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komotionlessqueenmm · 1 year

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Imagine # 1,042

Gif NOT mine.

If this gif is yours (or you know who's it is) please let me, so I can give you/them credit.

Gif credit goes to - @meph1stophel3s (Unless told otherwise.)

Year posted - 2023

⚠️Warning(s) - Little spicy at one point, you'll see.

*I made up a random name for the book in this story, but odds are there's actually is a book by that title, because to me it sounds so generic so someone is bound to have used it. Just roll with it.

(Y/h/c) = Your hair color

The sound of the tiny electric car approaching rapidly should have been warning enough. But (Y/n) found her nose deep in her latest book, one she'd gone as far as to create a elusive cover for with washi tape. Due to her embarrassment of her latest taste in literature, and considering why she was so enthralled with such stories since she began working nights at the museum. Should she have saved these stories for when she was home, nestled in the comfort of her favorite reading chair, and surrounded with privacy? Yes, she probably should have. But that was easier said than done, considering just how perfect this particular book had been so far.

'He trailed kisses along her pulse point, taking his sweet time as he drank her in. His dexterous leather clad fingers inched slowly from the back of her neck, trailing down her clavicle, to the swell of her breast, where he gave a playful almost needy squeeze. As his nose gently nudged the underside of her jaw, tilting her head back further, and his fingers continued their journey. Fire was left in their wake across her bare skin, and making her ache in ways she never knew was possible. His hand grasped firmly on her hip, as he nudged her legs apart with his knee, whispering sweet nothing's as he began kissing down the valley of her breast. "What a sight you are darlin'." His voice drawled deliciously as he peered at her untouched flower. "Sweet I'll bet." He hummed as he inched his face closer and closer to where she needed him most. "Oh~." She breathed out a soft moan as his tongue-'

"Evenin' darlin'!" Jedediah called out as he and Octavius existed their hotrod. In an instant (Y/n) snapped her book closed with a very audible thump. Then, without thought, she shoved the book underneath her right thigh, as a precaution that no one would learn of what she was reading. Her cheeks flushed as she looked down to the cowboy and centurion, their confession evident on their faces as they peered up at her questioningly. "H-hi guys." She stumbled over her words, clearing her throat immediately afterwards in an attempt to calm her racing heart. "Good evening (Y/n)." Octavius called out to her, attempting to move on from the odd encounter. Jedediah on the other hand, was having none of it.

"Watcha readin' there darlin'?" He asked as he tried to peer at the book only just barely poking out from under her thigh, frowning a little when he realized he could only see the edges of the page and no title. "Oh! Uh n-nothing just a u-um." She trailed off trying to think of a quick lie. "Horror story!" She suddenly belted out, chuckling nervously as she wiped her sweaty palms against her pants, hoping her lie was convincing. "Is that why yer so jumpy?" Jed asked with a tilt of his head, while Octavius looked at him confused, clearly having seen right through her lie. (Y/n)'s eyes darted around for a moment, unable to look at Jed without blushing all over again. "Yes yes exactly, it's very..." She trailed off, subconsciously thinking back on the words she'd just been reading moments ago. "Scary." She concluded in a soft tone, before shaking those thoughts away.

"Perhaps we could read it some time." Octavius suggested, knowing damn well she was lying, and attempting to get her to admit it. "O-oh no n-no it's um... It's not my bo-book I'm afraid!" She cursed herself internally for still being so flustered. "Maybe you could read it to us then." Octavius pushed, a cheeky grin on his face when he noticed just how deep her blush became. "No I uh don't read aloud to well, an-and I don't really have a good reading voice." (Y/n) cleared her throat once more, squirming a little out of nervousness. "Are ya crazy? Your reading voice is real sweet I'll bet." Jed tried to encourage her, unknowingly making her thighs clench at the words 'sweet I'll bet'. But Octavius noticed, and suddenly realized exactly the kind of book she was reading.

"Ah well perhaps another time." Octavius suddenly stated before pulling Jedediah back by his vest, confusing the cowboy as he waved goodbye as he spoke again. "We'll leave you to your story then." He stated before all but shoving Jedediah to the car. "See ya later darlin'!" Jed called out, complying to Octavius' silent demand to get in the car. (Y/n) waved goodbye despite averting her eyes to the rather "interesting" part of chipped tile on the floor. "What was that for? I wanted to-" Octavius cut Jedediah off by simply holding his hand up. "My friend." He started before casting his gaze to (Y/n), who could be seen inching her fingers towards her book. "(Y/n) is reading a scandalous book." He stated as Jed followed his line of sight.

"What do ya mean scandalous?" Jed questioned as Octavius began driving away. "I mean a romance novel that takes a rather lewd turn." Octavius tried explaining without actually saying it, but Jedediah understood this time. "Oh... Oh!" He muttered under his breath before frowning. "How would you know?" He quickly questioned, making Octavius sputter a bit. "This-this isn't about me!" Octavius quickly defended himself, turning Jedediahs attention back to the matter at hand. "Didn't you see the way she was acting? She couldn't handle looking at you without blushing!" The Roman pointed out, his words effectively directing Jedediahs attention elsewhere. "Well... So what?" Jed concluded with indifferent confusion.

"Well that means she's probably reading that story with you on her mind!" Octavius pointed out, as if it was obvious. "No." Jed denied the notion, making Octavius groan as he slammed on the breaks, jostling Jedediah in the process. "Hey what are ya doin'!?" Jed hissed as he readjusted his hat, which had become lopsided. "That means she likes you, you idiot." Octavius pointed out as if it were obvious, which admittedly it was pretty obvious. "Yer crazy." The cowboy shook his head, a faint blush dusting his cheeks at the notion. "Fine if you don't believe me, I'll just have to prove it to you." Octavius decided before making speeding off, needing some reinforcement in order to do what needed to be done.

----

They watched and waited for the precise moment before enacting Octavius' plan. The moment coming when (Y/n) began her rounds to ensure all the doors that needed to be locked were still locked. "Now!" Octavius exclaimed as if they were charging into battle, him and his men along with Jedediah rushed as quickly as they could to cross the room. Then they climbed up to the bench where (Y/n) had left her book lay, right beside her bag of assorted trinkets she would toil with to occupy her mind. Luckily she left it with the spine away from her bag, making it possible for Octavius' men to heave the large cover open. It took a few minutes, and much encouragement from Octavius, before the solid cover of the book swung open and fell with a loud bang. Well... Loud for them.

Octavius and Jedediah climbed up the thick book, walking across it to read the title. "A Cowboys Lust." Jed read aloud, a blush creeping up his neck. He couldn't look at Octavius, so his eyes cast to his feet, where he realized they stood on a large image. And image of a blond cowboy, holding a woman with (Y/h/c) hair firmly against his body as he kissed her throat, her body scarcely covered by a thin sheet as he held her in his lap on horseback. Octavius had been observing the image as well when he realized what Jed was looking at, a smirk spreading across his face as he noted the similarities between the characters in the book and (Y/n) and Jedediah. "I told you so." Octavius stated as he placed his hands on his hips. "Shut up." Jed quickly shot back, sulking away, much to Octavius' confusion.

"Well what's wrong now?" Octavius questioned as he and Jed hopped down from the book, silently signaling for his men to close the book so as to not raise suspicion. "What's wrong?" Jed chuckled bitterly. "What's wrong is I'm not even a fraction of her size! I couldn't... We could never... I can't even hold her hand!" Jed exclaimed dramatically, making Octavius hum in acknowledgement. "That does pose a problem." The Roman mused aloud, making Jed scoff. "Ya think?" The cowboy retorted sarcastically. "Well... Maybe Ahkmenrah can do something about that with his tablet? We've never asked him before." Octavius offered as they stood a good ways away from his men, near the edge of the bench. Jedediah sighed sadly before descending down their makeshift ladder, unable to allow himself to feel any semblance of hope that they could do something about it.

