"he's not back yet?" you ask when yoongi lets you into the flat, shoulders deflating childishly. he gives you a lazy shake of his head before nudging you to the sofa to take up your usual spot on the matted cushion in the corner, kicking your shoes away and sitting cross legged. yoongi and namjoon's flat was only round the corner from jungkook's, a worn down little two-bed that smelled rather questionable at times, but it quickly became a familiar place. a safe place. especially because of how often you'd come over while jungkook was running late at class or the gym or photo-hunting. coming to terms with the fact that you were sleeping with jungkook wasn't that hard, but being friends with his friends was.

"it's leg day. you know how jungkookie feels about his chicken calves," yoongi says before flopping down next to you. namjoon was tucked into the other side with a book, effectively squishing you into yoongi with his big shoulders. if jungkook was here he'd pout about having nowhere to sit and the thought only makes you more pleased. "he'd be there until sundown if you weren't waiting for him."

"are you sure you're one to talk about chicken legs?" you reach to tickle yoongi's knees and he barely manages to flinch away in time.

"i love my chicken legs the way they are, thanks. can't say the same for your boyfriend though."

you freeze. "i told you to stop saying that, yoongi. you know he hates the b word. one more slip up and you won't ever see me here again. last time he avoided me for two weeks!"

"never see you again? doubt it. your hair clogged the shower drain yesterday so you pretty much owe rent at this point," yoongi keeps flicking through the channels on the television. "besides, i know what a man with a monkey on his back looks like. kookie just doesn't like being reminded of it because unfortunately for him there's no rehab to quit you."

a rush of blood goes straight to your cheeks. yoongi loves to tease you and you know that, second only to jungkook who actually does get off to it, but you still tap nervously on the carpet with your toes while desperately hoping for namjoon to step into the conversation with a weird conspiracy theory or black hole fact he read on an astronomy blog. anything to dig you out of this metaphorical hole you and jungkook are hellbent on ignoring. yoongi sees the way you curl in on yourself slightly, a sensible and collected flower like you reduced to a fidgety school girl. it's cute.

"hyung," namjoon says with his eyes still glued to his book. "stop winding her up or her face'll explode and then jiminie will come for your throat."

yoongi scoffs. "and? what's that short-ass gonna do, cry on me to death?"

"you're like two inches taller than him."

"two and a half, actually."

"so he really was a crybaby?" you scoot to fold your legs under you. "jungkook told me before but i didn't believe him! i've tried everything but i can never get a reaction out of jimin...i mean, if horny isn't an emotion."

"oh yeah, totally," namjoon puts an arm on the back on the back of the sofa behind you when he looks up. his silver hair brings out the beautifully rich undertone of his skin and it's difficult not to stare, being so close. "if the patriarchy hadn't fucked him up he'd be a real tree hugger, i'm sure of it. but the last time i saw him cry was...hmm..."

"five years ago," yoongi chimes. "when jungkookie got caught."

"ooooh yeah," namjoon nods. "but jimin and jungkook were super close back then. he was so protective of him, waited in the custody office for hours until they finally-"

"wait," you look between them. "caught? what do you mean?"

the boys exchange a glance between them. it's not like you didn't know that yoongi sells weed and often with namjoon's help. in fact, they often told you about their wild stories and close calls. but they had never mentioned jungkook being involved with any of that stuff, and neither had he. you always just assumed that he'd kept his head out of it, being a college student and all but yoongi's shrugging and namjoon's pursed lips tell you otherwise.

"jungkook got charged with possession as a minor," yoongi says. "i mean, seventeen but still. too baby-faced."

"jungkook sold for you?" you repeat, not quite believing your ears. he had always been the better off out of his friends that often did shadier things, but the more you got to know him the more you felt like the jungkook you heard about and the jungkook you knew were two different boys. it really shouldn't have come as a surprise, since he had practically grown up with yoongi, namjoon and jimin. his hyungs were his family and he'd do anything for them, there was really no reason he wouldn't take up their trade.

"oh yeah, almost a year. he was good at it too," namjoon laughs. "our kookie's good at everything if you give him enough chances."

"so what happened?" you press. "does he...does he still sell?"

"are you kidding? we got him out of all that shit the second he stepped out the office," yoongi rubs the back of his neck. "jungkook isn't like us. he's a good kid with a lot of talent and he didn't need to be doing all that you know? we convinced him to go to school instead but even then, jimin made us swear to look out for him because he left earlier than kookie."

"wow, jimin really hasn't changed," you lean back. "in like, taking care of people i mean. so is that when jungkook got into photography? he did talk about getting his first camera when he was like eighteen or something..."

namjoon nods happily in recollection. "yup! we were so proud when jungkook got accepted into university, especially after jimin and hobi. people from our town don't usually pursue higher education-"

"especially with kookie's record," yoongi laughs.

"why?" you blink at him.

"the weed was one thing, but jungkook also got a strike for violence."

namjoon winces. "hyung, he's gonna throw a tantrum if you tell her..."

"i don't care. she's fucking him, she has a right to know," yoongi retorts evenly, dark eyes swivelling to meet yours. his light hair is matted from under his beanie, barely missing his lashes. "a few years ago jungkook beat a guy so bad he had to go into emergency. it was pretty gross. broken nose, missing teeth, you name it. he's been on thin ice since but he doesn't act like it."

you take a second to digest the information. "do you...do you know why?" you waver, unable to keep the horror from your voice. "knocking a guy's teeth out? people don't just do that!"

"kookie did," namjoon sighs.

"but why? it's so...i just can't imagine jungkook doing something like that..."

"something like what?"

your head snaps to the doorway where jungkook can be seen only partially when he bends over to unlace his shoes, namjoon and yoongi simultaneously pinching your legs to wipe the wide-eyed look off your face. it was one of the many times when wearing your heart on your sleeve did not do you any favours. you just about manage to look normal enough within the half a second it takes for jungkook to come in, hair mussed from his post-gym shower and tee wrinkled from being stuffed into the bottom of his bag. his eyes look extra big today, nose and knuckles blushed pink from all the lifting. he couldn't look farther from the violent offender yoongi and namjoon described. in fact, the sudden urge to kiss him hello was near suffocating.

"i was telling her about the time you wore hyung's underwear for two weeks," namjoon explains, years of lying paying off with how smoothly he returns to his book.

"what!" yoongi splutters. "are you kidding?! a whole week, jungkook that's disgusting-"

the younger boy winces. "not the same pair!"

"wait. you took more than one?!"

"um..."

"how many. tell me right now you little shit."

"i promise they were clean!" jungkook says defensively, but his buck teeth show in a defensive little grin. it's impossible to be mad at him. "my washing machine broke, remember? and i never have change so i didn't go to the laundrette's and-"

"which ones?" yoongi's voice becomes obnoxiously loud with dismay. "tell me right now so can go upstairs and burn them. jesus jungkook you could have at least asked me, now i have to live with the knowledge that your bollocks is acquainted with mine until i die-"

"hyung they were clean," jungkook insists. "and if i asked i knew you wouldn't have let me borrow them!"

"yeah because it's gross! why didn't you just take joonie's?"

"i did. but he caught me and told me to take yours instead."

you just about manage to insert yourself between yoongi before he can grab a fistful of namjoon's hair while jungkook throws back his head in a loud cackle.

[jimin 7:58pm] you dont mind do u?

it's hard not to roll your eyes at his message, momentarily leaving your phone on the bed while you unclasp your bra. it wasn't the first time jimin had bailed on you last minute because of some girl he'd picked up for longer than expected. you're just thankful that this time he had the courtesy to tell you before you got to his house and burst into his bedroom without knocking only to see areas of your best friend you really did not need to see. even though you shudder at the memories - yes, plural - the sinking feeling of disappointment can't be masked. it's movie night.

[you 8:01pm] yh its fine

[you 8:02pm] but u owe me one i put on a bra for you asshole

[jimin 8:04pm] ofc babe

[jimin 8:04] just skip it next time :)

you snort before locking your phone and throwing it on the bed, padding over the room in your knickers to select some sleeping shorts off the floor. jisoo went home for a family birthday and seulgi had a deadline for monday, so it was safe to say you were alone for the weekend. you were used to being alone but you didn't like it; it was the reason why you'd always trudge to jimin's if the girls weren't home or even yoongi and namjoon's, even if it was just to take a nap on their sofa. you needed the noise, the background bickering. that's why there's only so much paint brush washing and kitchen cleaning you can do before reaching for your phone and messaging jungkook.

or at least that's what you tell yourself when he's in your bed within the hour, head resting on your stomach and his leg thrown over your ankles. you trace along the tattoo on his bicep closest to you, admiring the cohesiveness and line placement while jungkook dozes off, like he often does after sex. he's had a long week so you let him sleep, hair sticking up and mouth open like a toddler, so impossibly cute you can't help combing through his nape. jungkook doesn't often spend the night at yours so this was a rarity, and you had to admit he did look a little out of place in your tiny little room. he was far too big for your bed, one foot already hanging off, clothes and jacket hurled into the corner with only cheap fairy lights to rely on so you don't go tripping over his shoes at the door.

you could draw him like this. jungkook's eyelashes are short and pin-straight, eyebrows angled and distinctive. quick, sharp pencil strokes. he's got the faintest shadow above his top lip from where didn't have time to shave today. you'd use charcoal for his hair, black with a slight wave. a swooping curve for his nose, a more gentle line for his jaw. he looks harmless like this: not at all resembling the boy yoongi described.

"why are you so quiet, noona?" he grumbles into the duvet, eyes still closed. "you should be snoring my ears off by now."

you pout. "i'm too busy wondering how i'm gonna get your river of drool out of my pillow."

he snorts. "throw your sheets in on a fast cycle and voila."

