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ihathbenobiwankenobied · 1 year

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the shiny

Part six of 212th Medic Skull Has Had Enough on ao3

Part one | Part two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Summary:

Waxer knew something Cody really did not need him to know.

Cody glanced toward the table of shinies who watched on, which was strange enough in itself. He eyed the men sitting at the table, trying to determine if he knew any of them.

Splint. There was one shiny with streaks of dried mud running across his chest plate, and his eyes locked with Cody’s for just a second too long. His face turned red.

Word Count: 3,707

Cody found himself pacing a lot these days. He had always been one to move while thinking, but he had never had to do quite so much thinking.

And it wasn’t even about the war, for Force-sake.

He walked back and forth between the walls of his quarters, sock covered feet sliding across the floor and a hand resting on his stubbly chin. Obi-Wan is really rubbing off on me, he thought, bringing his hand back down to his side and grumbling under his breath.

The man in question was the reason behind the pacing to begin with.

The forest planet Cody had left behind with his blaster wounds had proven to be a win for the Republic, but it had taken a few days longer than General Skywalker had initially predicted. Cody had already endured a long bacta submersion and a few days of bed rest before Obi-Wan, looking bedraggled to say the least, had sent him a holo message saying he would be returning to the Negotiator the next day.

Cody had been relieved, but it was 0600, nearly time for dinner hours at the mess hall, and Obi-Wan had yet to return.

Momentarily, Cody considered that he might have gone to his own quarters, but that was unlikely– they had a routine for these things to avoid suspicion.

So Cody paced, eyes locking occasionally over the still tender flesh covered in bacta paste on his chest as he passed by the mirror.

By 0700, he was hungry, stomach itching for something other than a ration bar; he had been eating them out of his room while on bed rest and after nine of them, even a hot plate of gruel started to sound appetizing,

Cody pulled on a shirt, hoping it wouldn’t wipe away the bacta on his chest, and pulled on his boots over his blacks. He looked at his comlink where it was still attached to his vambrace, hoping maybe Obi-Wan had thought to message him, but no such luck. Cody sighed, trying to keep his mind clear. The clean-up process of removing troopers from any planet usually took longer than anticipated, even if it was Cody’s men who he had always known to prioritize efficiency.

Slipping his comlink into his pocket, Cody started toward the mess, only stopping to look down the hall where Obi-Wan’s quarters were, just in case. No such luck.

To Cody’s surprise, through the corridors of the mess hall, there was a smattering of blue and orange paint on still dirt coated armor. While normally he would be happy to see the majority of his troopers had returned, there was no man dressed in flowing tan robes, and certainly no flash of Auburn hair sticking out just above the tops of his brothers’ heads.

Cody’s heart pounded in his chest as he briskly walked toward Waxer who was gesticulating wildly to a group of young looking troopers– Waxer always did like to show off to shinies.

“Waxer! Join me over here.” Cody called out, his commanding tone surprising him as he approached the worried looking bunch of new troopers with freshly painted armor.

“I’ll have to finish this later boys. Don’t eat too much of this shit-paste; won’t feel so good on the way back out.” Waxer offered the crowd of them a cheeky smile and momentarily basked in the roar of laughs that followed him from the table.

Cody found it supremely less than funny in the wake of Obi-Wan’s unexplained absence.

“You’re too funny; laughable really.” Cody deadpanned as Waxer approached his side, his muck-covered bucket curled under his arm.

“I know, I am an expert Cody.” Waxer offered, humble as always.

Cody chose to ignore the comment and shook his head. “When did you return?” He asked, voice hard and words pointed.

“A couple hours ago at least; had to unpack the ships for cleaning. Mud everywhere.” Waxer shrugged, then adjusted his bucket in his arms looking slightly less amused when Cody growled in frustration.

“And where is the General? I have been expecting to meet him for a debrief.” Cody said evenly, attempting to keep his own worry from coating his tone.

Strangely, Waxer’s eyebrows rose.

It was seemingly unintentional, however, because just as soon as Waxer noticed the look on his face, he schooled his features and hid his oddly smug looking smirk. Cody was intrigued. “Last I saw he was in the hangar… didn’t say anything about a debrief.”

What in the hells? Why did that matter?

Waxer looked amused again, shit-eating grin only on his face for a second.

Cody looked at him for a moment, mentally exploring the possibility that this was just a Waxer-thing, being strangely cryptic in a situation that didn’t really require it. Yet, there was something telling Cody that this time, Waxer knew something Cody really did not need him to know .

Cody glanced toward the table of shinies who watched on, which was strange enough in itself. He eyed the men sitting at the table, trying to determine if he knew any of them.

Splint . There was one shiny with streaks of dried mud running across his chest plate, and his eyes locked with Cody’s for just a second too long. His face turned red.

Cody had been on a heavy dose of painkillers, and his memory was more than a little foggy, but he remembered that shin; a new medic for the 212th.

And if Waxer had anything to do with it, he had grilled the shiny to death for any known piece of information he could spill.

Cody tore his eyes away from Splint, noticing out of the corner of his eye that the shiny immediately stood to relieve himself from the mess hall. The Commander turned his gaze toward Waxer who offered a sardonic, yet pleasant smile.

“So if you weren’t meeting for a debrief , Cody, what were you and the General planning to do? ” Waxer didn’t say the words so loud as to tell the whole mess hall, but loud enough that Cody wished he could melt away in his spot, never to be seen again. A few nearby troopers turned their heads in curiosity.

“It’s a debrief, Waxer .” Cody gritted out thickly, voice low, “Which, matter-of-fact , he wouldn’t have bothered to tell you personally about.”

Waxer shrugged, then adjusted his helmet again, “You’re right, Commander. Let me know how that debrief goes; I’d love to hear about all the details. ”With that, Waxer turned on his heel, heading back to get another tray of slop.

Cody was not hungry anymore. Not with the way his stomach churned and his heart beat too quickly behind the walls of his chest. Cody turned around himself, heading in the opposite direction out of the mess hall and toward the hangar where Waxer had last seen Obi-Wan.

Stares followed him out.

“It’s barely a scratch.”

Of course it is. Skull let out a large huff of air, hands very tenderly touching the General’s mangled vambrace.

They had managed to get back to the Negotiator in one piece, all due to some lengthy negotiations on Kenobi’s part when it came to the Separatists’ surrender. Skull had thought the General had gotten out unscathed from the whole affair, but a quick glance at him in the hangar bay said otherwise.

What Kenobi had so conveniently failed to tell him, was that his arm had been pinned– borderline crushed – underneath the weight of a deactivated droid after the negotiations were complete. Skull still didn’t quite understand the whole story, but it sounded like Kenobi had been a di’kut during the clean-up.

“General, the metal is quite literally stuck in your skin.” Skull said, examining the way the metal curled inward, blood soaking the sharp edges that stuck out.

“It doesn’t hurt.” Kenobi tried, looking worse for wear when Skull looked him in the eye.

“That would be the impending nerve damage, Sir.” He stated blandly, watching Kenobi resign himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be going anywhere but Skull’s medbay until it was taken care of. “Medbay, let’s go.” Skull reiterated, just for good measure, and motioned to Oxy that he was on his way out.

They walked slower than usual, Kenobi trailing him by just a fraction. The man was clearly exhausted; he had gone two days without sleep, and much longer than that on very little of it. Skull knew Cody’s injuries had been another distraction from rest; Kenobi had been pacing endlessly while on the transport back to the Negotiator rather than sleeping like he should have been.

Skull empathized. He was tired too from so many days working late into the evening.

They arrived to a clean and well-organized medbay. Another shiny, Moons, had watched over things in Skull’s absence, but Skull had called him off duty as soon as they had made it back to the Negotiator.

Like usual, Kenobi stood awkwardly in the reception area, staring at the beds like he needed permission to sit down.

Skull chose to ignore the dirt that shook off of Kenobi’s tunic as he sat.

“Any bed, Sir.” Skull said mildly as he began to strip off his armor. With no other way to lug it around, he had been forced to wear the muddy pieces of plastoid until they were back on board. Kenobi muttered something like an agreement and picked the closest bed, only committing to sit on it, rather than lay down.

Once Skull had managed to strip himself of his soiled armor, he pulled out a kit of supplies from one of the large cabinets and began to unload it onto the tray situated by the side of the bed.

“You know,” He said as he tried to pick out the best tool to grind through the metal of the vambrace, “Between you and the Commander, this has been quite the mission. I’m banning you both from getting hurt for the next two weeks. I’ve had enough.” He tried to smile with the jab, but Kenobi looked suddenly alarmed.

He glanced down, panicked, looking at the side of his vambrace. “I didn’t tell Cody– my comlink is… broken.”

Sure enough, upon inspection, Kenobi’s comlink was smashed, so much so that no repair would be enough to fix it.

“Sorry General,” Skull offered as he began to cut through the top of the metal. “Did you need to speak with Cody?” He asked curiously, trying not to pry as he focused on sawing through the metal without puncturing Kenobi’s skin any further.

“Oh– erm, no. No. I’m sure someone will inform him we have arrived.” Kenobi didn’t sound so sure, but Skull wasn’t about to question him. He would just have to assume the Commander would be rolling into the medbay, nearly feral , demanding he know why the General did not personally contact him about his whereabouts. Just normal army behavior, keeping exclusive tabs on your commanding officer.

For several minutes Skull and Kenobi sat in silence, the occasional hiss coming from the Jedi as Skull peeled away the pieces of metal and plastoid that had pierced his skin. Blood dripped onto Kenobi’s pale skin, making the small puncture wounds look far worse than they were.

Kenobi seemed comfortable with the silence, but kept eyeing the doorway like he knew Cody would barrel through the door at any moment.

Jedi-osik, Skull thought as he swiveled to find numbing ointment and a stitching kit to put a couple of stitches in one of the deeper cuts left in his skin.

Like Kenobi predicted with his numerous glances, Cody arrived the second Skull turned his back.

Skull heard Cody’s purposeful stomps across the medbay and Kenobi was already standing, leaving a coating of dirt where he was sitting on the medical bed.

“You look… better.” The General said as Cody approached. The man in question, unsurprising to Skull, looked exasperating but he kept his face completely under control. Though, the tension in his jawline was an easy giveaway.

“You didn’t notify me when you arrived, General . We were supposed to have a debrief meeting.” Cody reminded the General, words as icy as his eyes. His face softened when he noticed the nearly dried blood on Kenobi’s arm where Skull had left it.

“It’s fine, just a few scrapes.” Kenobi reiterated immediately when Cody stepped closer, hands pulling the Jedi’s arm close for inspection.

“No, ” Skull corrected dutifully, “Scrapes don’t require stitches, Sir.” Skull wiped away the dried blood and focused on preparing everything he needed to get the wound sewn up. The less time he had to spend in the middle of their little domestic, the better.

“What happened?” Cody said tightly with a layer of panic hidden somewhere inside the words. He watched skeptically as Skull began stitching up the wound.

“My vambrace was damaged– I’m sorry, I meant to communicate with you earlier.” Kenobi was always needlessly polite, but this time the words seemed to be uttered with genuine remorse. He watched Cody with seemingly watery eyes.

Skull ignored the brush of Cody’s hand over Kenobi’s shoulder and the soft hum the Jedi made in return.

“It’s– It is fine.” Cody said, blunt but not void of empathy. Then he turned slightly, arms folded over his chest as he stared expectantly in Skull’s direction. The medic chose to ignore his gaze for another moment as he tied off the last of three small stitches.

What was he on about?

“Yes, Cody?” He asked, hoping his own irritation would show through.

“Your Shiny.” Cody said blandly, unblinking.

Of course . Skull could already sense where the conversation was headed. Sure, he had told Splint to keep his mouth shut, but Cody’s boys– mostly Waxer, really– were rough on newbies. Waxer could make a shiny falsify the entire plot of their life if it meant he could pull out a morsel of new gossip to spread amongst the ranks.

Skull sighed and reached for more bacta to slather over the wound on Kenobi’s wrist. “Splint– what about him?”

“Did he treat me?” Cody asked, but clearly already seemed to know the answer. He hadn’t been unconscious and loopy the entire time they had dragged him through the forest.

“I didn’t think you were fully unaware, Commander. Yes– he was.” Skull answered, finally wrapping a bandage around Kenobi’s wrist. Kenobi responded with a gentle hiss as Skull pulled it tight and whispered out a gentle sorry .

“He seems to have a lot to say about confidential medical information in the mess hall today.” Cody gritted out, completely unamused and not bothering to stop his voice from rising above a normal speaking level. He was red in the face in some mix of anger and embarrassment, much to Skull’s internal enjoyment.

For a Commander in the GAR, constantly in the midst of every stressful event known to man, he seemed to be so easy to rile up when it came to Kenobi. The General was his weakness, his breaking point, it seemed. Skull, for one, thought that made Cody… more likable.

“Splint is a well-trained medic, Cody. I don’t think the information he has been talking about is in relation to medical matters.” Skull said, hiding his smirk as Kenobi stood again and sheepishly and took Cody’s arm. He looked like he wanted to intervene and end the conversation, but Cody pressed ahead, speaking before Kenobi had a chance to get a single word in.

“It’s– you know rumors spread in the ranks easily. Didn’t you say something to him?” Cody’s comeback was impressively poor.

Skull laughed and shook his head, “No? What exactly would I tell him not to talk about? The two of you have insisted there is nothing between you. Not to mention, your Waxer is almost certainly the real culprit.” Cody almost became more red and looked like he might either scream or cry, or both, really.

Strange , but not unexpected.

Kenobi, in stark contrast, looked mildly concerned. “Cody?” He asked the Commander, voice smaller than usual. Cody ripped his eyes away from Skull’s. “I think Skull knows.”

Obviously .

There was a long pause, and Cody’s eyes asked for Kenobi’s approval, like he needed the reassurance of the General to finally fucking admit it.

“... fine.” Cody bit out. It was less of an admission, and more of a forcible agreement to not deny it anymore.

Whatever it was, Skull liked it more than he cared to admit.

“Well, now that we have that settled, how about you go talk to Waxer and I’ll give Splint a piece of my mind later.” Skull offered as he washed his hands. When he turned back, he found that Kenobi had stood to wrap an arm around Cody’s middle who held his face in his hands.

“That will just make it worse.” Cody groaned. “Let’s just… pretend it never happened.”

Skull scoffed at that, there was no possibility that it would be brushed off as just a rumor, not if any of the vode noticed Cody was missing from the barracks.

Not if Cody was constantly glued to his General’s side and especially not if the kriffing hand-holding and affectionate eye-contact persisted.

Nevertheless, Skull agreed. “Whatever you want, Commander.”

Cody offered little more than a side-eyed glance as he led the General through the doors of the medbay.

Skull let himself chuckle as he cleaned up his work area. Cody, like any good leader, clearly cared about how he was perceived, but he was far too concerned with how his brothers would react to the news. Skull would put money on it that the troopers had already started betting on the odds of whether the rumor was true or not.

“Cody looks kriffing pissed! ” Skull’s heart jumped before he turned to find Oxy strutting through the medbay, his own muddy armor cradled in his arms.

“My bad.” Skull said with a shrug and Oxy barked out a laugh as he deposited his chestplate in the sink, already reaching for the soap.

“Waxer already has Rocki posted at the entrance of the barracks tonight to see if Cody and the General show up together.”

Knew it.

Cody was not an angry person. He prided himself on how level-headed he could approach even the worst situation.

But this?

It was hard to avoid anger when Obi-Wan was involved. Not because of him of course, because of how easily he could get hurt .

Obi-Wan was unlike Cody’s brothers, the only other people Cody had spent his entire life with. He was a beacon of reason and logic, but he was also sensitive, never afraid to bring an ounce of empathy where Cody thought there should be none. Hells, Obi-Wan would regularly sacrifice himself, without a second thought, for someone he had met only moments early.

For all of those reasons, Cody’s inherent, and undeniably effective urge to protect, to keep his General out of harm's way, was strong– strong enough to make him fume. Skull knowing– anyone in the GAR knowing– was a threat, an opportunity for Obi-Wan to get hurt.

Admittedly, Cody also had a selfish side; he liked the little world that they had created for themselves… and Skull, Cody supposed.

So they walked silently through the halls of the Negotiator, save for Obi-Wan’s greetings to any passerby. Thankfully, not his brothers.

They reached the door of Obi-Wan’s quarters still stuck in silence, but Obi-Wan eyed him, something like sadness behind his eyes.

Cody hated that look. Especially when it was directed at him.

The minute the door shut, Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest, wincing when he brushed over the bandages on his wrist.

“Careful.” Cody said softly, trying to offer up a smile, but failing when Obi-Wan frowned.

“You’re angry, Commander.” Cody’s heart skipped a beat, noting Obi-Wan’s tells were already in place. The crossed arms, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes hardened but with an ounce of softness behind his expression regardless. The formality of Commander .

Cody sighed, “I wanted– I didn’t want the whole kriffing GAR to know. I didn’t want Skull to know.” Cody paced again, trying to avoid Obi-Wan’s impending glare.

“Skull has known for weeks, Cody.” Obi-Wan reasoned. Cody knew it was true, but he thought if he just avoided the topic… it would go away.

“And now his shiny told the whole 212th.” Cody bit back and grimaced.

“They were bound to discover, eventually.” Obi-Wan said, but Cody didn’t want to believe it, “You trust these men, your brothers?” It was a question, one that Cody knew was rhetorical, but it still hit him in the chest.

It wasn’t his brothers he was worried about, it was the intel. How long until the whole GAR knew? How long until he lost the one thing he had chosen for himself?

“I know–” Cody said instead, swallowing harshly. He paused his pacing, looking up to find that Obi-Wan had unfolded his arms.

“Then we go on like normal– we don’t have to make an announcement.” Obi-Wan’s lips quirked into a smile. “Agreed?”

Cody let out a huff, and nodded.

He’d be damned if he ever let his brothers see him do anything out of line, regardless.

Cody stepped into Obi-Wan’s awaiting arms, forehead digging into Obi-Wan’s warm neck. They stood like that for several moments, one of Cody’s arms wrapped around Obi-Wan’s middle and the other stroking through Obi-Wan’s still greasy hair. Cody didn’t care; as long as he was in Obi-Wan’s arms, nothing else mattered.

They were interrupted by Obi-Wan’s comlink beeping in indication of an incoming holo message.

Reluctantly, Cody pulled away and watched a perplexed Obi-Wan pull up the holo-image sent to him.

To Cody’s profound horror, the image was him and Obi-Wan. Cody was asleep on a medical bed, Obi-Wan’s messy hair splayed across his bare chest. The lighting of the photo was dim, but the position was more than compromising, it was damning .

Obi-Wan’s jaw hung ajar as his cheeks turned pink.

Cody’s heart rate rose as he read the accompanying message.

Thought the 212th’s resident lovers deserved a photo to hang on their fridge. You’re welcome, loverboys.

Cody knew who it was immediately, and decided he hated him, in fact.

Karking Skull.

#I am back again with more Skull and more flustered cody #mild whump #but lots of embarrassment #codywan #hurt/comfort #crack #fanfiction #fanfic

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darlinboypresley · 2 years

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Art deco

(Austin! Elvis x reader)

Year: 1956

Summary: you and Elvis meet at club handy after being apart for a short period even though you both know you’re bad for one another you can’t leave each other alone.

Trigger warnings: dark Elvis angsty a bit… mentions of a break-up sexual tension, slight smut.

You were a young singer from Memphis Tennessee and the recent ex-girlfriend of the one and only Elvis Presley. Even though the break-up was mutual that didn’t mean it hurt any less… you couldn’t help but feel like you’ve lost what was yours. Sure you and Elvis fought as any couple did. It was normal….

Until one day you caught him with another girl and that’s when you left. You fell tired of your home town, and even though you tried not to, for a small moment you saw a little house on a hill and small kids running around… you felt like a fool falling for Elvis Presley only fools fall for him. Elvis was exactly your type, seeing as you didn’t like them innocent or face fresh. You wanted them wearing leather, and in full honesty, you like the bad guys… sad eyes… a mouth full of little white lies. The ones who kissed you in the corridor but quick enough to tell you goodbye. So, Elvis was that exact type of boy you liked, and oh boy you fell hard so hard you landed flat on your face.

So here you were on Saturday night doing your friend B.B king a favor by singing at his club. Even though you knew you shouldn’t… you wondered if Elvis would be there tonight… you even wondered if he heard you singing on the radio, maybe even turned it up. You downed the rest of you’re water as B.B looked over at you. “Good luck Lil birdy I know you can do it!” He said with a charming smile. It was a nice confidence boost. You looked over at him and smiled gently.

“Thank you B.B,” you giggled and made your way to the stage. You started your first song by moving around the stage dancing and singing with your background singers. You loved your girls and your girls loved you. Your head moved towards the door while you were having fun as two familiar blue eyes met yours.

You sighed softly at the sight of Elvis a part of you really wanted him to be there while another part.. was still so hurt by what he did… you couldn’t forgive him. The moment Elvis saw you, his eyes went wide. You looked beautiful as you flashed the crowd a smile and asked them how they were feeling. Elvis walked over to B.B and looked at him ordering a drink. B.B raised an eyebrow as he watched Elvis down the drink.

“Why is she here B.B.” He choked out as he turned toward the stage. Your voice rang out the whole bar. Once again, he made eye contact with you.

“you’re so art deco out on the floor Shining like gun medal cold and unsure Baby you’re so ghetto you’re looking to score When they all say hello you try to ignore Why cause you want more”

After you finished your set and walked off the stage, you got pulled outside by Elvis. Before you could even say a word he crashed his lips on yours. Before you knew it, you kissed back… he tasted like alcohol. You didn’t mind it one bit. Well, that was until you noticed what you were doing and looked at him.

“W-what….what the hell, Elvis! You c-can’t just cheat on me and then kiss me as if nothing happened…” You said as tears started to threaten to spill from your eyes. Elvis looked at you and pulled you close as you cried into his chest.

“I’m sorry baby…I….I don’t know what took over me, and it just happened and… I- the Colonel said….” He stammered since he couldn’t think of a better excuse. You pushed him off of you “What did he say, Elvis.” You looked at him annoyed. Elvis let out a sigh.

“God dammit mama, he said you weren’t good for me and that I’m not good for you. That I should just get rid of you. Ever since you left, y/n, I felt lost please… please come back I… I need you, baby, I’m a wreck without you I’ll fire him I’ll do anything…. I need you and you need me…” He said as he slowly pushed you up against the bathroom wall… pressing his lips against yours. You kissed back as desperate as he did. He brought up one of your legs and placed it around his waist, gripping your ass out of neediness.

He pulled away for a moment and whispered another “Please take me back mama please” He pulled away for a moment and whispered. You nodded and choked out and “Okay.” You nodded and choked out. As Elvis's lips attached to your neck he put you onto the counter. He locked the door quickly and his lips reattached to yours. You kissed him pulling him close as his hands slid up your dress. He moved his hand over you’re pink-colored underwear and started to rub circles onto your clit. You moaned softly in his mouth as there was knocking on the bathroom door. Elvis groaned as you’re background singer spoke up. “Y/n, we have to get back on in 3 minutes.” You sighed softly as you got off the counter and opened the door.

“I’m coming. I’m coming” your background dancer nodded and walked off as you got pushed against the wall by Elvis again. You looked at him but before you could say something he looked at you. “I’m not done with you yet, mama, now go on sing your little heart out for me, and after that, I’m gonna have my way with you.” He said, voice dark and raspy with arousal. His eyes were darker than usual. You kissed him and he softly taped you’re ass. “Oh, and, y/n…. remember you’re mine,” he said before you walked on stage

Elvis watched you sing on that stage as he leaned against the door. And in that moment he realized that you were his everything and that he was never ever letting you go again he was gonna tie you down one way or the other no matter what.

hii uhm creator here idk what to say about this just enjoy lemme know if i missed trigger warnings tho

#austin butler #elvis movie #x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler elvis #austin butler fanfiction #austinbutler!elvisxreader #elvis 2022 #elvis presley

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flyingraijin · 1 year

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sweetener. - Ch 12

god is a woman.

Pairing: Atsumu Miya x fem!reader

Word Count: 10 897

Warnings: Swearing, Osamu is a good brother, smut, oral (fem. receiving), vaginal sex, all characters are 18+

Series masterlist + ao3

Inarizaki wins every match that they play for the rest of the day. They take the next set of their first game by over ten points and then move on with ease. No one is surprised; unlike Tokyo, Hyogo is not a prefecture that has handfuls of powerhouse teams to throw at the qualifiers, so Inarizaki was pretty much a shoe in for nationals from the get go. Still, it’s incredibly satisfying to watch as they take their last match of the day in straight sets and then cheer together upon realising that they’ve made it to the finals tomorrow. You cheer with them, and the rest of the crowd; cheer, scream and jump up and down joyfully with Hinami over and over again right up until the very end. You don’t go down to see them between matches, since Hinami instructs you to give Atsumu some time to “simmer” but you do text him congratulations which each match he wins. He only sends back the sunglasses emoji each time, because of course they won.

Physically, you feel like you weigh less than you did this morning. There’s a massive burden thats been removed from your heart and you feel like if you were to jump, you get a good five or six metres up in the air. It's a new feeling for you, this complete and utter joy, and you know there's only once source; Atsumu. Atsumu and his stupid smile, Atsumu and his stupid good luck kiss. You owe all that you’re feeling to him.

Briefly, it has you wondering if this is what you would have felt if Suna had taken you back at some point during those first two weeks after he’d left you on his doorsteps. But some part of you really doubts it.

The day eventually comes to a close victoriously and after spend minutes cheering on Inarizaki’s last game with the rest of the stands, you get to watch them pack up and then leave the gym. It's only now that you know your time has come. Quickly, you slide your camera back into your bag, grab your jacket and get to your own feet, intent on going to find the team. For a moment, a hand grabs you and you turn around to see Hinami smiling widely at you.

“Good luck!” she says happily, her eyes shining. You beam back at her.

“Thank you! And thanks for coming!”

“Of course,” she says, winking. “You know how much I love admiring all the athletic men!” Then she drops your arm and reaches forward to give you a slight shove instead. “Go on, you don’t want to miss them.”

You nod and turn, throwing a last goodbye over your shoulder. And then quickly you hurry up the stairs to the exit of the stands, taking them two at a time. Your heart is pounding in your chest along with something that feels like it’s fizzing and it spurs you to run when you reach the door and are able to burst out into the main auditorium of the gymnasium. You know the boys will probably have gone to the locker rooms to change after their match, and you don’t know where those are. But you can’t even worry about it as you sprint down one hallway and then another.

I’ll just wait for them at the exit , is what you're thinking as your feet thud against the floor. I’ll wait for them.

Only, as it turns out, you don’t need to. As you rush down the last hallway, you hear a voice calling out to you. You name, pronounced with that familiar lilt you know so well. It has you stopping right in your tracks, freezing up as your head whips around in search of the voice. And then you see him. The Inarizaki volleyball team are all walking in your direction from down a separate corridor. They look tired but happy, a warm and bubbly energy surrounding them. They have changed, you notice, back into their red and white tracksuits, with their bags all hanging over their shoulders. You can’t help the smile that breaks over your face when you see them, a smile of pure joy and excitement and happiness over how well they’d just done. Your shoes squeak against the floor and then you're running again, only now it’s towards them.

You see the way some of their faces light up at the sight of you. Ginjima grins wide, Riseki starts jumping up and down, Kosaku waves at you. Osamu is smiling mildly, his eyes keen and knowing. But there's only one you can truly focus on, the boy standing at the front of the group with his arms already open and the happiest expression you've ever seen on anyone drawn across his face.

Your lips shape around the letters of his name, but the actual sound is lost as your hair whips back. You might be crying, you realise then, just a little. But you don’t even care as finally, after you’ve sprinted almost the entire length of the hallway, Atsumu receives you with a joyous laugh. He sweeps you up into his arms, lifting your right off the floor and you squeal as he spin you around. Your arms slide around his neck, one hand finding its way into his hair, and then you bury your face in his shoulder with a happy sigh. You are crying, you know that now. You can feel the tears sliding down your face. But you don’t even care as you squeeze your eyes shut and inhale deeply, drinking in the scent of Atsumu, and the feel of him as he hugs you so tightly you honestly think your ribs might end up crushed.

“Hey, princess,” Atsumu mumbles in your ear then, his voice cheeky but also thick in a way that tells you he might be on the verge of tears himself. And you can’t help but break out in a laugh, your shoulders shaking in his grasp as finally, you know. He’s here, with you. You have him again, he hasn’t gone.

Atsumu, I love you .

“Yer an idiot,” Atsumu murmurs to you then, his head turning a little so he can press his nose into your hair. “Yer so stupid”

You might’ve snapped at him if you didn’t know he wasn’t exactly right.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to him then. And he laughs, shaking his head against you.

“It’s okay,” he tells you then. “Ya came back.”

You came back. Somehow, you understand him deeply then, you understand what he means. Yesterday, when the pair of you had spoken, you weren’t the only one who’d felt like you’d been left behind.

“Always,” you tell him. “Always.”

You pull back a little then, and your eyes catch his. They’re shining, so bright in the afternoon sun and it's with a shuddering realization that you suddenly see… he’s crying too. Not like you are but still crying. The shine in his eyes is from the tears that hug the edges of his lashes.