Octavius wasn't about to let it go like Jedediah had, he knew all to well how much his dear friend cared for (Y/n), and he always was a sucker for romance. For two nights Octavius and Ahkmenrah worked in secret, to figure out a way to temporarily change Jedediahs height. And when Jedediah finally found out what they were up to, Ahkmenrah was confident he'd finally figured it out. "Now hold on." Jedediah started, hating the flicker of hope that bloomed in his heart. "Ya can't just-" He tried to argue, but Octavius had cut him off. "You'll thank us for it." The centurion stated before waving an encouraging hand to Ahkmenrah, who with a nod of his head began pressing the appropriate buttons.

The tablet glowed a brilliant bright gold, making all three men's eyes widen in anticipation. But nothing happened. The glowing dimmed and snuffed out as quickly as it had came, leaving Ahkmenrah and Octavius confused, while Jed tried to swallow the knot in his throat brought on by disappointment. "I don't understand, it should have-" Ahkmenrah was suddenly cut off by the sound of (Y/n) screaming from down the hallway. Ahkmenrah quickly snatched up Octavius and Jedediah before dashing out into the hall to see what had happened. But as they locked eyes on (Y/n), they saw that she was shrouded in that same brilliant golden glow that the Tablet of Ahkmenrah had just been bathed in, the sight making Ahkmenrah freeze in his tracks. "(Y/n)!" Jedediah called out to her.

"What's happening?" (Y/n) called out as she locked eyes with the Egyptian Pharaoh. But before he even had a chance to utter a word, (Y/n) suddenly glew so bright they had to look away. And when they looked back, she was gone. "(Y/n)!" They all shouted in unison, panic bubbling within each of them, that is until movement caught their attention. There she was! In the exact same place she had been, only now she stood at about an inch tall. "Put me down!" Jedediah hollered, and Ahkmenrah complied, setting him and Octavius down gently after he crossed the majority of the distance between them and (Y/n). Which was only about 12 feet, but he knew to them it would have felt like miles.

"Jed." (Y/n) called to him with confusion etched onto her face, the wind being knocked from her lungs when he suddenly embraced her in a bone crushing hug, his hat having flown off from the impact. "Jed." She wheezed quietly, making him loosen his grip in an instant. "Sorry!" He blushed in embarrassment, keeping ahold of her shoulder when he pulled back from the hug. "What's going on?" She questioned as she looked around, realizing quickly that she'd somehow been shrunk. "That would be my fault." Ahkmenrah chimed in, smiling sheepishly. "Mine as well." Octavius cut in. "But we were trying to make Jedediah grow!" The Roman quickly added. "I'm not sure what happened." Ahkmenrah mused as he looked to his tablet. "It shouldn't be permanent though." He added as he looked back to (Y/n).

"Shouldn't?" She breathed out fearfully. "I'm sure it will be fine." The Pharaoh reassured her, again smiling sheepishly. "Why exactly where you trying to make Jed grow in the first place?" (Y/n) asked as she looked to Octavius, her gaze turning back to Jedediah when he released her shoulders, to instead hold her hand between both of his. "Well darlin'... It's because I've been wanting to ask ya out on a date." Jed explained anxiously, his piercing eyes gazing longingly into her own. "You?... You do?" She asked in honest surprise, not realizing that Ahkmenrah and Octavius were slowly leaving to give the pair privacy. "Course I do. Do ya have any idea how incredible ya are?" Jed mused with a large smile, using his right hand to turn her head to look at him, when she bashfully looked away.

"I'm serious (Y/n), yer incredible." He whispered softly, slowly leaning in for a kiss. (Y/n)'s eyes widened at the realization of what was happening, and when a fleeting thought that this could be her one and only chance to kiss him occurred, she shut her eyes and closed the distance. The kiss was filled with passion and tenderness, nothing quite like anything else (Y/n) had ever experienced before. "Is it bad that I don't ever want the spell to reverse?" Jed asked softly as they parted for air, his question making (Y/n) lightly smack his shoulder with a playful glare. "What?" He chuckled with bright sparkling eyes. "How about that date cowboy?" (Y/n) changed the subject, her words immediately sparking the perfect idea in Jedediahs head. "Come on." He grabbed her hand and swept her away, spending the rest of the night riding around on his beloved horse, simply enjoying each other's company and forgetting about the what ifs of the whole situation.

*Making a custom cover with washi tape on scandalous books is something I actually do. Because I will read them while out and about, and especially on downtime at work, and I'd die if anyone was to see the actual cover and know what I'm reading. And if I ever feel like someone is getting nosey over my shoulder, I snap the book closed and wait until they've gone before picking it back up. 😅 Stupid I know, but what can I say?

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black-dhalias · 2 years

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Desert Flowers

Ahkmenrah X Reader Warning: violence, death, graphic descriptions, implied smut

As night descends upon the Natural History Museum, Larry Daily arrives just before the sunsets, finding a large exhibit box in the lobby. His bosses curlicue writing on sticky note: ‘Unpack into Egyptology. On loan from the D.C. archives.’ He hmms, tossing the sticky note onto the desk and glances around. Waiting for the museum to come to life, and just as the last of the light fades off--he hears the subtle creaking of Rex beginning to move.

“Aaaaaa, how are you my boy?!” Larry looks up from the box, giving a half wave to the walking Roosevelt exhibit.

“Same as yesterday, Teddy.” It's lighthearted as the figure smiles down at Larry, hopping off his horse and looking over the box himself. Inspecting the wood crate, and the red fragile sticker stuck to the side.

“Larry!” The night guard looks up to see Ahkmenrah walking into view, his smile bright and nothing like someone who has spent forever cooped up in that tiny sarcophagus.

“Hey Ahk, just who I needed to see, this is for egyptology. So I thought you’d want to look.” He grabs the information key, or what he thinks would be. “It’s some books, some weapons, and-” His voice trails off as he glances back into the box, eyes wide. “And Ka-ha-mun-raaaaah? Kahamunrah’s wife?” Larry gives up on the name. “A mummy. It's a mummy.”

Ahkmenrah’s expression falls quickly as he rushes forward to read the paper himself, his eyes scan the page and his demeanor darkens as he reads the name of the wife. A dull echo of banging begins to reach his ears, but Ahkmenrah stops Larry from unpacking the box further just yet--a feeling of unease having settled in the room.

“Wait!” Ahkmenrah inhales deeply, “Just wait.” Ahkmenrah pulls out one of the historical books, and opens to the familiar page that details his life. Ahkmenrah’s life. He points at a picture of what would have been a recreation of your face. “That’s Y/N Y/L/N, and she’s the one in this box.” He begins to speak quickly…

Ahkmenrah stands at the palace entrance, his hands folded behind his back as you arrive with your parents. Your father is imposing and your mother endearing, and you are-Ahkmenrah smiles, seeing the softness of your expression. You are awe inspiring. He bows his head as the trio bows lowly to the Prince of Egypt. Their future pharoah. While your father walks off with the war generals, as your mother speaks with the ladies. You look up at the Prince with a smile, your cheeky grin mirroring one of his own as he walks towards you.

“Greeted by Prince Ahkmenrah. I must be special.” He always looked forward to your visits, and the kindness you often showed him with your doting gifts. You traveled with your father, gathering treasures from near and far. Things Ahkmenrah had never seen before, and those knick knacks brought him great joy when you left for months at a time.