"what fast cycle? i just press every button on the machine until it starts."

he opens his eyes. "you're an animal."

you laugh, tugging on the roots of his hair where your hand is still nestled inside. "how do you know so much about washing machines anyway?"

"my mum worked a lot growing up," jungkook yawns. "hyung did the cooking and i did the laundry."

you freeze. "you have a brother?"

"i swear i told you that," he scoots across your stomach, taking the pillow with him to position it over your hip so he can look at you properly. his eyes look glassy in the lights, lids hooded and hair pushed back. a real dreamboat wrapped in a hello kitty duvet. "two years older, same as jimin."

"no wonder jimin cares about you so much," you keep playing with his hair, watching his eyes droop closed. "he may as well be your brother." jungkook hums in reply, growing more and more drowsy from all the petting. "so...how come your mum worked so much?"

his eyes open to look at you, hesitating. "dad left when we were young. she didn't really have a choice."

"i didn't know that jungkook..." you pause. "that must have been hard."

he rolls to face the ceiling, like he's thinking twice before he answers. "not really. eomma's a badass, there's nothing she can't handle. yeah money and stuff wasn't easy, and it sucked when i was younger and didn't understand why hyung and eomma were so upset after what happened, but it's whatever. the three of us are so good together, you know? i like it like this."

you nod. because you do know. or, did. you wonder now if that's the reason jungkook got involved with yoongi and namjoon in the first place, to help out his family, but even you know some questions are better left unasked. instead, you chip away at jungkook while you can, since you know barely anything about him beyond student life and his friends. who knows when he would be in the mood to open up again. "so what does your brother do?"

"an accountant. for some fancy law firm in the city," he smiles. "hyung is super smart. like you."

you laugh. "you know i didn't finish my first major, right?"

"by choice. not because you weren't capable," he finishes, and to that you have no choice but to shut up. no one had ever put it that way before. "he's super quiet like you too, keeps to himself. gives really good advice. oh my god, and his kimchi pork stew - amazing!" his teeth gleam take up his whole mouth when he smiles, lines creasing around his eyes. "so many times when me and mum would argue, hyung was the reason why we'd stop. guess i got her temper."

you watch him closely. "you argued often?"

"at one point, yeah. not because we didn't like each other or anything, just..." you can see him hesitating again, cheek sucked in from where he chews it while staring up at the ceiling as if the memories are playing back at him on a projector. you keep quiet, let him get there on his own. "mum went through a phase where she dated a lot. felt bad that neither of us had a father figure and all that bullshit. she brought home some real dickheads, some top tier cunts i'm telling you. and i...wasn't exactly nice to them. ever since then i just hate seeing girls be pushed around by assholes, you know? it does something to me, i dunno. here," he lays a hand over his stomach. "i can't just watch. i can't. it's like i'm gonna be sick."

it's hard not to cry listening to him, seeing the lines in his forehead appear along with the crinkle above his nose. it made sense now, what yoongi told you about before. thinking back to the whole escapade with jinyoung in your kitchen, the whole thing hit you differently.

jungkook was exactly the kind of boy your old family would have frowned upon, reckless and thoughtless and emotionally-driven in the face of adversity. absolutely everything you were taught not to be. but you admired him for those very reasons. before you can start crying you sit up, silencing jungkook with a kiss before he can ask you what's wrong. it's firm and deliberate, your hands holding both his cheeks. he's breathless. "you seriously fucking worry me, slick."

"oh?" his eyes stay focused on your lips while he moves to you, positions you underneath him on the foot of the bed, pulling your thighs around his hips so you gasp at the feel of his semi on your soft inner thigh. he dips his head to kiss along your sternum, hand ghosting over your breasts before closing his mouth around your nipple.

"i nev-never know what you're gonna do next," you exhale shakily, arching into him involuntarily at the sensation. jungkook takes the opportunity to rub the pads of his fingers against your cunt, using the remnants of your arousal to help you along. sure enough you accept his fingers greedily, but he takes his time in stretching you out and easing in further, further.

his thumb gently passes over your clit and you shake. "never? not even now?"

you have to forcibly yank his face away from your tits to kiss him, slowly and with passion. his skin grows damp under your hands, muscles rippling under your touch from where he holds himself up on his forearms. he likes feeling the softness of your tummy against his, your thick thighs cushioning him snugly against you. just like always, it's torture having to pull away from you for a brief second to grab a condom, but the familiar chuckle you breathe out to see him speed back into your arms almost makes it worth it. you take the packet from him, about to tear it open before he grabs your hand with a cheeky smile. "in a minute."

before you can question him about it you yelp he tugs you by the hips, sliding up to angle your ass so your knees have no choice but to hook over his shoulders. jungkook's arms wind around the top of your thighs, thick and secure, nails scraping gently through your coarse curls before he pulls your legs apart as wide as they'll go and lowers his mouth onto you. the noise you make is just as embarrassing as always, so loud and uncontrollable, hysterical even. you've gotten used to being jungkook's fourth, fifth and sixth meal of the day but he steals your breath away every time, leaves you squirming and trembling and this instance was no exception. today he was feeling indulgent so he eats you out messily, makes sure he's loud enough for you hear every squelch and slurp. you physically shake when he sucks a gently kiss to your clit, proud of yourself for not screaming. jungkook, however, isn't happy about that and keeps sucking until you do. harder, harder, and then filling you up with his fingers so you have something to clench around when you cum all over him in a rush.

your back is still off the bed when he reaches your eye level again, the family sound of the foil wrapper ripping from the condom packet making you lift your head up to look at him. he's already rolling it down his length when he peer downwards, and even though you only get a glimpse of his blushing head he's sticky and hot with pre-cum. you wiggle in anticipation and jungkook laughs at your cuteness before leaning back down, taking your hands in his for a change. he can see the appeal, interlocking your fingers with his palms against yours and using only his hips as leverage to push into your sopping center, letting you move against him so he's lodged in as deep as he can fit before he starts rocking into you.

your moans are his favourite song, maybe that's why he wants to listen to them all day. he'd like to make you cum again but it's difficult for him once his hips start stuttering uncontrollably, no matter how much he tries to slow his pace. you let go of his hands then to take his face, his eyes closed when he feels you press your smooth lips to his cheekbone; an encouraging kiss. a go on, i want you to kiss. the moan he let's out before giving in is fragile and wispy, nose digging into your neck while he ruts against you to his end. you clench around him harder just to hear jungkook whimper again, pliant and weak in your arms. all of a sudden, out of nowhere you wish you could feel the rush of his cream spilling from you when he pulls out to discard the condom. he nestles back into your breasts afterwards, smelling himself on your skin.

jungkook falls asleep smiling.

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seratlantisite · 5 years ago

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Hmm so we have four-episodes-slash-two-arcs of season three left... sounds like plenty of time for an attempt at the Big Final Heist they’ve been working towards, with room for everything to go wrong but then they rally and are successful, end of story!

but...oh right they are being hunted by dark matters. pretty relentlessly, huh. and oh well there’s that little matter of peter’s debts... that we were pretty solidly reminded of out of nowhere at the end...

oh.

one of these plot lines isn’t getting resolved this season, is it?

and I kind of think it’ll be the curemother heist.

(its long under the cut im so sorry fjdasl)

Dark Matters and Peter’s Debts are so excruciatingly at the forefront that the Big Heist - thats the reason they’ve banded together in the first place - has basically become the damn framing device for the other two,

Tools of Rust was During the heist and Jet happened to be in the right place at the right time, but it was about Jet confronting his past and his approach to healing oh and they ran headfirst into dark matters

Shadows on the Ship happened the night AFTER the heist and was about a) distrust of peter (smartly disguised as vespa reconciling her rampant paranoia with living a dangerous life where she also needs to be paranoid) and b) DARK MATTERS AGAIN

just based on how kevin and sophie pace the plots, how chock-full and focused each ep is, i think we’ll maybe have time for two plot threads if they tie together and one will be the hook for next season.

Peters Debts:

story tropes or something wise, i’d say the last two episodes would be crime family vs dark matters, racing for the cure mother. (or more likely DM waits for the family to get it and then gets THEM bc rita. told them. the entire plan) and then in the last minutes we’d get a mirror of final resting place with peter taking the four targets and running out.

but ‘show constantly throws obstacles for why couple can’t get together yet’ is really tired trope and i kinda don’t feel like kabert would just pull it. plus it would completely reset all juno and peter’s progress bc juno’s had. shit relationships. and this show is all about love doesn’t conquer all you gotta work for the ones you love but that’d be quite the thing to recover from AND they’d need a really strong reason to run after peter, because juno’s been hurt a bunch already and i doubt jet would care and b+v are about to retire so “because i LOVE him!!” doesn’t seem like enough.

maybe if like,,, peter left a “be back soon” note and junos like “daww” but then it cuts to peter being dragged off in chains by Mr. X so season 3 they’re trying to find him again... idk

Dark Matters:

it can’t be the dark matters plot that gets pushed into next season because they are chomping so hard at the carte blanche’s heels that it’s like trying to outrun a freight train. i doubt they’ll solve all of dark matters, but the confrontation is Immanent.