There’s no hesitate between their of you when you lean down and he pulls you in, the hand on the back of your head guiding you. Your lips meet his in a dizzying kiss and it feels real . It feels so real. You totally forget that his team is behind you and there's are people watching you. You forget about Suna and Hinami, you forget about the matches he’d played today, you forget it all. Right now, it's just you and him. You and Atsumu. Atsumu and you.

It occurs to you only now that this is what you’d felt all those weeks ago when you’d kissed Atsumu in the locker rooms before their practice match. The reality. That kiss had felt real too, even if you couldn’t pinpoint it at the time. Only this one right now, this kiss, it’s better. Because as you feel Atsumu under you, around you, enveloping you, as you feel his lips and his hand on the back of your head, fingers through your hair, and you feel the material of his tracksuit jacket as your own fingers grab at it, you know that right now, this is real.

It’s real.

When you slip back from him, everything returns to you immediately and quickly you pull yourself from his arms. The team is still standing behind him, you realise, mortified, and they’d seen you entire little show. Quickly, you turn to them and bow apologetically.

“Sorry. We had some… things to sort out.”

Ginjima lets out a laugh at that and waves off your apology. “Don’t worry, we know. And we’re glad. Atsumu was a mess until you slapped him back into shape.”

Beside you, Atsumu bristles. “Was not!”

“Were too.” It's Osamu who answers this time. Then he turns to you and you see the look in his eyes; it's understanding, knowing and accepting all at once. Your cheeks flush a little in embarrassment. “Really, we should be thankin’ ya.”

“Honestly thought we might’ve had to swap our reserve setter in, in that first game,” Ginjima says. He slaps one of the first years on the back, who as it is looks slightly peaky. “You sorted that out though. Thanks.”

“O-oh!” You raise your hands, trying to ward them off as they all bow in your direction. “N-not at all. It was my fault in the first place.”

“Still,” Osamu shrugs when he stands up straight again and then takes a step forward. Behind him, the team start to walk again too. “We owe ya.”

Atsumu grumbles something unintelligible then and you move quickly to link your arm through his so he doesn't whack his twin in the back of the head. “Oh shush.”

“Hey!” he whines as the pair of you join the back of the group and start to walk out too. But you just give him a look which makes him shut his mouth quickly.

The school bus is already waiting for the team when you all reach the outside of the gym. You're about to break away from them the group, fully prepared to the regular bus home, only Atsumu grabs you before you can and hauls you up to sit beside him. You only fight him a little, only until Coach Kurosu gives the okay that you ride with them back to the school. And then you sit quietly beside Atsumu and spend the journey back going through the photos you’d taken. Neither of you bring up yesterday or what had really happened during the first match; it’s something you know you must talk about but not now, surrounded by sweaty high school athletes and pressed up against Atsumu in the uncomfortable bus seats. For now, you’re more than comfortable to just exist with him here, his head resting on your shoulder just like the journey to the beach, as the pair of you pick out the best photos from the games today together.

At some point on the journey, Atsumu falls asleep. You put your camera down then and just rest your head against his, relaxing. You're happy, you're so happy, and you're sure it shows on your face. Which is why, when Osamu leans over from the seats behind you, you jump and flush immediately, embarrassed.

He only chuckles quietly at you.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna interrupt y’two for long.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You're not interrupting anything.”

Osamu’s eyes flicker to his sleeping brother for a moment and then back to you. His eyebrow twitches. “Debatable. Anyway, I just wanted t'say… thank you.”

“You already did,” you point out, slightly confused. Osamu shakes his head.

“Not for that,” he clarifies. “I mean for… I guess, sortin’ out whatever was going on.”

You blink at him as the pieces fit into place in your head. And suddenly, you remember back to when he’d cornered you in the hallway all those months ago.

Don’t hurt him, is what he’d told you then. And you’d promised you wouldn’t. Very briefly, you wonder now if you’d broken that promise.

“Did he tell you… what happened?” you ask carefully. Osamu looks at you for a moment, seemingly thinking. Then, eventually, he shakes his head.

“Not fully. He just said ya had… a fight… and probably broke up.”

You swallow then. “Was he upset?”

Osamu snorts and glances over at his brother again. “Cried the whole night over it.”

You go to flick at his forehead, chastising. “Hey, don’t be mean!”

Osamu ducks away from you, still chuckling. “Fine,” he admits, “He didn’t cry. But I could tell he was… sad.”

Sad . You can’t help the guilt that sparks through you. “I’m sorry.”

Osamu shakes his head. “Don’t be,” he tells you honestly. “I know him and I know he’s difficult sometimes. But I think I know you too and… well, I trust ya.” He shrugs then and runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it. “If ya’d left in any longer, then I would'a had somethin’ to say about it. But ya came back.” He looks back at Atsumu and you seen the ghost of a smile pass over his face. “I'm glad.”

He understands, you think then. He does. He understand you and Atsumu, and the strange relationship the pair of you have. Maybe even better than either of you two do. And he approves.

It means so much to you that you can't help but give him a beaming smile in answer. “Thanks, Osamu.”

He shrugs. “No worries. Now go back to whatever ya two were doin’.”

He disappears back behind the seat, conveniently before you can snap at him that Atsumu is asleep and your weren’t doing anything. And then you're left alone with the blond sleeping on your shoulder once agin. Gingerly, you shift a little, as gently as possible so as not to wake him. You only move 'till you can turn your head properly and look down at him, watching the way his eyelids flutter just slightly as he breathes evenly. Every few moments, light from the street lamps outside with flash through the window next to him and turn his hair into liquid gold.

I love you.

You smile softly to yourself and reach your hand up to run it through his hair. It’s soft, you think slowly to yourself as you settle against him. I like it. I like you .

I love you .

You fall asleep not long after, your fingers still tangled in the strands of his golden hair.

Osamu wakes the pair of you up gently when you arrive back at school. You want to go home right away - you're just fine with walking by yourself - only Atsumu traps you and drags you into the gym with the team so you can sit through the post-game debrief and then walk home with him. You let him just because you want to stay with him, and so as you usually do, when he goes to the court, you sidle up to the stands to your usual spot so you can sit and wait.

Thankfully, Coach Kurosu keeps the debrief short. The school the team will be playing tomorrow in the finals is the same as they’d played during the finals when Atsumu was a first year on the team, so they know a good amount about them already. You listen with only one ear, concentrating just enough so you know what to expect for the match tomorrow and then you zone out. It's only when Atsumu calls your name once Coach Kurosu has bid them all goodnight that you perk up again, and head back down to join him. Atsumu meets you with an arms that slips around your waist, his fingers curling into the material of his own jacket that you're wearing. The pair of you wave goodbye to the rest of the team and pester Osamu a little to see if he’ll walk with you. But he just rolls his eyes and gives the pair of you a knowing look before moving off in Suna’s direction to walk with him. Atsumu shrugs in response and then all but drags you away, heading for the familiar road that will take the pair of you to your home.

You don’t talk much on the walk back. It doesn’t feel like the right time yet and you enjoy this, just being with Atsumu. The pair of you hold hands and swing them back and forth, practically skipping along and giggling softly together. You're sure to an outsider, you both probably look insane, but confined just between the pair of you, you're sharing your happiness. You feel free, more free than ever, like you can do what you want now without having to look around to see who’s observing. Before it was all for the sake of others but now, it's for you. You and Atsumu. Atsumu and you. Just the pair of you.

It feels really nice.

Which is what tells you not to let him go when the pair of you eventually reach your house.

You can tell just by one glance as you walk up the front path that your parents are already asleep; the light in their bedroom window is off, as are most of the other lights in the house from what you can tell. You’re not surprised; you’d told them you’d probably be back late - only at that time you’d been planning just to go and cry in some corner after the matches ended for the day, you hadn’t expected you’d actually waste a whole lot of time with Atsumu.

Maybe the fact that your parents won't disturb anything is what spurs you on, or maybe it’s something else entirety. But when the pair of you reach your front door and Atsumu looks ready to begin preparing to turn and leave you, you stop him. You reach out to catch his wrist between your fingers, holding him there. When he looks up at you, your eyes meet under the light of the lamp over the doorway, and you think he might already know what you're going to say before you say it.

“Stay.”

He seems to suck in a breath. Then the corner of his mouth twitches upwards.

“Here?”

Where else? You want to snap only you can’t as you continue to stare up into his amber eyes. What actually comes out of your mouth is…

“With me.”

Suddenly you feel shy. “Stay with me.”

Atsumu looks at you for a bit longer, his expression blank but his eyes warm. Then something in his face softens and he takes a step closer. The hand that you aren’t already grasping finds yours, his fingers tangling between yours. His head ducks, hair hanging forward, until his forehead brushes yours. Your eyes slide shut at the feeling of him so close.

“With you.” he murmurs, his voice barely a rumble in his chest. “Always.”

You stay like that for a while, just existing in each other’s space. Until eventually you pull away and drop one of his hands - only one - so you can unlock and open the front door. Then you quietly pull Atsumu inside behind you and shut it again.

As the pair of you toe off your shoes in the genkan, Atsumu turns to wiggle his eyebrows at you.

“So, what’re ya plannin’ for me, princess?”

You roll your eyes at him and shake your head. “Get your mind out of the gutter” you tell him as you step up onto the wooden floor. “I’m not planning anything.”

You can feel him smiling as you walk towards the living room, so you can drop your bag down on one of the couches. He follows you once his shoes are off, padding over in his socks like you. For a moment you survey the living room area, hands on your hips, as you try to figure out what you’re looking for. Then you shake your head.

“Lets go outside.”

“Outside?”

“Yes, outside,” you say as you turn to move into the kitchen. After pulling open the fridge, you swipe some juice cartons that you then give to Atsumu. He looks down at them in confusion as you slip past him again and go to the hallway cupboard. You pull the door open, wincing when it creaks a little, and then grab one of the blankets you know can go outside. Then you close it again and beckon Atsumu to follow you.

The pair of you pass through the living room to the other side and then you slide the partitioning door open. It reveals your small back garden; somewhat traditional looking with a patch of grass, some trees and a little water feature. You let Atsumu stand and take it in for a while as you slide the doors shut behind the pair of you. And then you step down off the low veranda and onto the grass. Atsumu follows you silently, watching as you unfold the blanket and then spread it out over the lawn. And then he sits down when you do, next to you but not facing you. You take your juice from him then and stretch your legs out in front of you, watching the water flow through the fountain in silence. And then, without warning, you flop back to stare up at the sky.

It’s entirely dark by now and the stars are high and bright without any direct light pollution from your house or the neighbour's. The moon is also up, shining way up above you; it's not quite full, there may be a couple of night left until it is. But it’s still stunning.

Atsumu shifts a little, turning to look down at you. His eyes rove across you from a moment as he takes a sip of his own juice through its straw. Then he lowers the carton and says the thing you know he will inevitably need to say.

“Why’d ya give me that good luck kiss?”

You purse your lips. You know it was coming, of course you did. Yesterday you’d told him the pair of you were done, today you’d shown up to his match giving him kisses and acting like a girlfriend. Of course he’d ask. And you’d thought you were prepared to answer him honestly.

Only, it seems you're not because of course the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a fucking joke.

“You were doing horribly without it. It would have been cruel to deprive you.”

Atsumu snorts but leans over to poke you in the ribs. You squeak and shuffle away from him.

“C’mon,” he says, head tilting a little to the side. “Y’know that's not what I meant.”

“I know,” you mumble out, refusing to meet his eyes. Atsumu frowns a little.

“So why?”

You let out a sigh and your breath drifts up over you, visible with the cold of the night air. Funny, you don’t even feel cold at all. “I just…” you start and then stop, pursing your lips as you try to figure out how to say what's inside you. “Look, what I said to you yesterday… that was wrong.”

“Wrong?” Atsumu asks softly. You nod, still staring at the sky.

“I said I wanted it to be over,” you murmur. “I didn’t. I didn’t want it to be over, I just wanted it to be… real.”

“Real.”

“Real,” you echo back to him. Then you suck in a deep breath, bracing yourself. “Thats why I gave you the good luck kiss today. I figured fuck it, things couldn't get any worse between us. I didn’t think you’d care so much when I told you we should stop and when you did, it made me think… maybe you wanted it to be real too. So… I just did what I wanted to do.”

There’s a thump then, beside you, and you turn your head to find Atsumu has laid backwards on the blanket too. He’s on his side through, staring at you, his eyes bright in the light of the stars. And you can see it in his gaze, that you’re right. He wants it to be real as much as you do.

You're not sure who leans in first but suddenly he’s right there, his nose brushing yours, his eyelashes fluttering over your cheeks. You feel the warmth of his lips before you feel the skin itself and it sends shivers down your spine. Slowly, you kiss him. So slowly, like you're testing it out. Really, this is your first real kiss. Not under any pretenses, not a repayment or cash in of kisses you’d given him in the past. This is both of you, right now, with no one else. And fuck, does it feel amazing.

You lips are tingling when you eventually pull away and when you open your eyes, you have no doubt he can see the absolute awe in your face. Awe over him. He’s beautiful like this, so beautiful. And you can feel the tears rising up again when one of his hands comes up to brush some hair back behind your ear before it gently cups your jaw.

Atsumu gives you a weird look, his face still so close to yours. “Why're ya cryin'?” he whispers, so low that you feel it more than hear it. It makes you smile and you lean in too, your eyelashes fluttering as a tear rolls its way down your cheek.

“I’m happy,” you tell him softly, raising your own hand to cover the one he has on your face. “I’m really happy.”

He kisses you again, a little more firmly this time, and you can’t help but sigh into it. His lips are so soft and so warm against yours, slightly nervous and yet wanting. You drink in his warmth as your hand slides over his before reaching for him and pulling him closer by his jacket. You roll over on your own side then, suck in a long breath when he pulls you in to sit right up against him. And then you feel sparks of excitement beginning to race up your spine when his lips part and gently he slides his tongue across your bottom lip. You want him, you want to taste him, to touch him, to have him. And the want builds within you as you let him in, kiss him more deeply, let him taste you right back. Your hand goes to the back of his neck, fingers brushing over his undercut before sliding to his jaw. And then Atsumu lets out a soft groan, a sound that absolutely destroys you inside.

Tell him , a little voice in the back of your head screams out. Tell him tell him tell him tell him-

Atsumu, I love you .

But when you eventually break away from him again, breathing hard with flushed cheeks and swollen lips, you're tongue tied. You can only stare at him, feeling his skin under your touch. Theres a fire alight inside you now and as you hold him closer, you want him to feel it. You want him to know but you can't speak it. So you decide to show him the only way you know how. You lean in to kiss him again.

The pair of you stay like that for a while. Splayed out on the grass under the stars and the moon, kissing, touching, feeling. You're slowly growing addicted to the taste of Atsumu, as your tongue rolls over his and you grasp as his clothes for stability. He too, seems just as drunk on you, as soft groans leave his throat every now and then, and his fingers wind their way into your hair. At one point, he gets an arm around your waist and pulls you in even closer. Without even thinking, you lift and leg to hook over his hips, and automatically his hand slides down to your thigh, holding it there. He's so warm that you don't even notice the biting cold, and so electric you don't feel the exhaustion of the day anymore. You’re focussed only on him and nothing else.

Which is equal parts scary and exhilarating when you eventually pull away from him and realise you still don't want him to go, that you want to keep him with you forever. Your leg remains hooked over his hips, and his arms wrapped over your back. There's something zinging deep in your gut and you don't think when you grab his jacket and then roll back, pulling him with you. It's only once you’ve settled again, your back pressed into the softness of the blanket beneath you and Atsumu above you, his arms caging you in, that the full weight of this hits you.

You lips part, tongue darting out to rub across them. You don't miss the way Atsumu’s eyes, now shadowed and out of the direct moonlight, follow it. Your entire body tingles.

“‘Tsumu,” you whisper up to him then, tilting your head up. Your chest his heaving as you breathe and you can feel it pushing into his when he drops a little. His lips brush over yours.

“Yeah?” he breathes out then. You feel his fingers playing with a few strands of hair near your ear.

“Do you… Will you… “ you mumble, your words drying up on your tongue. What are you asking him? You don’t even know yourself, and yet he seems to understand. Simply, he leans forward to kiss you again, soft and gentle. You feel the weight of his body over you, the way his chest presses into yours and his stomach into yours, and the way his hips sit between your bent legs. You can feel so much of him it's almost suffocating, but you want more.

You’ve only ever felt this way a few times in your life, enough to count on one hand. And yet, even now it’s different with Atsumu.

He does understand, you know he does when eventually he breaks away from you and pulls back. You sit up as he does, not saying a word as you continue to stare into his eyes. And then you take the hand he offers you and climb to your feet, your legs only a little shaky. He gathers the blanket while you pick up the empty juice cartons, and then he leads you this time, back towards the closed living room doors. You slide one open and then follow him inside, closing it behind you. And then you throw the juice cartons away and instruct Atsumu just to dump the blanket on the table before you grab his hand once again, and turn towards the stairs that lead up to the next floor.

Atsumu is uncharacteristically quiet and it fuels you on. When you reach the landing, you take him to your bedroom immediately. And then you close the door and lock it behind you.

And just like that, you feel totally alone with him again. The curtains at your window haven’t been closed and you can see the moon shining in. It casts rays of glowing silver across the otherwise dark of your bedroom, and throws shadows across Atsumu’s face when he turns around to look at you. Your fingers are still tangled with his, only now they’re tingling as they’re the only part of you that is touching him. You need more, you want more. But you’re also scared.

Thank god, Atsumu doesn’t seem to be. He draws you in by the grip he has on your hand, pulling you so slowly towards him. You take shaky steps, one after the other, your socked feet feeling unstable on the ground. But when you're close enough for him to reach for you properly, he wrap his arms around your waist and pulls you into him. You sigh when your head finds the crevice of his shoulder again.

“It’s okay,” Atsumu whispers to you. “It’s okay.”

“I want…” you mumble, still not quite able to put it into words. But he understand, he understands . You feel him nod against you.

“Alright. Yer sure?”

“I’m sure.” Your fingers curl into the back of his jacket for a moment before slipping round to his front. You pull away slightly so you can reach up, to where the zip hangs at his collar. Atsumu's arms fall then, and he just watches as slowly, you take it in your fingers and tug it downwards. The red splits open to reveal the black of his t-shirt beneath and then you slide your hands into the shoulders and gently push the jacket off it. It hits the ground with a soft thud.

In the moonlight, you see the soft smile that twitches at Atsumu’s lips. He reaches for you, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. Then he whispers against the skin, “My turn.”

You watch, as he had, as he takes the zip of the jacket you’re wearing, identical to his own just smaller. You watch as he pulls it down, your heart thudding in your chest. A spark shoots up your spine as his knuckle brushes over your chest just briefly before he gets the jacket open completely. Then he pushes it from your shoulders and lets it slide to the floor just as you had done.

You're both still fully dressed and yet something feels different as you stare up at him now. It feels so much more intimate, to the point that you suddenly feel shy standing before him in your school uniform. For a moment, you bit the inside of your cheek, just staring at him. And then you step forward again.

“C’mon.”

You grab hold of his wrist and pull him over to your bed. You sit down on it, tucking one leg beneath you and leaving the other hanging off the edge of the bed. Atsumu mimics you, sliding into place in front of you. His eyes are wide as they trace up your face, full of the stars and the moon. Timidly, you let go of his wrist and grab his hand, covering it with your own. Then you bring it to your waist.

“Hold me.”

He does, his fingers curling over the thin material of your school blouse. You let him pull you closer, wrap your body in his arms and press his nose into your collarbone. And you let him breathe for just a second; breathe you in, breathe in the feeling of the pair of you so close. When he speaks, you can feel his lips ghosting over your skin.

“You’ve… done this before, right?”

Your hands slide up his biceps to his shoulders. You nods slowly. “With Suna.”

You think Atsumu actually growls when you say his name. Then he presses a soft kiss to the skin of your neck.

“How many times?”

You suck in a breath when he kisses you again, his lips lingering this time. Your fingers curl over his back.

“Five.”

“And what did he do for you?” Atsumu asks, his voice a little muffled as his mouth slides up your jaw. You feel the sting of his teeth nipping at your skin.

“N-not much,” you manage to choke out. Atsumu lets out a soft snort.

“I’ll be better than him.”

You can help but roll your eyes at that. “Why is it always a competition?” you ask, although your voice comes out far more breathy than you intend. Atsumu’s hand’s are moving now, travelling down your back. You can't help but arch into his touch.

“S’not,” he mumbles, his voice right by your ear now. You squeak when he nips at your earlobe. “S’just a fact.”

“You're… insufferable”

“Ya like it,” he tells you simply, voice low and gravelly and fuck , you can’t disagree with him. His hand are grasping at your school blouse now, pulling it upwards until it becomes untucked from your skirt.

“Tell me what he did,” Atsumu murmurs to you then, his mouth moving back down your neck. “Tell me and I’ll be better.”

You have to hold back a whimper when you feel one of his hands begin to slide up the front of your body. “He… He…”

“Hmm?” Atsumu hums. His fingers are at your throat now, tugging at your ribbon, slowly undoing it. Your heart is thumping in your ears.

“He fingered me,” you breathe out then, eyes slipping closed as your head tilts back. Atsumu smiles against the skin of your throat.

“Yeah?”

“Mm hm.”

“What else?” he asks as your ribbon falls away and his hand moves down, going to the buttons of your blouse. His lips find a particular spot on your neck that has you whining and he stays there, licking idly at it.

“He…” you breathe, your hand grasping at his arms as you try to centre yourself and form the words. “He u-used his mouth on me.”

You feel Atsumu snort, one of his eyebrows quirking. His fingers pop the first button on your blouse and move on to the next. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Huh,” Atsumu connects. “Didn’t know Rin-rin had it in him.”

You huff out a breath and open one eye to give him a look. He chuckles again.

“Sorry, sorry. He just… never mind.” He leans back in as his fingers undo a third button. The material of your shirt falls open slightly, allowing for him to press his lips along your collarbone. “Anything else?”

“I sucked him off.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Atsumu asks you. You grimace a little, thinking about it.

“It was…weird.”

“Weird how?”

“He…” you start, then pause, flushing with embarrassment. God, could you really say all of this to Atsumu? “He never let me see him… cum.”

Atsumu pulls back at that, blinking at you. “What?”

Your cheeks burn hotter. “Whenever he was gonna… he’d turn away or make me look away or… something.”

Atsumu snorts then. Then he genuinely laughs. “Holy shit, yer not kidding?”

“No,” you grumble. Then you point at him. “But don’t you dare tell him that I told you. And don’t tell anyone else.”

Atsumu keeps laughing, only he leans back in to rest his forehead against your shoulder. You relax into his warmth once again. “Don’t worry,” he assures you. “I won't tell anyone. I’m gonna keep that to myself.” You feel him smirk against your skin. “Fuck me, that’s funny. I guess it’s my job to fix it now though.”

“What d’you mean?” you ask him, eyebrows furrowing. Atsumu presses another kiss to your jugular.

“I mean,” he tells you, “that I ain’t a fuckin’ scaredy cat like Rin-rin.” And then suddenly your world is spinning as you’re flipped over. When you open your eyes again, Atsumu is hovering above you, smirking.

“When I cum,” he says softly, leaning in so his lips are brushing over yours, “yer gonna fuckin’ watch.”

You can't help the whimper that escapes you, as a rush shoots up through your body. Heat flares up your neck and then into your cheeks, and quickly you raise your hands to cover your face. “Fuck, don’t say stuff like that.”

“Why?” Atsumu asks you, pouting exaggeratedly. “Are ya embarrassed?” His eyes glint sharply. “Or… does it turn ya on?”

“Atsumu, fuck off .”

“Aw, yer no fun,” he chuckles before pulling back from you and sitting up. You watch as he reaches an arm over his shoulder to grab the back of his t-shirt and then pulls it over his head and off his body in one swift movement. Immediately, you eyes are glued to the sight, the view you’d been given that day at the beach. His skin glows in the moonlight cast across it by the window, and his muscles, now with the right highlights and shadows, are breathtaking. You can't help but reach for him, one hand sliding up his shoulder while the other goes to the back of his neck so you can pull him right back down towards you. When you kiss him, you make sure that you bite his lip, just cuz.

Atsumu groans at the feeling and when the pair of you break away, you see the way he’s looking at you. Hungry, burning, not unlike how you feel. That thing, it's still growing inside you, still burning. And you still need him to feel it. So again, you reach for his hand, take it in yours and guide it. Only this time, you place it on the soft mound of your breast.

Atsumu sucks in a sharp, unexpected breath. “Oh fuck!” It makes you crack a smile and drives you on as you guide his hand, running his hand up and over your chest before squeezing his grip over your other breast.

“Touch me,” you whisper up to him then, looking through your eyelashes. “Please?”

The expression on Atsumu’s face is priceless and you almost laugh - almost, only he takes control and squeezes at you harder before you really can. The laugh turns into a hiccuped moan that bubbles up your throat and has your eyes falling closed. You're not usually sensitive on your chest; wanting Atsumu to touch you there had been more for him than you. But now it feels like every nerve in your body is on fire. Tingles rush across your skin as he rubs you, still over your blouse and bra, and you can’t get enough of it. You chin tilts back a little, your back arching, and it's the chance Atsumu gets. He dives forward, covering you with his own body, and sucks the skin over your jugular between his lips. You whine at the feeling, at the way you know it will leave a mark and the fact that you don’t even care. You whisper his name then as you squirm, one of your knees bending and then shifting up until your leg his hooked over his hips once again. He doesn’t seem to mind, and just nips at your neck again before pulling away. And then he leans upwards, his lips capturing yours as his hands, briefly, let go of your tits and move back to the buttons of your blouse.

The final few come undone one by one and then the shirt is hanging open, exposing your bra and midriff. Atsumu sits back when he feels it, his eyes drinking you in for a moment. You see the corner of his mouth twitch.

“Pretty.”

You blink up at him. “What?”

“Yer pretty.”

Your mouth falls open in shock. “I’m what?”

Atsumu chuckles and leans down again. His lips ghost across your cheek before he kisses the tip of your nose softly. “Yer pretty,” he mumbles again, his half-lidded eyes meeting yours. “I’ve always thought so.”

You stare at him. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh my god,” you mumble, suddenly flustered beyond belief. “Atsumu-”

“'Tsumu,” he murmurs then as he pushes some of your hair back from your neck. “You called me ‘Tsumu earlier… I liked it.”

“You did?” you whisper to him and he nods against your skin. Instinctively, your leg over his hips tightens a little. Your hand slides up into his hair so you have some proper leverage over him and then you tilt your chin up, putting your lips right by his ear.

“”Tsumu,” you breathe out, and then smirk to yourself in satisfaction when you feel a full tremor rush up his body. Atsumu swears quietly into your shoulder before suddenly he's pushing closer to you, pressing you into your mattress.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, his voice sounding strained. “Fuck fuck fuck, ya can’t just do that to me, princess.”

“Oh, I can’t?” you tease, your smile growing when he whines. “Okay, I won't do it again.”

“Nonononono,” he mumbles into your shoulder as his hand slip along your body again. You feel them on your chest, his palms enveloping both of your breasts. “Please, say it again.”

“”Tsumu…”

“Fuuuuuck ,” he moans - holy fuck, he moans - into your ear. “Sounds so good when ya say it.”

“Tsumu,” you can only whine in reply because his hands, fuck, his hands. Your back arches upwards, searching for more of them and then Atsumu leans down to trail kisses all along your collarbones and over the soft flesh of the tops of your breasts that available to him with your bra still on. You open your eyes to watch as he sucks a hickey into the skin there and it forces a shudder down your spine. You're moving before you really know what you're doing, at the same time that Atsumu pulls away just slightly to mumble out, “Please, can I-?”

“Fuck” you groan, arching your back upwards as you force your hand underneath yourself. “Shit… here-”

You unclip your bra and then sit up properly, pushing Atsumu with you. He slides his hands around you immediately, fingers dipping under your open shirt to feel up your bare back. He so warm and his hands are so rough but also gentle. You love it, it has you keening against him as you struggle for a moment with ripping off your top and then your bra too.

Once they’ve both gone, on the floor somewhere, Atsumu pushes you right back down. You head hits the mattress and immediately you have to slap a hand over your mouth to keep in a loud whine as he seals his lips over your nipple.

You feel his tongue on you, lapping, swirling. God, it’s so much, you don’t even know what to do with yourself and it's all you can do to keep quiet as your blood rushes in your ears. You think Atsumu is smiling against you as he does it, and you know you hear him chuckle when he nips at the flesh and you let out a soft whine.

“Did Suna”- Atsumu says then, raising his head a little to look at you in your eyes -” ever do this to ya?”

You shake your head briefly, before letting it flop back to the bed. “No, he didn’t - he didn’t like wasting time-”

“Wastin’ time?” Atsumu echoes back to you. He placing one last kiss on your breast before raising his head properly so he can look at you in concern. It helps you calm down a little, now that the direct stimulation is gone, and you can prop yourself up on your elbows to look back at him.

“He said it wasn’t necessary,” you explain, tilting your head a little to the side. Atsumu makes a face.

“Stupid idiot.”

“Hey,” you say, giving him a stern look. He gives you one right back.

“M’just sayin’. Anyone who doesn’t wanna spend the rest of their fuckin’ lives doing this”- he nips at the soft tissue at the side of your breast light enough to just tickle you, making you giggle -”is a fuckin’ moron.”

