#i miss those good ol chapters before everything turned gray

[losver07]

my roman empire is remus commenting on a quidditch final as a punishment and making minnie regret it during the whole match

[minijenn]

Keys Comm #5

Woooo baby we got a big ol bundle of angst with this comm. Its for an anonymous commissioner, who wanted some angsty interactions between Sora and Young Xehanort following (spoilers?) Sora officially joining the Organization in Keys. This is a pretty fun dynamic to explore (its why its popped up in the last two chapters cause I think its fascinating), so enjoy the angstfest ahead (also if you reblog this do not tag any ships bc thats not what this is if you do i will scratch your eyes out k thanx!)

***

Even though he’s died on more than one occasion, Sora has never felt closer to death’s door than he does now. Now that he’s following his foes willingly, walking through the gates of a castle he’d once stormed as a conquering hero. Only to return as nothing more than a lowly slave.

Ansem and Xemnas head off in separate ways not long after they arrive, leaving Sora alone with Young Xehanort. The young master turns to him with his usual calm grin, though it's tinged with a touch of smug satisfaction that Sora might have once found sickening. But now, he can only incline his head in forced respect for his master, listening in solemn silence to whatever it is he has to say.

“Welcome to your true home, my thirteenth,” he says cordially. “After your last visit here, I trust you know your way around, so I’ll spare you the grand tour. I will, however, gladly show you to your room.”

Sora glances up at this, caught off guard. “...My room?”

“Of course,” Young Xehanort beckons him to follow as he continues on through the castle’s grayscale halls. “Did you really think we’d be barbaric enough to force our most invaluable member to sleep in a dungeon cell?”

“That’s… exactly what I was thinking…” Sora mutters, glancing down.

“I know,” Young Xehanort returns, reminding him yet again that his thoughts are essentially an open book to be read by his master, both old and young alike. “Still, I’m sure you’ll appreciate the room we’ve prepared for you. It used to belong to our previous thirteenth member, you know.”

Sora’s gaze snaps up when he hears this, a pang of grief tugging at his heart at even this indirect mention of Roxas. At even just the thought of any of the beloved friends he’s now lost forever. That grief stings even more when he steps through the threshold of the chamber Young Xehanort takes him to, a clean, largely vacant bedroom that he can all too easily imagine Roxas occupying. A bedroom that’s meant for the Organization’s thirteenth member, both back then… and even now.

“You can take all the time you’d like to settle in later,” Young Xehanort says, still standing in the doorway. “Your induction ceremony is set to begin shortly, and you mustn’t be late for it.”

“I-induction?” Sora glances back at him, confused.

“A way for you to formally accept your place among your fellow members,” Young Xehanort explains. “Believe me when I say they’re all very eager to welcome you into the fold, Sora. However, you will not stand before your Organization wearing that.”

Sora looks down at his usual clothes, already anticipating where this is likely going. Even so, he tries to bite back the rising dread when he asks the obvious question. “What will I be wearing then?”

Young Xehanort’s former grin returns as a bundle of black fabric appears over his outstretched arm. Sora takes in a small, sharp breath when he sees it, the final piece to tie his hideous new appearance together, meant to show exactly what side he stands on now. The side of darkness, the side of his master, the side of Organization XIII.

Sora says nothing as he takes the coat, staring down at it in muted despair. Of course, Young Xehanort only serves to rub salt in the wound with what he has to say next. “Wear it with pride, my thirteenth. It was made to help you to look the part of the role you’re very soon about to play.”

“...What “part” is that anyway?” Sora dares to ask, even though he knows he shouldn’t. “Now that I’m here, don’t I at least deserve to finally know why you chose me and what you want me to do?”

“You’ve already been told why,” Young Xehanort tells him as he turns to leave. “As for what… you’ll learn that in due time, my thirteenth. For now, you have an hour to prepare for your ceremony. I’ll be back to collect you when you’re ready. And remember: everything from the life you knew before must be cast off before you step into our ranks. You belong to us now, Sora; never forget that.”

“I-I won’t… master,” Sora replies, wishing with every fiber of freedom his ruined mind and broken heart has left that he could.

“Very good,” Young Xehanort says, still smiling as he leaves his thirteenth vessel to himself. True to his word, he returns exactly an hour later, and is visibly pleased to see Sora fully clad in his new black coat, finally ready to perfectly fit in among his fellow seekers of darkness.

“Our attire suits you well, Sora,” Young Xehanort notes as he looks over his newest vessel. “Isn’t this much better than those ridiculous clothes the lights gave you to wear?”

Sora doesn’t answer; instead, he glances back at those clothes, folded neatly on the bed behind him. Young Xehanort notices them too, as well as the look of longing written all over Sora’s face. Longing for something he can no longer be a part of. “I’ll dispose of those for you,” he offers, extending a hand out to receive them.

Sora hesitates, his sights still set on the clothes before he briefly offers his master a morose, pleading glance. “C-can I keep them? Please?”

“Really?” Young Xehanort raises a critical eyebrow at this request. “You wish to keep something that will only ever serve to remind you of all of the pain and turmoil you’ve been through? Didn’t you come here to escape the grief the loss of the lights left you with? Wouldn’t you much rather forget about the life you left behind? Don’t you want a fresh start, Sora? A clean slate? A new beginning with your new family?”

No, Sora desperately wants to say, but he doesn’t. He knows he can’t; because whatever family he used to have and love so dearly is long gone now. And the only one he has left is a family he never once thought he’d be a part of. Until now. “Y-yes,” he says softly, a single tear streaking down his cheek. “I do…”

“Then let us go so that family can receive you,” Young Xehanort says, his hand still held out. “But first, your old clothes.” Sora hesitantly nods, slowly taking the clothes from his bed before handing them over to the young master, his hands trembling all the while. “You may not believe it yet, my thirteenth,” Young Xehanort continues, urging Sora onward down the hall. “But you truly do belong here with us. At long last, you’re finally home.”

Sora says nothing to this, his head hung in saddened silence as he begins his solemn march to his long-awaited induction ceremony. Young Xehanort lingers behind for a moment as a dark corridor appears behind him and Saïx steps out of it, exactly as he requested. “Burn these,” the young master coldly commands, handing Sora’s old clothes over to the other member before he continues on his way. “I never want to see them again.”

***

Sora quickly finds that in a world with no real passage of time, the days blend together in a dull, dreary drudgery. He isn’t given any specific tasks to carry out like his fellow members are, with his master merely explaining that his true role is meant to be carried out “at a later time”. So instead, he’s largely left to his own devices. And most of that idle time is spent alone in his room, overwhelmed by grief as he openly despairs over everything that he so swiftly lost.

That grief hardly stays contained to his room however. His powers react to his immense misery, blackened spikes bursting from the gray ground not just in his chambers, but throughout the hallway surrounding it too. Complaints begin to file in from the other members, who find the unbreakable spires to be a gaudy nuisance at best and an impassable obstacle to getting around their own home at worst. And those complaints are what prompts Young Xehanort to pay his newest vessel a visit in the hopes of nipping this newfound problem in the bud.

He enters his thirteenth’s room without knocking, finding Sora sitting on his bed, his knees pulled to his chest and his face buried in them as he weeps softly. Countless black spikes litter the area surrounding him, all but destroying the once pristine room. Young Xehanort scowls as he steps past one of those spikes, interrupting his vessel’s despondent sobs when he speaks up.

“Why are you still mourning over the past?” he asks and Sora glances up with a startled gasp, his eyes still red with tears. “It’s been 2 weeks since you’ve joined our ranks, my thirteenth. You must learn to move on.”

“I-I… I can’t…” Sora looks away, his voice quiet and pained. “I miss them so much…”

“No, you don’t,” Young Xehanort counters as he approaches the bed. “What you miss is the memory of how you felt about them. If you let those feelings go, then you can finally find the strength to move forward.”

“I… I don’t know how to let them go…” Sora admits, leaving out the fact that he doesn’t want to let them go either. That he doesn’t want to forget them or how he felt about them or how much he loved them, how much he still loves them, even now that they’re all long gone.

“Then allow me to show you,” Young Xehanort extends a hand out. And despite his better judgement, it's a hand that Sora anxiously takes as he lets his master ease him into properly sitting up.

“The lesson you need to learn here is a simple one,” Young Xehanort begins, taking a seat on the bed next to him. “Your emotions weigh you down; they always have, and if you continue to let them get the better of you, they always will. You’ve been letting those emotions, your fear, your grief, your worry, cloud your mind and rule your heart. Your magic thus responds to them in turn, making your powers chaotic and uncontrollable.” He places a hand against one of the several spikes surrounding them. “Stopping those emotions from coming completely will take much time and practice for someone as young as you, but you can accomplish it eventually. In the meantime, you can start by suppressing them. And in doing so, you can finally begin to truly live the new life I’ve so generously given to you.”

Sora stays silent for a long moment upon hearing all this, trying to soak it all in. His tears have stopped by now as he finally takes stock of the mess his magic has made of his room, at the disastrous danger he’s always known his powers to pose. He tries to call them back in, but with his sadness still stirring so strongly within him, he finds it to be a largely impossible feat. Unless… “Suppress them?” he looks to his master, lost and confused. “Y-you mean… pretend I don’t feel… anything anymore?”

“Precisely,” Young Xehanort nods. “Pretend… until everyone around you believes in the mask you’ve put on. Until you believe in it yourself. And when you do, suddenly you’ll find that you won’t even have to pretend any longer. The mask will become real.”

This kind of advice is something that’s entirely new to Sora. All his life, he’s been told that his emotions are important, that they matter, that they’re what make him strong, what make him bold, what make him human. But now, he’s being told to throw those emotions away, to cast them off and put on the same mask of cold indifference that every other one of his fellow members so easily wears. It’s not a mask he wants, nor is it one he welcomes; but if it can numb the pain he still so powerfully feels, at least in some small way, then it's a mask he knows he might as well wear. At least until he doesn’t have to anymore.

So he closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath, and forces those emotions back into the depths of his heart. For as difficult as it might be, he somehow shoves the grief, the guilt, the pain, all of it under the surface, just as his master had said. And, when he opens his eyes again, he finds that every single one of the spikes his emotions had unintentionally created… is gone.

“I… it worked…” he balks, genuinely surprised.

“So it did,” Young Xehanort nods his approval. “But this is just the start of what you could do if you learned to truly control your powers, Sora. Your magic is very unique, so strong, yet so untamed in its current state. The lights wanted you to lock that magic, that part of yourself that’s so natural and so special, away simply because they deemed it to be ‘dangerous’. But here in the darkness, you’re free to wield those powers however and whenever you please. You’re finally free to be yourself.”

Free… not to express his emotions anymore, but his powers in their place. And really, now that he’s come all this way and has started settling into his place among the shadows, that’s exactly what Sora realizes he needs to do. To embrace who he is now… and leave behind whoever he used to be.

“P-please,” he begins, looking to his master earnestly. “I want to… I’ve never been able to…” he trails off, shaking his head as he steadies himself and starts his request again. “C-can you show me how to use my powers the right way, master?”