“Only if you brought me something.” Your eyes go wide and expression flabbergasted as you laugh. It is a pleasant sound, one that brings a smile to his lips as he moves closer to you.

“Is that all I’m good for? Gifts?” He shrugs, inching closer as his eyes glance around to find the others all gone. Not that anyone would say anything. You were as good as promised to Ahkmenrah, chosen by him above anyone else. He embraces you tightly, his arms lifting you with ease as he spins you around.

“What can I say? Your immaculate taste is superior to anyone else’s gifts.” They’re not gold, or jewels, or things people give to him usually. They are things only you would think to give someone as a gift, specifically him. Once your feet touch the ground, his hands still resting on your biceps with your hands on his waist--just smiling up at him.

“Hmmmm…” You tilt your head back, lips pressed together before sighing and giving in. “I guess your compliments will work this time around.” He gladly returns the smile, as you begin walking towards the palace. His hands fold neatly behind his back as he follows beside you, a skip in his step that was not there earlier. “So what have I missed?” Ahkmenrah thinks for a second, leaning over as he sways.

“Well…” He pauses, “The Pharaoh has made a decision, one he plans to announce tonight, but…” Ahkmenrah draws out his words, his eyes are still joyful, but an unease forms in the pit of your stomach.

“But-?”

“But I wanted to be the one to tell you.” You stiffen, this sounds important. Like the kind of thing he shouldn’t be telling you at all. “I’m to be married by the end of the seventh sunset.” You completely stop in your step, your gift heavy in the pouch and your chest heavier. You feel as though someone- “To you.” At first, you do not register it. Completely, and blissfully unaware of it, but it does register and your smile grows. Everything feels as though it is on fire.

Face to face, you leap into him and feel Ahkmenrah catch you--swaying as he does and you smile. All you can do is smile for a moment. Nothing could ruin this, absolutely nothing could make this better than if you were marrying him tonight.

“That might just top my gift.” You hum, feeling him lower you to the ground, but this time, Ahkmenrah keeps you close. His parents had asked him months ago about marriage, and he pleaded with his father to consider you. You were the only child of the richest merchant, your family had wealth spanning the globe--recognition from other empires and it would be a wise match. But Ahkmenrah also explained his love for you, which will make his rule stronger.

“Oh Y/N, nothing tops something from you.” You could give him a scarf and it would mean the world, and he would shake the heavens and sky to show his thanks.

The banquet comes and goes, the room applauds the engagement and your parents smile with glee. You wooed a pharaoh, and would now take your place as one of the most powerful people in Egypt. You also fell in love, and while that mattered less, it still mattered to them. All through the night and into the early morning, Ahkmenrah does not leave your side even when his lips stain red from wine. He remains solidly at your hip, never too far and never out of reach.

You feel him lean into you, while you do not drink wine, Ahkmenrah accepted far too many glasses and soon enough, you were stumbling through the palace with his arm extended over your neck. His smile is lopsided and eyes dazed as he is unable to stop himself from staring.

“Y/N, did you know you’re beautiful?” You smile to yourself, blushing at the hundredth compliment.

“Ahkmenrah, you’ve only said it thirty times tonight alone.” You listen to the low hum as he leans his head onto your shoulder, which makes it significantly harder to walk towards his room.

“Did I now?” You lightly laugh, taking on more of his weight and continuing the trek.

“Oh yes, and you’ve poured your heart out twice in the last hour.” He nods, his smile growing and so does yours.

You reach his rooms though and the posted guards open the door, and you’d be blind to not notice one of them smiling at the Prince’s constant string of compliments. You murmur a ‘thank you’ before guiding him towards his bed.

Ahkmenrah feels your hands slip away as he sits on the edge of his bed, and he reaches out--making grabby hands as he tries to focus on your form. But the world began to go in and out of focus several hours ago. “Y/NNNNNNNNNN.” You sign, coming closer and placing either of his cheeks in the palm of your hands, feeling the sharp angles, but also soft skin.

“Ahkmenrah…”

“Don’t leave…” You are hesitant as you feel him guiding you towards the pillows, “You always leave, and now you can’t leave.” His words are laced with sadness, and it forces you to recall one thing that sits heavy on your shoulders. It has crossed your mind once or twice, because marrying Ahkmenrah prevents you from traveling as you used to--and you feel guilty for even thinking like that because you do love him.

“I’m just going to my rooms…” You brush dark curls from his forehead, smiling as he lulls. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With soft steps, you retreat from his rooms and begin the walk towards your rooms. The halls are longer now and much quieter, and when steps creep up behind you--unease bubbles to the surface. Something about those heavy steps doesn’t sit right with you. You walk faster and so do they, and you inhale sharply--daring to glance behind, but slow when you see its Kahmunrah.

“Sweet Y/N, you seemed to be rushing. Running away from your promise already.” You smile tightly at the eldest prince, but not the heir. That title belonged to Ahkmenrah alone.

“To your disappointment, no.” He keeps pace with you until the words leave your lips, and then he is grabbing your wrist roughly. Pulling you towards him, his eyes just as dark as you remember them. “So I guess you don’t get to kill me just yet.” Kahmunrah’s fingers tighten, and you feel the bruises forming already. The ache extends into the bone.

“Y/N, you’ll never leave this palace again. Regardless of what happens.” Your eyes flicker from his eyes, to his hand and then back, daring him to hold you any longer. “Take care to remember your commitments. Your priorities.” He smiles, but it is not kind or warm--lacking both entirely.

“I don’t need your veiled threats. I know what has to be done.” His eyes and expression fall completely, and you try not to shake under his glare.

“Trust me. I haven’t even begun to threaten you yet.” But he walks away, and you are left to your thoughts and anxiety. The worry plaguing you time and time again, so much so that sleep becomes impossible.

Exhaustion is creeping up on you, but still you follow through with every celebration and event that follows the announcement banquet. It feels like all of Egypt is outside the palace, waiting for a glimpse of the future Pharaoh’s bride, but you feel disgusting--you feel unworthy. Your bed is not as soft, the walls much too echoey and the noise of the palace seems to dance through the room. Every noise.

There are two brief knocks and then the doors are open, to which you know it is Ahkmenrah… He is stunning as usual, he’s always been perfect even as a child. You would play in the garden’s together for hours on end, your mother’s watching fondly with those knowing looks.

Even then, everyone knew.

“Dearest… Are you alright? You don’t seem yourself.” You roll over, avoiding eye contact as the pillows embrace your form. The distance does not last long as he climbs into the bed, and lies so close your noses are almost touching. “I’m worried…” You try to smile, but he sees right through the attempt and shakes his head. His eyes are full of warmth. “Please? Just tell me… We’re to be married.”

“I can’t sleep…” You mumble, leaving out the why--shrugging when he asks and he just accepts it which hurts even more. You wish he would beg to know, plead, because you’ve never been able to lie to those beautiful brown eyes. He embraces you close and weaves his fingers into your hair, he hushes your thoughts and breaks down your worry. For a second, you drift off to the sound of his heartbeat beneath your head.

Hours passed with you in his arms, Ahkmenrah did not dare move as he went still, then drifted off himself. Were you this worried about marrying him? That you couldn’t even sleep, his own anxiety was more about if it’ll be enough? If he did things the right way? Or needed to do more? He didn’t worry about making you happy, because he had done that your whole life, but now that doubt is beginning to set in.