“Some people just like different things,” you tell him. “Don’t judge.”

Atsumu’s eyebrow quirks. “Do you like this?”

You purse you lips and stay silent, wanting to tease him. Only, he’s too fucking smart for that and immediately dives back into sucking at your nipple. Your knee jerk reaction has your head falling back as a soft moan leaves you, and immediately you flush with embarrassment.

“Okay, fine, yes, I do-”

"Knew it,” Atsumu mumbles into your skin before he lifts his head again. He smiles at you sweetly. You cock your head to the side again.

“Oh, you did?”

“Uh huh,” Atsumu tells you. “I know all these things. Ya might as well call me a sex god.”

The look you give him is unimpressed. “I thought you said you’d only ever fucked one person.”

“Hey,” Atsumu points at you. "Just because it was only one person doesn’t mean I only did it once. I know what the fuck I’m doin’.”

You have a wild desire to tell him to prove that statement to you, however, you have a feeling he will anyway. You're also hyperaware of the fact that you two can't exactly go wild because your parents are still asleep in the same house as you.

Instead, you just lean forward to kiss him, getting off your elbows to hold both side of his face as you sink back down and take him with you. Atsumu groans into your mouth as his tongue swipes across your lips and you can't help the shiver that runs up your body - a shiver that just so happens to have your hips jumping a little, enough to brush want currently pressing between your legs a little harder. Atsumu almost chokes.

“Fuck .”

You pull away from him a little, watching is face carefully. Then, experimentally, you rolls your hips up again, grinding against him with purpose. Atsumu’s eyes go wide.

“Holy jesus fuck- how’d you-?”

You can't help the smirk that appears on your own face. “Suna liked this ,” you inform him as you grind against him again. “Don't forget I also know what I’m doing.”

You say it simply to provoke him and thank fuck it works. Atsumu’s face darkens and then he sits up, leaves you lying on your back. You let him unhook your leg from him when he moves to shuffle backwards and then before you know it, he’s kneeling between your bent legs. His hands go to your knees then, rubbing up and then down the skin until he reaches the edge of your socks.

“Fucking - fuck,” he growls when he curls his fingers into the fabric and rips them down your legs before throwing them over his shoulder. “Fuck off .”

You can't help but giggle and Atsumu turns back to pout at you. “Hey, don’t laugh!”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble to him, propping yourself up again. “You're just adorable.”

“M’not adorable,” Atsumu says sulkily as his hands return to your legs. He runs his fingers down the inside of your calf, now totally unobstructed. “I’m gorgeous and hot and sexy and I make ya flustered.”

You frown and pretend to think about it. “Huh, I don’t know. I’ve never-”

He cuts you off by whining your name and then leaning down to nip at the flesh of your inner thigh. Your words dissolve on your tongue and you suck in a sharp breath at the feeling, eyes widening. Oh shit .

Atsumu notices, obviously, and immediately you see the challenge light up his eyes. “Suna ate ya out, right?” he asks then as he shifts himself, moving to lying on his stomach. You swallow before nodding a little shakily, watching with your heart in your throat as he adjusts your legs so they’re bent over his shoulders and he can rest his ear against either of your inner thighs.

“M’kay,” Atsumu says as he traces a finger down your leg. The muscles there all jump as he gets closer and closer to your core. “Did he ever make ya cum?”

You let otu a soft whine of embarrassment but hold his gaze anyway. “N-not the first time,” you admit, your hands balling up against your bedsheets. “B-but after, yes.”

“I’m gonna be better.”

“God,” you mumble, wanting to tell him to drop the competitiveness already. Only you're too fucked to even think because Atsumu has just ducked his head beneath your skirt and licked a long stripe right up your clothed cunt.

“Shit,” he groans against you then, and you can feel his voice vibrating right through you. “Yer so wet already.”

“Atsumu-”

“Shhh,” he mumbles, cutting you off. “Just let me enjoy this, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you murmur before choking when he licks you again, still over your panties. Fuck, you are wet, you realise now. You can feel it. And while it’s embarrassing, it’s also exciting.

Suna was the only person you’d ever slept with. And you were his first too, so everything the pair of you did was with each other. Experiencing something other than Suna is thrilling. And the fact that it’s Atsumu, someone you're so in love with you don't even know what to do with yourself, is mind boggling to you.

“Fuck,” you mumble to yourself then when you glance down and realise he’s hidden under your goddamn skirt. “Fuck, Atsumu, hang on-”

He grumbles but pulls back. And when he realises what you're doing, he helps right away, his fingers being the ones to undo the buttons and then slide the skirt off your legs. He also hooks his fingers into your panties and, after a quick glance up at you to make sure you’re happy with it, slides them off too.

Just like that, you're naked in front of him.

You're not entirely sure what you’d expected his reaction to be. It’d been awkward with Suna since it was both of your first times being naked in front of anyone, and you know Atsumu probably isn't the type to call you “beautiful” or some shit. Really, you half expect him just to stare at you for a while before getting back into things. What you don't expect is for him to take one look at your naked body and then tackle you, hiding his face right back in your neck.

You squeak a little in surprise, your eyebrows furrowing questioningly. “Atsumu, what the fuck-”

“You-” he mumbles against you skin. “Yer not wearing clothes.”

“Yeah?” you ask him, since he was the one who just took all your goddamn clothes off . “Thats usually what happens when you do this kinda stuff, Atsumu.”

You can feel him pouting into your neck. “Ya know that's not what I meant!”

“Then what do you mean?”

“You just…” he mumbles, sounding almost… embarrassed? “Yer naked.”

“Yeah?”

“And I… fuck, I just don’t know if I can…” he stops for a second and seems to think about his words. “Look, I could hardly hold myself back when we were at the beach and you were in a bathing suit. I don’t know what I’ll-”

You feel something in your chest melting as you realise what he’s saying. “Aww,” Atsumu!” you coo then, your face crunching up. Fuck, he’s adorable! “It’s okay, it’s just me, alright. You’ll be fine.” You can't help but stroke his head a little, feeling like you're petting an upset puppy. Atsumu whimpers.

“I just never expected… to see ya with no clothes.”

“I can put them back on?” you suggest then, only for Atsumu to immediately shake his head. Cautiously, he emerges from his hiding place in your neck and looks down into your face. The look in his eyes is determined.

“Don't."

You tilt your head a little to the side before raising an eyebrow. “So you're gonna do something?”

“Yes,” he tells you, pouting. You smile up at him. Then you reach up to hold his face between both your hands.

“It's just me, remember,” you tell himself before you lean up to kiss his nose. “Just me. You said you’d stay with me?”

Atsumu looks at you for a moment, his eyes wide and bright. Then he nods. Gently, he turns his head so he can kiss at your fingers. "Always,” he murmurs against then before leaning down to press a last kiss against your lips. You smile into it before ruffling up his hair.

“There you go. Now get the fuck down there and make me cum better than Suna did.” You add the last part in as some extra motivation.

Immediately, the cockiness is back and Atsumu wastes no time in shuffling down to position himself as he was before, with your legs over his shoulders. Only now, when he licks at your pussy, there's no material there to stunt the feeling. Your back arches upwards immediately as a shiver rushes up your spine, and you let out a soft whine, as loud as you dare. God, he's good at this.

“Fucker,” Atsumu mumbles in between licks, his hands digging into your thighs as he keeps them apart. “Gettin’ to taste this before me - s’not fair.”

“Jesus - christ ,” you whine out before looking down at him, unimpressed. “I barely knew you back then, okay?!”

“Still not fair,” Atsumu grumbles before he drags his tongue across your clit and you're lost to the ripples of pleasure that rush through your body. “Fucker.”

“Oh my god, ‘Tsumu,” you whimper, reaching down to thread your finger through his hair. “Feels -”

“Better than Suna?”

“I was gonna say ‘good’,” you choke out then before your voice dissolves into another moan as he sucks your clit between his lips. “But... that too.”

“Fuck yes,” Atsumu growls against you. This admittance by you seems to fill him with new vigour and his tongue speeds up, running over you again and again before sliding inside. Every time he touches your clit, you see fucking stars and before you really even know what's going on, you realise your orgasm is approaching.

“Shit,” you whine out as your fingers tighten in Atsumu’s hair. “Tsumu, m’gonna-!”

“Go on,” he murmurs against you. One of his hands lets go of your leg and reaches up, grabbing your own free hand. Your fingers intertwine and your back arches as the muscles in your abdomen tense up. “Cum f’me, princess.”

You do and it’s euphoric. Pleasure shooting through every neuron you have, tingles rushing through your limbs right to the tips of your finger and toes. You have to pull your hand from Atsumu's hair and instead slap it over your mouth to muffle the sound you make because fuck , if your parents heard that there's no way you could play it off as anything innocent.

Atsumu appears again once you've come down, looking overly pleased with him. He leans up to kiss your lips and you can taste yourself on him, something which, for some ungodly reason, immediately has you switched on again. “Good?” he asks softly when you break apart, and you can only nod as you heart thunders in your chest.

“Good,” you answer eventually before looping your arms around his neck. “But you have too many clothes now.”

Atsumu swears softly them when he feels your hips rubbing up against his. And he rushes to rid himself of what else he's wearing; his tracksuit pants, boxers and socks.

Unlike him, you admire him shameless when he climbs back over you, completely bare. His thighs, genuinely, make your mouth water and you wonder briefly if, maybe, if you do this with him again, they could be incorporated somehow. His actual dick too is nothing to sneeze at, although you will admit you haven’t seen too many in your life. Still, you try not to stare at it as he settle himself, hips between your thighs and chest pressed to yours.

“Still okay?” Atsumu asks you then, his voice low and serious. You nod in reply, reaching out lovingly to brush a few strands of his hair out of his eyes.

“Still okay. You?”

“All good.”

You nod, satisfied, and then shift yourself a little, getting comfortable. Then you wiggle your eyebrows at him. “Whenever you're ready.”

Atsumu snorts and lets his head drop so his forehead is pressed to your chest. “Jesus.”

You slap at his back then. “Don't fucking laugh at me!”

“Yer just…” Atsumu mumbles, shaking his head. “Yer so casual. How are you so casual about this?”

You shrug. “Think of it this way,” you tell him honestly. “Either I act causal. Or I freak the absolute fuck out because I’ve got the biggest fucking crush on you and holy fuck, we’re about to have sex and I-”

Atsumu cuts you off when he raises his head again to frown at you. “You’ve got a crush on me?”

You give him a blank look. “Did you not gather that from… everything we’ve just been doing?”

Atsumu blushes then - actually blushes - and frowns at you. “Not like that! You just… you never said it directly.”

You blink, thinking back. Technically, he’s right. Fucker.

“Atsumu,” you say then, reaching up to hold his face between both your hands. “I. Like. You.”

He blinks for a second, eyes wide. Then his head drops back into your shoulder - he seems to like it there - and he whines like a goddamn child. “Holy shit.”

“Happy now?” you ask. And you roll your hips up just for emphasis. Atsumu swears violently.

“Fucking- yes, I’m am. Can I… can I fuck you now?”

“Please,” you whine out, sliding your arms back around his shoulders. You feel his hand slide down between your bodies, lining himself up. And then -

Sweet lord jesus fucking christ -

Your fingers dig into his back and you have to stifle your moan in the muscle of his shoulder. He's just so much, there's so much of him all over you right now, it's almost overwhelming. It feels like Atsumu is everywhere, permeating your entire being and for a second you honestly think your soul might leave your body. It's not just the physical feeling of it but the emotional weight too that gets you - you'd woken up in this exact bed this morning thinking you’d never speak to Atsumu again, and now he’s sliding inside you, right here -

What the fuck?!

“'Tsumu,” you choke out as you let your head tilt back, eye squeezing shut. “H-holy shit, Atsumu!”

Atsumu doesn’t seem to be fair much better. He lets out a long moan into the skin of your shoulder before turning his head slightly to kiss along your neck. Only his kisses are sloppy and between each, you can hear him mumbling.

“Shit, ya feel so good, princess. Yer so tight I can’t fucking - Fuck I don’t even know - Holy fuck we’re actually-”

He cut himself off over and over, and you get the sense he's going through the same thing as you. In an attempt to comfort him, you slide a hand up the back of his neck into his hair and gently rub your fingers back and forth though it. “Atsumu,” you whisper to him - partly to help ground him and partly because it's the only fucking thing you can even think right now - right in his ear. “Atsumu, Atsumu, Atsumu-”

When he actually starts moving, everything just becomes more. You can feel so much of him and it's perfect. You love it more then you can even comprehend and as your body starts to move in sync with his, your hips rolling to meet his thrusts as he drives himself further into you, you actually feel like you’re melting, floating away as star dust in the night air.

Atsumu keeps swearing softly into your shoulder, his head remaining tucked there the whole time. His arms wrap around your body, hugging you against him and in response, you lock your legs around his hips. You can't help but turn you head and moan quietly in his hair as your heart pounds and your blood rushes and you really think you might just die. It feels good but there's so much more to it than just the physical. And you know Atsumu understand that too as the pair of you reach climax, tumbling over the edge one after the other.

You stay still with him for a long time afterwards, just wrapped up in each other. He's so warm and comforting against you, and he smells like home. You don't ever want him to leave, never in your whole life, and as he remains in yours arms you think he feels the same. It's only once he eventually pulls out of you and you have to separate that reality starts to sink in again. You wince when you realise just how gross you are right now.

“Fuck,” you mumble out as you slowly sit up. “I need… to shower.”

Atsumu looks over at you, also sitting. He scoots over to lean his chin on your shoulder as his arms slide around your waist. “Won't yer parents be suspicious about ya showerin' in the middle of the night?”

“Nah,” you shake your head. “I usually take showers when I can't sleep in the night, so they’ll just think it’s that.”

Atsumu frowns. “I didn’t know ya did that.”

“No one knows I do that, apart from my parents,” you admit to him then. Atsumu perks up immediately.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Not Suna?”

“Not Suna.”

You feel hims smile against your neck then, and it makes you smile. Your hand finds his and then, when you stand up on slightly wobbly legs, you drag him up with you. “C’mon."

“I’m coming?” Atsumu asks, confused. You turn to give him a look.

“Unless you wanna stay all gross and sweaty for the rest of the night.”

Atsumu blinks at you. Then his face splits into a grin. “I guess yer right,” he says then and shrugs, as if it just can’t be helped. “Let's go.”

You snort and shake your head at him before leading him towards your en suite bathroom. “Come on, you weirdo.”

“Hey, do I get to use yer body wash? I bet it’ll be good luck if I smell like you when I’m playing tomorrow.”

The last thing you do before you switch on the bathroom light and close the door behind the pair of you is give him a sharp smack upside the head.

#miya atsumu #atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu!!#sweetener.#💙 blue's fics

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Hue and Cry II

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; abuse of power, threats, chase.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find a place to hide for the time being.

Note: Got this done quickly and was surprised with myself. Gearing up to go back to work tomorrow. I’ll try to catch up on responses after work and check in with y’all.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You didn’t stop running until the dawn. You didn’t head for the village as you knew that would be the first place the lord and his party would look. You kept to the forest despite the howls and the hoots of unseen creatures. You stopped to bury your cap and apron under an overturned trunk. If it was known that Barnes was searching out a servant, it would be better to be less obvious.

As the horizon turned to a soft amber, you found an overhang and nestled into the small nook. You turned your back to the bitter morning air and tried to sleep. If you kept going, you would only pass out in the open. Your slumber was shallow and fitful. You were stiff as you woke up just after noon and climbed out of the cranny.

You feasted on nuts and berries gathered along your clueless path, eating as the twigs and branches pulled at your skirts. You weren’t sure where you were or where you were going. You could be out of the county or you could be five minutes from the castle. For your luck, you could have just gone in circles.

The second night you found a cave and slept there instead of pressing on through the dark. You were itchy from a brush with poison ivy and your feet throbbed from the endless trek. You got a few hours under your eyelids before you emerged and carried on.

What were you doing? Where were you going? If you did manage to evade the wrathful lord, what then? Knock on the doors of another castle and barter an apron with your fingernails dirty and your face wind burned?

The third night saw your stomach squeezing painfully as you failed to catch a rabbit and drank from a river eagerly. You slept between two broken logs and woke to the sound of hooves. You didn’t move as you listened to the voices. None were familiar and the only prey they spoke of was some doe they sighted moments ago.

“Nolan spooked the creature just behind the hill, my lord, if we hook around the lea, we might catch it by the stream,” a man said.

“I’d rather the stag. He must be close,” a deeper timbre replied, “you and Nolan take your course and I’ll search these grounds for the mate. Whistle if you sight our game.”

“Yes, my lord,” the other responded and the horses cantered away.

You stayed as you were as you heard the remaining man dismount and tramp over the carpet of leaves. You rolled onto your stomach and wriggled away from the noise and kicked yourself out from between the logs. You kept on your knees as you crawled around the other side and headed for the nearest tree.

His footsteps softened and you kept on, hoping your dirty dress helped you blend into the wild. You pushed yourself behind a trunk and pressed your back to the bark. If you sprinted out, he might just think you another frightened creature. If he sought a stag, he would be uninterested.

You nodded and readied for your flight. You took a breath and yelped as suddenly a figure appeared before you.

“I thought I heard a rustle,” the man said as he looked down at you. He was a lord, you could tell by the pin at the nape of his cape, “you look to be lost, my lady.”

“My lord,” you stood and bowed your head, “I only wandered too far. I can find my way back.”

“Way back where?” his hands went to his hips, “you look as if you have been wandering for a time.”

“I only tumbled and mussed myself,” you lied, “my lord, my apologies, I did not realise this forest was noble land.”

“It is easy to break the threshold of the common lands and the noble sprawl. It would be quicker on horseback to reunite you with your home, would it not?”

“I am grateful for such generosity but I would be remiss to accept, I might go on my way and--”

“Where do you hail from, lady?” he squinted.

“The village over yonder,” you pointed away from him, “it was a game and I did go too far.”

“And the village you speak of? What is it’s name?” he asked.

“Ildersin,” you uttered, one of the three nearest villages to the castle you knew.

“Ildersin? That is far and beyond my holdings,” he tilted your head, “one cannot wander there in less than a day so I warn you now to be honest or I would have your tongue out with hot pincers.”

You gulped and looked away from him. He stepped closer and caught your wrist.

“I could chase you down easy on my horse’s back, trample you into the mud, so answer me now or I will take you to the stocks,” he snarled.

“My father,” you said, “my father, he does beat me and I waited until he was abed to leave but I lost the bundle I did prepare for the escape. You see, my spare clothing and my food… I only did want to be upon my own and toil for one who does not lash me.”

He breathed through his nostrils as his thumb brushed the stitching along your cuff. He dropped your arm and his jaw ticked. His blond lashes flicked and he considered you and the dirt as one.

“You seek work?” he asked, “and asylum from your violent father?”

“Yes, my lord, er,” you blinked innocently, “I know not where I’ve found myself but I would serve you loyal if you would keep me from the stocks.”

“You can hold a broom? Empty a pot?” he asked.

“I can,” you assured, “my lord.”

“You have good manners for a farm maid,” he mused, “I might find a place for you in my kitchens.”

“My lord? You might direct me to the nearest village so I might find labour there, instead, I would not presume to further tax--”

“My castle is big enough, another hand would be more help than a burden,” he stepped back and waved you around the tree, “I will accompany you back to my keep and return to fetch my men… you look to have been out here long enough.”

“Truly, my lord, I--” you saw his impatience in the vein along his forehead and bowed your head, “I am most grateful.”

“Let us be off or my men might be lost without me,” he said.

He lifted you onto his horse and climbed up behind you. You’d never been astride with a man against you, it was awkward and crowded. He snapped the reins and the horse fell into step. He steered it away from your hiding place.

“Might I ask where I am, my lord?” you ventured.

“This is Astrens,” his voice rumbled through you, “And I am its lord, Duke Steven Rogers.”

Your heart sank as you recognised his name and your mistake. He wasn’t easily known with his beard, newly grown since his last visit to the Lord Barnes’ hold. He was of the few who were granted company with the miserly lord of the castle but there was a chance yet he did not know you. You were after all, only a servant.

🏰

Lord Rogers handed you over to his steward. You were reassured as you were given a cap, apron, and a new dress. You washed out of a basin and reported for your new duties.

It might just be far enough away that you wouldn’t have to worry about Barnes. He never went far from his estate and Astrens was out of the way of the capital. Even if it didn’t work, it gave you time to plot a real departure.

You were sent to the laundries to sweat over boiling cauldrons as you stirred the linens with a large stick. The steams seeped through your clothing and left you out of breath as you wrung out the sheets. You hung them outside along the line and helped beat out the old woven rugs.

After nights in the forest, your first day felt far from a return to normalcy. You were in a new place, you had new duties, and you didn’t know anyone in the castle. You’d worked in Lord Barnes’ manor since his father was still alive and you were only a kid. It was only a few years before Barnes took over but you remember it being much easy to ingratiate yourself to the staff.

You were shuffled onto a feather mattress in the servants’ quarters with three others. The snoring, snorting, and coughing kept you awake and you missed the chirp of crickets and scratching of critters. You woke more tired than any night spent among the trees and went back to the laundries.

Your days took on this pattern, sleep, eat, work, and do it all over again. You were forgotten among the other servants and it really seemed like you might just be able to hide among them forever.

Nearly a week into your time as Astrens and the castle blustered to a storm. All the drapes were to be taken down, beat, and washed, and all beds were to be stripped and redressed. Servants littered the corridors scrubbing, sweeping, and running from chamber to chamber. When you asked what the occasion was, the response was vague. Lord Rogers is hosting a guest.

You weren’t used to the rush. Visitors were rare at the other castle and rarely were they accommodated so wholly. If they had a place to rest their head and fill their stomach, Barnes felt they could not gripe. Even his greetings were not required on such an occasion.

You helped with the scourging and scouring of the linens and the drapes. You worked so hard you didn’t even have the energy to gulp down the lumpy stew allotted to the servants. You fell into the heap of your bedmates into dreams laced with your own snores. You dreamt of the forest and the sound of hooves.

Another early morning and the gears began to grind once more. Darcy sent you away from the laundries to help refresh the rushes in the entrance hall with several others. You scattered herbs over the grand carpet that displayed scenes of hunting through the seasons.

You wondered if perhaps Rogers was to be betrothed at last, the news of his first wife’s passing had sent many into gossip even before she was buried. Or maybe the king would make progress to the ancient grounds of the historic castle. You let your mind wander as your body was led by habit.

You heard the rolling of the carriage and the clip clop of horses. You followed several other servants as the tall doors were opened and you peered out into the yard at the party. You backed away as Lord Rogers emerged from the archway that led to the spiraling stairs and crossed the carpet. You could hardly hide your curiosity as you reluctantly followed the other servants. It would be unseemly to remain as Rogers welcomed his guests.

“James!” Rogers’ voice boomed and you stopped just outside the chamber as you looked down the stairs that led to the servants quarters, “it has been too long.”

“It has,” Lord Barnes’ responded and your eyes went wide as Deandra hissed for you to go. You couldn’t move as you listened and she abandoned you with a flutter of her fingers, “you know my father only ever called me James.”

“Ah, Buck, I’m kidding,” Rogers chuckled, “it is a pleasure to have you drag yourself from your hermitage.”

“You would make me regret it already,” the other lord chirped, “but the king did request my presence at the tournament and he did not allow for refusal. I’d prefer to travel with a friend, my only friend.”

“Oh, the sentiment, Lord Barnes,” Rogers preened dryly.

“I don’t know if I should be able to wait to tussle until the tourney,” Barnes jibed, “oh, this old place, has it been so long?”

You shoved yourself away from the door and clamoured down the stairs. You nearly tumbled down the last few and caught yourself on the wall. You sidled past Agnes and towards the laundries. Harriet called after you as you passed and rushed out the doors past the muddy puddles of dirty water and hanging sheets.

The grass was slick beneath your shoes as you raced for the stables. You only needed to hide there for a time and sneak out before they closed the gates. You didn’t make it past the first stall before you heard the steel whine. You turned as Lester greeted you with the tip of his sword.

“The master has been searching for you,” the toothy guard smirked, “oh and what a reward I shall have for bringing him a prize of his own.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #hue and cry #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark fic #dark!fic #fic #series #miniseries #medieval au #au #medieval!au #mcu #marvel #winter soldier #captain america

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gojoho · 3 years

Text

MERCY

• pairing; toji fushiguro x reader [ nsfw ]

• premise; it’s the same dance with him, a shameless game of cat and mouse in which he always win but maybe losing is equally as rewarding.

• words; 2078

• note & warning; i’m back with some toji content, he’s just been in my mind a little to long for me not the write about him. some warnings for this one is public, unprotected ( wrap it and then tap it folks ) sex, with the usual grammatical errors—I swear I try to proof read ya’ll but they just manage to find a way to stay in there. i am slowly but surely getting my mojo back.

Old habits die hard; it's easier to hate each other that way. Labeling whatever that was manifesting between the two of you as that, a bad habit. A dirty secret only an onyx sky could appreciate enough to hide. Perhaps that's what kept it alive and kicking, midnight turmoil, where even the most terrible of bad ideas are more seductive.

Though it's debatable if the alcohol left you unhinged, mindless, and bold. What other excuse did you have for allowing the bastard to enter your domain? There was no shame from the thinking without a conscience, but with the pounding music and pulsing lights, you weren't sure there was even space to think. He held a brazen stare all evening, keen to every move you made.

A man's attention was never anything to sneeze at, but when it was a straggler like Toji Fushiguro, it was intoxicating. And more than the liquor, everything seemed to be within reach under his spotlight. He held his distance, clung to the darkness, yet with such an adamant gaze he could have been right there beside you. At least, that's how you imagined it but the game wasn't that easy.

He'd stay in his dark corner, not quite able to step closer until you were ready. Until the heat underneath your skin became unbearable, leaving you an aching mess. That made it easier to devour you. Whether it meant burying his head between your thighs or hooking his arms around your waist and keeping you open. Or bottomed out inside you, mouth feasting on your chest.

The club was full, Friday night packed but it would work in your favor. You knew none of the songs, not that it mattered, it was mere fuel to your movements. A nice accessory to the sway of your hips, to suggestive temptation behind them.

It wasn't worth looking in his direction; he was always watching. At that thought alone, your clothes become a nuisance. A means to an end, that would start with him. Toji was a patient man but knew that patience didn't extend to everyone, you in particular. He was a tease, and as your dress inclined it almost felt as if he'd been the one to hike it up.

A sensation too similar to his hands moving over your bare thighs, ready to pry them open. His smug chuckle was right there feeding your imagination, and as one song faded into the next, there wasn't a spot on your body that hadn't been kissed in theory. With one thought, you were drooling over a man less than ten feet away, fantasizing about all the ways he could take you. It was more of a headache than it seems, and as the pace of the songs picks up, the conscience returns. Whilst you make your way back to the bar. You'd need a little more liquid luck to get through the rest of the night.

“That was quite a show.”

“Didn’t know I had an audience.” What else could you have done but tell a bald-faced lie? Telling him the truth didn't do anyone any good. How you envision him fucking you in the middle of the dance floor.

“Could’ve fooled me." The bar was located farther away from the DJ and next to the restrooms. The quieter end of the venue, but you're sure you'd have heard his smirk regardless.

After all this time, it's only then that you turn to him.“What are you doing here Fushiguro?”

Big mistake, ten feet away he looked the same as when you last saw him, but up close and personal, some details that had escaped memory came back to haunt you.

“Would you believe me if I told you, I’m here to see you?”

Yeah right, “Not in the slightest.”

“It’s true for the most part, had a job in the area and thought I’d pop in do some sightseeing." He shifted his weight back to the counter, his elbows well-rested on either side.

“Well you came and you saw.”

“On the contrary,” he said. The double meaning has turned your cheeks crimson, and you're thankful for the red lights underneath the counter. “Cute dress.”

Images from moments before gloss over your eyes, heating every part of your body. They burned a path down your chest before settling below your hips. “Seriously Fushiguro what do you want? You made it pretty clear we both want different things the last time you popped in.”

“Things are different.” Sincere wasn't the word you or anyone else would use to describe the guy, but his demeanor defied all expectations. He seemed to be a completely different person.

“Yeah, they are,” you mumbled, tossing back a shot you managed to order before his interruption.

“Look," he started and turned to face you. Face inches from yours, his scent enveloping both of you. "I tried the settling down thing and it doesn’t work with my kind of lifestyle.”

It wasn't the words you wanted to hear, but you probably wouldn't have had them anyway. Wishful thinking, “Then that’s clears things up doesn’t it?” Toji Fushiguro didn’t do apologies, much like he didn’t do commitment, and even as he called after you, that would never change. Something you wish your body would recognize, no matter how much it longed for him.

The corridor to the restrooms was too quiet for him being that close to you...too intimate. In the quick second you had turned you back to him, ready to sober up and head home, he’d already been behind you. Pushing you up against the wall in the far corner, his arms barricading you in.

“You’re quite stubborn, you know that.” His voice was low, quiet all to maintain the secrecy veiled in the darkness.

“Thanks, I’ll be sure to add it to my resume.” You witted, going to duck around him but he was quick and with a step forward his hips pushed yours in back place.

“Will you just listen,” he pleaded. Not that you had much of a choice, but he took your silence as obedience. “I won’t make excuses, I’m a shitty guy but it’s gotten me this far. You won’t get the white picket fence with me. That’s not who I am.”