Curemother:

for the Curemother plot to be pushed into next season, we’d need some kind of big complication that will justify another round of story around it. and also sOME KIND OF CLUE AS TO WHO TF MR X IS because kevin gives us clues. we can technically figure every part 2 out ourselves bc the pieces we need are always there! AND THERE’S NO ONE IT COULD BE unless its goddamn mag again but “he secretly survived” would be less of a solve and more of a coin-flip, “do you believe kevin or not for no real reason“,

for this route to be the one they take we need a Lot of elements to be established in buddy’s episode. a lot of name drops of other bad guys who could have been hounding peter for 20 to 8 years. something that tells them they wont be able to get the curemother within the year, so peter panics. or maybe his creditors decide they’re sick of waiting and come collecting.

ive had this personal theory since man in glass, that they’d come collecting in the way of either kidnapping juno or rita to leverage peter and the other would absolutely flip out on him. it’d be good shit, but maybe its why i am biased to this thread getting resolved this season.

but they introduced it in the first episode!! and they slapped us in the face with it in ultra bots!

sigh

another reason i don’t think the curemother will be solved this season is just how unlikely it seems they’ll just find this magic alien panacea, but we’ve been so focused on other aspects of the story that we haven’t had time for the wrench in that plan to appear, beyond m’tendere flat out saying they had no idea what was in their safe that cannot be opened and accessed.

so maybe it won’t be in next season, but i doubt it’ll be “solved” properly. gosh this was long. if you got to this part ily

edit: i forgot that buddy and vespa want to retire after the curemother heist. but i dont think it’ll work out. but vespa absolutely cannot keep doing this. so maybe they’ll retire anyway and pass on the torch and it’ll be sweet bc buddy is choosing her wife over crime

#WOW THIS JUST kinda kept going huh?#Juno Steel meta #the penumbra podcast #penumbra spoilers #says Ser #juno steel season 3

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jacksonroseroth · 5 years ago

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Broken Glass Chapter 4

A/N: So I’ll be honest...I thought my cringe ass song was in this chapter and I refused to post it until my Beta could get her hands on it...Also Covid sucks dick and I’ve been struggling and had no desire or inspiration. SO SORRY IT HAS TAKEN THIS LONG BUT I PROMISE IT’S WORTH IT! <3

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/domestic, mentions of blood, mentions of surgery

Words: 4,333

Moodboard made by me, none of the pictures are mine

Previous Chapter

“Eric.” Harlow sassed, bringing his attention to her.

“Glad to see you haven’t changed, Harley,” Eric said with a smirk. Harlow made a face at him as he looked back to Rose.

“What are you doing here, Eric?” Rose managed to get out. She took a step away from him. Already, she felt his hands on her again; Hitting, punching, slapping. Her stomach twisted into knots, remembering the pain, and her arms and legs went numb. Cradling her injured hand against her chest. Her other hand felt across the table for her glass, in case she needed to defend herself, instead, she found Colson’s hand and gripped it.

Eric glanced at Harlow and snickered. Looking at Rose once more, he said, “You should tell your girl to stay off the internet if you don’t want to be found.”

Tears sprang to Rose’s eyes as she winced. Just his eerie calm voice was as bad as being slapped around as his voice was permanently accompanied by the painful and all too real flashbacks. When he saw her flinch, Colson stood, quickly, putting an arm around her.

“You should fuck off if you don’t want to lose your fucking teeth.” Colson threatened. Eric chuckled. Rook stood at the same time Colson did and switched places with Harlow. Both him and Mod could sense this could end up in a fight and Rook knew, if Colson didn’t throw the first punch, he’d sure as shit throw the second. Rook stood at the end of the table and watched while Mod kept close to Harlow, ready to pull her away.

“What, you’re with this kid now? This skinny little punk?” Eric laughed. “You downgraded real bad, babe.”

“Oh, yeah?!-” Colson pushed forward but Rose pushed back as she said, “Anyone is an upgrade from you, Eric. And it’s really none of your business if I’m with him or anyone else.”

“Oh, honey, you are so delusional.” Eric scoffed.

“Hey. Aaron?” Colson started. Eric’s cold gaze shot up to Colson and narrowed.

“It’s Eric.” He corrected.

“Whatever. She isn’t interested so back off, yeah?” Colson said. Eric merely smirked and chuckled.

“He’s right, Eric. Leave me alone. Go back to Nevada and stay there.” Rose said. Harlow relaxed and reached out to touch Rook’s arm, silently telling him to sit and it was okay. He slid into Harlow’s former seat as Rose turned away from Eric, done with the conversation. Only Eric wasn’t quite there yet.

“Jesus, Rose. Are you off your fucking meds again?” Eric shot. Harlow lunged, trying to reach across the table to throttle him, but Mod was quicker and grabbed her waist to keep her seated. Rook was still alert as well and grabbed Harlow’s arms to push her back as well. Rose froze and Colson looked between them, waiting to see what she would do. Slowly, Rose turned to him, it now her turn for the ice cold glare. Eric smirked and added, “I think you remember what happened last time…”

Harlow pushed the men off her as her focus and concern were now on Rose, who stood cold and silent, staring down her ex. When Eric chuckled again, Rose snapped. Her right hand shot out and connected, hard, with Eric’s cheek and jaw, sending him to the ground. The surrounding patrons gasped and turned to watch the exchange as Rose pushed him onto his back with her foot, then pressed it against his neck.

“Go back. To Nevada. Fucking. Stay there. And leave. Me. Alone.” Rose hissed at him. All four of them were shocked, Harlow especially, and they were stunned into silence. Colson was the first to break when he saw the droplets of blood dripping off her injured hand.

“Shit. Rose, we have to go.” Colson said, gently cupping and lifting her hand up, pulling her away from Eric. At Colson’s touch, Rose hissed and turned, startled by the sudden pain and the blood seeping through the bandage.

“You bust the stitches. Babe, you need to go to the hospital, now.” Harlow said, stepping over Eric as he lay on the ground, holding his face. Rose was in too much shock to do anything other than nod and allow both Harlow and Colson to lead her outside, Mod and Rook following.

Harlow sped toward the hospital with Mod not far behind. Rose gave Harlow the keys and let Colson help her into the back seat, climbing in after her. When they all spilled into the ER, Harlow had worked herself into a frenzy and wasn’t allowed to be back with Rose to wait for the doctor. Mod and Rook attempted to calm her down, and sober her up, while Colson stayed with Rose in the room.

While she got hooked up to monitors and IVs, a nurse came in with an oxygen mask and a tank while her hand was unbandaged, cleaned up, and Harlow’s stitchery removed.

“Here, hun. Take a few deep breaths.” The nurse said, fitting the mask over her face. Rose laid back and did as she was told. After three deep breaths, the nurse removed the mask and left as the doctor started inspecting her hand.

“So, Miss...Jesper. How did this happen?” The doctor asked, pulling bits of glass out that Rose missed the first time. Rose smirked.

“Tonight or how I fucked it up in the first place?” Rose asked. The doctor gave her a look and a small smirk before he said, “Both.”

“I put my hand through a window yesterday,” Rose explained. “And tonight I punched out my ex.”

“Ah. I see.” The doctor said, trying not to chuckle. “Has this happened before?”

“My ex? Yeah.” She said with a half shrug. “My hand through a window? No. Before it was my knee.”

“Have you considered anger management?” The doctor asked with a smirk. Rose chuckled and glanced at him. Shifting in the bed, she said, “Thought about it.”

“I would suggest thinking about it a little more. The stitches were done well, but this type of wound can get infected fairly easily.” the doctor said. Rose nodded and said, “I’ve had good luck so far. Though I haven’t had to stitch myself up in a few years.”

The doctor continued on but Rose tuned him out, having heard it all before. She glanced at Colson and gave him a soft smile. He returned it and scooted his chair a little closer. Leaning on the railing of the bed, he asked softly, “You okay? Need to hold my hand?”

Rose smirked and Colson chuckled. “If it will make you feel better.” She sassed him, holding out her hand to him. Colson snickered and put his hand through the rail and took her hand, sitting back and pulling out his phone while he waited. Rose chuckled softly and turned to watch the doctor finish cleaning out the wounds.

“Alright, this might hurt a little. If it’s too much, let me know and I’ll have the nurse come back with the laughing gas, okay?” The doctor said. Rose nodded and watched as he threaded the needle but turned away when he started stitching. Her grip on Colson’s hand tightened a little, but it was enough to make him turn away from his phone, leaning toward her.

“You good?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Rose asked. “It’s just a hell of a lot better when I can chug a bottle.”

Colson chuckled and said, “Isn’t everything?”

With a chuckle, Rose nodded and closed her eyes, wincing every now and then from the pain. A small smirk formed on Colson’s face as he shoved his phone into his pocket and rested his chin on the rail, giving her arm a soft squeeze with his other hand. Rose blinked open her eyes and smiled at him as the gas finally sent her to Loopyville. Seeing him resting his chin on the railing, it made it easier for Rose to pull her hand from his then reach up and boop his nose lightly, making her give a giddy giggle. Colson snickered and shook his head as Rose took his hand again.

“You are something else, girl.” Colson chuckled. Rose shrugged and said, “I’m like a box of chocolates, baby. Never know what you’re gonna get.”

“Okay, Forest.” Colson teased, sending them both into a giggle fit.

“Listen. I can be cute and fun when I’m not high...Being high just makes me more cuddly and affectionate and goofy and shit.” Rose said. “It is not my fault if you choose to be present during a taste test, okay?”

Colson snorted and stifled a loud laugh, pressing his face into his arm. Rose smirked and shifted, glancing back over at her hand. The doctor had finished stitching her up and wrapped her hand. As he cleaned up the bloody bandages, the doctor said, “Alright, this needs to be changed twice a day, in the morning when you wake up and at night before bed. Twice daily for about a week, then once a day for another two. After the first two weeks, I’ll want to see you again to make sure it’s healing properly. In the meantime, keep an eye on it, try not to get the bandages too wet, though you can take them off to shower. If anything changes or gets worse give us a call and we’ll bring you back.”

“Sounds good. Am I good to go?” Rose asked, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and pulling her hand from Colson’s.

“I'm also going to write you a prescription for some antibiotics. Just in case, so we can stop any infection before it starts.” The doctor said, quickly scribbling on a pad before entering the request in the computer. Rose took the piece of paper he handed her and stood, immediately stumbling and almost met the floor. Colson was quick and grabbed her by her waist, helping her stand and keeping her close. As the dizziness registered and showed no signs of leaving, Rose clung to him with a soft groan, pressing half her face into his chest.