Ahkmenrah woke slowly, seeing the eyes of his father staring back at him with perplexion as he raised an eyebrow. “Curious…” But he never heard a word after that, save for his mother wacking his arm the next time she saw him.

Yet somehow, you still stand at the edge of forever with Ahkmenrah, your wedding came and went--it passed faster than a blink. The ceremony was long and elaborate, and the banquet that followed lasted for the entire night and once morning came--Ahkmenrah was guiding you to his rooms. Your rooms, as he said. Your stomach twists in a knot as the door opens, the guards gone from their post, but Ahkmenrah says nothing.

You smile up at him as he shuts the door tight, and begins to remove the many jewels that crowd both of your forms. His hands are delicate and every touch is brief, his fingers never linger anywhere too long as his gaze does not waiver. The sensation of your heart pounding in your chest would be enough to shake your entire form, but it doesn’t because he keeps you steady. That’s just who Ahkmenrah is.

“Even without gold, you are the greatest treasure I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He whispers, it’s like the words are caught in his throat--like long lulls of music. You tilt your head, studying his expression as he speaks, before stepping forward cautiously. Your eyes just briefly drift down to his chest before reverting back to his eyes, under the light of the fires, his eyes shine brighter than they ever have. Either palm rests on his chest as you bring yourself closer than before, your hands drag until they reach around his neck to undo the ties of the neck adornments.

The clatter of the garments echo off the stone, but walls keep their secrets when he rushes forward to embrace your entire body into his arms. Before, when his lips would brush your own during goodbyes or when he would kiss the back of your hand. They lingered, but you wished they could stay against your skin forever. Every touch and kiss, you feel as though you could live forever beneath warmth.

You tighten your arms around his neck, letting him naturally deepen the kiss as his chest presses heavily into your body--his lips rest just above yours as he speaks in a hum: "My beautiful Queen..."

He looks at you as if you are the most beautiful thing in the universe, as if there were not enough jewels and gold to compare to you. That kind of look, it should send shivers down your spine, but instead you feel a swell of anxiety mount. Yet his kisses shut the feelings away as your back presses into the mattress--when all is said, and all is done--you love Ahkmenrah.

So much so that as his lips trail down your neck, and you catch a glimpse of the flames from your place in the pillows--you try to let the comfort embrace you. But the flames twinkle and fade away, and your eyes blur from the mist that forms. His hands brace on either side of your body, but once the flame has completely extinguished--there begins the echo of swords.

Ahkmenrah's eyes widen as he sits up, his attention shifting, but as the swords fade away--you see him shake it off, as if pushing it to the back of his mind. However, when the screams begin to bounce off the walls like the applause from earlier, Ahkmenrah climbs to his feet. His steps are hesitant as the dissent grows closer to the door, but it leaves him open to one attack. One moment, because he didn't think the attack would come from you.

Your hand curls around the hilt of the blade, the memory of leaving it there when you brought him to his chambers wine drunk, enters your mind. You see it flash, as your face contorts and eyes mist over. You wish you could close your eyes, and let someone else do the deed, but you can't. Instead, you release a long held breath and crawl to your feet. Ahkmenrah never saw it comes, but as you reach around quickly and push the blade deep into his chest--you begin to sob, finally able to make a sound.

All of Egypt moves in slow motion, every noise in the palace is muted as you feel him grow weary beneath your palms. His body going limp as he locks his gaze on you, those brown eyes full of betrayal. Using whatever strength you can muster, you drag him onto the bed and feel as if the Gods are ripping your skin away--layer by layer. Every nerve is exposed as you cry out, for Ahkmenrah, for the only love you ever knew. You cup his cheeks, his tears burn your hands and you wish they would scar you forever--to carve up your skin, in the same way that you feel.

Maybe then your heart would hurt less.

"I'm so sorry...." You break down, kissing his temple as you see him struggle to breath. Every break in breath that he tries to grasp, seems to shutter and lock. "I will never forgive myself... I-I am-m sorry." You tremble, your body swaying as the entire future you imagined for yourself falls from the heavens. No one will ever forgive you for this, and you don't expect Ahkmenrah to. Not that it matters, you see the blood sputter from his lips as he chokes on the essence meant to keep him alive. You listen to him struggle, hear his pain and its your own personal torture as you press your forehead to his, and just for a moment--he is only your love.

"I'll make it all stop." You whisper the words, but your suffering has only begun. You adjust your grip, the angle and run the blade deeper. And if he could be betrayed further, his eyes would have darkened a shade.

Then he goes still.

You had to do this, end his suffering--you can only look at him before you scream. You let your cries break the walls of the palace, and burn into the memories of all that can hear. Your heart shattered before you, a blade run through his heart entirely. You did this.

You just didn't know the last thing he heard was your screams, and for a moment, he felt pity for you.

Larry's eyes go wide as Ahkmenrah finishes, his eyes locked on the box and the book in the Pharaoh's hands. "So...We're not..." Ahkmenrah glances down at the box, the pounding having faded off the moment he began to speak. Maybe his own voice shocked you enough, just as your sudden appearance here.

"They were my wife first." He whispers quietly, every fiber of his being had thought you died right after him. Larry didn't even think it was possible for Ahkmenrah to cry, had never seen him emotional like this, but his eyes have glassed over. Yet the softness does not last as he throws the book onto the box, the clatter echoing through the quiet museum. "MY WIFE?!" The pounding regains its muster, and this time, Larry can hear the screams as Ahkmenrah walks away.

Larry clasps his hands together, glancing at his watch-- wow, only an hour, he still has ten more hours in here. As much as he wants to keep this crazy woman away from his friend, he has to unpack the exhibit. No one helps the nightguard, you were frightening to them--someone who hurt their friend.

It is a slow process, and meticulous as he sets aside the relics--books, goblets, crowns, jewels, and a blade. You have gone still, and as Larry pries open the lid to the box that contains you--he is shocked to see you curled into the wood. You do not look at him, but instead speak hushly.

"The universe in all its cruelty has brought me here to face my sins." There is a tremor to your voice, Ahkmenrah described you as jovial, but you seem as though you were broken many times over.

"Yeah well, you did kill him." You side eye the man, before sitting up just enough to look him in the eye.

"It was me, or his Kahmunrah... I made it quick..." You pause, "Kahmunrah was going to hang him from a post and whip him until he died." Even in death, as you rise from the box and onto your feet, Larry sees regalty. You are dressed ornately. "I gave him mercy."

"Did you tell him that?" He holds out his hand and guides you out of the box, your bare feet touching the cool floor.

"It was always my burden to bare."

You walk the halls of the museum with curiosity, the world has changed so much. Things are different, the air feels different, but you don't. You feel the guilt of your life, and the pain of your death echo through every step. Larry had offered to give you a tour, but the idea of being near someone after so long, makes your stomach twist in a knot. Familiarity begins to form as the walls turn to stone, and the statues become reminiscent of the palace... Then you see him, and you stop entirely.

What is air? You don't know because your lungs are stuck in a single position, and unable to inhale. He looks the same, stunning--with beautiful brown eyes, full of betrayal. Just as you remember.

"Go..." His voice is lower, and you cannot bring yourself to walk closer, or walk away. You just go still. Ahkmenrah finally looks at you. "Why can't you just go?" The pain is becoming clearer, visible in the glassiness of his eyes.

"I never loved him... I swear..." You close your eyes, but force yourself to look at him. To face your punishment. "Ahkmenrah... I did my best for you, he was going to torture you. Going to prolong your pain, until begged." Your lip trembles as you find the courage to step forward, "I wanted you to go quick, I thought he'd kill me for taking that away from him."