Young Xehanort grins broadly, a spark of what almost seems like pride flashing across his face as he places a hand on his newest vessel’s shoulder. “Oh, my thirteenth,” he says, his grip on the boy tightening ever so slightly as he speaks. “I would be more than happy to.”

***

Sora does what he can to avoid the other Organization members. He isn’t fond of the idea of forming a friendly relationship with any of his foes-turned-allies, and he’s certain just about all of them feel the same. So he mostly keeps to himself, only really leaving his room for the sake of magic lessons with his master and to fetch some food every few times a day. For the most part, he isn’t bothered by any of the other members he happens to pass by on his way to the castle’s kitchen. A few, such as Vexen or Demyx, will sometimes shoot him dirty looks, but otherwise won’t say anything to him. But of course, today on his way to get something for lunch, he’s unfortunate enough to quite literally run into two of the members who openly hate him most.

He’s largely lost in his own thoughts when he rounds a corner, only to collide squarely into Larxene. “Ugh! Stupid brat!” she hisses, harshly shoving Sora to the ground. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?!”

“Now, now, Larxene,” Marluxia says as he steps in to stand alongside her. “We shouldn’t be so rude to our newest member. After all, I’m sure it's very hard for him to focus on much of anything other than how much he misses his dearest, now-dead friends…”

“Pfft,” Larxene snorts out a laugh. “Yeah, poor little kiddo must be soooo lonely.” She grins wickedly as she suddenly reaches down, grabbing Sora by the front of his coat and pulling him up off the ground. “If you’re that bummed out, why don’t we keep you company for awhile?”

“N-no thanks,” Sora shudders, trying his best to pull away from Larxene’s surprisingly tight grip. “You really don’t have to-”

“Nonsense,” Marluxia says with a smug smirk to perfectly match Larxene’s. “We’d be remiss if we didn’t take the opportunity to spend some… quality time with our newest member. And besides-” Sora gasps in sudden fear when Marluxia summons his deadly scythe, Larxene’s knives flashing into her free hand as she holds them up threateningly. “We both have some unfinished business with you, number thirteen.”

Larxene abruptly throws him to the ground once more, calling upon a dark barrier in the space behind Sora to keep him from slipping away. “Aw, don’t look so scared, Sora,” she chuckles as both her and Marluxia brandish their weapons. “We just wanna have a little fun with you…”

“Fun indeed…” Marluxia agrees, drawing the tip of his scythe in dangerously close to Sora. “And perhaps… just a little payback too…”

Sora is unable to stifle a pained cry as the scythe suddenly rips across the right side of his jaw, creating a long, deep cut that tears all the way up toward his nose. The blood from it leaks across the rest of his face, to the point that he accidentally catches a taste of the bitter fluid when it inevitably leaks into his mouth. He doesn’t get a chance to nurse the new wound however, before a sharp, brutal shock ripples its way through his body, sending him flying back hard into the barrier behind him. Larxene laughs in twisted amusement as she keeps her electrifying magic pouring into him, until he quickly reaches the point where he can’t bear the agony of it any longer.

“S-stop!” he cries in the seconds between shocks. “P-please… stop…”

“You’ve resorted to begging for mercy?” Marluxia sneers unsympathetically. “And just when I thought you couldn’t get any more pathetic.”

“Seriously, what are you? Some kind of dumb dog that thinks those sad little puppy eyes of yours will convince us to cut you some slack? Please,” Larxene scoffs, raising her knives to toss them his way. “Get over yourself. You might have gotten lucky enough to beat us both before, but you’re nothing now.”

“Nothing more than a shadow of who you used to be,” Marluxia adds, raising his scythe high for another painful strike. Sora braces himself for the brunt of both attacks, closing his eyes and shielding himself away from the vicious torture they both intend to put him through. And yet in the end, those attacks never come.

He opens his eyes seconds later when he hears the sounds of Marluxia and Larxene’s weapons striking solid metal. The pair winces in apt surprise when Young Xehanort fends them off, using a bit of his own dark magic to swiftly shove them both away. He stands in the space between the duo and Sora, his Keyblade called upon seemingly for the purpose of defending his newest vessel from their violent ire.

“Do you two really have nothing better to do with your time than harass our newest member?” he scowls coldly at Marluxia and Larxene as they begin to pick themselves back up from his brutal attack.

“W-we were just-”

“I know exactly what you were doing,” Young Xehanort abruptly cuts Larxene off. “Whatever disdain you might harbor for our thirteenth must be put behind you. He is one of us now, and I expect you to treat him as such. Do you both understand or is that too much for your simple minds to comprehend?”

Marluxia and Larxene exchange frustrated glance at this, both of them clearly humbled and embarrassed by their young master’s admonishment. In the end, however, Larxene crosses her arms, simply nodding as she glares away. Marluxia is similarly bitter as he offers his answer aloud. “Yes, master.”

“Then in that case, you’re both dismissed to return to your actual duties instead of wasting your time standing around here,” Young Xehanort instructs, dismissively waving them both away.

The pair quickly retreats after this, though not before they both look past Young Xehanort to offer Sora one final hateful glare. He only barely hears Larxene hiss something about him being “master’s pet” to Marluxia before they round the next corner, finally leaving him alone with that master once more.

“I apologize for the misguided hostility of your fellow members, Sora,” Young Xehanort turns to him, extending a hand out to help him up. “It seems as though some of them are having a hard time letting the past go. Are you alright?”

As shaken as he still is by the recent attack, Sora struggles to collect himself enough to do much of anything else outside of accepting the hand his young master is offering to him. “I… y-you… you saved me…” he mutters, bewildered by the very thought.

“Of course, I did,” Young Xehanort offers him a cordial, almost kindly smile. “You’ve suffered more than enough by now. There is no need for you to suffer any more, especially at the hands of your own allies. You’ve been through enough of that when you were back with the lights, I’m sure.”

Sora sighs at this mention of his lost friends, though he maintains his mask well enough as he lightly traces the scar now marring most of his face. He flinches when Young Xehanort suddenly reaches out to touch it too, though as soon as his fingers so much as skim the still-bleeding cut, his skin weaves itself back together, the pain that it caused him all but disappearing completely.

“There,” the young master tilts his vessel’s chin up a bit to inspect his now-clean face. “Like it never happened. After a few more of our lessons together, I’m sure you’ll be more than capable of defending yourself against the petty wrath fellow members might decide to inflict against you. But until then, you can depend on me to protect you, my thirteenth.”

Even against the emotions he’s still trying to keep hidden under the mask, Sora can’t help but feel something he can’t believe he has toward his young master of all people. A sense of genuine gratitude, a deep, genuine gratefulness for the protection Young Xehanort is offering him, for the kindness he’s extended toward him in a time when he so desperately needs it most. In the absence of anyone he might have once sought that same sort of kindness from instead. “T-thank you… master,” he whispers, bowing his head in respect that, perhaps for the first time, is completely earnest, completely on his own accord.

“Think nothing of it, my thirteenth,” Young Xehanort’s smile widens in the satisfaction of knowing he now has Sora exactly where he wants him. In knowing that he now owns every part of his thirteenth vessel: body, heart, and mind alike. “After all, it’s my job to warmly welcome you into our ranks. And I’m so glad to see that you're finally starting to feel like you’re right at home here with us. With me.”

Commissions are CLOSED

[mcfreakin-bxtch]

Chapter Three (Knight AU)

Be Yours

Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: Talks of war/violence and forced marriages, Language (I may be missing more I apologize)

Word Count: 2.2K+

A/N: This took forever for me to get out. The next chapter will have more Din and James content and background!

*I’m reposting this because I went through another tumblr glitch (which they said should never happen again so let’s hope!) and my fic kinda disappeared from the tags

***

James Newsome.

That name made you tremble with pure anger.

The only son to the Newsome Heir, Prince of Coalstead, and one of the most infuriating men you had ever come across.

You had first met him when you had just turned fifteen, in his home in the smoky, dark yet elegant kingdom that made you appreciate the grassy lands that surrounded yours. Your fathers were quick to introduce the two of you; even at a young age, James had the ego of a thousand kings that immediately butted heads with your ‘righteous morality’ as he grew to call it, but you didn’t fully realize this until you began to see his true colors. It wasn’t hard to deduce what your fathers were up to, and your suspicions about this abrupt meeting were answered when he teased you about it.

“I think our fathers want us to marry,” he said in a mediocre sing-song. “Another kingdom for the taking, another queen to—”

You kicked him before he could continue.

From then on out the entire trip was full of arguing and bickering that even your guards couldn’t get under control, and each time he would give you that smile—one of victory and cheekiness you wanted to slap off. Jules, who had gone with you of course, ogled him just as every other girl did when he walked by much to your chagrin; you hoped it still wasn’t so.

“You’re just letting him get the best of you.” Jules said. She ran her fingers through your hair carefully as she brushed out the harsh tangles from your restless night. “And besides, it’s not like he’s… well, unfortunate looking.”

You grimaced. Sometimes, you wondered about your friend. “You’re not helping, Jules. And you know that it goes beyond his looks.”

She huffed as she took a part of your hair and clipped so that one side was out of your face, her annoyed expression matching your own in the vanity mirror.

‘Good’, you thought.

“Well,” she said after clipping the other half of your locks. “You’re the Princess of Riverheart and the most stubborn woman I have ever met.” You couldn’t stifle the grin that also laced her lips and Jules chuckled. “So do something about it, then.”

“Yeah.” You nodded with authority. “That’s right.” You stood up abruptly, twirling around to pull Jules into a tight hug, ignoring her surprised yelp. “Thank you.”

Your steps echoed loudly through the empty halls, sharp and defined as confidence bubbled inside of your chest with a fury. You whipped your head around every corner, not a glimpse of familiar aging hair or colorful robes at every turn. He wasn’t even in the grand hall, odd to you at the early hours but not uncommon.

Where the devil is he?

It was a long shot, going to your precious garden. Bringham rarely made an appearance, and you supposed it had everything to do with the dead; too many memories. As you expected, he wasn’t.

With a long and heavy sigh you sat down in the rays of the seething sun and twirled a strand of grass around your pointer finger. You closed your eyes and basked in the warmth of the morning, replaying the night before in your head.

“And you’ve told no one else this?” You asked, swallowing through the shock of what Din had just told you.

“No,” Din answered. “No one out of the Royal Court knows of this.”

You nodded, staring at the floor. “Okay.” Your voice wavered through your authoritative tone. “Okay.”

“M’lady.” Din cleared his throat. “You must’n let your father know I told you this. I—”

“I’m aware,” you gritted out. “I promise you, you will face no consequences for this.”

“I didn’t mean to… overstep. I’m sorry.”

You sighed and shook your head, burying your face in your hands. “No,” you mumbled. “I shouldn’t take my anger out on you. After all, you’re not the one forcing me into this.”

The room filled with silence then, a silence filled with understanding and a sort of acceptance.

“Din,” you said gently. “Thank you.”

The Knight stood postured, as he was trained, but there was a slight shift that told you that your sincerity reached a certain part of him you had not touched.

“It’s my job.” He replied. “It is the Code.”

You wished you had the blood of a witch so you could read his mind. To unbrand him and disintegrate the armor that shielded him from the outside world. It was selfish, very selfish of you, you constantly reminded yourself, but that childlike curiosity was a monster to fight; a battle you seemed to lose each and every time.