“I was going to say take it easy because the gas can disorient you for a while, but I think you’ve figured it out.” The doctor said with a chuckle. He looked at Colson and asked, “You can get her home safely?”

Colson nodded and said, “Yes, sir. Don’t worry, she’s not driving tonight.”

The doctor chuckled and smiled. “Good. You two have a good rest of the night.”

Colson walked Rose out to the waiting room to meet up with Harlow, Mod, and Rook. They had gotten Harlow calmed down and she now sipped on a cup of hospital coffee, sitting between the men with her head on Rook’s shoulder. She perked up when she saw Colson walk out and waved them over. Colson steered Rose over to them and Harlow stood.

“What’d the doctor say?” Harlow asked, gingerly taking Rose’s hand to inspect it.

“Said your stitching was good,” Rose mumbled, with a light series of giggles. Harlow raised an eyebrow, noticing the slurred tone, and looked to Colson.

“Laughing gas.” Colson clarified, seeing the question on Harlow’s face. She then nodded and asked, this time directed to Colson, “So, what did he say?”

“Change the bandages twice a day for a week, once a day for two weeks after, if it doesn’t heal all the way,” Colson said. He took the paper from Rose and handed it to Harlow. “He prescribed her antibiotics in case of infection.”

“Alright. Jesus, girl, you’re a mess.” Harlow teased, taking Rose from Colson’s side. The gas had hit Rose hard and now she could hardly keep her eyes open. With Rose’s head resting on her shoulder, Harlow put an arm around her as they headed to the pharmacy for her pills. Afterward, as they walked through the parking lot, Harlow dug the keys out of her pocket and unlocked the truck.

“Come on, babe. Up you go.” Harlow said softly to Rose, as she and Colson helped her into the passenger seat. Once she was in, Colson buckled her while Harlow thanked him, then turned to Mod and Rook. She smiled at them before she hugged Mod. “Thanks for inviting us out. We had fun.”

“No problem,” Mod said, giving her a secret smile, one Harlow returned. “We did too. I’m glad I got to see you perform...Kind of.”

Harlow chuckled and said, “Whenever I get to be in front of a crowd and sing, I always perform.”

Mod chuckled and they planned out future sessions before Harlow moved on to Rook to say goodbye, privately, and Mod left to get his car. During her goodbyes, Colson stayed by the door with Rose.

“How are you feeling?” Colson asked with a soft chuckle. Rose looked up at him and a goofy smile crossed her face, making Colson snicker.

“I’m fucking tired,” Rose muttered. Colson smirked and pushed her hair out of her face, gently curling it around her ear.

“You’ll be home before you know it.” Colson assured. “Text me in the morning so I know you didn’t die, okay? Will you remember?”

Rose rolled her eyes and smirked, pushing his face away. Colson snickered, moving her hand and leaning a little closer again as she gave a soft chuckle and said, “Yes, I’ll remember. I’m not gonna die, you psycho.”

Colson licked his lips lightly and smirked, giving a shrug. “Okay, maybe I want to talk to you tomorrow...So, text me, yeah?” He said a little softer. Rose smiled at him, reaching up to give his collar a soft tug.

“I’ll text you,” Rose said back, her eyes flickering to his lips for a moment. Behind him, Harlow cleared her throat, suddenly and loud, making Colson take a step back and turn to her. Though Harlow wasn’t eavesdropping as both her and Rook rounded the car; Harlow wiping the corners of her mouth and Rook stood behind her, smirking as he adjusted himself. Colson smirked and said a soft, ‘Good night’ to Rose before closing the door.

“Thank you, Colson, for your help tonight. I’m, uh, sorry all this shit happened.” Harlow said as she hugged him goodbye.

“Nah, it’s all good. Shit happens. I’m just glad she’s okay and that bitch didn’t try anything.” Colson said. Harlow shook her head.

“No, he wouldn’t have. He talks big but he wouldn’t do anything in public.” Harlow said. Not wanting Colson to pry any further, she added, “I need to get her in bed. Um, I’ll see you next week at the studio.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you. Drive safe!” Colson called as he and Rook stepped back from the car, heading to Mod’s as he pulled up. Both men climbed into the car and Mod waited until Harlow had backed out and pulled away before taking off as well.

“So...How’d you make out...Rook?” Mod asked with a smirk, looking at the drummer in the rearview mirror. Colson chuckled and glanced back at his friend. Rook smirked and shrugged.

“What? Harlow’s hot. Can you blame me? You brought her out for me, didn’t you?” Rook asked, with a smirk. Both Mod and Colson ragged on him while Mod pulled out onto the street and headed to Colson’s.

Once Harlow was on the road, she glanced at a drugged-up Rose and said, “Hey. Still with me?”

“I’m here. I’m fine. I just want to sleep.” Rose grumbled. Harlow chuckled and said, “Just making sure.”

The rest of the car ride was quiet. In Rose’s inebriated state, getting her inside and in bed by herself was a struggle for Harlow. But she managed and once Rose was tucked in bed, Harlow was also quick to crash, falling into a deep, alcohol-induced sleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

Thankfully, Rose slept through the rest of the night, only waking when the sun on her face was too hot for her. Groaning, Rose pulled herself out of bed and over to the patio doors, angrily pulling the curtains shut. Through the grogginess and half-open eyes, Rose shuffled back to her bed, flopping down on it with a sigh. She laid there for a moment then blinked her eyes open before rolling over to swipe her phone from the nightstand.

She was grateful to see Harlow had plugged it in before crashing and pleasantly surprised to see a text from Colson. It brought a half-smile to life on her face before she did her usual morning social media check-in before she opened her messages, responding to a few before she opened Colson’s.

Survive the night? ;) It read. Rose chuckled and checked the time stamp, seeing it read 9:40, before checking her own clock. It was only 11:30, so it wasn’t too late for her to feel bad about missing it.

What happened to ‘text me in the morning’? Couldn’t wait, could you? :P Rose replied. She set her phone aside then forced herself out of bed again, going to her bathroom to wash off her makeup from last night. When she came back to her phone, it lit up with Colson’s response. She smiled, lightly, as she opened it.

Too obvious? Ha. I wanted to check on you. How’s the hand?

Numb and throbbing. Rose chewed her lip before sending an additional text. So, everything after the punch is kind of fuzzy...I didn’t do anything when I was high off the laughing gas, did I?

You don’t remember? That’s fucking gold! Color bloomed on Rose’s cheeks.

Oh, fuck. What did I do? What did I say?! Rose groaned and dropped her phone on the bed, covering her face as she turned and fell back onto the mattress. She laid there until her phone vibrated next to her.

It’s nothing bad, babe. Just fucking funny.

Are you gonna tell me or let me lay here in shame?

There was a weird Forrest Gump reference and you...You fucking booped my nose.

“Oh, God!” Rose cried, covering her face again. She let out a groan before she responded.

Wow. Cool. Um, excuse me while I go light myself on fucking fire?! She sighed softly before she sent, I’m so sorry. I’m weird when I’m high, but laughing gas or anesthesia is out of my hands.

Nah, nah. You’re good. It definitely lightened the mood...And now I need to see you high XD

Yeah, that’s more of a fifth hangout kind of thing. You need to handle me sober first.

Baby. I handled you during a panic attack and laughing gas. I think I’m good.

Jesus Christ. I forgot about the panic attack. Colson, I am so sorry you had to see all that shit. Rose groaned and shoved her face in her pillow. Laying there for a few moments, Rose turned back over when her phone buzzed again.

Rose, chill. I’ve seen worse. You were tame compared to the wild shit I’ve seen. A small smile spread across her lips as she read Colson’s second text. You don’t have anything to apologize for. You didn’t know it would happen. Don’t trip, boo.

Rose let out a slow, calm sigh as she tried to convince her anxiety that everything was okay. Before she could respond, Colson sent his last text.

Hey, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tonight! Rose was honestly relieved to stop texting him, at least for the moment, before she said something stupid. It was also perfect timing as Harlow knocked once on the door before opening it. Walking in with two bags in her hands, and a drink in one, Harlow plopped down on Rose’s bed as her best friend watched her.

“Can I help you?” Rose asked with a light chuckle.

“What? I heard you rumbling around in here. I knew you were up.” Harlow said with a smirk. She handed Rose a bag once she locked her phone, set it aside, and shifted into a more comfortable spot.

“What is it?” Rose asked, taking the bag.

“Breakfast. Shut up and eat. You need it.” Harlow said, taking a bagel with cream cheese out from her own bag, tearing the paper off, and ripping into it. Rose chuckled and dug into the food, her stomach suddenly coming to life and growling.

“So, fill me in?” Rose asked in between mouthfuls. Harlow raised an eyebrow. “I remember almost fucking nothing after punching Eric.”

Harlow shrugged and said, “I don’t know. I drove like a bat outta hell to the hospital. That’s about all I know.”

“You weren’t with me when I got my hand stitched up?” Rose asked. When Harlow shook her head, Rose said, “I honestly don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing…”

“Why? Did you do something with Colson? Did you say something particularly...Saucey?” Harlow asked with a half-smirk, lifting her drink to sip it. Rose let out a soft laugh before she said, “Well, according to Colson, I said my box of chocolates line and booped him on the nose-Harlow!”

Harlow snorted then spit out her sip, spraying Rose with iced coffee. She then proceeded to roll on the bed, choking and laughing. Rose grabbed the napkins from her bag and wiped the coffee off as she rolled her eyes.

“Ha ha. Yuk it up, bitch. I’m fucking mortified.” Rose said. With a final and loud cough, as she wiped her eyes, Harlow sat up, still snickering.