Ahkmenrah watches you crumble as a thought hits him, one that is heartbreaking. "You don't look any older."

"He wanted to be you, so he married me and took your throne. And when he found out that I would never love him, he gave me the death, he planned for you." You struggle to find the words, but Ahkmenrah knows there true. He knows Kahmunrah, in all his cruelty, would do that. You raise your shoulders back and close your eyes, before dropping to your knees. "I submit to your judgement, as my king."

You do not dare open your eyes as the last words leave your lips, you go still with your palms laid out on your thighs. Your head bent, you hold only the honor that you never bowed to Kahmunrah. You may not see him, but you feel him standing in front of you--the closest you've been in centuries.

He does not strike you. Or throw you. Or yell. Instead, you feel his hands wrap around yours, and the ache begins to grow. Your chest is expanding and your heart pounding, just as it did then. So you open your eyes and find him knelt in front of you, and you get to look him eye to eye.

"I never wanted to be your king. Only your love."

#imagines #imagine #requests are open #fandom request #imagine requests #angsty imagine #angsty august #ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah imagines #night at the museum #night at the museum imagine #SoundCloud

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free-for-all-fics · 1 year

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Random Night at the Museum thoughts and fic ideas. Pls tag me if any of these inspire you to write something 💜

1. What if you were a monochrome wax figure of Al Capone’s wife and reunited with him in the Smithsonian? What would your romance and relationship be like? (During or after the events of the movie is up to you)

2. What if you were Lancelot’s sister. Lancelot misses you, especially when he feels homesick for Camelot after learning it’s not real, so you’re made into a wax statue and transferred to the British museum as a surprise for him.

3. Imagine Lancelot always coming to your rescue and acting as your knight in shining armor, whether you’re actually in danger or not. (Whether you’re a wax figure or a human who works there is up to you.)

4. Imagine being Guinevere’s best friend/lady in waiting. You’re also Lancelot’s lady love and the motive for his quest to find the holy grail. Maybe in the legend, you were dying from a wound or sickness, so he stole the tablet and rode for “Camelot” to return to you, before Larry told him the truth. What if you were made into a wax figure and brought to life as a surprise for Lancelot after the events of the film? So yay you’re saved and now can live happily in the British museum together.

5. Meeting and courting Lancelot from night at the museum 3 would be like? Imagine trying to teach him human/modern things he doesn’t understand. He’s very confused, but you admire his enthusiasm.

6. What if you were a stablehand in the legend of Camelot and like a horse whisperer who raised and trained the noble steeds including Lancelot’s white horse. You’ve been able to tame the most wild of horses. You’re either friends with or in a relationship with Lancelot. Platonic or romantic is up to you. Imagine if Lancelot’s horse finds you in the museum first before he does lol.

7. Imagine if instead of Nicky, it was you who Lancelot held at knifepoint for Larry to give him the tablet. He kidnaps you for leverage to escape the museum and after he realizes the monkey was the quest, he begs for your forgiveness.

8. Imagine being a wax figure as well and sneaking out of the museum with Lancelot to experience Renn Faire. You saw a flyer for it and you both just had to go. You make it back before sunrise it’s fiiiiiiiiine.

9. Imagine Lancelot taking you horseback riding in the museum and you sit together on his white horse.

#night at the museum #night at the museum imagine #night at the museum x reader #natm lancelot #natm al capone #lancelot x reader #Lancelot imagine #random fic ideas #fic ideas

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dem-obscure-imagines · 2 years

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Night at the Museum Masterlist

Ahkmenrah

Slayer of Lions - Fluff

When the lion gets loose, it’s up to on very powerful warrior to save the hot Pharoah from becoming its meal.

Headcanons for Being Taller than Ahk

All Hallow’s Eve - Fluff, Halloween

As it turns out, a mummy and a witch are a match made in heaven, especially on Halloween.

Headcanons for Being an Artist and Dating Ahk

Physics Homework - Fluff

He may be old fashioned, but Ahk still loves to support you while you’re working on homework, even if he doesn’t understand it.

Story Time - Fluff

Once upon a time, a storyteller fell in love with a Pharoah, and it was up to a tiny cowboy and a tiny centurion to make it happen.

Closed Spaces - Fluff

Hide and Seek is fun and games until you find yourself locked in a closet with a claustrophobic mummy.

My Boyfriend the Pharoah - Fluff

You’re a new museum employee who’s not yet in on the big secret that the hot actor playing the mummy isn’t an actor…

Jedediah Smith (Night at the Museum)

Unexpected and Unusual - Fluff, Soulmate AU

While catching up with your old college friend, Larry, you learn he knows your soulmate. It’s not until you get to the museum, however, that you realize just how strange the circumstances surrounding your destiny are…

Growth Spurt - Fluff

When a battle breaks out at the Smithsonian, you need all the help you can get. Your magic, however, has a mind of its own.

#night at the museum #natm #natm imagines #night at the museum imagine #jedidiah smith #ahkmenrah

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me-and-my-flashlight · 1 year

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Welcome

Characters:

• Ahkmenrah

• Kamunrah

• Al Capone

• Napoleon Bonaparte

• Larry Daily

• Jed

• Oct

Do’s

• Fluff

• Angst

• Romance

• Character x reader only

• Ships for character x reader only

Don’t(s)

• Smut

• Explicit scenes

• Rape/incest scenes

• Underaged marriage

• Toxic relationships

• Past/present abuse

• Animal abuse

• Pregnancy scenes

• I won’t tolerate with Reposters/stealing

• Male x male

• Female x female

Additional information

• If you’re uncertain of an idea you may have, you may dm it to me

• Don’t be shy to send in a request

• I only write for the characters I have listed!

• Be nice or go away

• I will do my best to update regularly

• I do follow backs!

• I’m open to collaborating!!

Thats all I have for now!

***

#night at the museum imagines #night at the museum imagine #night at the museum x reader #night at the museum #ahkmenrah #kahmunrah #Larry #al capone #napoleon #request #requests #requested

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marvel-lous-guy · 1 year

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Tony: Wait, I'm confused. Why does baby Yoda have completely different eyes to adult Yoda...?

Harley: Puberty

Peter: you know how baby's teeth fall out?

Tony: ...thank you, both of you, for those equally terrifying answers.

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anika-ann · 4 months

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A Night at the Museum (A.B.)

Type: one-shot, fluffiest fluff; canon-divergence from Defending Jacob

Pairing: Andy Barber x reader WC: 5000

Summary: You always loved wandering through your museum after closing time – there was something so peaceful about it, a new layer of beauty to space and all the art that adorned the walls.

Tonight however, the peace is interrupted by a charming handsome man who has no business to be there… will you throw him out?

Warnings: 18+ for allusions to smut, TOOTH. ROTTING. FLUFF., uncomplete list to keep some mystique - so read at your own risk (but no supernatural elements)

A/N: a story dedicated to lovely @chase-your-dreams-away ✨, to everyone who enjoys a tooth-rotting fluff and to all you lovelies who support my writing shenanigans - you know who you are, giving me love and life 💕 Happy Holidays, if you celebrate! // divider by @firefly-graphics

Every single step you took felt so light it was almost as if you were floating.

The endless beauty adorning the walls, the soft intimate lights reserved for occasional night visiting hours only accentuating the already romantic atmosphere of the art museum, walking through the halls and galleries equalled a magnificent experience that made your soul shiver and yet feel at peace. You let the serenity wash over you as you roamed the art museum, already having helped usher the lingering visitors outside. The sound of your heels echoed in the vast galleries, your eyes drawn from one beautiful piece of art to another, even as you had seen them all a hundred times.