It was true, he was a shitty person. One minute here and the next gone with the wind. All with impeccable timing, usually around when he’d finish fucking you senseless. Truthfully it wasn’t something too much of a problem, it was better if he had his life and you with your own. Though you supposed between the kisses, and that final thrust that brought you both over the edge left some vulnerability.

“If I’m stubborn, then you’re quite dense. I never asked for that Toji. I was fine with the wild sex but was a little conversation too much to ask? You’ve got baggage, newsflash so do I, but you’d think we’d handle it like two grown adults. You’ve always been on the move, please, slow down every once in a while.”

The silence is deafening, louder than the upbeat track in the distance. You were irritated, angry, and, to make it worse, aroused. What else did he expect from you but a meltdown? As he moved his head to your back, he lowered his arms, allowing them to ghost your waist. “I'm sorry,” he said softly, kissing it.

In retrospect, you should have jumped for joy, climbed to the top of the bar, and screamed at the top of your lungs like a lunatic, but you didn't. You didn't want to abandon his embrace at that moment; he had really changed.

The kiss in trial is slow and tender, responsive to not only the worries but any emotion in between. Everything you didn't think he was capable of and all rage bleeds into desire. Each of you starved and desperate to find a fill.

The stiffness of his pants condemned his hold, which found its power over your hips. You want to propose that he return the excitement to your place or whatever hotel he was staying in, but he broke the kiss to turn you around. His patience had reached its maximum for the night.

“Wait for a second,” you mumbled out. A slight moan slipped through feeling his erection firm and strong against your rear. The ends of your dress taunted by his fingertips liked how you pictured them too. “Sorry princess, no can do.”

It’s almost impressive how quickly he lifts your dress and slipping a finger past your thong. But should anyone know your body in grave detail it was him. There’s a ceremonial cheer from the crowd as the DJ lets the beat drop, Toji’s opportune moment of intrusion. Your own cry, not one in interest to the music but the long slender finger to part your folds.

“I’ve waited all night to get my hands on you,” he mumbled out, lips pressed to the back of your neck.

“Toji—”

“I’ll be quick, just the way you like it.”

It’s in your best interest to stop him there, keeping private matters just that, you should stop him...should.

“Fuck…quickly.” you cursed out in compliance. There’s a smirk on his face, you know it. Sure he’s different, but some things never change.

In the second he pulled his finger away, you whimper half expecting for it to slip back in, maybe even with a partner but a casual Friday night turns into Christmas.

“I'll take my time with you later, right now—” he started face pressed into the back of your shoulder. “I just need to be inside you.”

First was the tip of his cock, a feeble tickle before the rest of his inches followed. Stretching you full, slipping deep into your heat. Coaxing the ache that was for him, letting the world see just how easily your body welcomed his own. Yet, it was hard to care about the rest of the world when your own revolved around everything below your hips.

He gripped them tightly, anchoring you there at the hilt with a slow sure thrust before looping a hand to your front. Twisting the nerves in time with his sudden thrust. Quick like he said, but still slow enough to feel him move inside you. In and out, then over again. The excitement of having him there indulging with your body, and the anxiety of getting caught clashed. Making you even more aware of your walls around him, but in his muffled moans there are words of encouragement. Sweet nothings that make your arousal fierce, sexy, and less wrong.

“Don't stop, ” you say a little too loud for doing something taboo but you don't care, “Don't fucking stop.”

The million and one fantasy that flooded your mind on the dancefloor spirals, winding with the moment and coiled in an untamed void. Ready to snap at those trying to control it. And there, shrouded in the thin veil of privacy Toji picks up his pace, teasing it with each stroke until finally, it shudders through. Coming in waves, meeting your peek every time he pushed forward. Bolting down your legs the more sloppy and anxious his hips became.

“Fuck, ” he grunts hands shooting to your chest. Pulling you closer to him, eating up your moans with his.

Almost feral with the way he continued despite his cock’s twitches, he wasn't nearly satisfied but that was a mess neither of you was capable of cleaning up at the moment. Regrettably, you push back on his rhythm stopping it completely. Snapping him from the haze.

“We should go, ” you whisper out on his lips. Which he can only grunt back in response to, hesitant to slip from your warmth.

His hands are glued to your body, unable to null all contact as you tugged your dress back down or as he tucks himself back into his pants. You'd ask whether it was back to your place or his but the languid look on his face as the two of you shamelessly stepped into the light made it fruitful. It didn't matter where the two of you went, he'd have you crying for mercy.

#jjk #Jujutsu Kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader smut #fushiguro toji x reader smut #gojoho

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tedisnotdead · 3 years

Text

The water flow stopped, and Andrew sighed, picking up the towel. He looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes scanning across the plain chest and stopping before his view reached his elbows.

"Andrew?" a voice called from the other side of the door, startling him. Andrew took a quick breath, closing his eyes before sighing, reminding himself of where he was. Renee's bathroom. Allison was downstairs, probably preparing baby Seth to stand in the crowd with her. "Nicky just left me your clothes. Do you want me to leave them in the spare room for you?"

"Yess." Andrew replied, looking down and pulling his boxers on. "I'll be out in a second." He reached for the armbands, pulling them on and tucking his thumb into the holes before walking out.

Betsy, Nicky and Erik were changing at home. They didn't need the preparation like the twins did, they wouldn't get picked. Jesse was safe too, wrapped up between his dads but next year he wouldn't. Next year he would be up there, and Andrew couldn't save him. Andrew had already felt the guilt of the six years he missed protecting his cousin and the four years he missed with his brother.

When they were united two years ago, it was a shock to everyone around them. Andrew had been in Betsy's care his entire life before then, with help from Renee for a few years during his more rebellious phase. When Renee started her fighting lessons twelve years ago, he was one of the firsts to sign up. Eight years after Andrew signed up, another Andrew signed up. Renee knew it wasn't him. And she mentioned it to Betsy, who connected the fourteen-year olds and since took them both in, alongside their cousin. A year later, Nicky introduced his boyfriend and his son to the family, and they were welcomed with open arms.

Betsy took two-week-old Andrew in from the day she saw him left on the side of the work field, wrapped in only a blanket. She took him home, where eight-year-old Renee was waiting. She hadn't been ditched like Andrew, she has been unfortunately orphaned by a factory malfunction and lost her mother at only six.

Renee and Andrew grew up alongside each other, but when she left for the games at age thirteen, they knew they would never be the same. Renee came back a victor, that's when she started her fighting lessons. Betsy advised against it but saw her development and let her work. When Andrew questioned her why she let her fight after she had won, Betsy reminded him Renee had won for a reason.

That's when he met Wymack. David Wymack, the winner of the forty-third Hunger Games. David Wymack, the man who relied on the pain of tattoos to give him a mental escape from the pain that the Games had caused him. The same David Wymack who took Jean Moreau out of Betsy's care less than a week after she took him in.

"Just because Jean was taken in by the Wymacks, it doesn't mean that you're not wanted." Betsy would always say. She would say the same thing every time she took one kid into her home and then they were taken in by a family a few days after. "You are just as valid. You are just as special. You just need to wait for your special time to shine."

Eight years passed and Aaron appeared. They united, Nicky was introduced, and Betsy took them all in. Betsy introduced them to Wymack, who introduced them to his kids and the Boyds. Befriending the entire of the Victors Village was a kick in the guts to Andrew. A reminder how he wasn't special, how he was basically nothing in comparison to some people.

Jean remembered him though. Jean made him feel special way. Not a romantic or sexual thing. Andrew knew those. Well, he knew sexual. He knew from all the hook-ups behind the factories, he knew from the nights he stayed at Roland's, a classmate in Renee's fighting class, and experimented with things. He knew from the start he was gay, but never said it out loud. He wasn't too confident when it came to romantic feelings however, but he had an idea.

Jean Moreau-Wymack was his first and only friend. Renee accepted this, seeing how they're bond was more sibling like than friends. Jean joined him on the tree searched. Andrew taught him to climb quick, how to spot the nests quickly, how to remove both wasp and birds safely. In return, Jean baked him sweet goods. The banana breads and cakes and muffins rolled through the door daily, Jean delivering them every morning with a small smile. Occasionally, Jean would bake with exotic flavors that David Wymack brought back from his annual visits to the Capitol.

With all the time Andrew had started spending Jean, Aaron began spending it with the other child in the Wymack household. Kevin Wymack-Day. David's biological child from a woman he didn't meet again after their one-night stand.

When Kayleigh, Kevin's mother, passed Kevin had been put in the custody of David. Jean, Kayleigh's other child, had been given to Betsy to be cared for. David hunted him down and took him in, not having the heart to separate the kids.

Aaron and Kevin clicked the second they met. Both being insufferable, obsessive assholes in Andrew's opinion (and Jean's, but that was one of the secrets between the two that were shared in the tops of trees over a muffin each). Aaron's obsession laying in the profession of David's wife, Abby Wymack. One of the best doctors in District 7. Since Aaron became closer with her, he became more obsessed over the profession and soon, if he survived the final reaping, would become her apprentice. Kevin's obsession laid in a Capitol sport, Exy. Whenever his father visited the Capitol for the games, he would bring back his son merchandise of his favorite teams. David had a friend in the Capitol who recorded every game so he could take them home and Kevin could watch them.

Andrew reached the spare room and froze before remembering where he was. Renee's house. Aaron was at the Wymacks', using their shower like Andrew was using Renee's. He knew the only reason was to see Kevin, and 'secretly' say goodbye and good luck in their own special way.

Their attraction to each other was not unknown, practically everyone knew. But it was obvious they were waiting until Aaron's last reaping, until today, to make anything exclusive. As long as they snuck out of the Victors Village before anyone began to head to the town center, no one would notice the luxurious treatment the twins were getting.

The clothes were spread out, waiting on the spare room bed. Nicky's old black, short sleeved button up shirt and a pair of Erik's old, tight fit, wash jeans. A pair of old boots that Betsy had managed to afford where on the floor, with a pair of Allison's bright pink socks laying neatly in the neck of the boot.

"You'll need to be ready in a few minutes Andrew." Renee's voice filtered through the door again. "The ceremony starts in an hour. People begin to move soon." Her footsteps echoed down the corridor as she left and Andrew looked at the clothes, sighing.

◒◓◒◓◒

Andrew stepped out, seeing Kevin and Aaron talking through a gap in the curtains. He sat back, waiting silently and watched them argue.

"They're horrible." Jean mumbled, sitting next to Andrew on the wall, leaving a large enough space for Capitol's largest man to sit between them. "Kevin kicked me out so I couldn't hear. I think they're talking about their latest hook-up." He took a bite from a muffin, leaving one on the wall beside Andrew. "It was at ours while we were climbing. I think they think we're fucking."

"How disappointed will they be when they find out we don't fuck; we talk shit about them and stuff our faces with shit." Andrew mumbled and Jean giggled, taking another bite. "Truth for a truth?" Jean nodded. "I'm nervous."

"That's well justified." Jean said. "Your name is at the highest chance it's ever been, and ever will be. But some people do sadly have their names in there more than you. So, the chance it being you is low. And the chance it's Aaron is even lower, since your name is still in there from the past years of tesserae. "Jean sighed. "I'm gay. I think." Jean mumbled before looking over.

"Want another round?" Andrew asked and Jean stopped before nodding. He took another bite of his muffin, looking forward again. "I'm gay too." Andrew said, picking his muffin up. "I've known for a few years."

"I have a crush on Jeremy." Jean said. Andrew turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "The baker's son. I used to talk to him a lot when I lived with Kayleigh. She would let me pick up her weekly orders from the bakery and I would pay them with grain and milk. I used to talk to Jeremy every Sunday, and that's why I like baking. Because I like Jeremy. "

Andrew looked back through the window, seeing them still talking. Aaron seemed more angry than usual during their 'conversations'. "You should offer to work there." Andrew suggested. "You could see him more."

Jean laughed, looking down before taking the final bite. "I could, but who would you hang out with then? You haven't got any other friends." "I have Jesse." Andrew said, taking a bite. "This is good. What flavor is it?"

"It's another new one from the Capitol called Palmetto. It's basically a super sweet blood orange." Jean said. "And Jesse doesn't count. He's got school you know."

"I'll teach him then." Andrew argued, his eyes following Jean as the older boy got up and started pacing. "I remember all my lessons. I could teach him with no struggle." Jean snorted, looking up. "Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"Kicked out remember?" Jean mumbled, looking back at Andrew. Andrew shrugged, taking another bite from his muffin and Jean laughed. "I should. Aaron seems to be done in the shower, so if I go straight up Kev probably won't care." Andrew nodded, taking another bite quickly. "I need to, don't I?" Andrew nodded again. "I'll see you after. Good luck Andrew." Jean turned to walk back.

"Jean." Andrew said and he stopped, turning. "If I get picked, don't be nervous to say goodbye."

Jean knew that was Andrew asking him to come. But Andrew didn't like asking. Andrew didn't want to ask, say the word please. It wasn't how Andrew worked, and Jean knew that. He never questioned why, but he knew that. He never pressed any questions when it came to Andrew, because Andrew never did the same to him. He never questioned the scars on his cheek or the roughness of his hands or the burn marks that Jean turned up with.

"I will." Jean said, smiling gently. "I hope you enjoyed the muffin! If I do need to visit you, I'll bring one along. A parting gift." He laughed before walking inside.

Andrew watched the door for a few seconds after it closed before moving his glance to the gap in the curtains. Their argument went on for a few more minutes until Aaron looked out the window. Andrew raised an eyebrow and Aaron sighed, turning back to Kevin and saying something before leaving.

"Trouble in paradise?" Andrew muttered when Aaron reached his side.

"Shut up." Aaron muttered, already towards the village entrance.

He was dressed in a tight red shirt, it looked like Kevin's with the way it was too tight around his waist but loose around the arms, and a pair of trousers which were too torn to belong to a victor, and the style choice only pointed to Nicky. Too tight around the thighs with baggy bottoms. Just how Erik liked it.

"He just wanted to wish me good luck and I wanted to thank him, or tell him to thank his dad, for letting me use their shower."

"Wish you good luck with a massive smooch." Andrew said, walking after him.

"As if you and Jean weren't doing the same." Aaron muttered, scowling at him.

"Jean was actually just telling me about his crush. I got a name and everything. It was glorious." Andrew said. As Aaron went to ask, Andrew continued, "But I will not be saying anything about the mystery person. It was in our game, and I never tell secrets from our game."

"You're stupid shitty 'Truth for a truth' game?" Aaron asked and Andrew nodded. "I don't know why you two play that. It's not even a game, its talking. Like normal people do. You and Jean are weird."

"I think Jean is smarter than you when it comes to most things." Andrew mumbled, pushing the gate at the end of the pathway open. Nicky looked up through the window, smiling when he saw the twins. "If him being weird is the consequence of that, I don't think he minds.

"Fucking weirdo." Aaron muttered, pushing past. Nicky immediately fussed over him, asking where the shirt he left out was. Erik moved closer to Andrew, holding Jesse in his arms.

"I have missed you." Erik said.

"Jesse." Andrew called and the young boy looked over. "Want to hug?" Jesse nodded excitedly. Erik squatted down, letting Jesse run over. But just before he reached Andrew, he slowed down and then calmly wrapped his arms around Andrew's waist. "Oh Andrew, you look amazing." Nicky whispered. "I wish Betsy could see you before the ceremony, but she's already gone to get the other kids ready." He stood up, smiling. "You both look amazing. And we are going to get through this, and we are going to come home and be calm and happy."

His smile faltered for a second, but he plastered it back on before Aaron could notice. Erik and Andrew did, but both decided to stay quiet, knowing he was trying his hardest.

"Andrew, are you sure you don't want to move to a factory job with me and Aaron? You could watch the games."

"I'm fine being a clearer." Andrew mumbled. "I get good pay and I only have to talk to Jean. I see no flaws."

"But you can't watch the games." Nicky said.

"Erik doesn't like to watch the games. Neither do I." Andrew said, looking down at Jesse, who had buried his face in Andrew's side. "I am happy getting the updates from you over dinner."

Nicky went to say something, but Erik stepped forward and whispered into his ear. Nicky sighed, looking at him. Erik pecked his lips softly.

"We should get going, though," Andrew said, pushing Jesse back lightly and holding his hand out. Jesse smiled widely, taking his hand and holding tightly, as if his life depended on it.

The walk to the town center was mostly fully of Nicky's nervous rambling, with Erik and Aaron occasionally responding. But Andrew ignored them and chose to focus on the small tune Jesse was humming, squeezing his hand along to the beat.

When they reached the town center, Erik picked Jesse back up. Jesse waved to Andrew sadly before his dad carried him off, holding Nicky's hand. They passed the peacekeepers and stood in the crowd beside Jean and Kevin. Andrew took off down the silent path, leading them to the identification tables.

He could see over the peacekeepers' shoulders, David, Matt and Renee lined up along the back of the stage, with their escort, Kathy Ferdinand, standing in front of them. She was talking animatedly to them, with her big blonde hair and eyes practically painted with pink. The skin-tight pink leather dress clung to her to an uncomfortably revealing extent where Andrew had to look away.

"Next." The peacekeeper said and Andrew looked up, seeing Aaron's whole-body flinch. "Go through. Next."

Andrew stepped forward, holding his hand forward. The peacekeeper grabbed his wrist roughly, tugging it forward and pricking the end of his finger. They then pressed it to the paper, scanned it and let him through.

Andrew rushed through, pushing through all the crowds to find his brother. Aaron was waiting nervously, wringing his wrists. Andrew pushed through the crowd until he ended up besides his brother, waiting silently.

"What if we get picked?" Aaron whispered, looking at his brother. Andrew shrugged, keeping his eyes focused on the stage. "Andrew I'm serious." he said before his voice was drowned out by Kathy tapping the microphone.

"Welcome, welcome." she said, smiling at everyone.

The neon yellow contacts she wore made everyone unsettled, but she continued, her cat-like eyes scanning the crowd.

"Welcome to the fifty seventh Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor." She smirked, looking across to the group of people who weren't being reaped, taunting them. "Now, the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and women for the honor of representing district seven in this year's Hunger Games." She stopped for a second, smiling. "As usual, ladies first."

She shuffled across the stage in her overly tight dress and waved her hand over the bowl. A hand skimmed Andrew's wrist and he looked down, seeing Aaron's beside his, the knuckles brushing the black cloth. Andrew slid his hand into his brothers as Kathy waddled back to the microphone.

"Marissa Goodman." Kathy read out, looking across the crowd. People were stepped aside two sections before the twins.

Sixteen years old, Andrew told himself. The girl stepped forward, dressed in a light green dress which skimmed her knees and her hair tied into a tight ponytail.

"Come on up dear, don't be afraid." Four peacekeepers surrounded her, leading her up to the stage. Marissa slowly walked up, and Kathy enthusiastically welcomed her. "And now the boys."

Aaron's grip tightened on his hand as she reached the glass bowl. Kathy smiled, waving her hand around the top before diving in and pulling out one white slip. She slowly shuffled back to the microphone and leant close, undoing the slip slowly. She smirked before reading, "Aaron Michael Minyard."

"I volunteer as tribute." Andrew looked down before he even had acknowledged the words come out of his mouth. He looked back up, seeing everyone staring at him. Aaron was looking at him with tearful eyes.

"Not Andrew." he whispered, but Andrew pushed past. "No. Andrew stop!" he shouted, following him through. Andrew took his place in between the peacekeepers but was dragged back violently. "I won't let you do this." Aaron shouted.

"I volunteer." Andrew repeated, making direct eye contact with Aaron. Aaron shook his head, his mouth opening and closing until the first tear rolled down his cheek and his grip on Andrew's arm loosened.

Aaron was pulled back quickly, and Andrew recognized the hand around his twin's shoulders immediately. Jean pulled Aaron back, avoiding Andrew's eye. Andrew turned around and followed the peacekeepers down the aisle. Renee was staring at him, shocked, from the back of the stage. Matt's eyes were filled with tears, while Wymack's jaw was clenched.

Andrew didn't remember as far back as to when he was four, but he knew Wymack's story.

Wymack had trained as hard as he could after losing a close friend to the games when he was twelve. When David turned eighteen, he volunteered himself before the name was even called out. His reasoning was to save one more helpless kid from being killed in his district. This caused him to become a fan favorite in the Capitol, and a respected citizen in the district. In every shop, I have had a discount. Everyone smiled at him in the streets. Everyone welcomed him into their homes and invited him round for dinner.

Every year, when the victors returned, all three of the victors visited the houses of the fallen tributes to mourn with them for one night. They supplied the family with the food for the night and left them all the leftovers. It was a tradition started by Wymack, but when Renee won the forty-fourth Hunger Games, she joined in. And when Matt won the fifty-first Hunger Games, he became the final part of the trio.

Andrew was snapped out of his thoughts when he reached the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the stage. He made eye contact with Renee, who smiled gently at him. He sighed before walking up.

"A volunteer!" Kathy cried, holding her hand out to showcase Andrew's arrival. "Now, what's your name young man?"

"Andrew Joseph Minyard." Andrew said, looking forward.

Jean was finally looking at him, his face contorted with fear. Nicky was beside him, crying into Erik's shoulder. Erik was staring at Andrew in fear while Jesse sobbed, bundled in Betsy's arms. Aaron was crying, while being held back by Kevin.

"Oh, and was that your brother I picked?" Kathy asked, smiling widely.

"Yes, my twin brother." Andrew answered, trying to keep his voice monotone.

"How lovely." Kathy said before turning to the crowd again. "Here we are. Our tributes from district seven!" She started clapping, but everyone stayed silent.

Jean brought three fingers up to his lips before raising them above his head. Slowly, everyone around him began to do the same, the gesture spreading among the crowd. A single tear rolled down Jean's scarred cheek and Andrew took a deep breath before bringing three fingers to his own lips then raising them above his head.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Kathy cried, "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

They turned away, Kathy leading them both to the door at the back. Andrew flinched away from her touch, overtaking Marissa and pushing himself into the corridor.

"Andrew." Renee said, walking up to him.

"Not." Andrew spat out through gritted teeth.

He would not let himself cry; he would not let himself cry.

"We can talk on the train. I want to say goodbye to them."

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silence-burns · 3 years

Text

Please Hate Me //part 52

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut

"We fucked up."

"No, we didn't."

"We had Peter. Now we don't have Peter."

Loki's eyes were completely dark from a spell letting him see through Barbara's, but still he waved toward the completely-not-suspicious building complex in front of you. "But we found him again. That surely counts toward something, right?"

"We lost the alien pin too."

"Which we also found, if memory serves," Loki shrugged, as if the search hadn't taken the two of you the better part of an evening. Who knew searching through half of New York and visiting places it might've been dropped could be so time-consuming?

The weather was pleasant, the air growing warmer as the seasons continued to change. It was one of those days where everything felt brighter, despite how disappointing the reality might be.

"I'm still voting for arson," Loki said, assessing the tall fence surrounding the area. An area which crawled with people trying their hardest not to look like agents of some super-secret government facility, and failing rather miserably.

"You might not have noticed, but buildings nowadays have systems preventing fire from spreading."

"Do these systems work against magic fire too?"

"How am I supposed to know? Do I look like I spit magic fire on a whim?"

"You did last week," Loki muttered. The memory was still fresh.

"Wow, so now I'm the bad guy, and not the sneaky little bastard that ate all the cupcakes I left for-"

Barbara came back, flying on quiet, if a little filthy and decomposed, wings. Loki blinked twice, shedding the spell connecting him to the bird. As much as he didn't mind the heights, Loki had to admit he wasn't a fan of the sharp turns and rather random drops Barbara's flying pattern involved.

Loki pointed to one of the buildings further inside the complex. The red, evening sun hit the countless windows with blinding intensity. "The bird thinks the boy might be there."

You looked at the long stretch of road leading to the complex, like a carpet laid out specifically for you, but the crowds of agents working in the area leading to it made you cringe.

"I still vote arson."

"Why don't we just walk in, though? I mean, it was SHIELD themselves that contacted us, right? It should be okay to just… pay them a visit without sneaking around like… well, like villains. No offense."

Loki frowned. He didn't look convinced. "I like sneaking around, though. It keeps me away from trouble."

"If that’s true, how did you get banned from the Moon twice?"

"Touché. Lead the way then, love."

The way took you down the asphalt road, busy with cars rushing both ways. Despite their past issues, Loki couldn't help feeling a little bad for the agents. For all the grandeur and importance they always described their life to hold, Loki's imagination kept on showing him pictures of ants in their little nests, crawling in their endless, pointless patterns.

The ants seemed to fall into a state of shock rather abruptly after laying their eyes on the two visitors to their nest. Some of them just stood there, looking after the figures marching right to the gates, while others ran in a seemingly random direction.

"That worked out better than I thought," Loki admitted when all the space around you cleared.

Barbara perched on top of the gates, screaming on top of her rotten lungs. The security guards looked at one another and then at the approaching god. Their hands went to their guns. Loki took that as a compliment.

"I know this might surprise you," Loki said, "but we are here to talk. Fetch us your Agent Cauldron, and be quick about it."

"Coulson," you whispered.

"Whatever."

"No matter how many times you ask me, the answer will stay the same - I don't know," Peter groaned.

His back hurt from sitting on the same, incredibly uncomfortable metal chair for hours, and the lights of the small and a little outdated office were starting to make his head throb with an upcoming headache. Or maybe the reason behind it were the endless questions to which he wished he know the answer.

Agent Coulson looked at the photos on the desk between him and the boy. These were nice pictures. If he were more sentimental, he might've put them on a fridge or maybe to the clipboard on the wall to his left. They were definitely worth taking a look at least once a day - it wasn't often one had a chance to look at a god and an ex-assassin, completely drunk, being led by a teenage boy on a spider-thread.

Peter glanced down at them too, and scowled.

"Yeah, well, we've met and hung out together, but I don't know where they are now. Sir, if I knew, do you really think I'd willingly stay behind?"

The agent didn't answer. He moved very little, in fact. Peter was unsure whether it was a part of some special, super-secret interrogation technique, but it was working. To make things even worse, the metal chair he had been given was making sitting still a nightmare.

"That's a fair point, Peter," Coulson nodded, "but do you think I would be pressing you so much if two of the most dangerous people on this planet weren't currently on the run with an alien artifact of unknown origin that might've been recently used to damage our Moon?"

That was a fair point too, Peter had to admit. He might've even grown a little worried after hearing such news, if only it all didn't sound so exciting.

"So you DO know what happened to it, right?" the boy leaned forward, with eyes shining with excitement.

Agent Coulson sighed.

It was a small, almost invisible display of all the emotions boiling inside of him that he'd never show. He knew better, and had far too many years of experience to allow that. Still, the situation was beginning to wear on him, especially if he spared a thought or two to consider what the two people that should absolutely never go off radar, could be up to at this very moment.

Last time Loki visited Earth, he led an alien invasion. Last time Coulson met you before you hesitantly joined forces with the Avengers, you'd already put two bullets in Tony Stark and were on the way to making it three.

Coulson allowed himself a moment to thank his hair for already thinning out or he'd be losing it in a handfuls.

And the worst part was, he actually believed the boy.

He had clearly helped with sneaking you through half the city and into his apartment, but there was no evidence of him helping you out too. Wherever Loki and you were, Coulson was sure he'd hear about it soon enough. He might even let the boy go, and monitor him long enough to see if you'd show up.

The decision wasn't an easy one, but the agent was left with very limited choices. After all, how likely was it that the two of you would just show up?

The phone vibrated on the desk in front of agent Coulson. He picked it up.

He blinked. And simply said, "Yes."

Peter did not like the absent look on the agent's face. He'd seen far too many movies not to recognize the moment the power shifted in the room. Just in time for something bad to happen. It wouldn't be a problem if it stayed on the screen - Ned and him would freeze with the popcorn halfway to their mouths in anticipation of what was to come. But here, in reality, far from the safe spot on a couch, Peter was painfully aware of how much he didn't want to know what was about to happen next.

Unfortunately, whatever powers weaved through the lives of people, deciding their fate and luck, rarely listened to young boys in their judgement. In fact, they listened to old agents even less, but that was something Peter was unlikely to ever find out.

Peter twisted on the chair biting into his backside, and looked back to the thick, metal door. He hadn't realized it when he had been brought inside, but the door looked like it could take a few shots from a gun and remain unscathed.

Peter was not sure what to do with that information.

The door in question decided to finally open and reveal the reason for the sudden tension. It didn't even creak, so the god walked in in complete silence. You followed him, not as quiet, but just as unexpected.

Your face lit up when you noticed the boy. "There you are!"

Peter looked at the agent. The agent looked at Peter.

"I know you're probably not going to believe me, sir, but I swear I had nothing to do with this."

The agent had no doubt that the boy was the least likely person to ever manipulate the god of trickery and lies, or the almost-ex-assasin into anything, but he didn't say a word. He only raised an eyebrow and asked, "To what do we owe the pleasure?", as if there was anything pleasant to be found in the room. But lying was not solely a domain of gods, as all the agents in the world would probably agree.

And Coulson was a very good agent.

"We recently lost a boy, but it looks like he's just been found. Thank you for taking care of him."

"It was a pleasure," the agent smiled. "Although I can't help but worry if you have lost the pin too?"

"We wouldn't dare," Loki lied smoothly with an even more charming smile.