“Ah, and there she is.”

Your heart stopped. That voice hadn’t changed much since the last time you saw him, but he had definitely grown out of his boyish features; now replaced with a sharp jaw and cheekbones that matched, floofy, short brown locks that actually kept the younger boy you had met so long ago, with a black coat that defined the muscles he obtained over the years, and a toothy grin that was nothing but hubris as he stood a few feet before you.

“James,” you greeted coolly. “A surprise to see you here.”

His grin widened. “And did you not miss me, little princess?”

You glared at the pet name. “No, and I believe I told you not to call me that.”

He chuckled, all confident and airy as he strolled towards you, bringing an apple out of his coat pocket. “You certainly haven’t changed… much.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he walks closer to you, rolling the red apple in his hand, “that you need to loosen up. Let your guard down little princess, you’re not a queen yet, so enjoy it.”

He ended with an offering, the apple just inches away from the tip of your nose. You swiped it out of his grip with a frown. “And here you are already giving me a lecture.”

His grin widened. “I know. But you see,” he did a little twirl, inhaling deeply and opening his arms towards the clear blue skies, “people can change.”

You took a bite of the sweet fruit, chewing thoughtfully. “While that is true,” you mumbled. “That only applies to someone who actually wants to change for the better, not because they’re in need of their father’s treasures.”

James’s smile fell, as did his brows, and it made you smirk behind the apple. After all these years, it felt nice that you could still get underneath his skin and rip him a new one—the only problem was that you were still letting him do the same thing to you.

“And how does dear ole daddy feel knowing that his only heir is having doubts?!” He smirked as your expression fell. “He does know, doesn’t he?”

You could feel the blood rush to your face, painting it into a hot red that had you seething in your spot. Everything turned into background noise—no, not even that, everything just went numb, and before you could even think or take the next breath, the apple flew from your hand and towards his chest.

“Hey—” he barely got out in surprise when you lunged at him.

You didn’t have specifics in mind, but you knew that you just wanted to hurt him; to give him a piece of his own medicine through the only way that flew through your head. Your hand cocked back, knuckles upfront as you swung and you were vaguely aware of the soft crunch of his nose beneath your fist.

“Son of a bitch!” James howled, clutching at his face, little droplets of blood already seeping through the cracks of his fingers.

You smiled, triumphant in your stand, but it was quickly shattered when you heard the familiar pounding of hooves coming towards the garden.

“And what is going on here?”

Ah, you recognized that voice.

“Oh you know, Perry,” James sighed nasually, “the usual bits.”

Perry, a rather short man with a big rounded nose and a permanent sneer on his lips that matched the yellowish look of his hazel eyes—you imagined those eyes would look rather beautiful and clear without the harshness he brought to them—eyed the Prince’s bloody hand and your clenched fists; no doubt he could pick out the specs of blood on your knuckles.

As you expected, the guard turned towards you with no hidden malice. “What do you think you’re doing attacking—”

“It’s fine.” James huffed loudly. “I can take care of this myself.”

You were shocked to say the least, and it must have shown vividly on your face because James’s cheeks scrunched up to the corner of his eyes—he was laughing at you.

And Perry sat on his horse—at least the horse was well taken care of, as far as you could tell—gritting his teeth in frustration as he knew best not to go against his word.

“Very well. Remember to arrive on time for dinner, your highness.”

James waved him off, not taking his eyes off you; you held his gaze, refusing to back down. Finally he chuckled, wincing in pain as he did, but kept that smile all the while.

“You know, a simple thank you will suffice.”

You scoffed. “I do not owe you any apologies of sorts.”

“Not even for saving your ass back there?” He tilted his head back. “Weren’t you taught to show gratification for your saviors?”

You rolled your eyes so hard it felt as though it would stay in the back of your head, barely giving him a moment’s chance to stop you—if he had plans to—as you barreled past him.

“Do you know why I’m here?”

The question makes you stop. “No.” You lied.

He took a few steps closer to you, blue-gray eyes meeting yours with no traces of teasing—a first for him.

“I’m not supposed to be here, actually,” he sidetracked from his previous question. “But I was a little curious.”

It was a trap, you could sense it, and you knew better than to fall for it, but the words escaped your mouth without a second thought. “About what?”

His grin widened, pearly white teeth among the tiny streaks of blood from his nose. “If you were going to be happy seeing your soon-to-be husband.”

You walked away before you could give him any more satisfaction; his chuckle echoed across your mother’s garden, following your heavy steps.

***

The rain pattered against the rooftop.

It was a calming feeling in contrast to the brewing anger and frustration inside your chest. Each thump against your window echoed in your heartbeat, and as you sat in your room, refusing to let anyone in, your thoughts ran rampant.

How could your father not warn you of this? Prepare you for the heavy tasks that were bestowed upon you since birth by royal right, instead of throwing you head first into a marriage you’ve never asked for, and for a war you have no idea how to fight and by his own excuses.

The problem was that you knew of his reasoning’s. You had been prepared for a daunting title since you could walk and talk, and the aspects of a marriage you would not be able to turn down no longer—not without a good fight, at least. Your mind could contradict itself a thousand times just to try and make you feel better, but the end result would remain the same; you were going to have to go through with this, no matter how much you disliked the idea of it.

“‘For your people,’” you mocked with a scowl. “For my people.”

It made your heart turn in its weeping, struggling to overcome the waves of disdain. At that moment, you wished your mother were there, comforting you and telling you everything you wanted to hear, anything to justify your departure from the title itself.

“Wars. Death. Magic even.”

It shook you to the core just thinking about what was coming for your kingdom, your home. And now, all the weight was atop your shoulders, the lives of many in your hands for the first time, and you had no idea whatsoever on how you were going to handle this—marrying James and aligning Coalstead and Riverheart was a start, a start you thought less of.

Suddenly your mind drifted to the man who relayed this message to you in secret, and remembered that you had not seen him at all since last night. You wanted, no, needed, to see him before you let your head get the best of you; you could talk to him without worrying of him betraying your trust and he seemed to be the only one (other than insufferable fool) that was forthright with you about everything.

It would have to wait until after supper. You didn’t need any more suspicions from your father nor anyone else in the guard that would turn you in in a heartbeat. You needed to be smart and careful about this, no matter the battle raging between your head and heart.

If the rumors were true, your step to the high chair was coming sooner than you thought.

Tags: @justlovetoreadfics​, @lil-baby27​, @mando-vibes​, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch​, @im-the-music-whore​, @certifiedhunter​, @softpedropascal, @domino-oh-damn​​, @okaydacre​, @lemongrove​, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony​, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd​, @elusive-ivory​, @dizzydazed​, @bluejeancntrygrl​, @dadzawas-eyebags,  @parody-the-emi​, @evalynanne​, @purplewaterbird​, @vikingqueen28​, @tedpicklez​, @blunt-cake-yes​, @agoldin​, @lustriix​, @readsalot73​, @kateb013​, @eupphoriaaa, @imalovernotahater​, @everything-lost-and-unsaid​, @dlmafa1, @hoodedbirdie​, @drunkenliterary, @fioccodineveautunnale​​, @fangirlfree​, @mrsparknuts, @amarvelousmandalorian​, @ironheart-hanako​, @bunniotomia​, @thisisthe-way, @sando-rann, @meganoid1997, @adikaofmandalore​, @cahooter, @charliepeaceout, @dreamgirl-67, @phoenixhalliwell​, @acrylics-and-sunshine​, @sunkissed-winter​, @oloreaa​, @equalstrashflavoredtrash​, @dyn-djarin​, @ben-is-a-hoe

[nothingbutfangirlsmut]

The Girl Out of Time

Paring: Bucky x Reader & Sam x Reader

Background: Willow Roffe was born and raised in Brooklyn. She lived her life as happily as she could with her two childhood best friends Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. When they both left her to join the military she tried to continue with life but that didn't get to happen for her for the simple fact that she meant something to James Buchanan Barnes.

Rating: Story will be overall MATURE but not every chapter. There will be strong language, talk of both mental and physical abuse, some good ole angst, and some eventual smut once the story reaches that point.

Chapter 3

I had been given sleeping quarters in the avenger's tower. My room only two down from Steve. My first night here was certainly a rough one. I didn't sleep much. I had too many things on my mind. I kept thinking back to my family. What became of them? How did my sisters deal with the life I left them behind in? Our father was never the nicest person. He was very controlling and horribly cruel. Even though I wasn't the oldest but the middle child I would always take the place of my sisters when it came to my father's wrath. I could always handle it more than they could. It may have hurt like hell but they never deserved it so I made sure that I always did. What happened when I disappeared? How badly had father been to them?

"Ja- Jarvis" I whispered hesitantly.

"Yes, Miss Roffe" the voice said.

"Would you... I mean could..." I groaned in frustration.

I'm not even talking to a person! What am I doing?

"Miss Roffe?" The voice asked.

"I need to know what happened to my family." I said choking on a sob.

"Certainly"

The wall in front of me lit up a few seconds later to show a photo of each of my family members. I stepped closer just to look at them.

"Can I see Amelia please?" I asked.

The images on the wall changed. It was my older sister Amelia. She looked so different. So much older. The image changed to a newspaper article. The tears fell down my cheeks as I tried not to sob. It was her death.

"Amelia Daniels, born 1921, oldest of three children. She married Jacob Daniels in 1948. They had two children together. A boy named Christopher Daniels and a girl named Willow Daniels. She died of natural causes in 2003 at the age of 82." Jarvis spoke as I stared at the photos.

I wiped my tears away. At least she had a good life. At least it sounded like she did.

"Can you show me Grace?" I asked Jarvis.

The images on the wall changed to show my baby sister. She was only ten years old when I last saw her. The images slowly moved threw her life. Showing me how she had grown up.

"Grace Yorkshire, born 1936, youngest of three children. She married Lucas Yorkshire in 1960. They have three children together. Two boys, one named Gregory Yorkshire and the other named Lucas Yorkshire the second. One girl named Annabelle Yorkshire. She resides at 1416 Dane Court in Brooklyn, New York."

A wave of excitement ran threw me knowing my baby sister is still alive. I have to see her!

--

The next morning I was banging on Steve's door to wake him up but he didn't answer.

"What are you doing?" Natasha asked from behind me.

"I need to talk to Steve." I said quickly.

"He isn't here. He goes for a run every morning. Is everything alright?" She asked raising a brow at me.

"My sister, my baby sister Gracie is still alive. I need to see her."

Natasha seemed to perk up at my words. She smiled and gestured for me to follow her. We walked into what I assumed was Natasha's sleeping quarters.

"Here wear this" she said handing me some clothing.

I laid it on the bed to look at it. It was a shirt and pants. I've never wore anything like this. My father said either dress like a lady or be treated like a man. In other words, we were to dress very modestly because if we didn't he would beat us like we were men.

"Willow, it's alright no one is gonna say anything to you. Just trust me." She said with a smile.

I nodded as I undressed. Once I had the new clothes on I felt odd but good. It felt freeing.

"Do you know where your sister is?" Natasha asked as we walked down one of the halls.