There were simply sights in this world that would never get old, you mused, a small smile playing on your lips, a slow steady pace bringing you to another section – and having you freeze in your step.

Just standing there without a care for the outside world, apparently immersed in admiring a painting – one of favourite, you realized distantly – stood a man. A man who most definitely did not worked here. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Excuse me, sir,” you called out lowly, anything louder than a that feeling wrong in the otherwise quiet gallery. “It’s after hours. You can’t be here.”

He startled too at the first sound of your voice – his head snapped to you, piercing but kind blue eyes wide with surprise, as if you brought him down from a haze, from a deep thought; from thorough appreciation of art. You would have smiled at that, since you knew the feeling too well, but you were too distracted by the man’s handsome face.

Awfully, unbearably handsome, with a ruffle of dark hair and a clearly well-kept beard, a dark blue suit that only highlighting his beautiful eyes, hands slipping from his pockets as he straightened upon facing you; his biceps bulged a bit with that movement, visible even under the suit jacket. There was a good-natured expression on his face, a pleasant note in his voice as he responded on the same volume, if not slightly quieter.

“Oh. Sorry.”

His voice was as lovely to hear as his face was to look at; almost like he had belonged here, the central piece among the sea of art, a sculpture capturing the peak of a man crafted by talented hands of the old masters.

As you walked closer to him, your chest ached a little; he wasn’t just handsome. He was drop-dead gorgeous. And while that didn’t authorise him to be here, it sure made your approach more amicable. You were only human, after all.

“I was actually heading out,” he continued, “but I just… got a little caught up in admiring the art.”

The corners of your lips rose involuntarily. You could see that easily happening to anyone – it was after all a painting close to your own heart and soul. Some might call it too simple – an image of hands, one larger, rougher than the other, held out palm up to the other, softer, smaller one, fingertips barely brushing, the mahogany brown background with a few lighter strokes of brush adding an aura of warmth. But its simplicity and what some would call imperfections were deceiving.

Many would argue that hundreds of art students all over the world drew a hand study every day. Masterfully executed or not, this particular piece of art could indeed be called plain; but it wasn’t. As things stood, the painting was no Creation of Adam, your all-time favourite, but it had earned a rightful place in the art gallery and n your heart, and it wasn’t only because of how old the painting was or who had created it.

If you were being honest, you were never able to quite put your finger on why, but it always tended to touch something deep inside you. So truly, you understood the man perfectly.

He had no business being here so late – and yet. Perhaps for his pretty face and his breathtaking physique indeed, perhaps for his warm gaze having returned to the painting with curious, soft eyes – you couldn’t just have him dragged away, keen on hearing his insight instead.

“How so?” you inquired.

His gaze snapped back to you, surprised. He examined you for a bit, as if he couldn’t figure out whether you were asking or just bidding your time before security found you, but in the end, he just smiled, slightly embarrassed.

“Oh, I couldn’t say. I don’t know the first thing about art, so I can’t even appreciate it properly-“

“Of course you can,” you interrupted him, regretting your hastiness when his eyes widened, watching you intently. You smiled apologetically, gaze dropping before it returned to the painting, the sight of the beautiful man too much – and you were used to looking at art every day. “What I mean is… sure, the knowledge of history of art and art technique can help you recognize a painting’s value to the world, but not its value to yourself.”

You cringed internally; you sounded like a fool, a pretentious one at that, contradicting your own words. And yet, his voice was soft when he spoke again without a hint of offense.

“I’ll take your word for it… but still. Might help to have a guide… what do you like about this painting?” he asked, gaze returning to the art in question. “That is, if you like it at all.”

“I like it a lot, actually. It’s one of my favourites.”

“How so?” he echoed your earlier words, something about the way his gaze flickered to you making you feel warm all over. He sounded genuinely curious. About what you thought. He seemed interested in your very personal insight; and in the intimate lightening of the gallery, you reluctantly gave in, all too aware of how close you seemed to stand now, side by side, barely two feet apart.

“I like how it makes me feel. I like wondering what made the artist capture this particular moment in time – not sooner, not later. Not when the hands touch further or part completely. And what the moment even is. All that wondering just leaves a lasting impression.”

“Yeah… I suppose that’s what I could say as well,” he mused, tilting his head slightly to side as he considered your words. “Tell me more.”

It wasn’t an order – despite the wording, it sounded more like a plea. Something pleasing hummed in your chest, a gentle stroke to your ego.

“It’s the position of the hands. Hands can be so expressive, we can say so much with them, with a touch. And I don’t mean it in the sense of sign language, where people literally use them to form words agreed upon earlier, but… they can convey feelings, capture so much more than words themselves often can,” you tried to explain, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You sounded like a crazy person who read Jane Austen too much – and you were all too aware. You often couldn’t help it, when you talked about art – but the poor man didn’t sign up for this. You chuckled bashfully. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Not at all,” he opposed, causing you to risk a side-way glance. His gaze lost nothing of its warmth, quite the opposite; his lips melted in a gentle smile and he was certainly paying more attention to you than the painting. You’d lie if you said it wasn’t flattering. And the electricity you seemed to feel in the air sure wasn’t unpleasant either. “I never thought of it this way, but I certainly cannot argue with that. And I argue for living.”

“Ah. A lawyer then?” you said, his hands rising in surrender in response.

He had really nice and big hands. Someone should paint them. And he should put them on me.

“Guilty as charged.”

“And with a sense of humour, I see.”

There was something a little shy and definitely intimate about his laugh, his gaze firmly on yours. “I have been told I only have old man jokes these days.”

“Well, that’s just rude. You should have that person arrested for such insult.”

“That’s not how this works.” He was laughing again, crinkles around his eyes. He had such a gentle laugh, quiet, fitting for the space. “Now… what do you think is happening here then?” he beckoned to the painting.

You pursed your lips, accepting his prompt.

“Well, that’s one of the things I love about it so much – it can be whatever you want it to be. A man and a woman… there’s this atmosphere of longing. Tenderness to the touch. Uncertainty, as if they aren’t sure if they are allowed. The man especially. Maybe they are future lovers…” You felt your cheeks heat, blush spreading as the man’s eyes flickered to yours. “Maybe not. Maybe it’s a goodbye.”

“How do you figure?”

“The blurry lines,” you whispered, your smile turning dreamy. You truly did love this piece – it conveyed so much emotion, offered so many interpretations. Made you feel so much. “They’re not accidental – the moment is hazy. Maybe it’s a memory, a painful one, a memory of a goodbye smeared by unshed tears. Maybe it’s a dream – dreaming about what can’t be, no matter what the heart desires.”

“Wishful thinking,” he murmured under his breath.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe he’s an artist asking his muse to be let into her favour.”

Your head snapped to him in surprise; but for once, he kept looking at the painting. Still, your breath caught; that definitely was a lovely interpretation.

“Maybe.”

“What else?”

Your gaze returned to the painting, even as your gaze was drawn to him instead, distracted, your thoughts consumed by the image of his handsome profile and the well-fitting suit – and those damn hands. He stood even closer now, slightly behind you; you could almost feel his warm breath on your cheek, the woodsy tones of his cologne wrapping around you like a blanket. You could get in trouble, lingering here, with him – but deep down, you felt you’d happily do so. And probably thank him for it.

He spoke again before he gathered your wits, a warm smile in his voice. “Could be a lonely artist who set his eyes on the most beautiful of women…”

You felt the back of his hand brush yours. No accident; a lover’s caress. You felt tingles spread thought your whole body from the point of contact, your heart thundering in your chest even as it shouldn’t have.