The god of trickery waved his hand and produced a pin seemingly out of thin air. Whether it was only a clever trick or an actual spell was something agent Coulson would never know, but for once he didn't mind. The pin felt heavy and looked just as the files described, but whether it was the real thing would only be revealed once a detailed analysis was completed.

Still, it somehow looked like the deal was fulfilled. Coulson would be lying if he said he'd placed a bet on that outcome.

Peter sprung out of the chair the moment you waved at him to go. The agents and armed officers waiting behind Loki and you on the corridor shifted with unease, their fingers laying on triggers. A small crowd eyed every move made in Coulson's office, which was to be expected - it was not every day a facility such as this one was visited by a god.

Especially one with a rather problematic history of attempted world domination.

"If we may, we'll take our leave now." Loki bowed stiffly.

"And what about the 'favor' you insisted on as payment?"

Something cold and ancient flashed in the god's eyes. "All in due time."

#please hate me #loki x reader #loki x you #loki imagine #loki #loki series #loki marvel #loki laufeyson #loki mcu #marvel loki #loki fanfiction #I Love Loki #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)

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oz-the-sorcerer · 3 years

Text

Create For Thra Day 6: "There are many paths laid before us, some good, most bad."

@createforthra

Here's a thing I have written months ago, which happens to be a perfect fit for today's topic!

Excuse my writing skills and enjoy!... Or cry.

🌟

Open Your Eyes

🌟

Kira tried to wipe away some of the blush from her freckled cheeks. She loved her reflection on the dressing mirror, but she thought her mom could do her make up a little bit less.

She heard her mom laugh.

"And here I was wondering how long would it take you to remove some of it."

"But it feels heavy, you know I like how I look."

"Yes honey, but this is a special occasion... Spare me this once?"

Kira rolled her eyes playfully as Brea braided her silver hair with beads. Kira's hair fell from her shoulders, she especially wanted side braids like her gorgeous mother, but had thin side braids instead of thick ones. She made them herself, then Brea offered help attaching the beads. Brea made two braids, connecting into one thick braid at the center.

"Looking good as ever." Came a silent voice. Kira turned to her aunt, whose body, spider body, was sitting on top of the counter. She couldn't help but blush, looking down.

"Don't move your head, sweetheart." Brea said, posing her head straight again.

"Sorry. I am just... Excited." She was terrifyingly aware of her heartbeat, tried to take a deep breath.

"I can sense your fear." Tavra walked with her thin legs and stopped between Kira and the mirror. "You have nothing to be afraid of."

"I can't help it." Kira explained. " I wish I could know what the future holds for me, like Mother Aughra. Maybe then I wouldn't be this vulnerable."

"You are not vulnerable." She felt her mother tug on her finished braid as a warning. She didn't like it when Kira dragged herself down this way. "Do you think I didn't feel afraid? I thought I was going to faint."

"Ah yes, glad that you only puked and didn't faint."

"Tavra!"

Kira started to laugh. Well, this story was new.

"You puked?! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I didn't want my daughter to know this ridiculous fact, thank you very much."

"She was so excited, so she ate whatever she could find from the kitchen and made herself sick." Tavra spoke mischievously.

"I had to keep myself busy!" Brea argued with her big sister. Kira loved their bickering. They were almost never serious with it, that's why Kira even started some of them on purpose.

While they were stating opinions on how to cope with these kinds of excitement, Kira looked at the mirror once more, and decided her fear was a good thing. She would always have her loved ones by her side, possibly talking nonsense like this and she realized, there was nothing to be afraid of. Her future, their future was filled with hope and laughter, she just knew it.

Another deep breath. And a big smile.

"Alright, all done here." Her mother said. For final touch, Tavra brought her golden coronet, which Brea placed on Kira's brow.

A knock on the door which made Kira's heart flip. Only Onica's wild red hair could be seen since she opened the door ajar while talking with someone outside the dressing room. Tavra's tiny body bounced with joy. When Onica came in, they also saw Tae outside, waving at them.

"We are all set. You can come out whenever you want." said the Far-Dreamer.

"Thra's Mighty Hooyim King, you look amazing, Kira!" Tae cheered.

Kira thanked her while she got up from her chair. Her white gown with gold and silver rands fell smoothly behind her. Embroidered with both Vapra and Spriton symbols, she was very proud of this dress she made herself.

One last glance at her reflection, one last deep breathe.

Brea reached to fix her bangs while Onica put out her hand for Tavra to climb on. Tavra wished her a good luck with: "Go get him!" while moving her legs exaggeratively, causing a big laughter in the room.

Then they got out, it was only her and her mother now. Brea's eyes were shining, her little fizzgig was now all grown up, taking another big step in her life.

"Mother, I will be okay."

"I know, baby."

"So, don't cry."

Brea abruptly wiped her tears on her long sleeve, trying not to smear her make up. Then she held Kira's hand and squuezed. Supposedly, they promised each other just this morning as a family that they weren't going to cry.

But all those hardships back in the trines, almost getting killed by a Garthim several times... Brea still couldn't believe it was all over. Skeksis no more.

Another knock on the door, and this time both of their eyes sparkled, as the legendary songteller stepped in to the dressing room with a blinding smile.

Kylan stopped in his tracks and stared at his daughter in awe. Kira laughed and went to hug him.

"Please don't start crying like mother did just now."

Kylan chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her and spinned once. Then he sent a playful smirk on Brea's way and said: "It seems you lost our bet, love."

Brea pretended to be angry with a pout, but when she glanced at her little family, she smiled until her cheeks hurt.

"I want a hug too!" she said as she took big steps towards her husband. Kylan opened one arm for her and immidiately in she was. Kira leaned on her father's shoulder, which always felt like home. After some minutes, Brea sniffled once more, and Kira reached and hugged her as well. This is nice, she thought. It had been a while since they could be like this because of the fussy preparations.

When they let go, Kylan placed both hands on her cheeks and kissed her forehead. Kira could see his eyes becoming misty with emotion as well. She smiled widely with the same eyes she has as her father.

Brea took his arm and started to lead him toward the door.

"Aww, I don't want to give her to Jen yet!"

Brea raised a laugh. "You are not giving her to anyone, honey. Let's give her a moment and take our places at the balcony."

Then she flashed Kira a proud look, and they were gone.

Kira felt aware of her heart again. She couldn't stop this fuzzy feeling inside her stomach and bounced around happily. Calm yourself before you sweat inside the dress, she thought to herself. She let go of the fists she made without noticing, and reached for the door.

Citadel's hallways were empty. As she passed each one, she heard the Gelf folk outside, crowded and excited, just like her. The noise grew louder and louder, then she made a left turn, reaching the last corridor before the Citadel's balcony.

She already could see her parents, on the left side. Brea was already looking at her direction and when she saw Kira coming, she gently elbowed Kylan's arm, causing him to look at her too. And the smile he gave her was everything. Before she teared up, she took a right glance, and saw Rian and Deet, also waiting for her to arrive.

With all the rustling her parents caused, Jen turned around where he was standing at the center and their eyes met.

The flutter inside her chest made her think that she was really about to let go of the lunch she had at noon.

Even if he tried to, Jen couldn't stop looking at her until she was at his side. He awkwardly reached his hand out for her. She took it eagerly.

They both stood straight before her Aunt Seladon, who was going to perform their marriage ceremony. She smiled down at them lovingly, which, Kira didn't experience often much before.

Kira glanced down at all the Gelfling who attended their wedding. Besides the whole citizens of Ha'rar, she could see many faces from every clan. Well, if there is any left, at this point.

Her Uncle Gurjin and Auntie Naia were cheering loudly, as well as her Uncle Amri. As her closest family friends, they had every right to scream.

She couldn't even begin to count everyone she knew when her eyes locked with a figure, at the very back of the crowd. Her eyes widened as the old creature's crane's shard shined with light.

"Mother Aughra..." she let out before she could manage. Jen smiled knowingly.

"I also thought she wouldn't be here today."

Kira, not being sure if Aughra could see it, bowed her head slowly at her direction. Jen followed right after her, thanking Mother Thra for everything she's done for the Gelfling.

When they finally started the ceremony, Aughra snickered loudly.

"These kids..." she said to herself. She ignored the looks of some Gelfling who heard her loud and sudden snicker, and glanced at the endless sky.

"You spoil these children, old friend." She talked to Thra, jokingly mentioning the great weather today. Her tired eyes scanned her every children, happy and bonded with the song of Thra.

They deserved this, she thought.

Their future is brighter than the stars above, she thought.

Then she closed her eyes, listening to her children's voices.

She didn't want to open them. She truly didn't. However, she had no other choice. She counted every star she visited while she was sleeping, just to kill time. But, they also came to an end.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a Gelfling. Laying and unmoving, already returned to Thra. After every slow step she took, she saw another. And another.

She recognized one, two, three... Maybe all. Or maybe she didn't. She didn't know.

She wondered, why Thra showed her this vision now. Which didn't mean anything. She huffed, then coughed, trying to silence her pain.

She knew where she was. In which reality, in which possible future she was in. She had this reality as a vision trines ago, and there they were. Her children, poor children...

And she knew what she was supposed to do. Her feet took her to the right direction as if moving without her consent. But that was she. That was Thra. Already decided fate. Too late to return.

One tear dropped from her eye to the bloody soil as she stood beside the corpse of a certain songteller, his eyes are half open as he clutched into his magical firca, like a last hope.

She leaned down and grabbed it. With delicate care, she fully closed his eyes, careful of her crooked nail.

Without looking back, she made her way toward the already decided route again. She wished all of her children, for them to return to Thra safely, as that was all she could do.

Grunting while she walked, scolding Thra for showing her a vision this heartbreaking, for making her cry, off to the UrRu valley she went. With the firca around her neck.

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lavaffair · 3 years

Text

Invisible String of Fate

Inukag Fluff Week Prompt: Soulmates (Born For Each Other)

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33148606

It was always interesting to watch people date others whose red string was not connected to their own. It reminded Kagome that life worked in funny ways, and that everyone meets people for a reason, even if that person is not who they end up with. It was also a reason as to why she never bothered dating anyone, because if she could see everyone’s red strings, and no one was at the end of hers, there was no reason to put herself in a lose-lose situation.

Not everybody could see these red strings, but unfortunately for her she could. It was normal for people to be able to see their string and their soulmate's string, but incredibly rare for people to see everyone’s strings. Kagome was one of those rare few people on the planet who could, and she neither loved nor hated it.

Being a “fate seeker” or whatever the internet liked to call it was not as cute as none seekers thought it was. It sucked watching people whose strings were not connected to try to work it out, only to end things later on. It sucked watching people whose string did connect not feel a spark whatsoever. Although, the worst part of it all was how most fate seekers refused to date, because to them there was no point. Their strings were an ongoing path of red that led to someone who was not there. Some people followed it, others ignored it, some chose to wait Others actually found the person at the end.

As a struggling college student, Kagome had no choice but to ignore her string and the people who asked for her number. There was no point in breaking a heart that is not hers to love.

Of course, there were times where she wished her fated soulmate would show up some day, but she liked to push away those dreams to focus on reality. College was her main priority, she could worry about possibly following her string after getting her degree.

“Order for Kagome!”, shouted the barista from behind the counter of her favorite coffee shop. She quickly skipped over to grab her drink and left the store, thoughts about fate and red strings now left behind her. She was running late and her best friend was going to kill her if she did not make it to her game on time.

She had a nasty habit of arriving either fashionably late or regrettably early to everything, and there was no in between. Everyone she knew teased her about it, but it was not her fault that she had horrible time management! For her, arriving at her destination unscathed was all that mattered.

Although, her best friend Sango might end her life if she noticed that she was late because of a much needed coffee run. Kagome had stayed up late last night studying for the statistics exam that was coming up, and she needed all of the practice she could get in order to pass the course with a C. A large cold brew was an absolute necessity, and Sango should understand that this life saving beverage is what got her to her game in the first place.

Lightly jogging and sipping through a straw should become an Olympic sport with how fast Kagome was doing it. She could see her University’s gymnasium on the horizon, and that meant she was about to win the gold. With five minutes to spare until the start of Sango’s volleyball game, she was sure she was going to make it in less than ten. The double doors were coming in closer and closer, her saving grace clutched carefully within her left hand. She was going to make it, and Sango was not going to kill her!

With three minutes left she flung open one of the doors and quietly made her way inside the gym. Quickly, she found an empty seat close to Sango’s teammates and sat down on the bleachers. The girls were lined up to start the match as they had just finished their warm up. Sango’s head poked out from the line up, her eyes squinting tight as she looked through the crowd before finally landing on Kagome. Her best friend heaved a sigh of relief, with a bright smile beaming at her right after and Kagome smiled back. The rest of the girls waved at her when they noticed that she had finally arrived, and Kagome waved back and sent them a thumbs up for good luck.

The game started with Sango on the attack as usual. Her spikes were always incredible to see in person, and she always gave her all during practice and matches. The girls reigned undefeated for the past three years, and they were aiming for a fourth. Their hard work and perseverance did not go unnoticed, as the gymnasium was always filled with spectators to watch the girls play.

As quickly as the match started, it had ended, with the girls taking all three sets. Although defeated, the opposing team did not let up for one second, which caused for a very lively and intense game. It was very fun to watch, and soon the girls were lining up again to officially end the match.

A few weird tugs to Kagome’s right arm had her looking around herself to see if anyone had tried to get her attention, but as she flicked around it seemed like no one had. She looked down at her arm and noticed her mini bag slipping down, and thinking nothing of it, she grabbed her bag and flung it around her shoulder so it didn’t fall again.

Somewhere beyond the cheering crowd she heard someone loudly grunt in pain, and Kagome could not help but wonder what happened for them to grunt so loudly.

The announcer's loud voice cracking through the speakers of the gym drowned out the pained grunting, and only amplified the cheering that echoed throughout. As the celebration neared its end, the girls volleyball team cleared their way out of the gym and headed towards their locker room. Kagome knew Sango would take a while before meeting up with her after the game, so Kagome had some time to kill while she waited.

While Kagome cleared out of the gym she continued to feel her arm move around, but she brushed it off as she was engulfed in a crowd of people. Both of her arms were being shoved left to right while she walked towards the exit. As she maneuvered her way out, she decided to sit down at the nearest empty table to wait for Sango. These after-match meetings could take a while, and she learned her freshman year that sitting and waiting was the best idea.

After a few minutes of rest, her hand started fidgeting once again. It slightly moved on its own and this time, Kagome had no excuses to use against the phenomenon. On instinct, she slammed her hand down on the table and covered it with the other, but it would not stop fidgeting!

A million thoughts raced inside of her head, and an anxiety started to climb up her torso and send goosebumps all over her skin. This weird hand movement had to mean that the person at the end of her string was close by, maybe even too close by, as if they were also on campus.

Feeling brave, and a little bit insane, Kagome quickly flung her arm up and listened for any people. To her dismay, she heard nothing, and laid her hand back onto the iron table to wait. A few seconds passed by when her arm swung towards the right, causing a painful tug to her pinky to shoot up her arm.

She was too excited and high off adrenaline to even care for the sharp pain that tugged at her pinky. Kagome knew she had watched her red string go taut before her arm was pulled away from her, and towards the direction of the opposite side of the gym. She wondered if the person on the other end knew what was happening, but quickly caught herself, because it was obvious they knew. Everyone can see their strings.

Still, she stayed seated at the table in anxious agony as she mustered up the courage to go look for this person. If they had the idea to pull her hand in different directions, then this person had to be curious about this situation too.

Her butt stayed glued to the iron bench. S he was too nervous to move, the outcome of this ordeal proving to be too much for the seeker. She had seen these things play out for twenty-four years, and she was not prepared for it to happen to her. The happy endings gave her a slight bit of hope to get up, but the nightmares she had seen kept her feet planted on the ground. What if they did not like each other, or were forced to meet and have different ideals? How would any of this work, and why did the fates put this into existence? This was a lot more stressful than relieving, and all Kagome wanted to do was find Sango and leave.

Another harsh tug to her arm had her jolting up and stumbling to the side, which had totally taken her out of her thoughts. She rubbed at her sore, red pinky and whined at the tinge of pain coming from it.

“Alright, I get it! You don’t have to be such a jerk!” She yelled at nobody in particular.

She slowly put her mini backpack through her arms so as to not to disturb her fated soulmate with any tugs, grabbed her empty cold brew cup, and left her spot at the table behind. It did not matter if she was ready or not, the fates already had this written into their book, and it was now up to them to see if sparks flew instantly.

She trudged through the now empty corridors of the hallway outside the gymnasium, her footsteps echoing with every new step. The gym to her left was now empty, only filled with staff as they cleared it out for tomorrow. It had been around twenty minutes since the game ended, and Sango definitely had a long way to go before she could meet up with her.

Another tug at her arm sent her reeling forward, and if it were not for her reflexes she would have landed on the floor. Luckily, she only tripped but was able to stabilize herself once again. While she glared at no one in particular, Kagome decided to toss her empty coffee cup into a trash can close by. There was some melted ice left inside the cup, and she did not want coffee water spilling on her if this tugging kept happening.

The red string looked super intimidating as she continued her walk towards the end of it, with it seemingly appearing to be shorter and shorter with every new step. Kagome’s heart was erratic, beating so fast it felt like it could break out of her chest from how nervous she was.

She was so focused on the string that she was not ready for the next pull, which had her tumbling awkwardly down to her knees. Growing frustrated, she pulled her arm back as a form of payback.

“I get that you’re getting impatient!” She yelled at the air, “But you keep making me stumble!”

Before she could fall once again, she saw the string go taut and reacted quickly, throwing her arm into her chest and stepping backwards for support. The string stilled and vibrated like it had been played on a guitar, and the person on the other end seemed to had fallen forward, because the thread loosened up a bit.

As she felt for the second pull, she was already ready and pulling back once again. “Stop being a jerk!” She laughed.

Her soulmate on the other side kept their game up, and suddenly this string meeting turned into a game of fated tug of war.

“Oh it’s on!” She announced.

Back and forth, the duo pulled forward and back in the competitive game. Kagome did not let up for a second, and she was grateful no one was around to watch her look like a fool pulling on an invisible string. The person on the other side was not giving up, and they only seemed to pull her even harder.

She was giving a good game; her footwork and arm strength were making a great team in the attempt to win this game of tug of war. She noticed that she had made a lot of progress in closing the distance between her and her person. Although, she had no idea just how close they were.

Coming out from the trees in the courtyard was a tall, built man with long, silver hair. She could not make out too much from afar, but the closer she got she could see two little triangles sitting on top of his head. A demon, her soulmate was a demon, and a very handsome demon at that.

Her companion also looked a bit starstruck when he spotted her, his vision of her probably much more in depth than hers. She thought it was a bit unfair that he could see her so clearly while she could only make out a few features that stood out. In a shot to pull him closer, she used all of her strength to pull herself back and get him to slide forward.

The attempt failed, with the demon being much stronger than she. It was obvious that he was not using all of his strength in this game. He grinned at her, and she noticed it a little too late, because as he pulled her forward she went stumbling towards him uncontrollably. Her legs were moving forward while her body was lingering back.

She collided with a broad chest, her small arms engulfing his torso in a hug in order for her to get herself back together. She could feel his muscular arms wrapped around her waist and back to help stabilize her, and she gasped at how weird they fit together.

“You okay?” He asked. His voice was deep, and she could feel it vibrate with her head still on his chest. She could practically hear the smirk that was on his face and she huffed.

Tearing her head away from his body, she looked up at him with furrowed brows. “Of course I’m okay, no thanks to you!” She had no idea the pout on her face was one of the cutest things the man has ever seen.

“What do ya mean? I was here to break your fall wasn’t I?” He teased.

She wanted to punch him in the arm for that. “You almost made me fall, and I would have if it wasn’t for your giant body in the way!” She poked him in the chest for extra effect.

The demon laughed, “Well next time, you shouldn’t pull so hard.” He lifted his left hand for her to see it, the red string tied securely to his pinky finger.

Kagome’s eyes widened, already forgetting the little banter they were having. She lifted her right hand to show him that her string was there as well. The red thread was finally no more than 5 inches long, with each end tied to one of their pinkies.

“What’s your name?” She hated how small her voice sounded at the question.

His amber eyes flickered from her pinky to her face, and she realized then and there that his eyes were the most beautiful color she has ever seen. “Name’s Inuyasha Taisho. Yours?”

She blushed unintentionally under his intense stare. “Kagome Higurashi.”

“Higurashi….” The demon, Inuyasha, thought out loud. “You’re friends with Sango?”

Kagome gasped excitedly, “Best friends! How do you know her?”

Inuyasha sighed, “My friend's got this insane crush on her, and he tries to talk to her whenever he can. She’s mentioned you a couple of times whenever I’m around for the conversation.” He grinned at her again, the little fangs poking out making him look a lot cuter than intimidating. “I’m glad I can finally put a face to the name.”

Kagome scoffed, the little smile on her face giving her away. “That was so lame.” She laughed.

Inuyasha chuckled, “It was worth a shot.”

His left ear swiveled towards the left, the other pointing straight at Kagome in case she spoke to him. The door to the girls locker room opened, and the volleyball team started to leave. Kagome noticed it a second later, and standing near the vending machines was another guy, his dark hair just long enough to make a little ponytail. She realized that he was waiting for somebody, and as her best friend walked through the door, immediately going towards the vending machines, it was easy for her to put two and two together.

“Oh my gosh!” Kagome gasped, “She hasn’t mentioned this to me yet!”

Inuyasha grunted in reply, “It’s only just recently that she’s been giving him her time and attention. Normally it would be a short greeting and she’d leave, but I guess his hard work is paying off.”

She hummed in response, “If you’re cute and persistent, even Sango can’t say no to a fun conversation.”

“Well, I think she’s too good for him, but who knows right?” He asked.

Kagome smiled, not just because Inuyasha had questioned fate, but also because she could see Sango and Inuyasha’s friend's strings. They were connected, pinky to pinky, and it seemed like they were trying to make the little small talk work first. It was no wonder Sango hadn’t told her about him yet, because as a seeker, it would have only worried her.

“Do you always just sit back and watch them?” Kagome asked, her teasing question making him shoot an eyebrow at her.

“Well, before, I hadn’t thought I’d meet my soulmate during a game of tug of war. So, it’s safe to say my afternoons weren’t as lively.”

Blushing at his response, she bit her bottom lip and Inuyasha had to stop himself from staring at her too hard. “Well, do you maybe want to go get something to eat? You know, instead of babysitting our adult friends while they’re on a date.”

A smirk played on his lips as he fought back a smile. “‘I'm pretty tired of babysitting him, yeah. He’s got this.” His golden eyes met her rich brown and she swore she heard his breath hitch.

“I, uh, know this pretty good pizza place not too far from here.” His ears flicked nervously and all Kagome wanted to do was touch them. “You down?”

She nodded excitedly, her stomach growling at the mention of pizza and Inuyasha could not hold back his laugh when his ears picked up on it. “Pizza sounds great.” She blushed.

He did not understand why this was all happening so fast, but he liked to see her blush. He wanted to keep making her blush, over and over again just to see her cheeks tint pink and her brown eyes sparkle. Before, Inuyasha had no faith that he would ever meet the person at the end of his string. He sort of figured that life was going to be unfair to him, and he was going to end up wondering where his soulmate was. Yet, here she is, standing in front of him with wavy hair, big brown eyes, and little freckles on her cheeks.

His best friend, Miroku, was not lying when he said it feels like butterflies the first time you lay your eyes on your soulmate.

Kagome felt the same way, unbeknownst to the man standing before her, that this feeling of floating on a cloud would envelope her entirely. She already liked his laugh and smile, and could not get enough of his cute little fluffy ears. His gold eyes were the most beautiful and intimidating feature about him. Not even his fangs or claws made her cower in fear.

She wanted to get to know him better, and he wanted the same. It was an overwhelmingly intense feeling that they could not escape, and as easy as everything seemed to be falling together, it would take a few weeks for it to completely come into place like a puzzle piece. This was just the beginning, and everything that Kagome had feared about the red string suddenly did not scare her anymore.

The pair took one more look at their friends who seemed to be way too interested in each other to notice them at all. Kagome and Inuyasha walked away from them to focus on their newfound journey of discovering more about their soulmate beyond the red string.

As the two made conversation on their way to lunch, other seekers near them could spot the little red string hanging in between their intertwined pinkies.

#inukagfluffweek2021 #inukag #inukag fan fiction #inukag fic #inukagfluffweek #inuyasha #inuyasha x kagome #ao3

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rwby-necro-au-archive · 3 years

Text

Ozpin Week

Day Six: Day Off/In Battle

@ozpinweek

Description: It’s no surprise that running a Necromancer academy can come with issues. Necromancy is outlawed in many parts of the world after all.

One such issue is the equally unsurprising amount of Pursuers that try to sneak into beacon. Good thing that beacon is made for this, by having what is essentially a maze surrounding it’s buildings. The pursuers most times end up getting lost due to this.

Perhaps it’s also good that a certain headmaster watches his academy and students like a hawk in case of such incidents.

“How upsetting, and on such a lovely day like today.” Ozpin sighed. It would seem that he had been swamped with sorrowful reports and countless uninteresting meetings all day. What he had truly wanted was to be outside or at least to be interacting with his students. But it would all have to wait until these reports and paperwork were finished.

Even though today had started off as it normally would, Him getting up, getting ready for the day, and then heading off to the academy, it still felt like it was particularly monotonous and dull. Nothing interesting had happened, hell even the students hadn’t done any of their usual antics today.

He shook his head, it’s not like any of them could anyways, they had term ending exams to study for. Although he couldn’t help but wish someone would’ve done something.

Knock Knock Knock

A gentle but firm knock was heard at the door. He could tell it was Glynda, it was the small, seemingly insignificant details that he focused on when it came to people. Even the way someone knocked on a door could tell you who they were.

“Come in, Glynda.” Ozpin called out cheerily.

The door opened, “I will never understand how it is that you know whose outside your door even before they walk in.” She quipped.

“I always did pay attention to detail did I not?”

“That is true. Anyways, you look like you’ve had the life sucked out of you. How much paperwork?”

Ozpin leaned back in his office chair “What on remnant makes you think that I know? Absolutely nothing interesting has happened today. Such a shame, it’s such a lovely day too, and here I am stuck doing paperwork.”

Glynda gave a sympathetic sigh, “You aren’t the only one. Despite that, that’s not what I’m here for.”

“Right, To the point. Is it something I should be concerned about?”

“Yes actually.”

His face became stern in response, “What is it?”

“A pursuer has decided to go looking for students to harass on premises.” She explained

“Why haven’t you or the other staff gone to handle the situation.”

She gave an eyebrow raise “Why?”

“My apologies but if they haven’t done anything yet then what would be the point in coming to me?”

“Fair. This one has been…..persistent. He refuses to “take the hint” and stay away from the school. He essentially mocks any staff that tries to get rid of him. Figured you’d be in more luck getting him to leave the students alone.”

Ozpin pinched the bridge of his nose. How annoying. Not just a pursuer but a pursuer with the gall to mock his staff and harass innocent students, his students. It’s no wonder she came to him with the issue, she’s most likely more frustrated than he is.

“Also, I figured since you’ve been stuck in here all day that it would be good to give you something interesting to do. Not to mention get some fresh air” Glynda smiled

He smiled back “I appreciate it. Now then, where is he right now?”

“Seemingly lost in the northern wing’s maze.” She said, she handed him a photo taken from security footage.

He thanked her before leaving his office. Sure, pursuers weren’t an uncommon problem at Beacon but that didn’t make their presence any less annoying.

What was more surprising was that none of them whom he himself had dealt with, have had the audacity to actually go to their boss to tell him about his so called “friend” being a necromancer. Although, what pursuer would ever want to admit to their boss that they ran away from a necromancer?

In fact they, to Ozpin’s amusement, started heavily embellishing their stories to the other pursuers about what he was like. Some tales painted him as a terrifying monster, some painted him as a roughed up intimidating man with unspeakable power, and some painted him as a different being entirely.

It had turned into a game for the headmaster, to see what stories the pursuer he was dealing with had heard. At least it made the job of getting rid of those pests more enjoyable.

Without fail though, every pursuer who had heard about him was surprised to see him in person. The man they had heard was a terrifying monster, a roughed up untouchable man, or a different being entirely, was in reality a dapper, polite, and well kept 6’8 man with a northern Atlesian accent and a love and protectiveness for children.

He quickly walked out the main buildings doors and searched around for the northern entrance into the maze. Once found, he set off towards it. As he walked through the crowd he was greeted by students, all of whom were most likely on their way out of the school, he gave a quick hello and wished them well on their way home.

“Of course a pursuer would choose a time like this. Easy targets.” He mentally noted.

Once he entered the maze, the rest was muscle memory. He knew every corner, every corridor, every alley, every brick, stone, and piece of concrete of beacon like the back of his hand. Knowing where everything was at Beacon was as easy as walking itself for the headmaster.

As he walked he also listened. Listening was important in a situation such as this one. Eventually, what he had been listening for was heard. A yell. He picked up his pace and followed what he presumed was a female students yell.

As he listened further, it wasn’t just the one student, it was a group of them, most likely friends, who this pursuer had decided to go after.

This pursuer seemed to be a real colorful one too, throwing slurs and disgusting innuendos at the girls. There were 3 things Ozpin specifically hated, Pursuers, Those who aim to hurt children, and Creeps. Unfortunately for this pursuer, he was checking all the boxes.