"1416 Dane Court Brooklyn, New York. All those years and she still lives in Brooklyn." I couldn't help the smile on my face.

"Let's go find her then."

I followed her into the elevator then quickly out of the front door and into the crowded street. She stepped to the side of the side walk then whistled really loud as she waved. A cab pulled up in front of us a few seconds later. She opened the door gesturing for me to get in first. I felt like a kid again going somewhere I'd never been. It was always so exciting.

"Where to?" The driver asked.

"Oh, um 1416 Dane Court Brooklyn." I told him.

He nodded then pulled back into the traffic. I watched out the window as we drove threw the unfamiliar streets. I had known this area when I was younger. Steve and I use to go all over the place. Now it was like I'd never stepped a foot in New York before.

The cab pulled over in front of a row of houses. Natasha handed him some money then we got out of the cab. I was standing on the sidewalk outside of 1416 Dane Court. Gracie is right inside there. My heart was thumping savagely against my chest. What would I do? What would I say? Would she even remember me?

Natasha gently pushed me forward towards the house. I took hesitant steps thinking this over. Should I really do this? This could go really bad. Before I could turn around and run Natasha knocked on the door.

"Just a second" I heard a woman shout from inside.

The door opened and there stood a gray haired Grace Roffe or Yorkshire now. I felt the sob rip from my chest. My baby sister was older than me now. The woman looked terrified and frozen to the spot as she stared at me.

"I don't know if you remember me. You were only ten the last time I saw you." I said wiping the tears from my cheeks.

"Willow?" She questioned with a shaking voice.

"Yes, it's me" I nodded.

She seemed to snap out of a trance then gestured for us to come in. I walked inside followed by Natasha. We both sat on the couch as Grace sat on the table across from us.

"How is this even possible?" She asked in amazement.

"I honestly don't know. I don't understand what happened to me. One moment I'm walking home in 1946 then the next I'm waking up here in 2013."

I watched Grace wipe her cheeks as she smiled.

"It's an odd thing to see you like this after all these years. You haven't aged a day." Grace chuckled.

"You have no idea. Everything is different. Can you tell me anything? Do you know anything about what happened?" I asked her leaning forward.

She shook her head.

"I was just a kid. You know how adults were back then. The children never needed to know anything. The only thing I knew was that something happened to you. You disappeared and you were never coming home. I know a little about your friends though. They were both national heroes. There's even an exhibit in the museum about them." Her smile was warm.

"My friends? You mean Steve?" I asked.

She nodded.

"Yea, that little twiggy boy Steve Rogers and the other really pretty one James Barnes."

James Barnes? I don't know a James Barnes.

"Gracie, I know about Steve but who is James Barnes?" I asked curiously.

"What?" She asked in shock.

"How could you forget James Barnes? He was beautiful! You were always hanging on him. I always use to say you'd marry him one day but you always blushed and told me to shut up." She laughed at her memory.

"No" I shook my head.

"I never knew a James Barnes." I said sternly.

Grace's smile fell as she looked at my serious expression.

"Willow, I'd never lie to you and I swear I'm not a crazy old bat even though I do look like one." She chuckled.

"Hold on, I have an old photo that Amy gave to me a few years back." She mumbled as she got up and walked to the other side of the room.

She pulled open a few drawers looking for the photo. When she found it she shouted holding it up in the air. She came back to sit in front of Natasha and I once more. She held the picture against her chest.

"This was the original photo that was used in the first article about you missing. It was taken at the Stark Expo the day before James left for the army. You were so heart broken to have him leave. Here." She handed the photo to me.

I gently took it from her and flipped it over. There I was smiling but my eyes were puffy from crying. I hadn't noticed that detail before. I don't remember crying that night. Steve's tiny frame stood next to me with his arm over my shoulder as he smiled widely. On the other side of me was indeed an extremely handsome man. His arm looked like it was tightly around my waist like he was pulling me closer to him. His smile was large but he wasn't looking forward like Steve and I. He was looking down at me. Why can't I remember him?

I felt the tears on my cheeks again. I wiped them away quickly then handed the photo back to Grace. She shook her head and pushed my hand away.

"I don't know what happened to you Willow but I know how much both Steve and James meant to you. Keep it and try to recall some of those memories. I promise they were incredibly happy ones. Every time you were with James you were so happy."

Natasha and I thanked her. I hugged her tightly and promised to come back to visit. After that we went back to the tower.

---

Masterlist

[funkymeihem-fiction]

Special Delivery- Chapter 4

“Sooooo, can we? It’s all working out just how I planned! This is heaps good!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Darl, you’re killin’ me here! Just give it a chance!”

“I am not going to give it any sort of chance.”

“Fockin’ hell, woman! All you gotta do is sit there for a while, while I do all the hard stuff. You get some sort of sick delight in makin’ things more difficult than they gotta be?!”

Mei narrowed her eyes at him behind her glasses. “You are actually asking for my permission to keep me captive? And you expect me to give it to you?”

“Well when you put it like that, of course it’s gonna sound a bit off,” Rat grumbled, bony shoulders hunching as he folded his arms in his most petulant manner. “So let me put it in a much better way for you. You’ve got blokes what are still looking for you, the kind who want to kill me and Hog and take you to the Big Boss who wanted you in the first place. Now, neither of us want that to happen, do we? Of course we don’t! So why don’t you just sit tight here at Junkrat’s Bed and Breakfast for just a while longer, and once the air’s cleared a bit and there aren’t so many eyes trying to find you, we’ll sneak you out somewhere safer. We’ll get you to a city, and you show up as pretty as you are right now, and then you go on your merry whilst yours truly collects the reward! Easy peasy!”

“There is nothing easy or peasy about that!” Mei shot back, pointing to the chain still shackled to her leg. “And what were you talking about before? What other junkers? What’s a Big Boss?”

He scratched at his sparsely-haired head, and she tried not to wince when his locks actually crunched under his fingertips. They must have been so filthy with soot and dirty that they stood almost straight out. With a shrug, he leaned back on both arms and regarded her curiously. “You mean you really dunno? You can’t remember anything?”

She hugged herself again. “No. I remember being on a side street in Sydney and realizing someone was following me. I don’t know how many there were, because I turned around to face them, but there was another one, and then I must have blacked out. I think they drugged me? And then I wake up here with a chain around my leg and…I thought you…”

Junkrat sucked on a tooth, giving her a look that resembled pity, or at least the most pity that was to be had from a junker. “Well no wonder you’ve been nattering nonsense, then! Poor little pookie, had no idea what was going on. Lookit, sometimes the higher-ups in Junkertown get a taste for something fancy. So they’ll send out some boys to hit the cities for whatever they want. Sounds to me like the Big Boss decided he wanted himself a certain type of lady. And I know the bloke you were meant for, darl. Not someone who would’ve done you any good, none at all!”

“You mean they would have-”

“Uh huh.”

She averted her gaze, pulling her blanket tighter around herself. “How did you find me?”

“Let’s just call that a ‘happy accident’, yeah? I just happened to intercept the caravan what was carrying their special delivery. Didn’t know the delivery was you, of course. Was ransacking the lorries and found you tied up in the trunk. Completely in the nuddy, crammed in there like a wrapped up parcel. Might have seen a bit of red when I realized what was going on. So me and Hog took care of them all, right then and there. Like I said, killed them all to the last man.” His strange eyes swerved back to her expectantly, clearly wanting praise again.

Mei thinned her lips, unsure whether to be happy with that news or not. Generally she abhorred killing of any sort. But it was hard to get  upset over the deaths of men who would do such heinous things. She just nodded meekly and let him talk. He seemed to like talking.

“Knew the Big Boss would be out scouring every corner of the Outback, looking for you and looking for the ones what killed his boys and took everything from him. Left him a false trail, and then Hog and I went roundabout and took you to my home sweet home. Tried to get you some pants, honest I did. But--” he gestured to his exceedingly scrawny waist, wrapping both hands around it so his fingers touched— “nothing doing, measurements wise. Work in progress, no worries. I’ll get you something comfy.”

“And you’re sure the chain was really necessary?”

“I should bloody well say so, since the first thing you did when you slipped it was to run off and near kill yourself. After all the trouble I went through? Too dangerous for you to go scampering about. Maybe if you behave, we can talk about your Casa de Junkrat privileges. But until then, you can only go on walkies when I’m with you. Can’t let the other junkers spy you out.”

She gave him a dirty look, but took a deep breath and remained calm. This new information changed things. “Listen, Junkrat. I believe you when you say you rescued me from those men. I’m thankful. I really am. But if you can just get me a communication signal, I can contact my, um…associates? If I can’t, you’re going to have a lot more complicated things to deal with than just other junkers.”

“Oi, that a threat? Really?”

“No! I’m not trying to threaten you. I’m just saying, I have friends who might get the wrong impression if they’re able to track me down and find me chained to a wall in whatever this place is. And I don’t want you to get hurt if things go bad.”

His eyes went gooey again, leaning towards her. “Ya do care!”

“I don’t want you or anyone to get hurt, is what I meant!” she clarified quickly, setting her jaw and scooting away. “This is all just a big misunderstanding. So, if you just let me call them, I can just have them pick me up.”

“Now now now, what about the money? They’re not the ones offering the reward for your return, are they?”

“Money? I’m not sure they can… I mean, I can ask them when I call--”

“AH HA!” He pointed at her suddenly with a screaming laugh, his filthy finger almost in her face and making her reel back so hard that she nearly fell over. “Trying to give ol’ Junkrat the slip, are we? Well I’m onto you. ‘Not sure’ if they got the money or not. And if they don’t, they’re gonna come here and rescue you and blow my cover. And then I’m left with no reward and a Big Boss and his Boys after my hide! Hard pass, darl. Hard pass.”

“Junkrat, you can’t just--”

“Nope! Sorry, love, but seeing as I’m the brains of our special little trio here, we’re going to do things my way. Don’t fret your beautiful little head, Mei. You’ll still be getting out, and I’ll still be getting a fat stack of credits for your safe return. I mean, that is, unless you decide you want to stay here.” He leaned towards her and clasped his hands together, metal digits clicking on his mechanical one. “We can skip the whole thing, if you want. If you wanna stay.”

There was that wounded and lovesick puppy expression on his face again, but she turned him away as primly as she had before. “Listen, Mr. Rat-”

“Heh! Hehehehe! Mr. Rat! I like that! You’re funny, Mei. I like ‘em funny. Junkrat’s just my esteemed moniker. Real name’s Jamison Fawkes, the Third, Esquire, Junior, and some other things I forgot. You like it?” He crammed himself closer to her again.

Savior or not, she was getting very close to physically shoving him about now. Trying to rein in her temper, Mei took a deep breath and held up a hand to keep him at bay. “Okay. Mr. Fawkes. If you would please stop interrupting me every other — ”

"Word? See! We’re finishing each other’s sentences already!”

“Mr. Fawk— ”

“You can call me Jamison! Or Jamie. Or Mr. Fawkes. Or Junkrat. Or Mr. Rat. Or you can make up any ol’ pet name for me that you like.” 

“Mr.—”

“How about Pooky Bear?”

Mei just put her face in her hands and gave up, sighing through her fingers.