“Oh, God...Rosie...Tell me you didn’t? Oh, that’s so fucking funny! Damn, I wish I was in there for that.” Harlow laughed.

“Yeah. Me too. Then I probably wouldn’t have done it.” Rose said, balling up the napkins and tossing them in her trash. She sat back as she finished off the rest of her bagel. Harlow’s tittering soon quieted and tried again to take a drink.

“You talked to him already today?” Harlow asked. Rose nodded and said, “The one fucking thing I remember...Did he ride home with us?”

Harlow shook her head, licking cream cheese off her thumb, and said, “No. But he was talking to you at the car before we left. And he rode with us to the hospital.”

Rose nodded and said, “That must have been it. I remember he said he wanted me to text him this morning. I text him and said I didn’t really remember much...And that’s what he told me.”

“I think you may have outdone yourself, Rose. And you did some weird shit in Nevada.” Harlow said, ripping into her second bagel.

“Under the influence of weed, alcohol, and/or your psycho ass. Not laughing gas.” Rose said, shooting her a look. Harlow smirked and shrugged.

“I mean, he text you back. Was he weirded out by it?” Harlow asked.

“No,” Rose said with a soft sigh, sitting back against her headboard. “He said he’s seen worse, but that doesn’t stop me from being embarrassed.”

“So be embarrassed, babe. If you don’t have to see him until next week, I’m sure it’ll fade over the week.” Harlow said. With a smile forming on her face, she added, “Besides, you need to focus. In about 2 hours, Jackson Rose Studios will be open and you will officially and finally have your own studio.”

Rose smiled and gave a soft sigh. “Yeah. But I’m not calling it Jackson Rose Studios. I’ve got to have something catchier.”

“Well, like what? Jackson Rose is you.” Harlow said.

“I know. And that was fine when I was freelancing. But this is a real, honest to God studio. It has to attract people.” Rose said.

“What did you want to go for?” Harlow asked as she cleaned up their breakfast trash. Rose shrugged.

“I don’t know? First thing I thought of was Bloom Studios. I want to keep the floral thing.” She said.

“I like that! What not go with that?” Harlow offered.

“It was the first thing I thought of. I want to weigh all options before I choose.” Rose said, grabbing a notebook from her nightstand and writing down a few possible names, then crossing them out.

“You said you wanted the sign up by next Friday,” Harlow said. Rose’s head shot up and she glared at her briefly.

“I’m aware, thank you. That’s why I’m freaking out now. I need the name for you to come up with a design before we bring it to a sign shop. All within a week?” Rose sighed, pushing the notebook away.

“Dude, relax. I can come up with a few designs in an hour and a half. You think about the name and get dressed. We need to go shopping after we get the keys and I need new pencils and paints. I wanna hit the Michaels in Beachwood before we get the keys. So, let’s move it!” Harlow cried, slipping off Rose’s bed and skipping out the door. Rose shook her head and sighed before scooting off the bed and peeling off last night’s clothes as she went to her closet. It was going to be a long day, full of walking and, no doubt, moving crap into the studio. She tugged on a flowy top and wiggled into a pair of leggings. After stuffing her curls into a bun, she slipped on her sandals and grabbed her phone and keys, snagging her sunglasses as she left.

“Whose car are we taking?” Rose called from the kitchen, slipping both her phone and wallet into the side pockets of her leggings and filled one of her cups with water.

“We’re going to storage. So, unless you want me to keep driving your car…” Harlow called back as she came down the hall.

“I can still drive,” Rose said with a roll of her eyes. Harlow shrugged and went to the closet to grab her shoes.

“Alright, then let’s go,” Harlow said with a big smile.

Hope you guys liked it. If you want to be added to my taglist for this and/or future MGK/Colson stories, let me know! If you have any comments, feel free!

@badwolf-in-the-impala @findingmyths @kellsfanficalltogether @mgkobsessed @sparxx27 @youbelongeverywhere @delibervtion @cicipenguin91 @crazyxreader @mayaslifeinabox @enchantedamusedslightlyconfused

#MGK #Machine Gun Kelly #Machine Gun Kelly Fan Fic #Machine Gun Kelly Fic #Colson Baker #Colson Baker Fic #Colson Baker Fanfic #MGK Fic #MGK Fan Fic #EST #ESTXX

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cosmiciaria · 5 years ago

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Star Wars Jedi Fallen Order review! (Spoiler free)

Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order (SWJFO) appeared out of fricking nowhere and to everyone's surprise, it was a striking success? How? But… EA was so bad at making SW games!! I don't see micro transactions and… is this… actual… plot… with actual… good characters?? I'm shooketh.

So, yes, SWJFO is a good game! It's not perfect, it has its flaws, yes, but considering where we come from… Battlefront II I'm looking at you.

The game takes place between Episode III and Episode IV. I won't say it's a "bridge" between those two Episodes because it isn't, and some may argue that talking about Jedi in the middle of those two pieces of media doesn't take you anywhere, since we all know what happens next, but let me explain to you: the story fits so well. So well.

We follow Cal Kestis, your average ginger Good Boi, who's a padawan in disguise. It's been five years since Order 66 and he's been hiding all this time in Bracca, a junkyard, where he works mostly enslaved by the Empire. His good pal Prauf tells him he should go outside and explore the galaxy, since he's young and cute probably, but Cal is so scared of being found and he's suffering such a huge survivor's guilt that he doesn't take any action to leave that planet.

It all seemed to be like another ordinary day of work, dismembering old ships and searching for useful parts, when the wing that Cal and Prauf were working on suddenly falls from the body of the ship, and Cal, who hasn't been using his Force since the execution of the Jedi, is forced (pun intended) to save his friend from falling to his death. Prauf understands the stakes, and swears to keep the secret.

However, destiny seems to hate him, because the Inquisitors (the Second and Ninth Sisters to be more precise), an order of Jedi-turned-to-dark-side that serves the Empire, arrive at Bracca, looking for a remaining Force-wielder who hides among the workers. Prauf steps up for his comrade, only to be impaled quite literally in front of Cal. Cal loses his composure and snaps at the Second Sister, revealing his nature as Jedi, and so the hunt begins.

Cal faces the Second Sister, who menacingly swings her lightsaber with red emitters, but he's too weak to defeat her. Just when we thought that everything is lost, a new spaceship arrives: the Mantis, and a woman reaches out from the main gate, asking us to jump. Cal doesn't think twice, bids farewell to a very angry Second Sister and jumps into safety.

Inside the Mantis, Cal meets his saviors: Cere, a former jedi who purposely cut her link with the Force, and Greez, a lateros who is the owner and driver of the ship. Cere goes straight to the point: she's been looking for Cal (or any other Force-sensitive to be honest) for years now, because she has a clear plan: to rebuild the Jedi Order.

From here onward, the game opens up. You'll be visiting Bogano first, which is the sanctuary more or less of Cordova, a dead character that will have a great impact on the whole story. Cordova was Cere's master, and he's worked and compiled information about the Zeffo sages and other interesting mythos from around the galaxy. Cordova swears that in the ancestral chamber in Bogano, sealed by ancient technology created by the Zeffo, lies the Holocron: a cubic thingy only readable for Jedi, that holds key information about the names of the kids who are Force-sensitives. With this list of names, Cere plans to bring back the Jedi and strike back at the Empire.

So the main objective is to get this Holocron, but to get there, you'll have to go to many planets and explore many nooks and crannies. I won't spoil it for you, because I try to never spoil in my reviews, and like I said before, it may sound like this goal doesn't make any sense since we know they don't succeed in rebuilding the Order (hell, not even with Rey and it's been a whole generation since then), but hear me out: the story still fits so well! PLEASE TRUST ME IN THIS ONE

So instead of talking about the plot, let's talk about the characters!

Cal will be your main character. I read that some people think he's boring, ok, I can take that. The reality is that there's so much more to him than just his dashing appearance (alright, maybe I am biased, since I love red hairs) and his kindness and good-boy-ness. Cal is deeply regretful by his actions during Order 66 and he can't forget nor forgive what happened to his master. He feels remorseful and blames himself for the outcome of the purge. He has a scar on his face that constantly reminds him of it. He's a clear case of survivor's guilt syndrome, and it doesn't take one much to see it. I won't say when or the context, but there's a moment in which he has to ride a escape pod, and he looks around, nervously, as if he's going to suffocate, because it reminds him of the purge – man, there's a lot not said that really touches you. I don't need a character to tell me that he's sad. He can show it to me and that's exemplarily well done with him.

Another example of a sad character, more in-your-face this time, is Cere. A former master, now devoid of the Force, Cere wanders the galaxy with a clear goal in mind. But in her past, she hides torture and some too-close-for-comfort connection with the dark side. She wants to redeem herself and she trusts that this sacred mission will, not wipe out, but compensate for her mistakes. Cere is a great north in this game and she always supports Cal in everything. Her unconditional trust may seem overwhelming at first, but she's careful and she knows with what they're all dealing with. Besides she's badass af.

Greez is a less warrior character but much funnier than the rest of the cast. As the owner of the Mantis, he takes care of this ship as if it were his daughter. He has a knack for cooking and even though he tries to hide it, he does have a soft spot for Cal. Maybe his past of gambler and addiction makes him come across as the one who doesn't give a damn of what's going on, but if that were truly the case, he wouldn't be here, trying to rebuild the Order as well. He has by far the best lines in the script, and he's so unintentionally funny. There was this scene, out of context, where Cere and Cal were having an argument while eating, and he was sitting in between, in the background, adding peppermint or whatever spice to his dish, but the thing is, he never stopped throwing peppermint to his dish because he was watching them argue. Damn. I love him.