He reached a corner and peered behind it. There stood 5 female students, backed into a wall by this disgusting excuse for a man.

“I bet the guards will have some real fun with you bunch once you get to atlas.” The pursuer sneered.

Ozpin appeared out from behind the corner, standing behind and over the pursuer, “Well that’s not very nice, now is it?” He spoke cooly.

The pursuer jumped and turned around. Eyes widening in realization as he looked up at who was standing in front of him.

“Y-you’re the monster all of the pursuers were talkin’ about.”

“Why yes! That is me!” He said cheerily

“I-I ain’t scared of you! You aren’t anything like they make you out to be. You’re just some guy, I can take you!” The man yelled.

“Tch tch tch, none of you ever learn from one another, do you?”

“The fuck you talkin’ about?!”

Ozpin smiled and looked towards the students, “Now students, here are 2 lessons for you all. Looks can be quite deceiving, take this man here for example. He may look threatening, but in reality, he is weak. He is weak because he is letting his anger get the best of him, which is not a wise decision if you are going to engage in combat.

When you are angry during combat, you stop thinking about how to hit your enemy, and instead just think about hitting your enemy anywhere in general. This leaves you vulnerable.”

“Fuck you!”

“Oh dear, and it seems we have quite a vulgar man as well.”

“Why are you bein’ so polite? I thought you were supposed to scary.” The pursuer snickered

Ozpin laughed, a cold, merciless, and wheezy sound, no doubt from his smoking habit. “Well, my friend, What kind of an example would I be setting if I wasn’t polite? I’m the head councilman of a country, a headmaster, and a professor! It’s my job to make sure I’m setting a good example on how to deal with pests such as yourself.”

He looked over at the pursuer, “show time.” He thought. In a simple blink his eye colored changed from a warm, caring hazelnut brown to a cold and soul destroying green.

“Besides, I am a merciful man. I wouldn’t want to make more of a fool of you when you’ve already done most of the work yourself.”

The pursuer visibly froze, he mentally laughed “Everytime, without fail. I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of it.”

Ozpin turned back to the students and told them to go home. He had business with this pursuer that he needed to attend to. Who was backed against the wall and helpless now?

The pursuer continued to yell slurs and insults at the headmaster. Eventually, he took out a blade an managed to slice Ozpin across the cheek, causing the headmaster to stumbled back some.

Okay, maybe not helpless. But he surely was backed against a wall in a maze with him.

Once he regained his footing, Ozpin ungloved one of his hands as he gently touched two fingers to the wound, “Well, I’m impressed, consider yourself lucky. You’re the first pursuer to ever actually land a hit on me. Even if it was a cheap shot.”

The pursuer laughed victoriously, while distracted by his small victory, Ozpin grabbed long memory. Quickly shifting it into its shotgun form.

“Although,” He spoke.

He harshly shoved the pursuer against the brick wall, leaving the man slightly dazed and confused. Ozpin aimed long memory at the wall besides the pursuers head and stared down at the man.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to bring a knife to a gun fight?”

#no Ozpin doesn’t kill him. he essentially just scares the fuck out of him and tells him to run along afterwards #necromancer ozpin #headmaster ozpin #ozpin #professor ozpin #injury mention tw #blood mention tw #gun mention tw #violence mention tw

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secretkeeper13 · 3 years

Text

Flirt

I decided to try my hand at an outside perspective Hinny OC. Just a bit of fluff, some humor (hopefully), and a bit of cringe. I hope you enjoy poor, sweet Craig! Also on Ao3.

The sun shone through the windows of the Three Broomsticks, casting rays of light across the dark wooden booths and tables. The pub was crowded- it was a Saturday, after all, and from the looks of it, plenty of Magpies fans had decided to apparate directly from the match, their black and white jerseys giving the room the appearance of a wonky chessboard. It was still late afternoon, so families with small children were mixed in among the regulars, contributing to the noisy din.

The table his mates chose was near the entrance, and he sat facing the door as he talked and laughed with them. It was strange, being here, all together, the six of them, now that they were out of school. They were still close- it was hard to live with people for seven years and not become friends. Though, he’d heard stories from others who couldn’t stand the people in their dormitories, so they were lucky in that regard, he supposed.

They’d been at the pub for less than an hour, after walking down from Dan’s flat on High Street once the match ended. He’d missed being around his mates every day, and they’d quickly made up for lost time, talking, joking, and laughing as if they were back in the dorm at Hogwarts and no time had passed since they’d all been together last.

“Let’s hear it Craig, got yourself any birds recently?”

Dan’s teasing tone jolted him out of his thoughts. His cheeks colored a bit at being called out.

“Nah, mate, Craigey-boy’s still hung up on Cressida,” Will chimed in, and Craig shot an annoyed look at his flat mate.

“I’m not hung up on her. And I have been out with other girls, you’ve been there. Stop taking the mick.”

Will grinned at him and raised his eyebrow. “Haven’t brought any home though, have you?”

Craig sighed. When he and Cressida split up this summer after seventh year, it hadn’t been on bad terms. She was off to Egypt to be a curse breaker for Gringotts, and he had no desire to leave England, so they’d gone their separate ways. He’d been happy living as a bachelor in London with Will, but he did miss her. Well, he missed the companionship of having a girlfriend, he supposed, trying not to think about her piercing blue eyes, the casual way she would ruffle his hair, or the way she kissed. He’d supposed that being with someone for so long- nearly two years- made it harder to move on. He couldn’t really picture being with anyone other than her.

“It isn’t like I haven’t been trying. You saw me get off with that girl outside the Leaky last month. Wouldn’t shut up about it for days, in fact.”

Will laughed. “Didn’t bring her home though.”

He hadn’t brought her home. She was good looking, but not as pretty as Cressida. And to be honest, she hadn’t been a very good snog either, so really, what was the point?

“Mate, you need to get a leg over. It’s been what, six months now?” Ben asked.

Craig glared at him. They all knew full well how long it had been since he and Cressida split. Ben grinned back at him.

“Well, maybe today’ll be the day,” he shot back.

“To Craigey getting laid!” Will called, and they all raised their glasses to toast him in jest as he flipped them off with two fingers.

Not a quarter hour later, he happened to look up just as a gorgeous girl walked in the door of the pub. She was petite, and wearing a tight turtleneck sweater in dark green, with red hair cascading past her shoulders down to her tits, which were full for her small frame. She glanced around, as if looking for someone, then headed over to the bar. Craig’s stomach fluttered in anticipation. This could be exactly what he’d been waiting for.

“Next rounds on me,” he said to the table, gesturing over to the bar, where the girl stood. Her position at the bar meant that her back was to their table, so they couldn’t see her face, only her long, shiny red hair. She was wearing tight, tan trousers tucked into brown boots that came up to below her knees, and she had a fantastic arse, he noted.

Will made a low whistle and nodded in appreciation.

“Go get her Clarke,” Dan said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Craig stood up and walked over to the bar. He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair. He was nervous, and a bit tipsy, as they’d cracked open the firewhisky as soon as they’d arrived at Dan’s place. He took a breath to steady himself, then he sidled up next to her at the bar.

“Packed today, isn’t it?” he said, trying to sound casual, as if he chatted up fit girls all the time.

“Yes, by the looks of it we’re in for a bit of a wait,” she said, looking at the lone barmaid and the patrons stacked two deep up and down the long bar.

“Well, in that case... I’m Craig. Craig Clarke,” he said, extending his hand and giving her a boyish grin.

She looked surprised for a second, but then she took his hand and shook it, her hand small and warm in his.

“Pleasure to meet you, Craig,” she said, smiling. She exuded confidence. Her eyes were a lovely shade of warm brown and seemed to shine in the afternoon light.

He was so captivated by her that it was only later that he realized she’d never told him her name.

“Do you come here often?” he asked, and as soon as he said it, he inwardly cringed at the obvious line.

Her lips turned up into a small smile, almost like a smirk, he thought.

“Not since I was in school.”

“Oh, I went to Hogwarts as well. Just finished last year. Hufflepuff. What house were you in?”

“I was a Gryffindor,” she replied, and her smile got broader and more impish, making his heart beat faster.

She wasn’t in his year, or he obviously would’ve known her. There was something oddly familiar about her, though- like he knew her, but couldn’t place her. She must’ve been a year or two ahead of him. Maybe he’d seen her in the corridors. He wouldn’t have forgotten a face like hers if he’d met her properly, of that he was certain.

“I didn’t know many Gryffindors outside of my year. Dated a Ravenclaw though. Spent far too much time in their common room, unfortunately.” He was rambling like an idiot, he thought, but unable to stop himself. And, why, why was he mentioning his ex? Her smile was dazzling and it was too much, almost like looking directly into the sun.

“You and me both.”

“Swotty lot aren’t they?”

She laughed, a silvery tinkling sound, and her nose crinkled up a bit, which was adorable. He was smitten.

“I don’t normally come up to Hogsmeade either anymore, but one of my mates in my year works for Dervish and Banges, and we all came to his today to listen to the Montrose game.”

“Over quick, wasn’t it? Their new seeker had quite the debut.”

“You follow Quidditch?” he asked, delighted, though it was clear she did. She really was perfect, this girl.

“In a manner of speaking,” she said, almost coyly, and that smirk had returned.

“Which team do you support? I’m a Puddlemere man myself. Muggle born, so I got into it late. Brilliant sport though.”

“Harpies, through and through.” She bit her bottom lip, as if to keep from smiling wider. Her coy looks were driving him mad.

He wanted to keep the conversation going. Hopefully, he could work up the courage to ask her out.

“I live in London now. I work for the Magical Menagerie, caring for all the animals there. What do you do?” he asked. Perhaps she lived in London too. Maybe they’d know some of the same people, and he could invite her out with a group of his friends.

“Well, I’ve just had a bit of a career change. I’m a correspondent for the Prophet now.”

“Do you like it?”

“I just started, but yes, so far I do.”

“Well good luck with the change. My mate Will,” he gestured over to the booth where his friends sat, “just went through the whole career change bit. He took a job at the Ministry in the Department of Transportation right out of Hogwarts. His Deputy Head was a real stickler- impossible to work for, everything had to be just so- you know the type. He only lasted four months before he managed to get a transfer over to International Magical Cooperation. He likes it much better there, thankfully.”

“Yes, I definitely know the type,” she said, and her right hand covered her mouth as she seemed to suppress a giggle. He wasn’t sure what was funny about his comment, but he didn’t much care so long as he was making her laugh.

“Oi, Clarke, what’s taking so long? You getting our round or what!” his friends heckled him from the table.

“Come off it, it’s packed,” he called back, but they were all clearly engrossed in some drinking game they were playing and just ribbing him.

He turned back to her. “Sorry about my mates. Bunch of blokes together, you know how it is.”

“I’m very familiar, trust me.” There was that smile again, so coy.

“What’ll it be love?” the haggard barmaid asked as she finally reached them.

He turned to her and smiled. “What would you like? It’s on me.”

“Oh,” she said, looking apologetic, “I couldn’t possibly, it’s really alright.”

“No, I insist, you’ve been such good company, let me buy you a drink.”

“No really, I-“

“Oh come on love, let him buy you the drink. I don’t have all day. Bars two deep right now,” said the barmaid, looking extremely exasperated.

“Just a butterbeer for me please,” she said to the barmaid, and then he placed the order for their round.

“Craig,” she said as the barmaid walked away. God, he loved the way his name sounded when she said it. “Listen, you’re very kind, but...”

“Mum-Mum! Mum-Mum!”

A baby, maybe a year old, babbling nonsense, appeared on her other side in the arms of a tall man wearing a baseball cap. The baby grasped her long hair, the smooth copper strands peeking through his tiny fist. He had thick, dark hair that stuck up in the back, and big brown eyes. Eyes that were exactly the same shade as hers, Craig noticed.

“Oh, Jim-Jams,” she cooed, taking the baby from the arms of the tall man holding him.

He was confused. Surely, she didn’t have a baby? She was probably only a year or two older than he was. Maybe a nephew, he thought.

The man who handed the baby to her was holding a knapsack over his shoulder and looked a bit frazzled. “I’m sorry we’re late to meet you, Gin. Didn’t expect the game to end so quickly. And then, on the way out, I turned my back for a half-second to grab more floo powder to refill the tin on the mantle, and he crawled into the loo, pulled himself up, and was splashing his hand around in the toilet. Had to give him a bath, didn’t want to chance a charm with that.”

She winced, then chuckled. “I told you he’s getting fast! And it’s alright, don’t worry. Neville’s not here yet either. He sent me a patronus that he’d got tied up with something. He should be on his way down now.”

Craig’s confusion grew. Who was this Neville? He hoped it wasn’t a boyfriend she was meeting.

“Mum-Mum!” the baby said again, as he settled on her hip, breaking into a wide, four-toothed smile.

She beamed down at the baby. “Hello, James. Mummy missed you, cheeky little monkey.” She reached her left hand up to stroke his cheek, and he noticed, for the first time, her wedding ring.

At this, the wheels, which had been turning far too slowly in his head, finally clicked into place.

He felt his face flush with complete embarrassment. He’d just been trying to chat up a married woman- the mother of a baby, for fuck’s sake. Well done, Craig . She probably thought he was a complete cad.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said to her, his words rushed and incredibly apologetic. “I didn’t realize, I had no idea...”

She held up her hand and smiled at him. “It’s alright, you were very kind, really.”

“Gin, I think I see Neville on his way,” the man said. The man (her husband, Craig corrected himself, groaning inwardly at his absolute stupidity in failing to realize this sooner) was looking out the front window, onto High Street. Craig hoped he’d missed their exchange.

The man turned back to face their direction, his round glasses catching the light. He looked at Craig with a bemused expression. Dark stubble lined the man’s jaw, and black hair was visible under the cap. He looked a bit like Harry Potter, Craig thought, thinking of the Witch Weekly poster Cressida had of him for ages. Quite a lot, actually.

Then, realization, followed immediately by absolute horror, washed over him as he looked back at the red-haired woman.

Ginny Potter. He’d been trying to chat up Ginny Potter. The star chaser for the Harpies, whose poster had hung above Ben’s bed in the dormitory since fourth year, for fuck’s sake. How had he not realized it? Ginny Potter, who’d been on the cover of every newspaper for months when she’d decided to retire because she was having a baby. Harry Potter’s baby. He’d been hitting on Harry Potter’s bloody wife for the last five minutes.

His jaw was agape as he stared at her and tried to form words. He probably looked like a giant goldfish, he thought.

“You’re...” he gulped, still looking at her, his cheeks on fire. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you. I’m a bit drunk, you see. And I thought you were maybe a year or two older than me, not...” he trailed off, feeling like a complete idiot and wanting nothing more than to disappear.

She laughed, but it was genuine and not unkind. “Don’t apologize, it was refreshing, actually. Gives me hope for an anonymous future,” she said, and she winked at him. He felt his face flush even more.

He turned to the man, to Harry Potter, he corrected himself. “Mr. Potter, sir, thank you. I’m Muggleborn and started at Hogwarts a year after the battle. Wouldn’t have been able to go without all you did.”

God, he was babbling like an idiot. The baby was more coherent.

Harry Potter shifted a bit and looked uncomfortable at his praise. “That’s very kind of you to say. But I had loads of help, it wasn’t just me.”

“Daaaa,” gurgled the baby, who now had his hand on Ginny Potter’s breast, patting it happily. Craig immediately tried to look anywhere else. His face was even redder, he was certain. He stared at the bar top as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

Just when he thought his humiliation was complete, he heard a familiar voice.

“Hullo Harry, Ginny. And James! Merlin, he’s grown! Getting to be a big boy now, aren’t you?”

Craig looked up into the round, smiling face of his favorite professor, who was pretending to shake the baby’s hand as the baby gurgled and laughed. Oh, how he wished the day would end.

“Hello, Professor Longbottom.”

“Clarke! How’s the Menagerie going? I’ve missed your N.E.W.T. class this year more than I can say.”

“It’s going well, sir. I’m actually in charge of preparing all the food for the creatures- we’ve got a small greenhouse off the back, so I’ve been doing some growing myself.”

Professor Longbottom looked pleased, but then he asked the question Craig was dreading. “Craig, have you met Harry and Ginny Potter?”

“Oh, erm, yes actually...” he stammered, unable to think of how to politely phrase that he’d just tried to chat up Mrs. Potter because he thought she was fit and didn’t recognize her.

“Craig was kind enough to keep me company while I waited for Harry to arrive,” Mrs. Potter interjected. He shot her a grateful look.

“Drinks, loves.” The barmaid returned with a butterbeer and six glasses of firewhiskey.

Craig paid her and turned to Mrs. Potter to hand her the butterbeer.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him, as Harry Potter put his arm around her waist.

“Rosmerta’s saved us the back corner booth,” Professor Longbottom said, glancing to the empty booth tucked away in the far corner, away from the bar and the tables, “We’d best be off before these two are recognized by anyone else.”

“Goodbye, Professor, Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” he said, nodding to them. “Enjoy the afternoon.”

“Goodbye Craig,” Mrs. Potter said, smiling at him, her brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “And if you wouldn’t mind not mentioning it to anyone else that Harry is here, we’d appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding, just wanting the whole thing to be over.

“Bye-bye,” said the baby, waving unprompted at him. Great, even the baby was having a go at him, Craig thought. Mrs. Potter laughed delightedly, and Mr. Potter exclaimed, “Clever boy, James!” They turned and walked off towards the back corner booth.

When they were gone, he finally exhaled, and slumped against the bar. He motioned over Will to help him carry the drinks back to the table.

As soon as he sat down, he began to gulp his firewhisky in earnest, wanting to forget that the horribly embarrassing incident had ever occurred.

“So what happened, mate?” Dan asked.

“Oh, erm, turned out she was married. Talked to her for a few minutes before I saw the ring.”

“Tough luck,” said Will. “Didn’t get a good look at her face, but she was fit.”

Craig nodded, still drinking. “What are you playing?” he asked, eager to change the subject, and then he threw himself into their game of 21, wishing for all the world that he and Cressida had never broken up. Not just because he missed her, which he did (he finally admitted to himself)- but because if they hadn’t, this never would have happened.

An hour and a half and more firewhisky later, Craig was feeling pleasantly numb. Some of the mortification had subsided, at least. And then suddenly, he looked up, and she was there, alone, standing next to his chair.

“Craig, we’re heading out, but thank you for being so kind earlier. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered.”

“Oh, erm, it was nothing, really,” he said, feeling himself blush and wishing he could sink into the stone floor and disappear.

“Rosmerta will be over in a mo’. The next rounds on me, boys, enjoy yourselves,” she said to the table, before giving Craig a wink and a wave. Then, she turned, walked out the door, and disappeared with a pop before the door swung shut. His friends immediately turned to him.

“Was that?!”

“She’s bloody fit she is. Even better than in photos.”

“Damn, Harry Potter is a lucky sod.”

“Wait, you tried to chat up Ginny Potter?!”

“I didn’t recognize her!” he moaned, putting his head in his hands as his mates erupted into laughter. God, he would never, ever hear the end of this.

As his friends began to tease him in earnest (and really, he couldn’t blame them), Craig swore to himself that he would never try to flirt with some random girl at a bar again. He’d be single forever over ever reliving the humiliation of what happened today. Or maybe, he would write to Cressida tonight. Yes, he would write to her as soon as he got home.

#hinny fanfic #fluff #cringe #sweet himbo #poor craig #ginny weasley is hot

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florencwrites · 3 years

Text

bleeding grounds 〚technoblade〛

in which undefined love does not always persevere over the perils of war

based on this tiktok

(!) violence, war, mentions of trauma, death, blood (!)

He had always been praised for his nimble feet, his astonishing agile movements. The way he could prance around a field with a dozen armed men and have none of them so much as unsheathe their sword. He was savvy and skilled, one of the most talented knights of the realm, and he knew it so damn well.

She, on the contrary, was blunt and stubborn. She knew how to stand her ground, and God, she would not fucking move. She had always let her foes prance their way to her, allowing them to perceive her as a damsel, as a woman too afraid to move her feet. Nothing was less true, she was bold and fiercely untrained, but for some reason, she always managed to create a pile of seeping corpses to mark off her perimeter.

He had trouble understanding her tactics, he believed them to be foolish and terribly perilous. Not only to her and her enemies, but to himself as well. She was stuck, nailed down, to one singular spot. Naturally, so were his eyes. As he swung around his sword, pushing arrows through hearts left and right, his eyes were never on his own target.

Constantly his mind would be preoccupied with her and her moronic antics, he would dance around her boundaries, trying his very best to keep any rival as far from the edge of her bounds as he could.

She did not see it that way. She saw an arrogant man in heavy armor slaying her corpses right in front of her face, she saw another one of those stupid smug knights believing her not to be worthy of her own battles. And God, she despised him for it. Pushing her to the sidelines of her own wars, pushing his own inferiority complex onto her.

So, naturally, she gave in eventually. She gave in and stepped into the line of fire, ducking under sweeping blades and leaping over soaring arrows; ones that would have never reached her would she have stayed put.

His eyebrows furrowed deeper at every shot that got a little too close to her for his liking, abandoning his own opponent, to instead focus solely on hers. Without a second thought, he curved underneath another overdrawn saber, immediately lifting himself back to his feet, his back pressed to hers as a crowd formed around them. A threatening circle of sharpened blades enclosing on them as they desperately tried fighting them off, one by one.

"I told you to stay put." He hissed through gritted teeth, his sword loudly clanking against his towering opponent.

"You're not my dad, Techno, duck." She ordered in response, immediately pulling his body down with hers as another arrow raced past their heads. He murmured a soft 'thank you' before grunting loudly as someone swung their axe into his side, thankfully protected by his excessively heavy chest plate. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," A heavy pant, "You?"

"Fantastic." Another broad sweep as she slung her sword into some guy's neck, immediately taking the opportunity to exit their deathly little arena, roaming further into the emptying battlefield. She let her eyes wander the lands, seeing several of her friends still fighting off either undead or almost-dead.

He kept in her vicinity, fighting outrageously hastily, trying to free himself from his foes. He followed her traces, killing off as many men as he could while keeping her close. "Stop trying to get yourself killed." Annoyance laced his voice as she pulled into a jog towards her King, George, who was fighting a mere zombified child. He let his head fall over his shoulder to follow her disappearing figure, groaning in utmost agitation as another soldier tried his luck with him.

"Stop trying to protect me." She yelled loudly, however, not in a joking matter, unfortunately. He knew she hated his absolute guts, she always trailed around his compagnons instead. She wanted nothing to do with him, while he wanted everything to do with her. Obviously, he was too arrogant to ever admit this to her, so he stayed quiet. Silently sweating daily to just keep her safe. Techno was not a man destined for love, he was not meant to care for another person as deeply as for himself. However, anytime his eyes laid upon hers, a meek voice in the back of his head would assure him,

"If you can fight your own enemies this easy, sure you could do hers as well."

Slowly but surely, as the sun started setting, the clanking of swords become more and more.. intermittent. Gradually, the silence of the night started taking over as enemy blood seeped into the ground. However, as his kill numbers started to quiet down, the voices in the back of his mind started growing louder. Louder. Louder. Telling him to keep going, to leave no man alive.

But she was no man, she was the one being in this entire realm not even the ghosts in his mind would dare to speak ill of. The one creature even his insanity wouldn't as much as attempt to threaten. His heavy boots carried him to the rest of their meek group, their feeble effort of their twenty-something-men-army. "You're bleeding."

"Not my blood," She spat back at him, utter venom laced through her spaces. "Mind your business."

However, before he could retaliate, Dream spoke up, "If you want to see her tits, you can just ask, Techno."

"And I'd say no," She giggled at her brother's insinuation, and he, in all honesty, had to count to ten in order not to let the voices win. Murder him. Slit his throat.

"Let's go home." George piped up, scrubbing a filthy rag over the blade of his sword. He sheathed his sword with an ear-piercing ring, "They have prepared rooms at the castle, we pull out again at dawn."

The voices echoed again, entirely preparing him for new sacrifices as soon as the first light hit the grounds. Murder everyone. Keep her safe.

The emptied hallways of the castle sounded even more deserted with the echoes of his padded feet pacing through them every few minutes. He roamed the corridors in a fruitless attempt to quiet the voices, to quiet his worrying mind. She had slipped from his eye the second the group had set foot on safe lands, as soon as she carried her slightly limping body through the threshold of the enormous empire. And though he had never been a fan of the kingdom as a whole, it was an ease to his mind, knowing she was safely guarded by hundreds of men and towering walls.

He passed her room for the umpteenth time of the evening, his steps subconsciously slowing as his ears perked at the sound of a whimper. A tiny, soft one, but his animalistic ears had picked it up nonetheless. It was almost muffled like she was trying her utter best not to let out a singular peep.

Her door was cracked open, not more than an inch, but he could not help himself but peek inside. His eyes roamed over the left side of her room, a fauteuil and a dresser, a desk and a mirror and her. She stood in front of the tall mirror, staring at her reflection in complete focus. She was shedding her shirt ever so slowly, which immediately prompted him to avert his gaze and pull back from the door.

However, another hiss sounded. Not necessarily a hiss, more of a sharp breath, loud. His hand slowly found the door handle, slowly pushing the door open a little further, just enough so that she could see his figure standing in the doorway.

Her shirt was pulled up until right below her bra, her delicate fingers tracing a gaping wound on her side; entirely smudged with blood that had, in fact, been hers. Instantly, his mind started playing tricks on him again, whispering malicious words into his ears. You should've known. She's going to die. The door creaked faintly as he pushed himself to stand a little deeper into the room, her eyes on his as she lowered her shirt. "What happened?"

"It's nothing, Techno, go to bed." She barked back immediately, desperately trying to cover the pain that was roaming her tone. He let his hand fall from the handle as she turned to face him entirely, still from the other side of the room. She stood still, awaiting his response, "What did they do to you?"

"It's my own fault." She admitted, embarrassment clear in the way she stood silently, fumbling her fingers. She couldn't help but let out a mocking chuckle, though, "You can tell me 'I told you so'."

"There's no use in telling you that now," He let his lips curl up for but a split second, before remembering the gaping gash in her skin.

She nodded, a blush creeping up her cheeks as he made her way towards her. "Can I?"

"Go ahead," His fingers held the hem of her shirt, gently pulling it up her side to reveal the wound. It was large, but not too deep. He crouched down to his knees, his eyes burning a path on her bruised skin. He let his finger carefully trace the side of the gash, trying to assess whether or not stitches would be necessary. Her skin rose at the contact, slight goosebumps emerging from his feeble touch. She blushed even harder as a shiver ran up her spine, completely oblivious that his body was doing the exact same thing.

She looked down at him through the mirror, her reflection staring down at his face. She let her eyes trace his features, his soft pink skin and white scars, his sharpened teeth, and the blood-stained hair that laid ruffled on his head. It had grown significantly longer in the several days they had spent on the field, the days she had grown to slowly but surely appreciate his, secretly, caring nature. Obviously, though, she did not realize his caring nature only extended to her, that his watchful gaze really only ever allowed itself to cherish her form. "I don't think you should come with us tomorrow."

"Unfortunately, that's not up to you," A soft sigh escaped her lips, her fingers trembling in the slightest where they held up her shirt. He returned a skeptical breath, shooting his eyes to meet hers in their reflection as he spoke, "I'm serious."

She pulled her shirt down over her hips with an annoyed huff, slightly louder as she attempted to hide the underlying hiss. He noticed, of course, she knew he did. He pulled his hands from her body, instantly missing the feeling of her warm skin under his. "Who is it up to then?"

"Anyone but you, really." He rose to his feet, shaking his head in the faintest as his gaze met his feet. Softly clearing his throat, while she added, "Don't tell Dream."

"I will tell Dream." He assured her, to her irritation, "You're hurt."

They stood side-to-side, the front of his arm brushing against her shoulder, as they stared at their reflection. They shared a breath before she broke the silence, "Fine, tell him, I don't care."

"Now, please leave." A spiritless order at best, but an order nonetheless.

"George, if she dies tomorrow, her blood will be on your hands." Disbelief covered his entire face, his tone as monotone and harsh as ever, trying so very hard to mask any remaining emotions he had over her.

"She won't, she said she's fine, right?" He replied with annoyance hinting in his tone, "If she wants to fight, she can fight."

He averted his gaze to meet Dream's, surely he would agree with him. Was he not his sister's keeper?

"She's tougher than she lets on, Techno." The blonde spoke mumbling, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the dimmed fireplace. George was sat on the side of his bed, his elbows leaning on his knees. He met his eyes, a slow nod as if to say 'told you so'.

"You cannot be serious?" His voice roughened as the concern started inevitably seeping through. "Dream, she will die tomorrow."

The masked man shoved himself from the rough stones of the hearth, immediately stalking towards him. Alarmingly close to his face, chests almost touching, his voice dangerously low, "Then that will be on her."

George also rose to his feet minutely, watching the situation in front of him devolve in a threatening pace, "If she wants to fight, she will fight."

And so she did, fight. His words ringing through her head with every step she took out of her normally safe line. She hovered around her own body, careful not to disturb her surroundings. She hissed at any movement she made, anytime she was forced to lift her sword from beside her, an acute flash of searing-white pain overtook her every sense.

And so, she did die.

Ultimately, she would pass out from her seeping wound, fall right into enemy hands. She would fall over and pierce herself on their unsheathed sword. She never had a chance.