She couldn’t tell someone like him about Overwatch. Winston had offered her a place among them, but Overwatch as an entity had been made illegal and the world had changed so much in nine years that it felt like she was starting all over again. She’d taken it upon herself to head back out into a world that had left her behind, trying to catch up on everything she had missed. The environment summit in Sydney was supposed to be the start of her getting her career back on track. And like everything else in her life, it had gone completely off the rails.

At least one of theme seemed excited about this whole mess. Junkrat picked up her dirty meal tray, scraping a stray piece of egg away with his fingers and sucking them clean. It looked like he also sucked a healthy amount of dirt off the tips of them, and they came away slightly less gray than before. Mei wrinkled her nose at him, and he grinned back at her.

“Now I can understand that you got concerns, but it won’t be all bad. You can watch the telly whenever you like, I’ll get you some of Hog’s books, get you something proper to wear, and whatever else you want. Think of it as an impromptu vacation?” His long spine creaked as he leapt up off the ground, tossing the dirty tray into the dry basin of his makeshift sink. “Or a junker style sleepover! S’gonna get dark soon. You know, you’re lucky you’re not in with Roadhog. The sounds he makes when he snores, you’d think he was dyin’. You don’t snore, do you?”

“No. I don’t snore.” Mei glumly propped her chin atop her knees. She couldn’t be too terse with a man who, though annoying, seemed to have at least decent intentions towards her. She would still need to press the issue about getting a call out to her friends, but maybe one night would satisfy Junkrat’s savior complex and she could talk some sense into him later.

Maybe.

***

He’d talked her into it! The poor little not-doctor had just been confused this whole time, that was all. She’d been afraid that he was one of the blokes out to do her harm. But now she finally understood that he was the furthest thing from it, and a proper gent. Probably was still a bit shellshocked from it all, but he’d convinced her to see things his way for now. Still needed to keep an eye on her while she settled in, of course. She probably still thought she might get a signal out to someone, and unwittingly bring ruin upon them both. But he could talk some sense into her later.

Junkrat was sure of it.

What poor Mei needed now was to relax and de-stress. Frankly, he could use a de-stresser himself. It had been a hell of a day for them both. At least his balls had stopped aching, although his throat was going to be in a state for a while yet. But she’d just been scared and hadn’t meant it, so he could forgive her, of course.

He thought that maybe offering her a massage was the ticket, because nothing was more soothing than being all rubbed up on by someone who didn’t want to kill you. But for reasons he didn’t entirely understand, she still looked a little upset. At least she still wasn’t cringing away from him like before, but even though she was safe and she was fed and had a place to rest, she looked unhappy. Maybe it was just some sort of fancy lady problems that men like him would never understand. He would just have to try harder.

“Junkrat?” she said.

His heart had grown little wings which fluttered every time she said his name. Even when she called him ‘Mr. Rat’, which was still hilarious, he still loved any way she addressed him. Anything that fell out of those soft little pink lips could be nothing less than perfection.

Until she finished with “I’d like to be alone, please. Sorry.”

Scratch that. That was less than perfection, right there. He felt his heart sink, but quickly reminded himself that of course she was still all mixed up and scared. Fancy ladies were delicate things, after all, and she needed time to acclimate. Probably best to nix the massage and give her some space. So he brightened and nodded. “Of course, of course! Sure you got a lot on your mind, heh. Promise you, it’ll all look brighter in the morning. Gotta go talk shop with Hog anyway, but I’ll be back soon. Uh…You need anything?”

“No, thank you. I just…I just need to think. Sorry.”

Frowning, he rubbed awkwardly at one arm and suddenly wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. He eventually settled on shoving them into his torn pockets and nodding as he slouched on out the door. “Arright, arright. Guess it’s not much good for thinking if I’m yammering away. I’ll be back soon, though. So you just…think? Uh…Yeah.”

There was no answer and she wasn’t looking at him, and he couldn’t help feeling disheartened as he shut the door and locked her in.

Traipsing across the dusty yard, kicking an empty tin can along the way, he made his way to Roadhog’s side of the compound, in the much larger garage and farmhouse that the old bikie called home. Rapping loudly on the door beforehand, he took the liberty to invite himself in as he always did. Roadhog had given up on breaking him of that habit ages ago.

Hog was bereft of his mask, though somehow the dim lighting always seemed the conceal the man’s face anyway. He stood before his cookstove, the blue and red flames throwing odd shadows across features marred with scar tissue and the bristles of a white beard. The smell of something frying was heavy in the air, and Junkrat’s stomach promptly forgot that he had just eaten and growled for more.

“Oi, Roadie.” Rat scraped a chair out from the table, slumping down onto it. Sighing dramatically for attention, he leaned back and propped both peg and boot up onto the table.

“Guess she didn’t manage to kill you, then.” Hog remained on-task, not bothering to look his way.

“Nah, mate! Me and her, we had a real sit down together, talked it out, explained the rules to her. Uh…updates to that whole situation, actually. Did ya know she’s someone important?” Rat said, balancing his chair carefully on two legs just to keep himself busy.

Roadhog just grunted, giving his cookpan a shake.

Rat still jittered with nervous energy, continuing on. “Her name’s Mei, by the by. Mei-Ling Zhou. She’s a doctor, but not the right type of one so it don’t really matter. She’s got really pretty eyes. I know because that’s where I’ve been looking instead of her tits. See, I know how to be a gent. And it turns out she’s worth money, Roadie.”

“How much money?” Hog sprinkled sesame seeds onto the saucy chicken and fried noodles. Grumbling to himself, he pulled a smaller plate from the shelf nearby, slopping some of the cooking onto it before dumping the rest into a large mixing bowl, bringing both to the table and sliding the small portion over to his employer. Then he promptly shoved the younger man’s legs off his table and sent him tumbling onto the floor.

Rat landed with a crashing yelp and a rattle of spare parts and metal limbs. Leaping back upright and brushing himself off in a very offended way, he shot Hog a very brief glare before sitting at the table in the right way. Grabbing up a fork and shoveling noodles into his mouth, he spoke around his food. “Forget, but there was plenty of zeroes in it. There’s a reward for her return, see? I’ve already laid it out for her, and she’s game. We just got to keep her safe and quiet for a bit while the heat’s still on, and then we break for Sydney and come back with stacks of credits, and nobody in town the wiser.”

“All right,” Hog said, opening scarred lips to nibble with more delicate precision at a sliced chicken breast.

“So no splattering her pretty bits out on the sand!” Rat snapped, spraying soy sauce from his mouth in his haste. “She’s a fancy thing, really soft and delicate-like. Ya gotta be real gentle, can’t accidentally kill her or anything.”

“Hmm.”

“You got a lot of experience with fancy ladies, mate?”

“Hmm?”

“What do I gotta do to impress a fancy lady type? You know, to get her to like me?”

“…You?” Hog paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, looking his younger cohort up and down. Then he began laughing so hard that his entire body shoot, immense belly wobbling against the table. “Bwwwwrrahaaa-ha-ha-haaa!”

“Fuck you Hog! Fuck you!” Rat shrilled, hurling his fork and an empty cup at him. They bounced harmlessly off his gut. “You don’t know nothing about nothing! I can figure it out on my own!”

Hog reined in his laughter with a wet snort. “Warned you not to get attached to your new pet. Last time I saw you two, she’d choked you out in the shit heap and busted your balls open.”

“That was just a misunderstanding, an accident. That’s all. She didn’t mean it. She might still give it a go with me! You dunno anything!”

“Calm down, Rat. That’s the first thing you gotta do.”

Junkrat perked up both ears, leaning forward eagerly. Unfortunately, Hog took his time and devoured several more mouthfuls of noodles and chicken before saying anything more. Grumbling, Rat rapped his knuckles on the table. “Okay! Yeah! Calm down, that makes sense. Fancy ladies are easily spooked. Like a horse or one of those faintin’ goats on the videos. S’hilarious. You ever see a goat faint, Hog? Or a—”

“Don’t compare them to horses or goats.”

“Right, right, right! Okay, what else? Give me something good. We aren’t exactly startin’ off on a great foot here to begin with. Uh, she’s not too fond of me chaining her to a wall, and having no pants on, and some of the finer details.”

Roadhog uttered a massive sigh. “Why bother? Just turn her in for the money.”

Looking conflicted, Rat busied himself by shoving the last of his noodle slop into his bottomless stomach before wiping at his stained chin with one arm. “I dunno. I mean, I know we’re gonna put her up for the reward. But s’just…ya know? We got some time until then. And she’s not a junker so…I dunno. Maybe she don’t know who I am yet, so she won’t laugh me off right away? Like maybe there’s still a tiny chance. I’m still at least half a blue-blooded bloke, I still got the parts what matter. Maybe she won’t notice the bad bits? Maybe she… I dunno.”

Hog eyed him a little more carefully, frowning at something he must have said. “Hm. Rat—”

“And have you seen her tits? Fucking amazing. She’s an absolute beaut.”

“Other shoe always drops,” Hog sighed. “First, get her something to wear. Make her comfortable. And try not to overwhelm the girl with…you.”

“Okay, yeah! Pants first. I mean, she’s gotta wear pants before I can get in them, ya know what I’m saaaayin’?” Rat leaned to the side, jabbing his mate in the side with one uncomfortably pointy elbow. “Ya hear?”

Hog just sighed again.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Just reel myself in maybe a little bit. Make sure she’s comfy while she’s here. Make sure those bludgers don’t come and try to get her back. Rip ‘em to shreds if they do, every last one of ‘em.”

“They better not even know she’s here,” Roadhog rumbled dangerously. “Keep her quiet. Can’t fight a whole army.”

“Quiet as a mouse, promise. Pile on those creature comforts until she’s happy here. Oh! Right, uh, you got any broccoli?”

“…Broccoli?”

“She said she won’t eat meat. Fuckin’ weirdest thing I’ve heard all day, but arright. Vegetarian. Vegetarians love broccoli, don’t they?”

“…You’re trying. I’ll get something.”

“Thanks, mate!”

Rat chattered away the hours while Hog mostly ignored him and focused on other things, and interrupted him only to point out that the sun was down and he had a guest to tend to. Scrambling back out the door with a wave and a renewed sense of hope, Junkrat went strutting back to his own side of the yard, sliding his keys into the proper locks in the proper order. He just had to keep his head, that was all. Keep things under control, and impress her, and she’d be begging for kisses and more by the end of the week.

Flinging open the door, he barreled through happily, crowing aloud. “I’m hooome! Mei? Mei! What’re you— OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

[notnaturalanahi]

The Room (part 6 of The Concert)

Characters: Rock star! Jensen Ackles, Female!Reader

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word count: 1299

Warnings: Awkwardness, sexual tension. 

Series sumamary: You  finally get to see her favorite singer perform live. In the middle of the show something you never thought would be even possible unexpectedly happens, Jensen Ackles to notices little ol’ you among an ocean of people, resulting in him asking you for a date once the show ends... 

Chapter summary: You’re finally in Jensen’s hotel room, everything’s going great, until he makes a move that might lead into something you’re not sure you want yet...