Merrin is introduced later in the game, but she does play a large role in the story. Born and raised in Dathomir, Merrin is a Nightsister, an order of 'witches' let's call them that have twisted the Force and use it in a different way than the Jedi. After General Grievous (as much as we assume, because he's mentioned as "armored man wielding lightsabers") wiped out all the life in Dathomir, Merrin remained as the sole survivor of her planet, roaming around the corpses of her sisters with no goal whatsoever. She resents the Jedi and has sworn to fight them even if it cost her life. This led her to get in with a bad crowd… but she'll find a better purpose after she meets Cal (And if you ask me, this SHIP HAS SAAAAAIIILLLLEEED).

And last but not least, the Second Sister, who, as I said before, was a former Jedi who was forced into the dark side, now hunts the remaining Force-sensitive that have escaped from the purge. She seems your ordinary villain at the start of the story, but slowly the plot will be unfolding a lot of details about her past and how she became an Inquisitor, making her as much, if not more than, important like the rest of the cast.

If there's thread connecting all these characters, is their broken pasts. These are all broken characters who now must face the consequences of their decisions, however much they don't want to look that way. They have to reconcile with their pasts and overcome their fears. They have all suffered, but in this suffering they found strength. And each other.

And I cannot not mention BD-1, your companion droid. He has personality, you can't deny it. Every time Cal went like "How is it going, BD-1?" and the droid threw his "Boops-beeps", please, they're having a profound conversation DON'T INTERRUPT THEM.

As far as gameplay goes, this game borrows from other great creations of the PS4 era: Uncharted (you'll be climbing and doing parkour a lot), Tomb Raider (sliding down and tomb raiding, yes), Dark Souls (meditation/save points where you can level up your skills and also whenever you die you lose your exp gained, but not the ability points. You can recover that exp though), and Sekiro (parry. Parry a lot). This may seem to all of you like the game lacks originality, and while it's debatable, I still think that it has a lot new and original gameplay to offer, specially when it comes to Force wielding and lightsabers. Oh, yes, you're a Jedi (padawan, actually), you'll be using the Force! The game tries really hard to integrate the Force not only in combat, but also while you explore and while you solve puzzles. The more you level up, the more powerful your abilities become, and it comes a point when you feel unstoppable. The Stormtroopers might sound cocky at first, but when you start pushing and pulling, oh, yes, fear the Jedi! So yes, the game may look like a copycat of previous works in the gaming industry, but it does make a good use of all those mechanics, while still throwing something new elements into the mix.

The level design is ASTOUNDING, sometimes I turned around one corner and appeared somewhere I thought it was like miles away from my place, and I was marveled at how well everything interconnects with everything. The level of detail also is so meticulous and well crafted, like there are so many little things that if you stop to stare and pay attention you'll be so mesmerized by them. Some of the places are so eye candy, even Dathomir with their "I AM DEATH" vibes has such a beautiful color palette, that I couldn't help but take a thousand screenshots. This game looks gorgeous, and it shows. You know, when a game has a photo mode, you know the devs are convinced of its beauty.

But, like I said earlier, the game isn't without flaws. While I praised the intricate level design, there's also one thing I hate a lot: backtracking. Yes, in these huge maps, there are no fast travels. You can create shortcuts and such, but, if you want to get to that 2% that was left unexplored in that particular area, you must return to it by foot. This is a huge let down for me. I did the game with a guide, so I grabbed most of the collectibles during my first time in each planet, but still there were some things that I missed, and I had to go all the way there to revisit places with the only purpose of grabbing that stupid chest or filling that small percentage of the map, while trying to survive against the enemies, since everything in this game, everything, wants to actively kill you. Damn, Cal was wanted.

Another huge drawback for me that it normally doesn't bother me much were the low framerates. I played it on normal PS4, not the Pro, and the rendition of the game wasn't good. I wasn't even fighting or doing a lot of stuff on screen, I was just climbing and chilling, and still the framerates would fall like under 20. When there a lot of things going on screen, the game suffers from it and it makes you know that the play station is giving its all to make it function. I believe this isn't a problem for those who have a nice computer and play it with the highest specs, but as I know that there are people out there who really care about the performance, I had to at least mention this.

Also, do not come here thinking that this is an open world game. Yes, granted, you can travel from planet to planet with no real rush and take things with time, but the maps are mostly linear (except for the interconnections between each area), and once you explored or got all chests, that's all there's to it. Now that I have completed the game and platinumed it, the planets feel barren, empty, like there's no real life breathing through the leaves or the rooms. And I think I know what this game could've benefited a lot from: sidequests. There are no NPC's here, except for some Wookies at that moment in the story or your crew members, so there's no one to give you a sidequest. But even without NPC's, they could've thrown sidequests from the different collectibles that you come across in your path, or maybe when on arriving at a certain place. There's like one thing that gets close to a sidequest and it's exploring a crashed Venator in the planet Zeffo, but that's all there's to it: more of the same killing, climbing and cutting ropes. If you're a rookie collector, then yes, this game got you covered, for there are over 200 collectibles (I think over 300 actually, considering echoes and chests and scans), but it's not like there's anything in between these, except for enemies. No banter with your crew members while you walk around, some occasional beep boops from BD-1 only.

I think those are my main complaints, but all in all I believe that the good compensates the bad. The last "mission" is reaaaaally good, and they did something I really like, which I won't spoil. I'm just going to say that I'm so glad with the decisions they took. The relationships between the characters grow vividly before our eyes, and we see Cal develop from a frightened fugitive into a fighter. There are moments in the story and in the gameplay where the game made me go like "whoa", I was truly amazed by what was going on. The acting is flawless, the music gets under your skin and the vistas are just dreamy. There so many easter eggs to appease even the most hardcore SW fan! They could polish all the things I said, but if there's another SW game developed by Respawn and with that writing team, I'll be there to buy it.

It's not perfect, but it's good. Give Cal a chance!

#cal kestis #star wars #star wars jedi fallen order #sw jfo #videogame review #review #ea games #respawn entertainment #merrin #cal x merrin #cere junda #greez dritus #bd-1

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smolbeandrabbles · 5 years ago

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Castle - Henry IV x Reader (The King)

Hail To The King - but if it wasn’t at all platonic

...? Do the Mendo tag squad even want in on this? I’ll tag ya’ll anyway... @mandy23b @happyskywhale @wltz-bby

Author’s Note: I caved. I caved. But also the discord server thread for him had the subject line “Bed Me Your Majesty” So I don’t think you can blame me. ALSO - As this film was pretty much fanficition of fanfiction of what really happened... I’m writing fanficition, of fanfiction, of fanfiction...! 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ Honestly, it’s literally just artistic licence!

It’s more a talked about relationship; I didn’t go too detail heavy.

TL;DR: If Shakespeare wrote fanfiction on history, so can I!

Disclaimer: Following The King on plot here / gif not mine / lyrics not mine

Premise: Too many people in this Kingdom have big, big plans - but you just want things to stay as they are. You can’t ask for more than you have, considering for your entire life you’ve never wanted anything else but him.

Words: 4985

Warnings: sexual connotations / mild swearing

______

Sick of all these people talking, sick of all this noise Tired of all these cameras flashing, sick of being poised Now my neck is open wide, begging for a fist around it Already choking on my pride, so there's no use crying about it

Oh, all these minutes passing, sick of feeling used If you wanna break these walls down, you're gonna get bruised Now my neck is open wide, begging for a fist around it Already choking on my pride, so there's no use crying about it

I'm headed straight for the castle They wanna make me their queen And there's an old man sitting on the throne That's saying that I probably shouldn't be so mean I'm headed straight for the castle They've got the kingdom locked up And there's an old man sitting on the throne That's saying I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut Straight for the castle