She fell to the ground, not with an agonizing shout, but more so a ceasing sigh. She fell to her own ground, the trampled floor of where she had fought the entirety of the, nearly defeated, battle. The blood-soaked dirt she had not allowed herself to leave, constantly replaying his words in her mind, 'Stay put', 'I told you to stay put', 'stay put'.

Agonizing screams did come from the zone of combat, nonetheless, even if they had not been hers. Shouts of terror and anguish as her body fell limp to the earth.

The blood that soaked the fields that day were paid with a price, paid with a price no man had ever paid before.

He had never been the same, not since that day. No longer was the image of her an image that would shield him from his own psychotic phantoms, no longer would he yield from the idea of death.

The blood that soaked the earth that day was no atonement of any sorts, the blood that soaked the earth that day had been in utter and complete vain. It had not been just hers that seeped through the roots of evil underneath the soil, it would end with her brother's as well, but not her brother's alone.

The King would die and the empire, and any that would follow it, would inevitably fall to his hands.

Blood for the blood god.

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sope-and-shine · 3 years

Text

The Right of a King: Pt. 1

-> SFW // Soulmate!AU // fluff, angst // mummy!Namjoon -> Pairing: Namjoon x Reader -> Word Count: 15.1k -> Summary: Life as the night guard for your local high-end museum was supposed to be simple and easy. The most dangerous part of your job was only supposed to be the middle-aged patrons who insisted they get a discount for a line being too long. Nowhere in your contract did it say you’d be taking care of a 1,000 year old king that had been mummified. Thankfully, for you he’s harmless, but the storm that comes with him is not as welcoming. -> Warning(s): mild language, brief crude humor, Namjoon is kind of a jerk but he gets better...kinda, also a bit of a misogynist, technology abuse RIP the museum equipment, Jimin IS that salesman that uses his charm to steal your money - but will anyone complain? no.

A/N: This whole fic is a BEAST i sWEAR! I am however really excited to share this fic with everyone! This was originally for a collab that never got to happen -RIP - but I liked the idea too much to just throw her away!

I do want to give a huge shout out to @sakuraguks-main for beta reading this as well as my squad for their constant encouragement throughout the writing process.

Now if you excuse me, I need to get back to writing part 2

Masterlist

* * *

“Just the lunch box and the banana milk this time?”

“Uh…” You look up from your wallet to view your items on the counter. It was just one prepackaged lunch and a few banana milks, much less than you usually buy on your routine dinner stop. You don’t want to buy too much, but you’d need something for later in the morning too.

You settle for grabbing a few bags of chips off the rack next to you and set them on the counter, “I’ll take those too.”

He nods and rings them up, bagging them while you pay with your card. He grabs your receipt and tucks it in the bag, handing them to you as you slide your wallet back into your bag, “Have a good evening, (Y/n)!”

You nod, “Thank you! See you tomorrow, Gyu!” You wave to him as you exit the convenience store and step back into the bustling city.

Stopping for food is always a must for you before every shift with it being smack in the middle of your route. If you were to spend 10:00p.m. to 8a.m. by yourself with no food, you would probably go insane. It wasn’t like you couldn’t bring them from home, but it was much more convenient to stop on your way there. Occasionally, you’ll attempt to pull back on your snack intake, but Gyu never makes it easy on you when you do. He just makes it another typical day for you.

Wake up at 2:30, take a shower, do your school work, get ready for work, leave the house, stop to buy food from Gyu, and then arrive at the grand entrance to the Seoul Museum of History and Art.

The building itself is 4 stories high - not including the lower level storage it sits on top of - and 1 city block in length and width. It’s exterior is grand and extravagant with 3 large pillars that encase the 4 doorways that lead into the lobby. A large staircase greets you at the sidewalk, flower beds decorating the front along the brick railing on either side of the stairs. You never take the stairs on your way in, choosing to take the ramp hidden in the flowers up to the entrance instead. You’d have enough problems walking around the entire museum, adding more stairs to the mix would only ruin your mood.

Thankfully, Jin is always there to greet you on your way in. He never fails to brighten your day when you see him. Dressed sharp in a white button down tucked into fitted black dress pants with a grey suit jacket on top, he stands with his hands together in front of him and a large welcoming smile. His hair is parted just off center, not losing shape even as he nods to the patron in front of him.

You wait for him to finish his conversation before you greet him, “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Worldwide Handsome himself.”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” Jin chuckles. He lets his shoulders relax, moving his neck from side to side before looking at his watch. He looks impressed, “Wow, you’re earlier than usual.”

You shrug, “Yeah, Hoseok said he needed to talk to me about the exhibit pieces that are coming in.”

“Say no more,” Jin raises his hands in front of him and shakes his head, “I’ve heard all I need to.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel,” You laugh. You shake your head and sigh, “I should get going so I can get ready to clear the last minute rush.”

“Don’t work too hard, night guard.” He gives you a mock salute and you turn away, waving goodbye to him as you continue down the corridor into a sea of people.

Most people would think a museum wouldn’t be so popular, but your crowds never seemed to dwindle. You suppose you’d have Yoongi to thank for that. He ran the museum so smoothly it was almost like clockwork. Doors opened at 9 and they closed at 9, new exhibits rotate in and out every 7 ½ months to the day, and employees were put through severe background checks and training just to make sure they’d be competent enough to work in his museum. Everyone that works in the museum was handpicked by Yoongi himself, and everyone chosen contributes everything they have to be here.

You pass by the gift shop, spying Jimin at the counter helping a few kids pick out candies. He notices you passing and smiles, giving you a quick wave that you return before he gives his attention to the children in front of him.

You continue on down the hall, passing the cafe and the restrooms. The walls begin to lose their decor the farther you go, becoming planer and planer until you reach the break room doors.

“He was like, ‘do you think toys for cavemen were any different from present day? Like that shit must be wild bro’ and then they all started laughing at me when I said they didn’t have a Toys R Us, so yeah, they were different from now.” Jeongguk says as you enter the room. His impeccable timing for ‘strange conversation’ never ceases to amaze you every time you walk through the door.

Jeongguk’s a great guy, always very respectful and eager to learn more, but he’s been working as a tour guide in the museum for about a year now and he still hasn’t seemed to pick up on anything. You’re pretty sure Yoongi only hired him to keep the single ladies coming back. It was hard to correct someone with such a cute, bunny smile and such remarkable enthusiasm in the work place.

“Do you think it was an inside joke?” He proceeds to ask, his attention trained on Johnny who stands at the locker to the right of yours.

The man in question can’t stop himself from giving the younger a disappointed frown, “Dude...you’re the joke…”

Jeongguk tilts his head in confusion and you jump into the conversation, “I’m sure they’re just being teenagers, Guk. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” You turn to briefly glare at your locker mate as you open it, turning your frown into a smile when you face Jeongguk again, “Tomorrow is another day!”

“You’re right!” He closes his locker and throws his bag over his shoulder, his confidence already returning, “I’ll learn everything I can about cavemen toys and come back tomorrow prepared to tell all of my tours about them!”

He leaves before you can say anything back, off to do whatever it is he usually does after work. You don’t mind though, it’s a little hard to understand the college sophomore anyways. At least with him leaving you can relax before your shift starts.

Johnny sighs next to you, “You mother him too much.”

“I don’t mother him. I just don’t want to explain to him what they’re actually talking about.” You argue, placing your bags on the hooks in your locker. You take off your overcoat and replace it with your black security jacket, fixing the collar, “Besides, he’ll figure it out by this weekend and then he won’t make eye contact with either one of us for the next week.”

“Whatever you say.” He pulls out a lint roller and hands it to you before closing his locker, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Waving behind you with the roller in hand, you say, “Have a good night!” You hear the door open and close behind you, leaving you alone in the room to sort yourself out.

You make quick work to de-lint your black work pants, setting the roller at the top of your locker. Then you take the bags you set down and pull them over to the table at the center of the room, leaving your locker open while you take out your food to be refrigerated. When you have everything you need, you place the leftover snacks back on the hook and shut the door.

The door opens on your way to the fridge, Hoseok walking in with a folder in his hands. He looks up from whatever he’s reading and his eyes widen in surprise, “You’re here!”

You open the fridge, “Yeah, you told me to come in a little early.” You set your bag on the top shelf, close the door, and turn to him, “You wanted to talk to me about tomorrow?”

“Right.” He approaches the table and sets his stuff down, sorting through a few papers before he pulls one from his stack. He extends it to you, “This is all the information about who we’ll be meeting with tomorrow. It has times, names, and a manifest.”

“Everything is the same from the texts you sent me, right?” You ask, eyes skimming over the sheet for anything new.

“Yes! Each artifact was individually packed, so we should only have 12 new pieces coming in tomorrow.”

“Okay, so we just need to keep an eye on what they bring in.” You say, more to yourself than to him. You take a moment to let the information sink in, nodding in understanding when you’re sure you have it all down. You look back up to Hoseok who’s already discarding his security jacket, “Did you have any luck on new night guard help?”

“Ah-...no,” Hoseok sets his jacket over the back of the chair in front of him. He’d been searching for new help ever since Chanyeol left, leaving you to run the night shift alone. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t ideal for a museum in the middle of the city. You knew that and so did Hoseok. “I’ve been working on it, but it’s been hard with the new arrivals. Besides, you know how Yoongi is when he’s hiring new employees.”

You nod, knowing exactly how anal the museum director could truly be, “Yeah, I know. Just keep me updated though?”

You don’t really mind working by yourself, but you could only go so many days without a single day off. Thankfully, Hoseok was understanding of this, “I will! I’ll work something out, I promise!”

“Thank you,” You smile. You grab your bag off the table and hoist it over your shoulder, “I’m gonna go clock in and see about ushering the night crowd out.”

“Hyuk should be starting on level 1.” He informs you.

“I’ll take level 4 then.” You bid Hoseok goodbye and head across the hall to the security room, setting your stuff down in your chair and clocking in at the main computer. You take a moment to check the camera’s, looking for the most populated areas to look out for and which exhibits you could close as you go through.

This was something you did everyday. You’d find the unpopulated areas first so you could sweep the rooms and lock the exhibits behind you. One by one, you make sure to clear the floor before you move to the next level.

The third level is much busier than the other levels, having had the most change to it’s layout since the new exhibit was brought in 2 weeks prior. Families make their way to the stairs while couples try to catch one last look at exhibits they missed in favor for another.

Walking into the Ancient Dynasties Exhibit, you nod to the partons that you pass on their way out, stopping by the occasional straggler to let them know it’s time to go. You rarely ever have problems with getting someone to leave - maybe once or twice you’ve had to get physical with someone or call the police to escort them out of the museum - but the number of times is so small you could count them on one hand. There’s only one person you have to repeatedly kick out of the exhibit, and he’s worse than any patron you’ve ever dealt with.

“Taehyung, I need you to leave.” You tell him, approaching him from behind. His green, 3 piece suit is only slightly wrinkled from his work throughout the day, his jacket discarded and set off to his side.

The bubbly curator turns his head over his shoulder, dirty blonde locks still kept in a perfect side-sweep thanks to his “very essential” hair gel. His smile is almost a tease as he says, “Just a few more minutes.”

You cross your arms and sigh, “I’m counting.”

The saying “Just a few more minutes” has lost all meaning with Taehyung. You haven’t believed him since your third day of working together. He’s never been good at leaving his exhibits, wanting to take pride in his work. Despite having the ability to take pictures of the area as it’s curator, he insists on committing them all to memory. In hindsight, it’s very endearing. However, his wants tend to put you behind your own schedule.

He turns back around and you take a seat next to him on the bench. You take an obligatory look around the section he sits in, glancing over each artifact that decorates the walls. From tapestries or writing displays that hang on the walls, to small podiums with items far more fragile encased in glass. In front of you - roped off and on a placed on a small stage - is a large sarcophagus covered in gold with two lit candle placed beside it. Behind it is a wall of flowers, all apparently favorites from when the King was alive.

“Have I told you about Namjoon hyung?” He asks, referencing the mummy in front of you.

King Kim Namjoon of the Kim Dynasty. The only king of Korea to be mummified. Of all the exhibits you’ve been through with Taehyung, this one was his favorite. You could really say he’s obsessed with the dead King! Even with 6 more exhibits to his name. Taehyung spent almost all of his time in this section.

“I think I could talk about this guy in my sleep!” You laugh, nudging his side playfully, “And should you really be calling him ‘hyung’? If anything, he’s an ‘ahjussi’ to you.”

“Yes, but I know so much about him that he feels like a hyung to me!” He argues with a certain admiration in his eyes, “I’ve spent years waiting for this moment to have him in one of my exhibits, and now he’s right at my fingertips!”

He really isn’t exaggerating either. Before the king arrived, Taehyung would show you continuous updates about his uncovering and the updates on how his body was kept. The day his exhibit was approved, you thought he was going to explode. Of all the curators and all of the possible museums, he got King Namjoon. Anyone who didn’t know would’ve thought he won the lottery. In a way, he did.

“His exhibit here is a permanent one, Tae. He’s not going anywhere, so you don’t have to worry about him leaving anytime soon.” You assure him, placing a hand on his arm. Your smile turns into a grin, “What I am worried about is you leaving soon. Get out of my museum before I go find Yoongi.”

“I’m not afraid of Yoongi.” You raise an eyebrow at him and his shoulders drop, “Okay, so maybe I’m terrified of Yoongi, but that’s not important right now!”

You give his shoulder a light nudge, “Go home, Taehyung. The rest of your hyung will be here tomorrow.” You tease.

He sighs and leans his head back, “You say that like he didn’t arrive all put together. He’s a mummy, not Frankenstein.”

You hit his arm, “Get out of here.”

“Okay!” He stands up and turns to you with a boxy grin, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t work too hard.”

“I never do.” You wave him off, watching him saunter out of the exhibit with a little jump in his step. Even after 14 hours on the clock of rounding the museum to look at his works, he’s still running like he just woke up. Some days you wish you could be as happy with your job as Taehyung is, but how many people truly loved working the night shift in a dark, quiet museum?

* * *

“Alright, let’s make this fast and efficient everyone!” Yoongi barks, walking up to the loading dock where you and Hoseok stand on opposite sides of the doors. He eyes the unloading crew unlocking the truck and sends them a warning glare, “It’s a full moon tonight, and I will not be out at 3am like last time.”

“You need to relax, Yoongi,” Hoseok warns him, still standing across from you, “It’s just a few small pieces and then we’ll be out of here before your ‘witching hour’ is here.”

Hoseok wiggles his fingers for a “spooky emphasis” and you stifle a chuckle. Yoongi is not as amused, “Laugh all you want, but at least I won’t be dead.”

“Is that a threat? Can I file an HR complaint?” Hoseok asks.

Yoongi sighs, “Just do your job while they unload so we can leave.”

You offer a teasing grin and a nod, “Yes sir~”

Yoongi walks away and Taehyung replaces him, standing next to you instead of in the way of the workers. He rolls back and forth on his feet, watching happily as if he were a child at Christmas.

“Did I tell you what’s coming today?” He asks.

You roll your eyes, “I’m sure you may have mentioned it here or there.”

Of course, you know what was coming in. Your job is to protect it with your life. Hoseok gave you the run down via text on your last 5 shifts and again today as soon as you walked through the doors. More paintings, a chair, a dusty old book, and the shining jewel of the King’s tomb.

“His lover’s necklace!” Taehyung beams, “According to what we know, this necklace was used by the King to find his soulmate. We believe that because he didn’t take a queen, he never found his other half.”

You shrug, “Maybe he wasn’t really looking.”

“Maybe...maybe not. Most historians believe he mummified himself so when fate brings his soulmate to him, he’d wake again and they’d spend eternity together.” He turns to you and flicks your forehead, “You would know if you actually paid attention to me.”

You push him back, “Well, excuse me if I can’t listen to you talk about his majesty for more than 10 minutes a week.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes and turns back to the movers. His annoyance quickly turns to excitement as he catches sight on the last box being carried in, “Is that the necklace?”

“Uh…” The man carrying the box looks at the label on the side, nodding to Taehyung in confirmation, “Yes sir.”

“Oh! Follow me!” Taehyung grabs your arm and pulls you after him. You turn your head back to Hoseok for help but he’s already waving you off while he closes the loading doors. You both follow the crew member to the table where a few other small items are being opened already, waiting long enough for the man to open the box for you. You can’t see the inside of the crate with Taehyung in your way, but he gets the first look at whatever dingy piece of jewelry is inside. He flails in excitement, “Look at this!”

Taehyung rushes forward, pushing the man helping him out of the way to reach into the box. When he turns around, he holds a smaller box in his hand, “It’s right here!”

“That’s another box…” You point out, eyes narrowed in irritation.

“It’s not just another box!” He argues. He undoes the latch and pulls the lid back towards him, revealing the most beautiful necklace you’ve ever seen. A delicate string of silver stones bedazzled with small fuschia gems all laced together with a golden band weaving under and over. It glistens in the shine of the storage room work lights, drawing you in with every hypnotizing twinkle.

Taehyung smiles knowingly, enjoying your sudden engrossment in the artifact, “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

You nod, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch the delicate jewel. It takes a surprising amount of restraint from you just to pull away, “It’s definitely pretty.”

Yoongi claps his hands from the table beside you, “Let’s get these up to the Ancient Dynasties exhibit and in their places so we can get out of here.”

Everyone takes a box and begins to move upstairs, you and Hoseok helping the men with the old chair to ensure it doesn’t get stuck on anything. With the few items left to be brought into the exhibit, it didn’t take long at all for everything to be settled into their rightful places.

“Perfect! It’s all perfect!” Taehyung cheers, clapping his hands and squeezing them together. His excitement for this event was unmatched, and you know that in the morning when you see him next, he’ll be bouncing up and down just as he is now.

Hoseok nods to you, “Let’s lock them up.”

“Right.” You pull out your keyring and begin the process of going case to case while Hoseok sets their alarms after you. You make it all the way around the room until you stand in front of the necklace again. It’s beauty draws you in, having never seen something like this before. Many would think it too bulky and busy for someone to wear everyday, but a part of you could see it’s appeal.

A part of you wouldn’t mind wearing it at all.

Taehyung walks over to where you stand locking the cases and audibly gasps behind you, “Fix it!”

You jump, “Fix what?”

“The necklace! It’s not straight!” He points at the case and you turn your attention back to the object beneath the glass. Staring at with a clearer mind, it is indeed tilted just slightly to the left. If you were to just glance at it, you probably would have never noticed. But nothing could get past a perfectionist like Taehyung, “We have to fix it now!”

“Okay!” To appease the overly attentive curator, you unlock the case and adjust the necklace yourself. You pull the delicate string of stone and gem into place, locking it back up when you’re done. It glimmers in the corner of your eye as you turn back to Taehyung, “Better?”

He grins, knowing fully well that you’re more than annoyed with him, “Perfect.”

“Alright, now that we’re all done, everyone needs to leave so I can go home.” Yoongi announces.

Hoseok chuckles, “You really don’t want to be up past midnight do you?”

“I don’t care about being up past midnight. I don’t want to be out past midnight.” The older man grumbles, most likely cursing the other in the back of his mind, “There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.” Hoseok teases, making Yoongi glare at him even harder than before. He turns to the movers and waves for them to follow him, “Gentlemen, let me show you back to your truck. We wouldn’t want the grump over here to bite your head off.”

The group follows after Hoseok and so does Yoongi, “You’re so lucky you’re my friend, Hoseok, or I would fire you so fast.”

Hoseok only laughs at his loose threat, “Well, if you’d like to take the bus then be my guest.”

They all leave the exhibit and you turn to Taehyung who still stands in front of the case admiring the necklace inside, “So, I’ll see you early tomorrow, Tae?”

He turns back to you and gives you a large, reassuring smile, “Bright and early.”

“Go and get some rest for your big day then.” You say, placing a hand on his back and nudging him towards the door.

You watch him leave the exhibit, laughing at the way he dances to the music playing in his head. You take the responsibility of closing the gate, glancing over the exhibits contents between the bars before following Taehyung yourself. You say goodbye to Yoongi and Hoseok at the front door, ensuring the door gets locked behind them before getting to your own duties that were halted because of the shipment.

---

It’s later in the evening when you finally get to make your rounds through the empty halls of the museum. You’d checked every camera in the building twice, filling out your night paperwork as well as the visitor log for Hoseok to look over in the morning as you went. All you really had to do was roam the halls every now and then, keeping an eye on the monitors for anything suspicious.

The night shift was never quite as tiring as the day shift. Your interaction with patrons or real people was always far below what Hoseok and the dayshift would have to deal with - that was part of the reason you chose to take over the night shift. It was a bit more time consuming with just you, but hopefully Hoseok will find someone to replace Chanyeol before the New Year.

You hear a faint bang down the corridor and you pause. You’ve heard bumps like this before, mostly when it would rain and the tree by the ramp outside would hit the window. Rain wasn’t on the forecast for the evening, but that had never stopped it before. Not so easily scared, you continue on down the hall, stopping at the end of the hall when you hear it again.

“What the fuck…?” You say to yourself, a slight shake in your voice. The bang sounds again and you reach for your flashlight, it being the only protection against intruders.

In the three years you’ve worked as a security guard, you’ve never had a break in. Even before you, there had never once been an attempt by anyone to steal anything. In reality, the alarms should’ve gone off by now if someone had made their way into the museum. That meant that someone was smart enough to get past the security system, or you were going crazy.

You really hope you’re going crazy.

You make your way down the hallway, following the bumps and bangs into the Ancient Dynasties exhibit. The gate is locked - it hasn’t been unlocked since you left the room at midnight - but the noise isn’t one easily mistaken.

Against your better judgement you unlock the gate, stepping in and leaving the gate cracked behind you. If you needed a quick escape, then you wanted to be able to yank it closed as well. The noises cease as soon as you’re completely past the gate, sending an ominous chill up your spine. At a glance, nothing in the room seems out of place. Nothing looks to have been moved or damaged, but that does little to settle your unease.

“This is normal...everything is normal.” You say to yourself, trying to trick yourself into having the courage to move forward.

You spot the necklace in it’s spot close to the sarcophagus. It’s glass remains intact, just like every other item within the exhibit’s walls. It would make sense for someone to come after it considering it’s value, yet there it remains untouched.

“So where did the banging come fr-Agh!” You scream as the sarcophagus lid bursts open, falling to the floor in front of it and ripping the ropes connected to the wall right out.

Inside the now open casket, the ancient king covered in tattered, dusty cloth rolls his head. You can see his mouth move from underneath the dirt as he yawns. His arms raise to stretch in front of him, the mummy taking one step out of his box.

You can only stand in shock as you watch what happens in front of you. You had to be dreaming. There was no way you were actually awake witnessing a dead king coming to life in front of you. This had to be some sort of sick joke from Yoongi for calling him short. Maybe Johnny for calling him out in front of that group of fourth graders. Someone has to be messing with you.

The mummy turns his head to you and your breath hitches. You’ve never wanted to have seen The Mummy so much in one moment than this one, wishing you knew what exactly to do in this situation. You wish your feet would move, but they’re planted so firmly to the ground that they feel more like cement than limbs.

The monster before you takes a step in your direction, and you scream. You will yourself to move back, but you can’t stop yourself from stumbling over your own feet. You trip and land on your bottom, your body not even registering the pain as you attempt to scoot back away from the danger that continues to follow after you.

Every step he takes is another scream that releases from your lungs, your fear getting the best of you. It isn’t until your back hits the large display case that helps to divide the room that you realize you have nowhere else to go. You turn your head away, preparing yourself for whatever is about to come.

But nothing does.

You take a peek at the tall being before you and notice that he’s stopped moving, towering over your cowering form with his head tilted. His mouth opens and sounds come out, but his speech is muffled by the bandages. He seems to realize this though as his bandaged hands fly to his face.

You watch him pat around his face and neck until he finds a loose cloth, pulling it out and beginning the process of unwrapping his face. You watch in horror, unsure if the image before you will haunt you forever or not. To see what’s left of a 1,000 year old decomposed body that’s been “preserved” was something you never thought you would ever have to bear witness to. Hopefully, your therapist for this experience will understand.

If you get that far.

However, you weren’t expecting to see a full head of healthy brown hair appear as he went, nor did you expect to see healthy, tanned skin be freed from the confines as well. Brown eyes meet yours and a smile is uncovered, “Hello.”

“Hi...” You blink rapidly, hoping if you do it enough times your vision will clear, but the man in front of you still half-covered in gauze doesn’t disappear. You shake your head, “Am I awake?”

“You are as awake as I am.” He says with a pleasant smile.

“That’s not a very reassuring answer...” You can’t help but stare at him in awe and wonder just how this was happening. Of course, Taehyung had told you countless times about this supposed curse or whatever it was, but you thought it was all just a hoax your ancestors believed in. There is no possible way that you are actually awake and experiencing reincarnation or rebirth or whatever this is firsthand.

“Ow!” You feel a pinch on your calf, pulling you from your thoughts and back to the matter at hand. Or more specifically, the person before you.

“Well, did you feel that?” He asks. In your dazed state, you hadn’t noticed the man bend to your level and reach out to pinch you with rag covered fingers. The dust and mold leave a stain on your work pants and you can’t help but frown in disgust, “Yeah. Yeah, unfortunately I did.”

“You must be frightened and confused. Allow me to introduce myself-” He bows his head to you from where he kneels on the floor, “-I am King Kim Namjoon of Korea.” He looks back up and smiles bright, showcasing his dimples, “It is my pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

You tilt your head in confusion at his choice of words, “I’m sorry, you’ve been waiting for me? I don’t understand.”

“Are you not aware of our bond?” He asks, tilting his own head to the side.

Of course you know about his bond, it’s all that Taehyung has ever told you about! His necklace was gifted by the moon goddess so that when his soulmate touches it, he’ll wake up and they’l-

It takes you a moment to realize that he believes you to be his long lost soulmate, and you’re ready to spiral into another frenzy when you do, “No…”

Soulmates aren’t real. Nobody just walks around and bumps into their soulmate on the street. They don’t hear their voice in the back of their heads. They don’t wait over 1,000 years to be matched with a fucking dead guy.

“No.” You repeat, more confident in yourself.

“I understand you may be confused as to what this all must mean, but I’ll explain it to you-” Namjoon tries to reach out to you again, but you’re quick to push him away this time.

You stand from the floor in a rush and take two steps towards the center of the room where the two display cases separate and show a clear path to the exhibit’s only exit, “No, you won’t. Please return to your box.”

He stands up after you but stops when he sees you step back again, “But we’re destined to be together!”

“Destiny isn’t real! This-” You gesture with both hands from you to him, “-isn’t real!”

“Our bond is as real as you and I!” He argues. You can feel the want and passion dripping from his voice. It isn’t hard to tell how much he truly believes you’re his soulmate, but he’s dead wrong - no pun intended. “I’ve spent so long waiting for you.”

“Nope.” It didn’t matter how many times he flashes you that lovestruck look. Soulmates weren’t real, and whatever is going on in front of you isn’t real either, “This isn’t happening.” You turn away from him, resorting to pacing out your frustrations instead of voicing them.

Namjoon watches you with a disappointed frown and slumped shoulders, “Well, this isn’t how this was supposed to happen.” He mumbles.

You attempt to calm your breathing, pleading with your rationale to find some way - any way - to explain what’s happening. The whole interaction felt like a crazy fever dream that manifested on the worst day of a cold. They’re always weird, but they’re never this realistic.

You turn back around to address the not-so-dead king and yelp when you see him pulling at his wrap, “What are you doing?!” You ask as he tugs and pulls at the rotten fabric.

Namjoon looks up, pausing his ministrations to give you an answer, “I’m removing these incessant wrappings.”

He returns to his unwrapping, leaving you to watch him as he goes. He wasn’t naked - thankfully - but you weren’t prepared for him to immediately unwrap himself. In all honesty, you wanted him to wrap himself back up and return to his box. Fortunately for you, under his wrappings he wears a loose white shirt and loose tan pants, his shoes long forgotten.

When he finally frees himself, he takes a moment to look around the room. His gaze trails over the walls, “What is this place? Why are we not in my tomb?”

“You’re in a museum.” You explain, watching closely to gauge his reaction. In a way, he wasn’t really that old in retrospect, but you doubt he’d seen a museum before.

He turns to look at you, just as confused as you expected him to be, “What is that?”

You shrug, “It’s a place where people go to see old things and art.”

Namjoon breaks into a smile, a red tint coloring his cheeks, “I wouldn’t say I’m art.”

“I didn’t.” You say, causing Namjoon’s face to drop just the slightest.

He’s quick to mask his disappointment with a polite smile. Turning to the side of the case he stands on, he looks back to the exhibit around him. He looks up and his eyes trail over the lights above him, “What dynasty is this?” He asks.

“Uh...the capitalist dynasty?” You reply, unsure of what you would call this era of time. Namjoon looks confused and you sigh, “You’re in the 21st century.”

“Fascinating…” He takes a long look over the glass case a few feet in front of him - the one that holds the crown made for his queen - before he moves forward, reaches out, and swipes a hand over top of it, collecting a thin sheen of dust on his fingertips.

“Don’t do that!” You rush forward and grab his wrist, pulling it away in fear of the alarm going off. Anybody who even got too close to it should set it off, yet no siren wails at his touch. The alarms had been set by Hoseok himself, so they have to be broken if neither of you were setting it off, “What…?”