A/N: Thanks to @nadiandreu7 for the read over. Unbeta’d so yay for mistakes. This part is more like a prelude to a more intense situation that’ll come. Also this is my colaboration for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing Hiatus Writing Challenge Week 17. 

Prompt: “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” 

Join my tag list! Also some feedback would be nice :)

The Concert Masterlist

6) The Room

“I gotta be honest, here…” You turn from the window. Jensen stands by the open suitcase at the end of the bed, looking for a shirt for you to wear.  Your eyes focus on him, the way his black t-shirt tugs around his biceps and his shoulder blades.

“What’s that,” he asks, suddenly facing you forehead wrinkles on show, a grey henley on his hand. You quickly snap out of your trance, a hint of a blush crawls up your face. You cannot see it, but you certainly can feel the heat.

“I thought you’d be the kind of guy with the presidential suite,” you shrug. He smiles a little unsure, a couple of tiny dimples above his mouth let themselves see for a fraction of a second. “You, satin sheets and green gummy bear… yuk!” Your shiver. The room it’s not the most bleak and simple but it isn’t flamboyant and over the top either.

Jensen takes a few steps towards you. “Don’t you like gummy bears?”

“Yeah, who doesn’t. Just not the green ones, ew.” He’s feet keep leading him to you, yet you miss it since you closed your eyes and exaggerated a disgusted expression because of the green gummy bears.

And then he's standing there, in front of you, taking over your personal space, overwhelming your scents with his intoxicating being. “I just need a comfy bed and my guitar.” Jensen takes one final step, the tip of his biker boots make contact with the rubber end of your converse.

“That and WiFi.” You pull back a little, smiling and nodding towards his laptop. Resting on top of a bureau, the screen is off but the little blue light on the side, shows that’s working keeps blinking.

“What?” His gaze follows you and as soon as they see what you saw he grins. “Oh, yeah. I can sleep anywhere actually, but if there's not a stable Internet connection, I'm outta there!” He thumbed over his shoulder, crows feet on both sides of his eyes.

“Same,” you agreed.

“I hope you like gray.” Jensen waves the shirt on his hand for you to take. The bathroom's behind that door, you'll have some privacy there…” You give him a little cocked eyebrow, like he wouldn’t turn back if you have to change there?

“In the meantime,” he adds. A little side smirk oh his lips. “I'll call to ask about laundry service,” and he trails off a little. “So you know. You’ll go home wearing your own clothes, that way tabloids won't be announcing you left here with mine.”

“Okay,” you reach out and take the shirt already starting towards the bathroom. But the you stop and turn around. “Would that be a bad thing, though?” you try a teasing tone, not sure if you accomplished by the way his burrow furrows for a moment.

“You mean, for me?” he’s quickly to ask defensively, you nod. “No, I thought perhaps it would be… for you.” You shrug and shake your head, spinning back around and closing the bathroom door behind you.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“Uh-What?” Jensen stammers, his head whips around eyes tear from the window view, the arm he’s been leaning on above his head, drops slapping his own thigh.

You tilt your head to the side, lifting your arms and opening them wide, silently asking if you look good on his XL shirt. He nods slowly, his body accompanies his movements and you almost regret speaking and interrupting his concentration because you lose sight of his perky butt in those pants.

“What you mean,” he asks while long strides get him closer to you again.

“You always answer a question with another question,” chuckling you take a step to the side, pulling the long sleeves over your forearms to grab one of the beers he clearly got from the mini fridge, your gaze goes back to his as you fingers grip around the long neck, he answers with his eyebrows and extends his hand, you give him the bottle.

“I mean, I know a lot about you, obviously,” your eyes roll. “So will you tell me something I don’t know, something maybe you’d never told anyone?” Jensen twits the crown cap of the bottle, kicking it to one corner of the room when it starts falling to the ground.

“Bravo!” You take back the open beer.

Jensen licks his lips watching you drink. Your eyebrows go up when he hasn’t said anything yet. “I didn’t know you had such good reflexes,” you swallow and cover your mouth with the tips of your fingers to avoid the eminent brutp to go out to the world. “No, maybe I did. You always do that thing with the microphone.”

He takes your hand, the sleeve you pushed up a moment ago, felt back up to your fingers so there’s no skin to skin contact as he leads you to the foot of the bed and sits back down, pulling you with him. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to,” you say softly when he sucks in his upper lip and roughly rubs his eyebrows. “It was just a suggestion, you know… to break the ice again.”

Jensen smiles, tongue coming back out to wet his lips and suddenly you remember what it's like to to kiss him and you see yourself forced to swallow down the knot in your throat. He looks kinda vulnerable, it would be wrong to jump him and steal a kiss right now… or would it? Yeah it would.

“I can tell you a secret of mine,” you offer. “Not like a quid pro quo thing, just a confession of sorts,” your teeth show a little as you try a grin that probably doesn’t seem as creepy as it feels.

He chuckles. “Okay,” he nods, tongue running over his teeth under his closed mouth.

“I can never know when to shut up, specially when I’m nervous, actually when I’m nervous I can either turn into a mute, I’d be completely silent or I’ll start rambling nonstop about random things. Like this one time I was with-” you’re about to start rambling when you realize and stop yourself. “Like now!”

Jensen laughs. “So you’re nervous?”

“Um, yeah,” you smile awkwardly.

“Wanna know what I do when I’m nervous about doing something,” he asks. You urge him to keep going with your eyes and tilt of your head. “I close my eyes,” his voice dropping to a whisper, your back straightens feeling his long warm fingers slide to the back of your head.

Your whole body shakes because of his light feather touch, Jensen smiles and you close your eyes. “I take a deep breath, and just go for it.” His lids drop, eyelashes locking with each other and he leans towards you, lips glistening with traits of saliva. His hand behind you head urges you to him.

“Wait!” you stop him, straightening your back, his fingers still tangled with your nape hairs. Jense’s eyes pop open. “Am I making you nervous?” biting the tip of your tongue you tease with a little neck movement.

Jensen snorts and chuckles a bit, a gummy grin on display while the skin around his eyes wrinkle with happiness. “Me?” you push.

He licks his lips again before sucking his upper lip into his mouth up to the philtrum, nodding slowly. “Right now, you sitting on my bed, wearing my shirt… yeah, you’re making me feel a whole kinda different feelings but nervous ain’t one of them.”

Your eyes widen at his confession and before you can even begin to think what you might say to that his plump, warm, wet lips press to yours and you instinctively pull back.

Everything: @nadiandreu7 @winchesters-princess @purgatoan @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @thegreatficmaster @death2thevirgin @mogaruke @isis278 @marygracewinchester @lbug1025  @authoressskr @fangirl1802 @ria132love @policeofficerdean @donnaintx @feelmyroarrrr @just-another-busy-fangirl @love-kittykat21 @tanithlowisabamf @emilyymichelle @goldenangelbloodcastiel @likesiriusly @petrovadixon @bulletscrossbowpie @imagining-supernatural @kdfrqqg @bradygabrielle-blog @charliebradbury1104 @hanny-writes-spn @thedevilinthedetails @docharleythegeekqueen @artprincessbree @mrswhozeewhatsis @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @sandlee44 @supernatural-girl97 @the-sassy-one @wicked-gen @queen-of-deans-booty @sam-in-a-flannel @raylin19 @sammys-lost-shoe @bribrixd5 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester

Everything SFW: @deathtonormalcy56

Dean/Jensen: @anokhi07 @boxywrites @hunterintraining1967 @deansbaekaz2y5 @missmotherhen @kaitlynmarie1120 @tas898 @akshi8278 @green-eyed-hunters @valerieshubin @sukawaii317 @chennyetomlinson

The Concert: @ryleeroseb4  @supernatural-fan-123 @ruprecht0420 @itsthedarkone-exe @jensen-gal @dancingalone21 @straitsupernaturalmalefan @atc74 @harleenquinzzel @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @chelseypaigeake @allison-rosewood-maximoff@valerieshubin

Pond Jensen: @aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid  @impala-dreamer @scorpiongirl1 @for-the-love-of-dean @deandoesthingstome @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @curliesallovertheplace @wevegotworktodo @quiddy-writes @babypieandwhiskey @samsgoddess @waywardjoy @chaos-and-the-calm67    @plaidstiel-wormstache @teamfreewill-imagine @writingbeautifulmen @oldfashioncdvillain @drarina1737 @ruined-by-destiel @chelsea-winchester @supernatural-jackles @maraisabellegrey @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder @clueless-gold @deanwinchesterxreader @4401lnc @teamfreewill92 I haven’t used the pond tag sheet in ages... this feels weird :/

[rainbow-runners]