---

You couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing. Well you could – you supposed your parents had never had anything but blind ambition for you; as their only child. But you thought your father ought to have known better than to push such an agenda. He’d been a King’s Guard before you, and been proud to see you – as his daughter no less! – take the mantle from him as Henry ascended the throne. And it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen combat before that – Henry’s insistence to drag you around the Kingdom had seen you in many a battle. To him there was none more worthy. To your parents, since his wife had died, they clearly saw an opportunity; swapping your armour for dresses and your sword for children. As if he didn’t have six already. You wouldn’t have it. “I am his King’s Guard – forgoodnessake! Do you have any idea how much Mary meant to him – to ME!? I cannot take her place and nor WILL I!” “Y/N, please, he needs a Queen.” It would sound better if they were on their knees begging you, instead your parents’ tone was more coercive. “Henry doesn’t need a queen – and even if he did, the council would never class me as suitable for him!” “There are ways and means of getting what you want.” “What you want!!!” You shook your head, taking a few significant steps back, “I won’t become a pawn in some political manoeuvring for you-!” You shot an accusatory look to your father, “And YOU ought to know better.” “As if he would mind, you’ve known each other nearly your entire lives, you grew up together-” Your hand moved over the hilt of your sword – and half of you wished you were meeting them in amour and not something so casual. A mistake on your part. “Stop. Before you even think another word stop.” You gritted your teeth, “I will not be party to this. I will not allow you to solicit it to him. And both of you should be careful talking about this here! People have been executed for less.” Your mother placed her hand on your father’s shoulder; “You would threaten us, Y/N?” “If I must.” You turned your body defensively, “I’m leaving – and you should too. I will have the guards escort you from the castle.” Then, because you should, you bowed, “Good day.” You supposed what you were really most scared of happening was people finding out that you and the King weren’t just close friends anymore. You’d been interested in him your entire life; and your parents were right, you had grown up together. You knew about as much about Henry as it was possible to know – and a lot you wished you didn’t. A feeling you believed was probably mutual. People were coming in and out of your life constantly – in no small part due to battlefield deaths. And you were up here in the Castle now. You’d moved around with him for years before the idea of ‘King’ came to mind. And now here he was – but you also knew your place, and it was not as his wife. That thought alone was preposterous; and you would have thought his entire family to forbid it – and he’d been told as such, right around the time you possibly could have fallen in love. You’d both been much younger then. You scoffed, pulling your sword from its sheath as you reached the training ground – about the best way to let off steam right now – it wasn’t ever a fantasy you indulged in. One of those stupid early-20s conversations when Henry asked when the hell you’d give it up and get married – and you’d punch his arm and say ‘Marriage? Me? Really? I thought we knew each other!’ You planted your feet in a solid stance, balancing the blade correctly in your hands, you took a deep breath and cut through the air – before long you were moving in step and sparring with yourself. Your look probably couldn’t have read more angry. It wasn’t just that your parents had suggested it; it was how much you knew such a suggestion would play with your feelings, and they knew too. There was a moment once where you thought you were over him. And then again when you had to be over him. Maybe you’d just conditioned yourself – but there was no better conditioning than loving her too. Mary was his whole world, and she was a literal angel. If there was anyone in this world that could calm him down, and be a good influence, and stand by his side, and be suitable then it was her. You’d met your fair share of women who had wanted to be in her position – but they all had a major problem with you; she never had. Your presence in his life didn’t scare her – and in fact your love for him didn’t either, because she knew that alone would have you keep Henry safe. He was your best friend, and a lot of the time you felt your only friend; with time she became that too – but a couple of years ago Mary had passed away. And your King was now a single man. That had never factored into things for you; suddenly six children didn’t have a mother – and a fairly absent father. King first, father second. That sometimes left you, as King’s Guard, trailing around after 6 growing children. And where at first you’d found them shadowing your every step annoying, and your skills with kids awkward at best – now you loved them as if they were your own. The eldest boys were old enough to begin swordsmanship lessons too – and if you were honest with yourself those points in your week might just have been the ones you looked forward to the most. The problem was, her death had added a new element to your relationship with Henry – and you didn’t know what or whom had started it, yet you did know it was dangerous. An affair? With your King? In your position? The number of men you were surrounded by daily, constantly looking for just such ammunition to throw you to the streets – or worse, were insurmountable. Which almost made it exciting. But you weren’t so sure exactly what it was… he was hurting, and you were a comfort – you supposed. You got to live out your wildest fantasy as a (dangerous) dream come true. Still, you thought to yourself, rather you than anyone else – and constant female companionship kept those you would deem less worthy out of his bed. Before you even started on those trying to find him a suitable second wife. He wasn’t one for having it – and you wouldn’t trust to hope that it had anything to do with you; but that he simply could never marry again after her. Still, your face often said it all when people tried to present their daughters to him. And you were sure the way Henry and yourself glanced to each other sometimes did you no favours in getting in anyone’s good books. That wasn’t something you particularly cared about either. Truth was, you liked where you were, right now. You didn’t want to marry him, you didn’t want to be Queen (for a start a list of conspirators against you would be longer than your arm from the very second Henry slipped a ring onto your finger, if not before), you didn’t want children and you didn’t want to bare him children. If you could help it. That was always an outside possibility – probably about the only thing that that kept you out of his bed as often as you’d quite like to be there. That and knowing your duty came first – not only would pregnancy make what was happening fairly obvious, but it’d lose you your position as King’s Guard – and they’d have to take that from your dead body. The sound of your blade slicing through the air caught you a little off guard as your swings became vicious. Now you were just letting your emotion get the better of you, taking a deep breath you tried to reign it back in; but that only made things worse. Afterall – hadn’t you come here to vent a little? You turned into your next strike, power to your overhead cut. But you struck steel and not air. Henry’s arm didn’t buckle despite the way he was holding the training sword; although you could already tell the quality of yours had put a nick in it. “What did the air ever do to you-!?” You backed up, and inclined your head to him; he was still your King after all. “Nothing. There’s just a lot on my mind.” You kept your eyes to the floor for a moment, and sheathed your sword. “I see you dismissed your parents without so much as a welcome from me.” You raised your eyes to his curiosity, how did he even know they were here? Who had gone ahead and told him? “Yes. For good reason.” “Oh. What could that possibly be?” You folded your arms, confident enough to say it to Henry’s face, “They want to cook up some convoluted plot with the council, which ends with me marrying you.” Not one emotion crossed his features for a number of seconds before he blinked, and then laughed; “I’m sure the court would enjoy hearing such a proposal.” “Do not give them any excuse to come back here and attempt it!” He twisted the steel through his fingers, “Would that be my decision, I cannot stop them from coming to court – and if they would so propose such a thing,” You cut across him; “Very well, but I would like to attest I want no part in it.” “…It wouldn’t exactly be un-agreeable.” He finished. “Henry.” Your look was sharp, “I cannot marry you. This is ridiculous, I don’t know why I even mentioned it.” You covered your eyes for a moment and sighed “Forgive me. It’s just…” He shook his head, “I understand your sentiment. Although with my council perhaps you should speak softer.” But the King looked amused, “I believe you are due a meeting today, are you not?” “That’ll make everything better.” You fell in step with him as you exited the training field; “But yes. We are. I’m sure I’ll have much to report on.” “I’d trust yours over anyone else’s…” That made you roll your eyes, “Then I might ask why you have them around.” “You know very well I don’t have a choice in that.” Though you offered no comment, your smirk probably told him everything. “As long as your mind is sound, your Majesty.” He nudged you, which only made you laugh “My mind? You’re the one that needed to clear her head.” “Indeed. I should check in with the children at some point before the meeting also…” “Yes.” Henry nodded, turning to you again – his mouth opened, but you held your hand up; “Please, I know what you’re thinking. But I cannot be a mother to them – I will not replace Mary. I cannot replace her. It would feel too much like betrayal…” you subtly glanced about to check you were indeed alone as your voice lowered, “Whatever we have, it is not marriage material, and you should not opt to see it as such just because it might get the council off your back. This is me, Henry, they are not my biggest advocates. And besides I would rather your children didn’t hate me for it too-!” “So you will not even consider it.” “NO…” You backed away, prepared to run off to your next engagement, “And neither should you.” But he reached out and caught your wrist before you could, because he could read all over your face that your emotional attachment to the situation was causing your thoughts to run wild; “Then it will never transpire. You should not have to worry about such a thing. Or marriage in general. In truth, you know that I am still grieving her… If what you are really worried about is anyone discovering us, that’s foolish. We’re careful – and you more so than me. Everything will be as it is meant, Y/N. Now…” He let you go, “Please, I wish for you to enjoy the rest of you day – even with your meeting – and we shall discuss this later.” You bowed again; “Yes, your majesty, as soon as my duties for today are done, I shall return to you.” Henry smiled gently, turning away from you to walk in the opposite direction, “See that you do.” Then paused and called you back; “Oh, Y/N.” “Yes?” You immediately paused your jog to twist back to him. “There are a great number of country estates that I could move your parents to. I believe that would alleviate the situation. A barter, if you will. Put a stop to this before it begins. As you may imagine, I would not want this weighing on the mind of my King’s Guard any more than it should.” You nodded, “It… sounds agreeable.” “Then you will not mind me summoning them back?” “No.” “Very well. Then we need not talk of it any longer.” He nodded, and then continued on as if he had never turned back. You smiled shaking your head gently – sometimes he was quite unfathomable. “Thank you!” But Henry held his hand up with a wave – don’t mention it. ***

There was once a time, when he was a little younger, before marriage and children, and becoming a King, when even you allowed the thought of you and he becoming more than fantasy to linger around. Yet even after those things, when he actually spent time on a physical battlefield, rather than the political battlefield he now found himself on, it wasn’t a feeling easily shaken; maybe kicked to the side but never truly gone. The problem was the line between friends and almost/never lovers had always been blurred. Back when you were kids you didn’t know what you were feeling. He was your best friend, sometimes he was the brother you never had, sometimes all Henry was to you was your King – and you the one charged with protecting his life. Maybe he was all of them – but even being intimate with him now you never felt that it was meant to be. Quite the opposite, and yet it was somehow allowed to happen… But sometimes all you could think about was praying together before these battles; hands entwined in prayer in front of you, eyes closed, foreheads touching – whispering well recited Latin. in nomine patris et fili et spiritus sancti And the apparent scandal, or not scandal, of sharing his tent. That was really to make sure he slept – you were one for staying awake and listening to his breathing. Still were. But you didn’t really trust anyone – his life was more important to you than anything else. But you’d never really told Henry that, outside of making it sound like a duty-bound sentence. As far as sleeping with him went, the closest you thought you’d ever get was on the hard ground next to his makeshift camp bed. When his hand would dangle over the edge and you’d have to resist the temptation to reach out and hold it. When your light sleep was burdened with strange vivid dreams, and you were always anxious that you’d wake with his name on your lips. You could probably both brush that off – but the embarrassment of why would have always weighed on your mind.

But he knew. He must have. For Henry to even contemplate ruining what you had by making it more than it ever had to be. He was alone and hurting, and you had always loved him. You had a feeling he loved you too; perhaps not in the same way – perhaps he didn’t feel the desperate yearning you always did. The need to repress everything on something that would never work. But he did. Henry must have; that first kiss wasn’t an accident – and maybe you should have pushed him back and told him that it wasn’t proper and never would be. But you were weak, and you craved him and you were desperate to feel his lips on yours once. Just once! So you didn’t, and with his hands in your hair the words out of your mouth would never have been stop. Henry never used his position over you – but you knew that it wouldn’t even matter if he did.

“Bed me your majesty” was never a phrase that spilled from your lips, but you knew you felt it. You knew you stared at him sometimes and thought it – and you thought Henry probably knew that too, because sometimes all it took was the way you looked at him. Maybe you should whisper it to him, when you felt so fragile and you trembled under his fingertips. It was at least exciting to think of the way he’d react to it. Not another soul in this castle had ever seen you look so delicate as he now had, and that was something Henry liked to keep to himself with a little smirk. But, obviously, he’d be wrong to think that would be normal – you’d always been the very definition of strong woman. Better believe that extended to every facet of your life. Apparently, that was even more exciting.