He shouldn’t have such an effect on you. Not after two years of much more intimate touches, teasing brushes of his fingertips, his palms roaming your body firmly, his lips appreciating every inch of your skin. A simple touch of a hand shouldn’t have made you shiver, but it did. With Andy, it always did. Especially when he talked like that, your face growing warmer by the second at his praise. Because it was clear he was no longer talking about the painting on the wall. Not when he ran his fingers over the back of your hand before turning it so your own hand slipped into his easily, and squeezed.

“…and was somehow insanely lucky that she accepted when he asked her out two years ago. And ever since then, his life’s been full of happiness he thought was no longer in cards for him. How’s that for knowledge of history?” he asked cheekily now, full grin spreading on his lips as he pulled lightly on your hand to spin you around to face him, his free hand already cupping your cheek as you giggled, letting the façade fall.

“You’re a charmer and a flatterer,” you muttered as he leaned in for a kiss, palm cradling your face and guiding you closer to his lips, soft whiskers tickling your face as your lips finally met.

His hand released yours, sneaking around your waist instead, deepening the kiss, making your toes curl in your pumps even after having received thousands kisses like this from him.

You had met pretty much like this – with you working late and him charming your wits out of you and having you lose yourself in his beautiful blues, mesmerized by his almost startlingly handsome face, even if he had been the one who had got a bit lost in the museum complex. Sparks flew, hearts fluttered, hands wandered – much sooner than they ever had in your previous relationship. But the whirlwind of passion was wrapped in an intimacy on an emotional level too – you had never fallen so fast, body, mind and soul, but Andy Barber was simply special. Bless his heart, he hadn’t really known much about art back then – but he had a quick mind and willingness to learn, eager to listen to you as you talked about your long-life love, watching you with a curious adoring gaze, a patient smile on his lips.

He told you he’d pick you up after work so you could celebrate the two-year anniversary of your first date. So as soon as you shoed away the last visitors, you hurried to the staff room to freshen up at least a bit. Andy hadn’t told you where he would take you up until two hours ago – where he called you on your short break to inform you that he was, in fact, a sneak who had an exceptional way with words.

Bribing your colleagues with god-knows-what, he had arranged for you to have the museum for yourselves up until midnight – a private tour with the softened lights saved for the evening, likely wandering hand in hand, beauty surrounding you as well as love. You had no doubt he had brought refreshments too, having left work right after lunch, probably preparing one of his excellent recipes; the premise of spending your special night like this with him had you giddy and soft for the rest of your shift. So when you saw him standing there like that, you couldn’t help but re-act your first encounter for a bit – but you didn’t expect him to lean into it so fully, letting you relive the awe of a handsome stranger being so impressed by whatever you had to say.

The nip of teeth on your lower lip brought you back to reality, heat swirling in your belly, having you press into Andy’s firm body further, not an inch left between you just as it should be, especially since your head was already beginning to spin with the lack of oxygen.

He was the one to retreat, smiling against your lips, nose caressing yours, your palms smoothening over his shoulders lovingly.

“You started it,” he opposed, pecking your lips again and then once more for a good measure, a little breathless himself. When you met his gaze, you saw nothing but adoration in his eyes. “I simply played along. …hi, by the way.”

You chuckled and returned his greeting, meeting his lips once more.

“Hi stranger. Happy anniversary.”

His smile was almost blinding as he tucked the lose strand of your hair behind your ear, fingertips stroking your cheek.

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” he whispered, eyes roaming your face so attentively – as if he was admiring what had been no doubt etched into his memory by now – that your felt your skin heat up again, gaze lowering timidly. “You’re beautiful. I love you.”

I love you. It was a simple admission – but that didn’t mean it still didn’t send your heart flutter, especially when he looked at you as if you were the single most precious piece of art in the whole complex.

“I love you too—what?” you questioned, when his eyes suddenly flickered behind you, back to the painting, and a frown twisted his features.

“There’s something missing,” he mused, causing your chest to spasm with panic. You spun on your heels and escaped his embrace so fast you nearly toppled over. Your eyes frantically searched for any sign of what was wrong – a missing plate with description? Had piece of the golden frame broken away? A- “I do like the painting, but it’s just… it’s missing something.”

You huffed out a breath of relief, turning back to Andy swiftly, hitting his chest with the back of your hand, earning a burst of silent laughter.

“Sorry-“

“You are not! Don’t do that, Andrew!” you whisper-yelled, your ribcage actually aching a bit from the sudden scare. “I’d be in real trouble if there was something missing, you know that! But do enlighten me, Mr. I Don’t Know The First Thing About Art. What is missing here?”

He had the decency to look a tiniest bit guilty as he gently touched your shoulders, spinning you back to the painting, wrapping his arm over your middle to pull you flush to his front.

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s beautiful. I know you love this one. But I… I think finally figured out what the scene is about,” he explained slowly, voice dropping back to a whisper, only a trace of gentle laughter in his pleasant timbre.

“Oh?” you inquired nonchalantly, still pouting a bit even as your exasperation evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. You could get fired if something got lost on your watch, so that was a mean joke – but you should have known better. You had known him for two years now after all.

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, guiding your hands to lay on your stomach, placing one of his warm palms over them, chin resting on your shoulder. “Well, obviously, they are a man and a woman.”

“Is that how you win all the cases at court? With your excellent observation skills and dead-on-point arguments, Mr. Obvious?”

Andy continued, unbothered by your snarky teasing.

“And he’s an old, maybe a little dorky man, who is crazy in love with this gorgeous woman with passion for art…”

The corners of your lips twitched as you turned your head to him, nose nudging his cheek as you understood where this was going. “You’re not that old… but you’re plenty sappy for sure.”

“Who said I was talking about us?” he teased, squeezing your hands again as he nudged you to look forward again despite your prolonged ‘riiiight’. “But he’s a little bit like the artist, asking a muse for her favour… he’d feel like the luckiest man on Earth if she’d allow him.”

You leaned your weight back onto Andy’s warm body, tilting your head, as a full smile spread on your lips along with the sweetest warmth curling in your heart.

“Well… I know you said it’s not us, but… if it were, he wouldn’t have to ask. He’s already plenty in her favour.”

You let your eyes slip shut, revelling in the feeling of being in the arms of the man you loved, almost tasting his own affection for you on your tongue, feeling it float in the air. You felt at peace; safe, warm and loved. Nothing could measure up to the serenity of the moment. Whatever Andy had planned for you two, as nice as it no doubt was, it didn’t matter much – you could just stay like this for hours, with his lips occasionally reaching to kiss your cheek, your temple.

“I adore you, Andrew Stephen Barber,” you sighed. “Sappy and all.”

His chest rumbled behind you as he hummed, his finger softly stroking your hand, pulling you somehow even closer to him. “Well perhaps he’s asking something else then.”

You felt your eyebrows rise, eyes fluttering open, smile still plastered on your face – you were probably grinning like a loon at this point.

“What’s he asking then? And what was that thing you said was missing?”

He caressed your fingers again. You felt him gulp behind you before he straightened and took your left hand, bringing it to your shoulder, to his lips, his hold on you never faltering.

“Maybe he’s asking if he could gain her favour forever.”

You chuckled breathlessly. Sap. For someone who had already been married once, even if mostly for convenience of an unplanned child, and then got divorced, he sure stayed a romantic.

“Forever is a long time,” you hummed noncommittally, not at all opposed to the idea though.

Andy was without doubt your Prince Charming in a three-piece suit, the wishful image of a happily ever after having crossed your mind more than once. With him, forever sounded sweet – and entirely plausible.