Chapter 1

The morning air was stale with the ceiling fan turned off. I did my best to concentrate on turning off my alarm from a sleep hazed vision. I knew the numbers weren't actually flashing at me but so many years with a traditional alarm clock makes the eyes go tricky once in a while, especially when you woke up with a headache that could easily slip into a migraine. Today was going to be too long if the throbbing didn't go away before school. Wonderful. After a minute or two of laying in my twin bed, denying it was time to get up, I managed to wiggle myself away from my nightly comfort zone. A protesting noise escaped my vocal cords, I got up to make my way to the bathroom, almost falling back into bed. How late had I stayed out last night? The barking started abruptly and I could tell each of our four dogs barks apart as they went crazy at the front door. Mom was home. I was brushing my teeth before she made it to my bedroom door. Knock, knock, knock- "You up sweetheart?" She was louder then she needed to be but with the dogs excitedly rustling about her feet and then occasionally barking- I guess it was understandable. At least she didn't bust in this time. Maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks. I spit, sighed, all the liveliness was making my head worse, "Yeah, mom" I replied with a convincing yawn in the middle of my words. "Alright, then the car keys are on the table and I'm going to bed." I didn't reply, she didn't open the door. I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding. The last thing I needed her to see is that I had been out late with my friends while she was at work. I leaned down to rinse the tooth paste out of my mouth. My mouth was full of water that I started sloshing around as I rose to look at my reflection. "Good morning child," my reflection said with a smug smirk on it's face, arms were crossed and it was leaning to one side of the mirror frame. I jumped back the water in my mouth spraying out with surprise as my back hit the wall behind me. "What the fuck?!" I screamed staring at the mirror shaking my head a couple of times to see if what I was seeing was real. All it did was make my head worse. The me in the mirror laughed while holding it's gut at my startled-ness. It took me a moment to catch my breath before locking eyes on the mirror. "Great," I breathed out, scarcasiam dripping like a thick honey, moving back to the sink, "Man In The Mirror by Michel Jackson is the exact song I wanted to have stuck in my head this morning." I finished rinsing out my mouth, I hated the taste of toothpaste. "You could have something way worse stuck in your head," my reflection purred back at me winking. With that wink suddenly the music in my head shifted to Mad World. It was too early for this shit. I glared at my reflection, "Let me guess," my reflection was looking at me with the most amused lazy smile, "you came to check out the place and now you wanna stay?" "It looks like you have enough rooms from what I saw last night." They said to me and I finally heard their voice. It was male, maybe just after puberty but the accent was working very hard on cutting the s in his words short. I blinked at the free standing reflection I felt my face go pale, "you're the reason I have this headache and I'm so damn tired." That got me a wide spread grin while my lips sunk into a teeth grinding frown. "Let me see you and I might consider." We locked eyes and the reflection curtly nodded. Taking a deep breath, I sighed letting my eyes close. Most people that close their eyes only see the backs of their eyelids, and sometimes I did too. Most of the time though, I stood at an entrance to a long fluorescent hallway with white walls and little to no decor- depending on the day. Each side of the hall had doors lining them, most of them were plain ol' doors, and some were more personalized. For example the first door on the right looked like it had come right from 1800's England. I knew it was stained oak and heavy if you weren't ready for them to be authentic. The door parallel was modern, white, and adorned with a baby animal calandra that was actually being used and slightly a jar. Good to know I had at least one of them here to help me if things got out of hand. You got to the hallway by the blue, white, and gray swirling portal. It was the compromise when they all started to show up and after missing two weeks of school from migraines and basically doing nothing but sleep, we decided a magical portal that selectively let people in was better than the open door policy I started with. Part of it was my fault for wanting to help everyone who came along. Plus, if I got to caught up in them, I couldn't live my own life. The struggle is constantly real. A bowl cut blond head of hair popped through the swirling colors, "Can I come in?" It was the same voice from the mirror- soft, playful, young, and it seemed easier for him to talk now. The face matched the voice- round cheeks as if the baby fat hadn't fully slipped away into adulthood, something told me that wasn't going to change. His nose was slim and a little crooked which meant he was born with it like that or he had broken it at one point. His eyes didn't match though. His eyes were just the slightest bit up turned at the edges. They were pale green and yellow orbs staring at me blinking in the light air of the portal. When he blinked though...there was something wrong but I couldn't put my finger on it. Maybe he was just too far away. Besides that, his eyes looked nervous, tired, and far from young. "I don't know why you're asking. You've already invited yourself in." He was shaking his head, "I used your body but I haven't been in here yet." That made me frown harder and he sighed. "I'm good at sneaking around, now can I come in?" Excellent, our minds were already melding. My eyes never left him. You never know when a new person is going to be dangerous or not. They might not be directly dangerous to me, however it wasn't really me I was worried about. His skin looked touchable soft, like nothing had ever harmed that child like perfection. His skin was slightly darkened with just a touch of pink on his nose which made it a recent tan. "Then explain how you knew about the empty rooms." My arms were crossed over my chest and my tone was glaring. I didn't care. If you were going to startle me just after waking up, gift me a migraine, and give me the run around then this is the attitude you get. Buck up or leave. It was his turn to sigh, "I swear, I have never been in here before." I rolled my eyes and threw my hands up in the air, a frustrated yet furious gesture causing a flare of pain in my head, "Fuck!" My hands were instantly on my head. "Fine! Just get in here before I have a full blown migraine." It was hard to keep an eye on him when I was doubled over from the sharpe pain. If he was going to hurt me, now would have been the best time. He just nodded and moved the rest of his body in. I felt his power before I could get a good look at him. It made me drop to my knees as my head throbbed faster and harder. It felt like a heard of elephants using my head as a stamped ground. My body was shaking, and I was going to be sick. I didn't trust him not to do something I wouldn't approve of if I looked away, which I was doing right now. Great. There was more then one reason we put up safety nets for controlling who comes and goes. "Krade!" I yelled, while doing my best to take deep breaths even with how ragged they were. The stranger didn't say anything or advance, brownie point for him. "KRADE!" I screamed it this time sending a white wave over my vision while hearing a heavy thunk from behind the door on the left. He must have fallen off the bed. If everything wasn't awful at that moment, I would have laughed. Some groggy mumbling was coming from the room and I heard my name doused in sleep and a question mark at the end and then a "Holy shit!" Followed by scrambling. The door flung open, hitting the wall behind it causing me to shudder a bit from another wave of pain. Awesome, now the sounds in my head were bothering me just as much as the sounds outside of my head. Just what I needed. I knew exactly how he would look standing in the doorway. A startled, fohawk-adorned blond face, one baby blue eye and one deep red eye that looked like a cat's. Don't let his 6 feet of height and lean muscular stature bother you, he was a giant child after all. Let me clarify- by giant child I mean he's a stripper/construction worker and his spare time was spent getting high, playing pranks on people, and mindlessly striking his acoustic guitar. He liked getting reactions, but it was hard to stay mad at him when he gave you those puppy dog eyes- the worst part was he knew it. Half of his body was covered in what looked like burn scars, he wasn't awake enough yet to hide them with his glamour. They started around his red eye and you could see them continuing under the low sitting sweatpants he had just pulled on. I could hear a soft, long, low whistle come from the new comer at the sight of Krade. It wasn't a surprised whistle, no, it had way too much flavor in it for that. "Krade," I managed to call softly with another ragged breath, this time it was shallow and my throat began to burn. Shit. That's all it took though for him to be next to me. I think I vaguely heard him say hello to the new comer, that's Krade for you. "Why didn't you wake me before you let someone new in?" He asked frantically. I could feel his hands hovering, not sure if touching me will make it worse or better. My heartbeat had moved to my ears as he spoke and suddenly I was looking down at the bathroom sink. My stomach convulsed and I barely made it to the trashcan in time. Curse me for always putting the lid down on the toilet. When I was done retching what little I had in my stomach from the night before, I sat back trying to catch my breath and get the sweat to go away. My headache had suddenly reduced to a small thud. It wasn't gone, but it was a start. "Thanks." I breathed out shakily. Krade had been with me for so long most of the time he just knew what I needed without me asking. Unfortunately, he had just woken up and was never quick to action like I was when awoken by panic. "No problem." I heard him say. His voice sounded distant, like it was coming from a face time chat, even though I knew he was right next to me- well, sort of. That's how it always sounded when I was in my body and they were beyond the portal. "Sorry I didn't wake up when they first came in. It was a long night." I just nodded my head and he didn't say anything. The stranger was too new for me to speak with him like this. We would have to get his life energy under control first. I could feel Krade waiting for me to respond as if he was in the room directly next to me. I would have killed for that right now. "Who is that guy?" I said, eyes still closed. I didn't have the energy to get back there right this moment. Throwing up takes a lot out of ya. It was quiet for a moment then, "He says to call him Ekans." "You've gotta be fucking joking." I was rubbing my temples with both hands. It was still too early for this and my stomach was far too empty now. "He says that's the most relevant word in your vocabulary that he will accept being called." Krade's voice was matter of fact. I could tell Krade was awake now but serious. He may be a playful person, but he knew when to be serious, or act serious anyway. I rolled my eyes as I stopped rubbing my temples. The throbbing in my head was slowly fading, Krade must have been adjusting the new comers energy. I don't even have to give him orders. "So if I throw a Pokéball at him can I say I caught 'em all?" He chuckled and I could feel the tension he was carrying fade away, "Only if you catch the other 150 out there." I smiled at that, mostly cause he was right. My shoulders were relaxed as I sat on the bathroom floor. "I've got to keep getting ready for school. Talk to me as I go Krade." I felt him nod, "He's one of my co-workers at the strip club where I work and he's a were-snake." I was moving to re-brush my teeth and instantly annoyed, "you brought him here without warning? We've talked about this Krade!" His head was shaking back and forth, "No, no, no! I didn't willingly bring him here!" "Krade..." I knew he heard the warning in my voice at this point. Krade was one of my nearest and dearest but one of the reasons we had to put up safety nets in the portal was due to the number of people who kept finding him from past lives. Not only were there migraines involved with that but watching Krade go though quite a bit of heartbreak and drama. I was in high school and had plenty of that on my own. His voice came out fast, like he knew he had done something wrong and was ripping the bandaid off in hopes it wouldn't make the situation worse, "We talk at work and I've told him about this place because he asked where I lived and he wouldn't take 'it's complicated' for an answer. He's been hitting on me since I started. He followed me here after work last night and..." he trailed off. I was letting the dogs in before making food, "Krade!" The dogs jumped, oops. I don't have to talk out loud for them to hear me but it was easier from time to time, mostly in situations like this. I just didn't mean to outwardly yell his name when my mother was trying to sleep. He jumped too and quickly added, "He must have gotten past the first barrier, took your body for a joy ride last night, and then stuck around!" A frustrated sigh escaped my lips as I leaned my forehead against the recently shut fridge door. It was cool against my heated skin. "Damnit Krade." I could feel his sadness wash over me like the tide coming in on a full moon. I knew it wasn't an act, but damn sometimes I had to doubt it for just a second with how good it was- but that's how I knew it wasn't an act. Plus, Krade would much rather tell the truth and deal with the punishment than lie. That was a lesson he had learned the hard way. Another sigh came from my lips as I moved to make my breakfast, "We've talked about this Krade." It was his turn to sigh and I felt his shoulders slump with sadness, regret, and preparedness for whatever came next. "I know", he admitted, "it's just hard when someone asks me where I live so bluntly." "Can't you say you live with your wife?" I scolded as the pop tarts came out of the toaster. "Or just avoid the question all together? Just change the subject?" "It's not that easy...." he trailed off, his voice soft. He reminded me of a lost puppy dog most of the time and even though we had four dogs in my house, I still had no idea what to do emotionally for them. I took a deep breath as I swallowed my first bite of breakfast looking at the clock on the microwave. It read 6:45AM, I had 15 minutes to finish getting ready and head out the door. Why they started high school so damn early I will never understand. "He can stay." I finally said as I walked back to my room to get dressed. "But you are in charge of him Krade, and if there is even one - and I do mean ONE- outburst from him in my body at school today, it's your ass." The wave of sadness went away as fast as it had come and was replaced with a feeling of warmth, admiration, and a slight slyness. "Is that last part a promise?" He had that impish grin in place of the frown and his eye brows wiggled at me. I rolled my eyes but couldn't help but smile. He had that effect on most people. You could be shaking with anger at him and as soon as he smiles, grins, or smirks at you that emotion will just be dust in the wind. "You know what I mean Krade." There was a chuckle to my voice before becoming serious again. "Now get that shit under control and when I get home we can work on everything else. No more joy rides with my body either." I added that last part as a secondary thought. "He could have gotten me in serious trouble if something had happened and I don't want to be put in a mental institution." He shuddered at that. He hated doctors as much as I did, let alone being locked up in a building with them. "Yeah, no. None of that is going to happen. Even if I have to stay up 24-7." "Good boy." I said with my own grin while he frowned. Though he knew what he reminded me of, he didn't like the analogy very much. "Also, I need to know what he did in my body last night in case I have to cover my ass somewhere over the next couple of days. Have someone stationed at the portal for a bit until we get this sorted out." "Wouldn't it be easier for those memories to come back throughout the day?" His voice had confusion in it. My head was bobbing up and down in a yes motion, "They would if I let them but I have tests to get through today. I don't have time for distractions. I'll block them on my end, you tell me them from yours." "Ay, ay, captain." He saluted me with two fingers jerking away from his forehead while grinning. Occasionally it was hard to read exactly what that grin meant, but this time it was just light-hearted and eager to have a new/old friend around. I felt like that should still frustrate me. I felt like I should still be mad. Why wasn't I mad or at least a bit annoyed? "Have a good day then." I was packing my school bag, "and don't get anyone pregnant- especially me." He chuckled, "you know that's not how that works." The smile decorated his perfectly symmetrical face was lazy, boyish, and made him even more handsome somehow. He was one of those people that even with the scars, tattoos, piercings etc, he never looked unnatural. "It's always funny though." We shared another laugh. "Good luck today and" his voice moved to a sing song tone "call me beep me if you wanna reach me when you wanna page me, it's okay!" Another eye roll from me and a light hearted chuckle and he was gone with the song "Unwell" by Matchbox Twenty played in my head. I grabbed the keys and walked out the door to the car right in time to get to school with an almost migraine slowly fading away. Just your friendly neighborhood medium, or mental case, going to math class. Nothing to see here. I hoped.