The morning light wasn’t pale when you awoke. That already meant problems; usually you’d slip out of his room as soon as you could. Not for want of actually wanting to leave him, but needing to. Safety first. You were greeted by the brush of his lips to your forehead and without any walls up, you allowed yourself to smile. You didn’t want to say words yet, just lay together like this. Everything was calm this morning – the only sounds from outside, bird calls and dogs barking. And you almost allowed yourself to fall back to sleep – before what you knew would happen if you were found here panicked you, and you sat up. “Shit, I really should go.” He reached out for your wrist and you found yourself immediately dragged back into the sheets. Henry wound his arms around you, pressing kisses into your skin; shoulders, neck, down your arms and to your hands. You couldn’t help but giggle gently to yourself – but you also knew better. “No no…” You rolled over, lips to his, “I’ll be late for the pre-council meeting… And the servants will be along to bathe and dress you soon, I cannot be here!” His sigh was grumpy as he opened his crystal blue eyes; narrowing them against the harsh light – “Damn your meetings.” “Occasionally I would like to…” You breathed, kissing him again, before grazing your lips to his shoulder and stumbling from the bed, pulling on your breeches, boots and shirt – tightening the cord across your chest, and threading your sword belt around yourself. Doing your best to neaten your hair before pulling it back and off your face once more. “I will see you later, at your side, when we all assemble to hear from the Archbishop.” Henry groaned; “Again!?” “I’m afraid so!” You grinned, moving back around the bed to kiss his face once more – to which he chuckled. “Go. Leave me!” “I’m afraid I must, my King. Until later!” Although you didn’t miss his call of; “You look so beautiful when you’re flushed!” and you could have cursed him right then. By the time you reached the chambers in which the council gathered, they’d already started and you were red for two reasons. It earned many questions, that you could quickly dismiss. After all, you had run all the way here. And you were a swords master – what did they think you did all day, stand around in ceremony like they did? You had to practice if you were to defend him properly! That at least shut the majority of them up, leaving a few suspicious. It hardly mattered to you though; perhaps they knew, perhaps they’d guessed, you were the only female here and certainly the only one that Henry kept consistent companionship with… But you’d been around long enough to know everyone’s secrets – heck, their secrets had secrets. At least you only had one. Although it was a big one. Still you sat around in armour on occasion, and a sword constantly. So you’d like to see anyone try to say anything about it. They might just find the blade at your hip run through them. You were capable, and they already knew you liked to threaten… If they came for you you highly doubted they would be kept around, or even alive if Henry so happened to get word (he would, you’d make sure).

If you’d ever thought there would be something to worry about, you were there now. His children were grown up, and a few of them off and married themselves. Thomas was on the council, and damn good at it – you were always impressed by his level headed judgements. Hal… wasn’t, but had been. And he was off wherever he wanted to be – you hoped he was just being a young, reckless and rebellious teenager. Half of you wasn’t sure it’d wear off; it certainly didn’t stand him in his father’s good graces. Hal became Henry’s new favourite thing to grumble about. There were times that you’d dragged him back to the castle kicking and screaming just keep the King quiet. That didn’t earn you a whole lot of love – but Hal at least still respected you, and that helped you get between them and cool them both off when necessary. Henry’s health was waning – it had been for a while, and he’d been through just about every major illness you could get, but had survived. You wanted to be around him now to look after him, as much as you did anything else. That instinct made you a lot sharper, he didn’t have a lot of time to waste and there were plenty in the Kingdom who wanted to waste it. Standing beside him and giving them filthy looks, or scoffing, or rolling your eyes; sometimes just unable to keep harsh statements from coming off your lips. And you were sarcastic too, especially to the council. Truth was you’d had enough of the bullshit and deceit. The decent thing would be for them to stop manipulating Henry and his thought process; people thought he was out of his mind at the best of times, the council only served to make it worse and pretend that it was all your King’s doing. You saw right through all that in various stages of contempt. Thomas and yourself were walking the corridors of the castle after one such meeting and as the sweetest of Henry’s children (and perhaps the most apt), often chided you for the kind of comments that you made to unsuspecting subjects, or the council. (Though you were sure he might understand why you’d make them to the council.) “Oh, Y/N, why are you so cruel and mean and sarcastic all the time? It doesn’t make you friends!” You would only ever laugh though; “Thomas you’re so sweet-! And I don’t do it to make friends, I do it to protect your father, especially NOW!” “Well, I certainly worry about it!” “No need. I’ve been doing it a long time.” In fact only his entire life. “I’m not sure that excuses doing it worse. I’m concerned for your wellbeing.” You sighed softly and smiled; “Okay… If it makes you feel better, I will tone it down.” “Thank you. It would.” “…Only for you mind.” You raised your finger to let him know you were deadly serious about that. “Well. I’m sure others would also appreciate it.” But he beamed, and you thought that maybe for that alone, you could probably tone down your scoffing at everyone else’s ludicrous decisions on what to do next. Though, you were sure on occasion Henry and yourself would still catch each other’s eyes thinking exactly the same thing. Idiots-! So you couldn’t help but smile back at that; “I’m proud of you, you know? You’ve come so far in such a short space of time, you’re responsible, you’re not yet that old. You’ll go far Thomas; I hope you realise that... and I hope you’re proud of yourself.” He acted bashful for a second; “Oh it’s… nothing really. Not like you.” “Oh yeah?” You leant back slightly and folded your arms, “And what, pray tell, is the difference between you and I?” “You’re on the council… and you have seen and won many a battle. You’re… as close to my father as it’s possible to get.” You inclined your head; “My prowess on the battlefield is really the only reason I am here…” You touched the hilt of your sword, “I am only on the council because I am King’s Guard, I have very little input into everything, and…” you paused, knowing for fact that Henry had always been an arms-length sort of father, “…I’ve known your father since we were both very small. He trusts you as much as he does me – I know this to be true.” And you did, the King often talked of how proud he was of Thomas. You thought it was an all-around good sign, but how exactly you got him to show the affection that came with it, you weren’t sure yet. “Thank you…” He also paused for a second, before hugging you, it was a warm, tight hug. And considering the very nearly professional context of your attire, it caught you off guard. You stiffened for a minute, eyes wide, before returning his arms around you. You tried desperately hard not to be overcome with emotion, but you almost welled up; remembering vividly back to when the best Thomas could do was cling to your leg, begging you not to go to a meeting that he himself was now avidly involved with. He let you go, still smiling, “I bid you good day, Y/N.” “And you, Thomas.” As you would for his father, you bowed gently to the Prince and watched him take off down the corridor, smile still on your face. You only turned around when you heard the clearing of a throat behind you. Standing leaning against an entrance way to a higher corridor, was Henry himself. You had no doubt he’d probably heard that entire exchange. But you couldn’t help but smile at him too, and jogged up the set of steps to join him. “Are you waiting for me?” “I was watching the world go by, but I heard the two of you and decided I best collect you, after this morning’s escapades.” Henry gave you a hard look and you hoped he might be joking. “Thomas does a good job of chiding me himself, I don’t need it from you also.” “Ah, but I am the King. And therefore…” You leant against the other side of the doorframe with a scoff, indicating he wasn’t about to get away with saying such a thing. From here you could see through the high windows into the gardens below, and as Thomas crossed the grass several of the dogs chased around his feet. Henry watched your smile grow with a shake of his head; “He’s probably right. You should tone it down.” “Oh? Are you only saying that now because you’re older and wiser? Because there was a time when you used to not only agree with me, Sire, but laugh along.” “Yes, well. Older – perhaps wiser. But I feel that I should probably mention it.” “Save your words, I’ve been like this for years – Best believe I wouldn’t stop now. Force of habit.” “Well if you’re around, and I no longer am, you may well have to change.” “I believe my reactions save you from endless boredom. And, hush - don’t say things like that… How am I supposed to live my life without you!?” It was something you considered, obviously, but never ever wanted mentioned. “I rather think you’ll manage quite well… They depend on you, Y/N. They may not say it but they do.” “Whom? Your council? Your sons?” “The Kingdom.” “Oh.” You hesitated, with a blush, “I… see.” Although currently you weren’t sure how much the Kingdom would really be thanking you for that – considering their views on their King. Afterall, it was not just your job to defend him – you would lay down your life for Henry no matter who he was. He leant across the about foot gap between you and held your chin between his fingers before brushing his lips to yours. You blinked a couple of times; “That was… unprofessional. Especially out here!” “Don’t you ever get tired of worrying?” “No. Especially not now they’re so grown up.” Still, you stole a second kiss before he pulled away. He looked back to the castle grounds; “Thought that would make it more exciting.” “Well, if I would be so bold as to suggest something to entice you away from your duties today, my King.” Henry turned to you, eyebrow raised – but his smile turned into a gentle smirk, and instead of asking what you meant he simply said; “Entice me.” You smirked, a little more seductive, as you claimed that gap back, face so close to his you could feel his breath, and body almost touching his you could hear his heartbeat. Your eyes flicked slowly from his lips to his eyes and back. And for once you decided to brave the sentence you’d been dying to say for a long time. “Bed me, your majesty.”

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Thank you for reading!! 💙🙏💜

#Halseyyyy once again!#The King (2019)#Henry IV x Reader #Ugh that's a weird tag to write #I mean he did /have/ illigitimate children so it's not like this kinda thing /couldn't/ have happened #161 #Thea #another favourite OC of mine #Couples that slay together stay together #I think I prefer them platonic to romantic (as envisioned)#but I do like this one #What is with all the minimal editing?#I just kinda added description here and there but...#I dunno everything is kinda going along nicely #I like that #The King

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