“Yeah, I know. But I want to try my luck asking anyway.”

That was the only warning you got before Andy suddenly released you from his embrace and used the gentle hold he still had on your left hand to turn you to face him, the strangest expression on his face.

Adoration. Affection. Worry. A nervous smile.

Nervous? What reason-

The realization slammed into you the very second Andy began to drop to one knee, a voiceless ‘oh my god’ knocked out of you along with your breath. A little blue box held up in his free palm, he gazed up at you as you watched him with wide eyes already filling with tears.

God, had you had any capacity to do so, you’d feel like a dumbass for not figuring out sooner what all his talk had meant. Why the missing thing. Why this was the painting he decided to stand in front of, this one among hundred others that adorned the walls of this place. Why the hand that had been right under his had been your left one, the whole time, and he hadn’t been caressing all your fingers. He had been – perhaps subconsciously – tracing a line of a ring which he hoped to put on your ring finger.

“Andy-”

“Sweetheart… I’m supposed to be great with words, but now when you’re actually facing me when I kneel here, they all… disappeared. But know that I love you. I love you with everything I am, with my whole heart. I will never understand art as well as you do, but I promise I’ll never stop trying and never stop listening, because I want to understand everything you love. I promise I will always do all I can to stay in your favour, in the favour of a woman who might as well be a muse herself,” he whispered hoarsely, his eyes turning glassy as a huge lump grew in your throat, several tears escaping you and rolling down your cheeks even as you were biting your lip – as not to cry, a not to laugh giddily.

He wanted to marry you. He wanted to spend the rest of your lives with you and he wanted to make it as tangible as possible. He made this damn moment all about you, a true promise, a true testimony that he meant what he was saying. You bit your tongue hard as not to blurt out your answer before he could even ask the question.

He choked a little as he said your full name, thumb pressing to the edge of the box for it to open and reveal a no doubt beautiful ring – but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at it, not when his lips twitched in a smile, his hand a little clammy as he still held yours. Or perhaps it only felt that way because your own were trembling, your heart threatening to beat its way out of your chest?

“Will you marry me?” he asked at last, finishing the question with a wide grin as you started to nod halfway through, the yes escaping a little too loud in the enormous room, the echo drowned in Andy’s relieved laugh, his hands – indeed shaking – slipping the ring on your ring finger meticulously before rising to his feet and framing your face with his palms and smashing his lips to yours, a grin to a grin, salty tears to salty tears.

Your fingers found purchase into his locks, holding onto him for dear life as he kissed you with vigour, nearly bending you backwards in half, one hand gripping your nape, the other moving to your lower back instead for better balance as he continued to steal your breath all for himself, an insistent press of his lips tasting like heaven and a promise of happiness.

“I love you.” A kiss to your lips. “I love you.” A kiss to your nose. “I love you so fucking much-“

You giggled against his lips, returning the affection as much as you could, your heart pounding in your chest, pressed against Andy’s ribcage – his heart was racing too, as if he had run a marathon or argued the case of his life in front of a full courtroom.

“I love you too-“

“Thank you-“

You laughed breathlessly, yelping when his hands slipped under your thighs and he lifted you to up to spin you around, a brilliant smile on his face.

“You’re a sneak, Andrew Barber,” you teased him, the world still spinning even as he set you down, taking both of your hands to place a tender kiss to your fingers.

It was the first time you actually took a proper look at the shiny ring – and your breath caught in your throat, eyes burning, nose tingling with fresh tears.

“Andy…”

It was gorgeous – and most definitely not a mindlessly picked piece of jewellery with the biggest diamond in a ten-mile radius to show off. No. Much like he had shown dedication to the proposal itself – you were getting married, holy damn, Andy just PROPOSED – he must have put plenty of thought into choosing what was to adorn your finger for hopefully a very long time; forever even. Delicate but intricate in design, a bigger centre stone with what seemed to be a thousand of tiny gemstones surrounding it as a halo in an unpredictable but beautiful pattern. He must have spent a fortune on it – it was a piece of art itself. Probably one of a kind.

Just like the gem of a man who now stood in front of you with a mix of pride and bashfulness in his expression as you admired your new accessory – a new promise.

You met his gaze, eyes probably shining brighter than the ring.

“It’s gorgeous,” you sighed, unable to resist and leaning in for another kiss, hoping to pour all your gratitude and delight into his lips. “I see what you did here, Andy. Thank you… and I really really adore you, you have no idea. I’m the lucky one.”

He shook his head with a grin, nudging your nose with his, hugging you close. “Let’s agree to disagree, sweetheart…”

A smirk pulled at the corner of your lips. “Mr. Barber… are you already disagreeing with your future wife?”

Judging by certain sensation against your belly, you weren’t the only one who felt a shot of euphoria through your veins when you said it; Andy’s pupils dilated, gaze flickering to your lips, this time with less than sweet intent, hand wandering from your lower back to the globes of your ass instead.

You giggled and let him pull you to him until you realized the direction you were facing – not. Because like this, Andy’s hand appreciating your ass was perfectly visible to the camera.

“Andy, wait-“

“I wouldn’t dare to disagree… guess we can both thank to our lucky stars then…” he muttered, completely ignoring your protest, lips nearing yours, suddenly painfully slow, butterflies fluttering in your stomach despite the rational voice in he back of your head that your really shouldn’t give in. But how when his palm sprawled further, long fingers reaching to your quickly heating centre.

“An-“

He swallowed your noise of protest and plea at once, your knees buckling an inch when he stroked over your covered slit.

“Celebrate with me?” he whispered against your lips, his hips rutting against yours making you whimper.

“Andy, the cameras-“

“-are off, I bribed the guard, I swear-“ he cut you off as his other hand slipped under your pencil skirt, already tracing the line of your panties on your thigh.

“Andy-“ you whined as his lips retreated only to pepper soft slow kisses down the column of your throat, your head tilting back on its own volition as your body craved his touch, your core now throbbing. He’d better not be joking about the cameras, otherwise you really would-

“Come on, love, you gonna let me pin you to the wall like the masterpiece you are deserves?” he whispered and it was a terrible, terrible line, but he nipped at your pulse point and your feet obliged as he back you into the wall, fingers pushing the soaked fabric of your underwear to side, finding your hot and wet and waiting for him. A groan escaped his lips, his hard cock rutting into you as his fingertips teased your slit. “Gonna let me paint you all pretty with my cum, like a good little wife?”

“Jesus, Andy-“

“Gonna say yes to me one more time today, won’t you?” he demanded huskily, a knowing teasing lull to his voice as he kissed you again, letting you taste his sinful smile. He knew you would. You could never tell him no, not when you knew what awaited you was pure bliss, a loving but no less filthy ecstasy.

It was wrong. It was beautiful. It was insane and you’d happily take the leap. You were getting married. What other answer was there, especially with such a reward in your reach?

“Yes,” you sighed, head hitting the wall lightly, the hard warm planes of Andy’s body indeed pinning you in place, right between two damn exquisite painting. “Yes, I will.”

And then, because that beautiful bastard seducing you in the least appropriate place deserved a retaliation, you breathed out the last coherent words you could form before Andy made you forget how to do so:

“I will always say yes to my husband.”

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Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed 🥰

Once again, Happy Holidays to all who celebrate 💕

Headboard info: framed picture from this artist (edited) - https://displate.com/displate/5918780, gif from Tenor

#r #andy barber x reader #andy barber imagine #andy barber x you #andy barber #defending acob au #andy barber fluff #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fanfic #a night at the museum #anika ann #gift fic

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