[mcfreakin-bxtch]

Chapter Three (Knight AU)

Be Yours

Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: Talks of war/violence and forced marriages, Language (I may be missing more I apologize)

Word Count: 2.2K+

A/N: This took forever for me to get out. The next chapter will have more Din and James content and background! 

*Also reminder that I’ve updated my masterlists and you can find the new link in my bio!

***

James Newsome. 

That name made you tremble with pure anger. 

The only son to the Newsome Heir, Prince of Coalstead, and one of the most infuriating men you had ever come across. 

You had first met him when you had just turned fifteen, in his home in the smoky, dark yet elegant kingdom that made you appreciate the grassy lands that surrounded yours. Your fathers were quick to introduce the two of you; even at a young age, James had the ego of a thousand kings that immediately butted heads with your ‘righteous morality’ as he grew to call it, but you didn’t fully realize this until you began to see his true colors. It wasn’t hard to deduce what your fathers were up to, and your suspicions about this abrupt meeting were answered when he teased you about it. 

“I think our fathers want us to marry,” he said in a mediocre sing-song. “Another kingdom for the taking, another queen to—”

You kicked him before he could continue. 

From then on out the entire trip was full of arguing and bickering that even your guards couldn’t get under control, and each time he would give you that smile—one of victory and cheekiness you wanted to slap off. Jules, who had gone with you of course, ogled him just as every other girl did when he walked by much to your chagrin; you hoped it still wasn’t so. 

“You’re just letting him get the best of you.” Jules said. She ran her fingers through your hair carefully as she brushed out the harsh tangles from your restless night. “And besides, it’s not like he’s… well, unfortunate looking.”

You grimaced. Sometimes, you wondered about your friend. “You’re not helping, Jules. And you know that it goes beyond his looks.”

She huffed as she took a part of your hair and clipped so that one side was out of your face, her annoyed expression matching your own in the vanity mirror. 

‘Good’, you thought. 

“Well,” she said after clipping the other half of your locks. “You’re the Princess of Riverheart and the most stubborn woman I have ever met.” You couldn’t stifle the grin that also laced her lips and Jules chuckled. “So do something about it, then.”

“Yeah.” You nodded with authority. “That’s right.” You stood up abruptly, twirling around to pull Jules into a tight hug, ignoring her surprised yelp. “Thank you.”

Your steps echoed loudly through the empty halls, sharp and defined as confidence bubbled inside of your chest with a fury. You whipped your head around every corner, not a glimpse of familiar aging hair or colorful robes at every turn. He wasn’t even in the grand hall, odd to you at the early hours but not uncommon. 

Where the devil is he?

It was a long shot, going to your precious garden. Bringham rarely made an appearance, and you supposed it had everything to do with the dead; too many memories. As you expected, he wasn’t. 

With a long and heavy sigh you sat down in the rays of the seething sun and twirled a strand of grass around your pointer finger. You closed your eyes and basked in the warmth of the morning, replaying the night before in your head. 

“And you’ve told no one else this?” You asked, swallowing through the shock of what Din had just told you. 

“No,” Din answered. “No one out of the Royal Court knows of this.”

You nodded, staring at the floor. “Okay.” Your voice wavered through your authoritative tone. “Okay.”

“M’lady.” Din cleared his throat. “You must’n let your father know I told you this. I—”

“I’m aware,” you gritted out. “I promise you, you will face no consequences for this.”

“I didn’t mean to… overstep. I’m sorry.”

You sighed and shook your head, burying your face in your hands. “No,” you mumbled. “I shouldn’t take my anger out on you. After all, you’re not the one forcing me into this.”

The room filled with silence then, a silence filled with understanding and a sort of acceptance. 

“Din,” you said gently. “Thank you.”

The Knight stood postured, as he was trained, but there was a slight shift that told you that your sincerity reached a certain part of him you had not touched. 

“It’s my job.” He replied. “It is the Code.”

You wished you had the blood of a witch so you could read his mind. To unbrand him and disintegrate the armor that shielded him from the outside world. It was selfish, very selfish of you, you constantly reminded yourself, but that childlike curiosity was a monster to fight; a battle you seemed to lose each and every time. 

“Ah, and there she is.”

Your heart stopped. That voice hadn’t changed much since the last time you saw him, but he had definitely grown out of his boyish features; now replaced with a sharp jaw and cheekbones that matched, floofy, short brown locks that actually kept the younger boy you had met so long ago, with a black coat that defined the muscles he obtained over the years, and a toothy grin that was nothing but hubris as he stood a few feet before you. 

“James,” you greeted coolly. “A surprise to see you here.”

His grin widened. “And did you not miss me, little princess?”

You glared at the pet name. “No, and I believe I told you not to call me that.”

He chuckled, all confident and airy as he strolled towards you, bringing an apple out of his coat pocket. “You certainly haven’t changed… much.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he walks closer to you, rolling the red apple in his hand, “that you need to loosen up. Let your guard down little princess, you’re not a queen yet, so enjoy it.”

He ended with an offering, the apple just inches away from the tip of your nose. You swiped it out of his grip with a frown. “And here you are already giving me a lecture.”

His grin widened. “I know. But you see,” he did a little twirl, inhaling deeply and opening his arms towards the clear blue skies, “people can change.”

You took a bite of the sweet fruit, chewing thoughtfully. “While that is true,” you mumbled. “That only applies to someone who actually wants to change for the better, not because they’re in need of their father’s treasures.”

James’s smile fell, as did his brows, and it made you smirk behind the apple. After all these years, it felt nice that you could still get underneath his skin and rip him a new one—the only problem was that you were still letting him do the same thing to you. 

“And how does dear ole daddy feel knowing that his only heir is having doubts?!” He smirked as your expression fell. “He does know, doesn’t he?”

You could feel the blood rush to your face, painting it into a hot red that had you seething in your spot. Everything turned into background noise—no, not even that, everything just went numb, and before you could even think or take the next breath, the apple flew from your hand and towards his chest. 

“Hey—” he barely got out in surprise when you lunged at him. 

You didn’t have specifics in mind, but you knew that you just wanted to hurt him; to give him a piece of his own medicine through the only way that flew through your head. Your hand cocked back, knuckles upfront as you swung and you were vaguely aware of the soft crunch of his nose beneath your fist. 

“Son of a bitch!” James howled, clutching at his face, little droplets of blood already seeping through the cracks of his fingers. 

You smiled, triumphant in your stand, but it was quickly shattered when you heard the familiar pounding of hooves coming towards the garden. 

“And what is going on here?”

Ah, you recognized that voice. 

“Oh you know, Perry,” James sighed nasually, “the usual bits.”

Perry, a rather short man with a big rounded nose and a permanent sneer on his lips that matched the yellowish look of his hazel eyes—you imagined those eyes would look rather beautiful and clear without the harshness he brought to them—eyed the Prince’s bloody hand and your clenched fists; no doubt he could pick out the specs of blood on your knuckles. 

As you expected, the guard turned towards you with no hidden malice. “What do you think you’re doing attacking—”

“It’s fine.” James huffed loudly. “I can take care of this myself.” 

You were shocked to say the least, and it must have shown vividly on your face because James’s cheeks scrunched up to the corner of his eyes—he was laughing at you. 

And Perry sat on his horse—at least the horse was well taken care of, as far as you could tell—gritting his teeth in frustration as he knew best not to go against his word. 

“Very well. Remember to arrive on time for dinner, your highness.”

James waved him off, not taking his eyes off you; you held his gaze, refusing to back down. Finally he chuckled, wincing in pain as he did, but kept that smile all the while. 

“You know, a simple thank you will suffice.”

You scoffed. “I do not owe you any apologies of sorts.”

“Not even for saving your ass back there?” He tilted his head back. “Weren’t you taught to show gratification for your saviors?”

You rolled your eyes so hard it felt as though it would stay in the back of your head, barely giving him a moment's chance to stop you—if he had plans to—as you barreled past him.

“Do you know why I’m here?” 

The question makes you stop. “No.” You lied. 

He took a few steps closer to you, blue-gray eyes meeting yours with no traces of teasing—a first for him. 

“I’m not supposed to be here, actually,” he sidetracked from his previous question. “But I was a little curious.”

It was a trap, you could sense it, and you knew better than to fall for it, but the words escaped your mouth without a second thought. “About what?”

His grin widened, pearly white teeth among the tiny streaks of blood from his nose. “If you were going to be happy seeing your soon-to-be husband.”

You walked away before you could give him any more satisfaction; his chuckle echoed across your mother's garden, following your heavy steps. 

***

The rain pattered against the rooftop. 

It was a calming feeling in contrast to the brewing anger and frustration inside your chest. Each thump against your window echoed in your heartbeat, and as you sat in your room, refusing to let anyone in, your thoughts ran rampant. 

How could your father not warn you of this? Prepare you for the heavy tasks that were bestowed upon you since birth by royal right, instead of throwing you head first into a marriage you’ve never asked for, and for a war you have no idea how to fight and by his own excuses. 

The problem was that you knew of his reasoning's. You had been prepared for a daunting title since you could walk and talk, and the aspects of a marriage you would not be able to turn down no longer—not without a good fight, at least. Your mind could contradict itself a thousand times just to try and make you feel better, but the end result would remain the same; you were going to have to go through with this, no matter how much you disliked the idea of it. 

“‘For your people,’” you mocked with a scowl. “For my people.”

It made your heart turn in its weeping, struggling to overcome the waves of disdain. At that moment, you wished your mother were there, comforting you and telling you everything you wanted to hear, anything to justify your departure from the title itself.

“Wars. Death. Magic even.”

It shook you to the core just thinking about what was coming for your kingdom, your home. And now, all the weight was atop your shoulders, the lives of many in your hands for the first time, and you had no idea whatsoever on how you were going to handle this—marrying James and aligning Coalstead and Riverheart was a start, a start you thought less of. 

Suddenly your mind drifted to the man who relayed this message to you in secret, and remembered that you had not seen him at all since last night. You wanted, no, needed, to see him before you let your head get the best of you; you could talk to him without worrying of him betraying your trust and he seemed to be the only one (other than insufferable fool) that was forthright with you about everything. 

It would have to wait until after supper. You didn’t need any more suspicions from your father nor anyone else in the guard that would turn you in in a heartbeat. You needed to be smart and careful about this, no matter the battle raging between your head and heart. 

If the rumors were true, your step to the high chair was coming sooner than you thought. 

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