“Can I have my arm back, or is this a new rude custom I’m unaware of?” Namjoon asks, staring at the place on his wrist your hand holds hostage.

“No, just-...” You release his arm and take a breath as a poor attempt to remain calm, “-just don’t touch anything.”

“We’ll need to touch the case to get your necklace so we can return to my home together.” He says as if what he suggested was completely normal for him.

You’re once again taken aback by his words, unsure if you heard him correctly or not, “I’m sorry?” You ask.

“We’re soulmates,” He explains, “It’s only natural for you to come live with me, so we can spend our days together.”

“We will not be going anywhere together!” You tell him. You step forward and grab him by the shoulders, turning him around so he faces his sarcophagus. You attempt to push him, “You will be staying here in your box, and you’re going to go back to sleep.”

Namjoon fights against your attempts, digging his feet into the hardwood floor beneath him. He scowls at the realization of what you’re trying to do, “Did you not hear what I said earlier? You are my destined lover. That’s how this is supposed to work!”

“And I told you that destiny isn’t real!” You argue, now using your shoulder to push all of your weight against him.

Namjoon turns to face you, causing you to lose your balance and fall forward. Namjoon grabs your arms before you can fall to the floor, using this opportunity to hold you close, “Is my life not enough proof for you?”

Dark brown eyes bore into your own, his sincerity written all over his features. You can tell he’s hurt, but you can’t help but continue to fight against him, “I don’t know! I’m still trying to process everything that’s happening right now!”

“As soon as we leave, I will explain everything to you in much greater detail.” He says, now offering a smile. However, leaving with him is the last thing you wish to do.

You push away from him and take a few steps back towards the exhibit's entrance, “We are not leaving.”

“I am a king, I have wealth beyond your wildest dreams! I can take care of you and it is my job to do so.” He reaches out and takes you by your wrist, “We’re going!”

“I don’t even know you!” You yell, pulling your arm away from him once more and stepping closer towards the exit behind you.

Namjoon looks annoyed, but he takes a deep breath before he continues to try and pursued you, “Why don’t you allow us to get to know each other then? At least tell me your name.”

“Just-” You pause, unsure of what you should even do. You take a few more steps back and he follows, “Stay there!” You demand, raising a finger to him. He does as told - whether he wishes to or not - and allows you to take a few more steps back until you catch sight of the gate in your peripherals. As long as he stays where he is, you could slip out without him, “Good.”

Namjoon, however, takes offense to you keeping your distance from him. This was no way to treat a king, especially ‘your’ king nonetheless, “Do not speak to me as if I am a child! I am a king, may I remind you.”

“You may. But may I also remind you that your rule ended over 1,000 years ago and you no longer hold any power.” You say, watching the frown on his features deepen into a scowl. With every minute that passes, his calm exterior continues to break, showing you his true nature. You take this moment of weakness against him and reach for his exhibit key on your belt, “I, however, am in charge of this museum after hours, so you have to listen to me.”

“I am a man-” He tries to argue, but you’re quick to shut his misogyny down.

“-And I am a woman,” You retort, thumbing through the labeled keys. Hoseok always made fun of you for trying to organize them, but it looks like the jokes on him. Not that he would really believe you if you told him.

“Your man card doesn’t work in this age, so try something else, your highness~” You tease.

Namjoon crosses his arms over his chest and glares, “You have quite the tongue when you’re not screaming.”

“Thank you, I get it from my grandmother. Now-” You slip through the crack you left in the gate and pull it close, pulling his key from it’s retractable clip and locking him in, “-go back to sleep.”

He blinks a few times before he moves towards you. He places his hands on the bars and pulls at them, but they don’t budge under him. His eyes widen in shock and he turns to you, “Did you just lock me in here?”

“I did.” You nod, smug smile and all.

“Unlock it. Now.” He demands, tightening his hold on the bars.

“Hm…” You pretend to contemplate his request, tapping a finger against your chin before you come to a fake decision, “No.”

“You insolent girl!” Namjoon yells, banging his fists against the gate that holds him.

You step back with wide eyes, stunned by his sudden outburst. You knew you were making him angry, but not this angry, “Wow, that’s one way to talk to your apparent soulmate.”

“I’ve been pleasant long enough! It’s time for you to accept the truth and let. Me. Out!” He demands.

You shake your head, “I don’t think I will.”

“You’re being unreasonable.” He huffs.

Staring at him through the bars, you take in his features. He’s angry, that much is clear. But there’s something else about him that just seems more hurt than anything. You don’t want to feel bad for him, but you have to give him credit where it’s due.

You release an exasperated sigh, “Look, I’m sorry, okay? This is probably hard for you and...a fever dream for me-” Fever dream is perhaps the most lax way to describe this experience, “-but I think your necklace chose the wrong person.”

Namjoon stiffens and he almost looks offended at your assumption, “The moon goddess is never wrong.”

“Well, this time she is,” You insist.

“So what do you expect me to do?” He asks.

You shrug, “I’d prefer it if you went back into your box.”

“You want me to live my life in a box? After I’ve already spent so much time in it?!” He asks.

“Yes! No...I-” You’re unsure of what to say. On one hand, you feel a bit guilty asking him to return to a box he’s spent 1,000 years in. He died once, believing that when he woke he’d be greeted by his one true love. Instead he woke up to you screaming at him.

But on the other hand, he was supposed to be dead.

You sigh, “I don’t know what I want, but I can’t deal with-...” You raise your hands, grasping at the air before gesturing to him, “-this.”

The king looks offended, but he holds his tongue. Instead he crosses his arms and straightens his posture, “Well, I will not be going back in that box.”

“Wha-?” You cut yourself off, in disbelief of this man’s stubbornness. You huff, “Then go find your palace or wherever you lived before!”

He shakes his head, “I won’t leave if you refuse to leave with me.”

“Then you better get used to your view, because this is all you’ll be seeing!” You state, finally having enough of him. You turn on your heel and begin to walk away, something you should have done when you first came up to the exhibit.

“You’ll come to realize that our intertwined fates will not go away just because you wish them to!” He calls after you, his voice echoing off the walls around you, “And then you’ll be crawling back to me!”

When you continue walking and refuse to answer him, he yells again, “At least let me explore!”

“Not happening!” You call over your shoulder.

“This is humiliating! You can’t do this!” You hear him rattling the gate again, but you pay him no mind. “Come back here, you insolent child!”

You bypass every other exhibit that you were supposed to check, instead rushing back to the safety of your office. Once you’re in you bolt the door behind you, just in case anything else in the building decided it needed to come to life as well. You drop yourself in your office chair and take a moment to yourself, giving yourself time to take in all of the events that just transpired.

The mummy from the new exhibit just came to life, you were somehow able to talk to him without passing out, he thinks you’re his soulmate, and now he’s upset with you because you locked him in his exhibit that he shouldn’t be freely roaming in.

You turn to your monitor and switch through feeds until you find Namjoon’s exhibit. He’s still standing by the closed gate, his hands slipped through the bars to try and fiddle with the lock. His posture that he once held with you is lacking, not as pristine as it was before. You can’t help but watch him with pity as his attempts to get out continue to fail.

But you can’t bring yourself to go back before the night ends.

30 minutes before the morning shift was due to come in, you use the intercom to tell Namjoon he’d have to return to his sarcophagus for the day. You couldn’t hear him, but you didn’t need a microphone to know he was not only confused but also very unhappy about that. You managed to convince him by informing him they would take him away to rot in a cell without you if he didn’t, and that seemed to kick him into gear.

Thankfully, he didn’t need your help making it back to his bed or putting the cover on top. You were not about to go down to his exhibit. Especially when the room itself looked completely untouched on the camera. The ropes that had been torn from the wall were back in their place as if nothing had ever happened, and the wrappings the King decided to discard were nowhere to be seen.

After that, you sat and waited for the morning shift to come and take over for you. You said good morning to all of your coworkers, and then you left. You went home and you went to bed, but waking again didn’t feel like a new experience. The looming feeling of knowing what awaits when you get to work again haunts you until your once again clearing the exhibits for the night.

You make it to the exhibit that has weighed you down for the past 12 hours and you hesitate to step inside. Clearing the room and locking it up will start the night, and then you’re left with the chances of seeing him again. Seeing him again means that everything you saw last night wasn’t a joke, and that you really have a living mummy in your museum.

What’s worse is he thinks you're his true love.

You come across Taehyung, once again sitting on the bench in front of the king’s sarcophagus. He wears a loose white button down and a pair of black dress pants, balancing a sketch pad on his thigh. He attempts to draw the exhibits main attraction with the altar that took weeks to create. If only he knew the object of his affections was alive and well only 15 feet away from him.

“Having fun there?” You ask, sitting next to the fashionable curator.

He takes a moment to answer, defining a line on his paper before he acknowledges you, “I always do when I’m here with Namjoon-hyung.” You roll your eyes at his use of ‘hyung’ and he chuckles. He turns his attention back to his paper, “Did you have a good rest of your night?”

You feel every bone in your body tense at the mention of the previous night. Last night was almost an out of body experience for you, and there was no real way to describe what you went through.

You shrug, “It was okay, same old same old.”

“That’s good! I’m glad you’re doing well here on your own at night.” He looks up from his shading and sets his pencil down, his expression becoming somber, “It must be hard without Chanyeol.”

“Yeah, it can be...” Working without Chanyeol really wasn’t any worse than working together. The only thing is now your new coworker is a 1,000 year old un-dead guy, but that’s a little much to explain, “But it’s fine! It really isn’t that strenuous on me at all.”

He smiles at your response and turns to look at his drawing, “I guess I’m holding you up aren’t I?”

You want to tell him more than anything that today you want him to stay just a little longer. Today is the day you want to hear all about every exhibit in the museum. More than anything, you just don’t want to face Namjoon alone, but no one would believe you if you told them the truth. So instead, you hum in agreement.

“Alright, I’ll get out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow!” Once again, you watch him pack up and dance his way out of the exhibit. Only today you follow close behind, locking the king’s exhibit and rushing to the next - much more normal - exhibit.

---

It’s surreal to watch Namjoon through a screen. Sure, seeing him the other night was an experience, but to see that your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you is another trip entirely! With Namjoon truly existing, that leads you to really question his claims. You did touch the necklace, but so had plenty of others. Not to mention, it took him almost 3 hours after you’d touched it to wake up, so who’s to say that Taehyung isn’t his true soulmate? Even Yoongi could be!

Anyone but you.

He’s much more different now that he’s ‘chilled out’ from last night’s events. He’s no longer pacing back and forth or banging on his exhibit’s gate - though he has tried to pull it open once or twice. Now, he just sits on the bench where you had sat with Taehyung, only he sits facing away from his final resting place.

He looks to be in deep thought, as if he’s contemplating something as he stares ahead of him. You like him better this way, calm and quiet instead of trying too hard to convince you to run away with him. This king you could babysit until he fell back asleep as he should’ve been in the first place.

With him seemingly content, you allow yourself to work on other things you’d normally do throughout the night. You mainly focus on the online coursework you didn’t get done due to the distraction on the screen in front of you, organizing your office in between assignments. You don’t really pay any mind to your cameras until you catch movement coming from Namjoon’s.

On the screen, he appears to be waving his arms and yelling, resembling those people you see on TV when someone gets injured. You can’t help but sigh. You’ve been putting off your rounds just so you wouldn’t have to go by his exhibit for him to accost you, now you didn’t have a choice but to go see what was troubling him before he broke something.

You grab your flashlight and tuck it into its place on your belt clip, leaving the safety of your office to see what his majesty so desperately needs from you. It must be desperate if he’s yelling for the entire city to hear. You quicken your pace to get there faster, hopefully before anybody besides you has the chance to hear his cries.

“Soulmate!” He yells, his voice clear as day as you reach level 3, “Come here! I demand your presence!”

“If you don’t stop yelling for everyone to hear you, then I’m going to turn around and leave you alone!” You yell back, assuming he hears you when the yelling doesn’t continue. You make it to the gate of his exhibit and find him waiting for you with his arms crossed, no longer as relaxed as he was when the night began.

“What?” You ask, stopping in front of him.

He doesn’t give you the pleasure of knowing right away. Instead, he looks you up and down with a hard glare, “You didn’t bring me food.”

“That’s what you’re yelling about?” You ask in disbelief.

Namjoon takes offense to your indifference, “Yes! For your information, I am very hungry for someone who hasn’t eaten in over 1,000 years.”

In hindsight, you’d most likely be a little angry too if you hadn’t eaten in so long as well - though it’s not really an excuse for his behavior last night. But explaining why an unconscious guy was chilling on the floor of a locked exhibit with security footage showing him coming out of the sarcophagus would not be fun for anyone involved.

“I’ll be right back.” You leave him to run back to the break room, grabbing the prepackaged lunch you had bought for yourself, a pair of disposable chopsticks, and a banana milk that you kept stashed behind Hoseok’s forgotten lunchbox before heading back up.

Namjoon gives you a strange look when you come back, his eyes trained on the box in your hand, “What is that?”

“It was my lunch, but you probably need this more than me.” You look for the key to his exhibit on your belt, sifting through until you find the right label and pull it up to unlock the gate. You pause before turning the lock, “Move back to the case.”

“Really?” Namjoon asks, his eyes narrowed in a glare. You return your own glare until he finally gives in and takes the steps back to the case as you asked him to, “Happy?”

You nod and turn the lock over, opening the gate and slipping inside with the food you brought for him. You hand him the lunchbox and the milk before you reach into your back pocket for the chopsticks, “Sorry if it’s not what you’re used to, but this is all I’ve got-”

“-There’s no need.” He raises a hand to stop you - an action that irks you to no end - and sits on the floor with the food you’ve given him. You watch as he struggles with the tape that holds it together, holding back your laughter when he manages to get it off the box and stuck to his fingers instead. He seems to relax when he rubs it off on the floor, but his next challenge comes when he opens the packet of chopsticks and there’s only one inside, “What this?!”

“I’m going to assume you’ve never seen this before.” You bend down to his level to take the chopsticks from him, holding each one and pulling them apart to create two, perfectly good chopsticks. You bite back a laugh when you see the amazement written across Namjoon’s face, “Pretty cool, yeah?”

“Very…” He says. You hand him the chopsticks, watching with amusement as he tries to fit them back together. One drops and he fumbles to catch it before he realizes you’re still watching him, quickly using the utensils to shove food in his mouth as a distraction.

“Here.” Not wanting him to embarrass himself further, you take his banana milk and open it for him, setting it beside him while he eats. He takes a moment to take a sip and his eyes widen in surprise.

“What is this?” He asks, holding the bottle close to his face to inspect the label.

You shrug, “It’s just banana milk.”

“Well, it tastes fantastic!” He tilts his head back and chugs the rest of it, wiping his mouth before turning back to you with the same expression of a puppy ready to play, “Is there more?”

“Uh…” You hesitate to answer, afraid he’ll try to boss you around again, “Yeah, we do.”

“Bring me-!” He stops when he sees your expression sour. Instead, he clears his throat and bows his head, “If you wouldn’t mind, could I please have another?”

“Sure thing.” You smile, and he smiles back. It wasn’t much, but it felt like an understanding after the fiasco that happened the night before.

So, you rush back while he continues eating, grabbing two more banana milks and a bag of chips for you to munch on yourself. When you come back, you’re not surprised to see that he’s finished his food and left the box laying on the floor with the empty milk container. You want to be upset with him for just leaving his trash lying around, but it’s hard to be mad at him when he’s trying so hard to work the kiosk.

“This infernal contraption doesn’t work!” He yells, hitting the top of it as if that would somehow make it work. Of course, he’s not the only person to try this - you’ve seen many middle aged men try to do the same thing when you close - but it would only prove to break if he didn’t dial it back.

“Don’t do that!” You rush to his side and push his hands away, blocking him from touching the kiosk any more. “You can’t just hit things and expect them to work. That’s not how people solve their problems.”

“Well, it doesn’t have a mouth, so how am I supposed to talk to it?” He questions.

“Okay…” You heave a sigh and grab the headphones that rest on the kiosk’s base, a pair for you and a pair for Namjoon. You place yours on your head and then move to place Namjoon’s over his ears. He flinches away from your touch and you pull back a bit, “It’s okay, I’m just going to show you how this works.”

He relaxes, bowing his head so you can place the headphones over his ears. Once they’re well adjusted, you tap the screen of the kiosk to bring it to life. You read through the options designed for the exhibit, choosing to let it read through information about Namjoon himself.

“The Kim Dynasty-” The woman’s voice fills both of your ears, scaring Namjoon so much that he jumps back and his headphones clang to the floor.

His scared expression is priceless, eyes wide and hands raised to defend himself. You laugh, picking up his headphones and extending them to him, “That’s supposed to happen.”

“How is it doing that? Is there a woman trapped in each of these?” He asks, eyeing the other kiosks that line the wall beside the one you share.

You shake your head, “It’s called a recording. They made a copy of her voice and put it in here so the people that come here can learn more about you.”

“Oh…” He accepts your answer and the headphones in your hand, “I see the moon goddess has been very busy.”

“Here.” You grab his hand and fix it so his pointer finger sticks out, guiding his hand so it presses lightly against the glass to select a different option. A new section of Namjoon’s life begins to play and Namjoon seems impressed by the ‘power’ he holds in one appendage. “This is called a touch-screen. You just have to tap the buttons on the screen and it’ll change.”

He nods, staring intently at the screen before him. He tilts his head and taps the little home button at the top left, surprised when the screen changes from a video to the screen it started on. He smiles, his dimples popping out as he chooses another option, “This is amazing!”

His smile is infectious, as well as his eagerness to learn more about the technology in front of him, “I’ll just leave you to play with that for a bit, I have a job to do.”

“Yes! Okay.” He waves you off, paying more attention to the kiosk than to you.

You lock the gate behind you when you leave, though it doesn’t seem like Namjoon even took notice of either action. Even after you rush through your duties to come back to him sooner, he’s still playing with the same kiosk with a child’s enthusiasm.

“You’re really enjoying yourself.” You muse, standing off to the side behind him.

Namjoon nods, his fingers still dancing across the screen, “This technology is amazing! If only we had this in my dynasty. I can only imagine the advantages we would have had.”

You nod in agreement, “Yeah, it definitely comes in handy. Though, a lot of people believe it’s made us weaker as a society.”

“I can see why. Everything I could ever want to know about myself is right here at my fingertips,” He says, scrolling through the different options he could look through. He comes across a picture of himself and grimaces, “I wish they would have used a different portrait.”

You chuckle in amusement, “Well, if you’re not having my trouble, then I‘m going to get back to my office.” You go to leave the room again when Namjoon grabs you by the arm.

“Wait!” He yells, pulling you back to him. It takes him a second to realize what he did before he let’s go, “Sorry!”

“It’s fine.” You mumble.

“I just-...” The king pauses, taking a moment to collect himself, “I wanted to know if I could look at more exhibits tomorrow?”

His eyes look down into yours, so hopeful for a good answer. You’re unsure, “I don’t know…” You want to say yes to him, but there’s so much at stake if you were to let him walk around on his own. Granted, he couldn’t trip the alarms, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t break anything.

“I won’t touch anything, I swear!” He promises, both of his hands reaching out to take your own. He holds them to his chest, lightly cradling against the fabric of his shirt as he begs you, “I just don’t want to spend the rest of my time sitting in this room when there’s so much more around me.”

That gets you.

If there was one thing you could understand, it was being somewhere new with so much knowledge that you just had to know more. For someone like Namjoon, this was more than that. He had a whole world to try to come to terms with, and he was standing in the best place to do so. If you denied him that, then would you be able to deal with it?

“Tomorrow.” You say, “I’ll let you explore the museum tomorrow.”

Namjoon’s eyes light up and it looks like a weight is lifted right off of his shoulders. He doesn’t hesitate to bow to you, “Thank you, soulmate.”

“It’s not the whole museum!” You add quickly, “And my name is (Y/n).” He seems unhappy at first, but he does eventually nod to give his thanks where it was due. You give a polite bow back, “You’re welcome.”

The next night comes all too quickly for you. Leaving him alone to explore was more than nerve wracking. You were probably out of your mind for even considering letting him out on his own, let alone trusting him in the first place. Sitting in your office you’d check the camera’s every few minutes just to be sure he was still in the hall, or you’d pinpoint his last location and make your final round of the museum according to how he’d walk through the halls.

That first night, Namjoon only went through his exhibit and the rest of level 3. Occasionally you’d catch him playing with a water fountain on the camera’s in front of the bathroom. Another time you caught him turning towards a planter and you quickly changed screens, reminding yourself to open a bathroom for him for the next night.

As two more nights pass, you notice his want to get closer to the exhibits than to just sit on the outside. More often than not, you caught him with his face pressed against the metal bars trying to get a closer look at everything. It wasn’t hard to tell that he wanted to be in the room with the art itself, but a part of you is still worried to let him have that extra inch.

It’s only on the 5th night when Taehyung takes notice of your woes that you change your mind.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, leaning over himself on the bench to look at you. You sit with your hands in your lap just staring at Namjoon in front of you, wondering if you can really trust him to continue keeping his word. You don’t notice Taehyung, nor do you hear his question. He rolls his eyes and taps your knee twice, “Hey!”

“Huh?” You blink away your thoughts and turn your attention to him. Unaware of what he asked, you tilt your head in confusion, “What?”

Taehyung hums to himself and nods, “I’m right, something is wrong with you.”

“What do you mean something’s wrong with me?” You ask defensively.

Taehyung sighs and shows you his watch, showing you that it’s 5 minutes past weekday closing time, “This is the longest you’ve let me sit here rambling to myself. 10 minutes past our normal time!”

You shake your head, content to push him away, “I’m just a bit distracted, that’s all.”

“By what? Is it a work problem? Family troubles? You can tell me, I’ll listen!” He assures you.

You have no doubt in your mind that he will listen to you, but how do you explain your situation is the real problem at hand. There were only so many excuses in the world, and if you weren’t careful you might get yourself fired just for using a bad analogy.

You weigh your options and sigh, “My niece - she’s really little and way too rambunctious to come here - really wants to come and see the art on display. I want her to come see where I work because I know she likes the art, but I know my sister is worried about her breaking something or causing a scene.”

“Hmm...I see.” Taehyung hums, not showing any sign of suspicion against you. He really thinks about your ‘concern’ before he comes to a conclusion. “I think she should come and see.”

“Really?” You ask.

He nods, “Yeah! It’s best to let children experience art and it’s creativity for themselves! Even young children have an eye for art, and those who truly appreciate it only want to see it up close to see every detail.”

“I guess that does make sense…” Thinking about it, he does have a point. Namjoon may be from a different moment in time, but he’s still a grown adult.

Taehyung seems to sense your uncertainty and places a calming hand on your knee, “Art isn’t meant to be viewed from afar. It’s made to make us feel emotion.” He explains, “Even the most unlikely of patrons can find something that makes them appreciate art.”

Even after your talk is finished and you’ve left Namjoon’s exhibit unlocked for him to let himself out, you’re still debating your next course of action. There’s a big risk in letting him roam through the exhibits, but you can’t in good conscience let him sit around doing nothing forever.

You find Namjoon on level 4, his face pressed against the bars of the Apparel Through the Ages exhibit. You sneak up behind him and clear your throat, “Good evening, your highness.”

Namjoon stumbles back, not expecting you to be there. It’s amusing to watch him scramble into a more respectable position with his hands behind his back. He glances your way, “Have you come around already?”

“No, I haven’t,” You say. You pull at the keys on your belt and jingle them, “I’ve come to open an exhibit for you.”

“What?” He’s surprised, “Will you really?”

“Someone told me that those who appreciate art want to take in all the details they can.” It didn’t take a genius to see that Namjoon wants to see more than he can see at the exhibit’s gates. An old soul like his could probably use some new perspective, “You choose the exhibit and I’ll unlock it.”

“Any of them?” He asks.

You nod, “Just lead the way.”

The light in his eyes that you saw the night before comes back and it relaxes you for some reason. Even as he takes your wrist to lead you down the hall to the exhibit he wants to see, it’s as if he’s two different people. It’s almost confusing how quickly his demeanor changes with you. When he doesn’t get what he wants, he becomes a child. Yet the moment you offer something new - something for him to learn about - it’s as if he’s just a child at heart.

When you open the Animal Kingdom exhibit on level 2 for him you’re thrown for another loop. He only gives you a simple thanks and walks away, leaving you to question if he’s just inherently an asshole or if he’s just petty. Even as you come back around from your rounds to close up for the night, he still seems to flip back and forth with his own personality and his thanks.

You go home that morning confused and on a mission. You throw the notion of sleep out the window and settle onto your couch with a cup of coffee and your laptop, determined to know more about this so-called King that intends to ruin your life little by little.

A simple Google search brings you many results, ranging in portraits and newspaper articles to biographies written by renowned historians. You click on the first link available, taking you to a page drowning in photos and art. It would seem that even in life, Namjoon enjoyed surrounding himself with art.

His portraits were absolutely breathtaking - you could understand his disappointment now that you’ve seen more than just the one - and the pictures they showcase of his palace are surrounded in flowers and gorgeous statement pieces littered across the grounds. It’s surprising to read that they’ve remained there for so long without any disturbances. You would have thought they’d taken one or two lawn pieces like they had taken Namjoon, yet they remain in their home without any signs of distress to them.

You take another long sip of coffee and move onto another page, checking out a more informative website. This one goes into detail about his life as a prince and as a king. You discover that he became king at the young age of 17 when his parents sadly passed away during an ambush to the throne. Apparently, he changed over half of the Kingdom’s laws the very next day and saw to every change in policy himself. It only took him 3 months to get the people of his kingdom to trust in him and his guidance, which - according to the article - was a big feat for his time.

You’re surprised to read about his contributions to his people. He strongly encouraged his people to progress forward and bring him their concerns, he housed over 30 children in his home at one time because they had no homes to go to and he even had a sort of sanctuary for animals to be cared for under his watch. He oversaw their historians writing, ensuring that they put every detail on paper. Even his failures were written down under his careful eye, despite his power to erase them from future generations

This Namjoon was so kind and caring. He was so well educated and well-spoken, and he was loved by all of his people for his generosity and understanding nature. How is it that a man who was known for being so kind, could be the same man who bossed you around and demanded that you spend the rest of your life with him?

How is it that a guy who sounds so sweet on paper can be a total dick in real life?

* * *

After hours of research with no sleep and a cold shower to wake you up, you find yourself standing in front of Namjoon with a copy of The Little Prince tucked on top of the food you’ve brought him for the night.

Namjoon accepts the food, taking the boxed lunch with one hand so he can pick up the book with the other. He inspects it carefully, flipping it over a few times to look it over, “What’s this?”

“I did a little research on you, your highness. According to historians and the internet, you were quite the avid reader.” You’d read a lot about Namjoon, and every website you visited gave you list upon list of books read by him when he was still alive and well. They all spoke of his fascination for fantasy novels and those with deeper meanings behind them. The Little Prince seemed like a no brainer to you when it came to more relevant novels to fit his tastes. “I figured you might get bored sooner or later, so I brought you something to pass the time until you fall asleep again.”

“You know that’s not how the enchantment works, yes?” He asks.

You think about it for a moment before you reply, “No, I don’t know that. Do you?”

“I-” Namjoon is at a loss for your teasing words. Instead he frowns and turns his nose,“It doesn’t matter if I’ve seen it happen! I trust the moon goddess!”

“Mhmm, whatever you say~” You laugh, much to his annoyance. Namjoon sits down to eat his food and you take that as a sign for you to continue doing your job, “Enjoy your book and your food.”

You go to leave, but the king calls after you, “Can’t you stay here? Keep me company?”

You pause. His company wasn’t terrible, but you don’t want to stay and risk giving him a sense of false hope. He was still over 1,000 years old, and you were still a broke college student trying to pay her way through life. You’ve never been the type to play with someone’s emotions, and you weren’t going to start now.

“That’s not in my job description.” You say. You almost regret your choice when you see his sad expression, but you steel yourself, “Have a good night.”

You leave him, not coming back until you’re making a lap on your rounds. And there - sitting against one of the large display cases - sits Namjoon with the book held loosely in his hands, his face holding a look of pure concentration and a ghost of a smile. He looks so peaceful and content sitting cross-legged on the hard wood of his exhibit, you almost feel bad for asking him to return to his sarcophagus. But that night he goes willingly.

And you can’t help but notice the glow of the necklace on your way out.

---

“Hey-!” You turn your head away from the water fountain, hearing Jimin’s voice call down the already noisy hall. You spy him at the entrance of the gift shop, but his attention is on a girl passing by who’s turned to look at him as well. He holds a box in his hand, but you can’t see what’s inside from where you stand. “Have you seen our new merchandise that just came in?”

“Uh...no, I haven’t.” The girl seems slightly uncomfortable. Either from his approach from the gift shop for her to buy something, or just from a guy who looks like Jimin approaching her - you don’t know which.

You walk closer to the gift shop, curious yourself about the mystery box in Jimin’s hands.

“This - my lovely lady - is our newest piece of jewelry.” He opens the box and you catch a glimmer of silver and fuschia, “The necklace of King Kim Namjoon’s lost lover.”

Her face lights up initially when she sees it, but then her face drops and she shakes her head, “Oh, no, thank you.”

“You don’t want to buy it?” He asks. Jimin pouts and you can feel the immediate distress coming off the poor girl he’s talking to.

“It’s pretty, but it’s a little expensive…” She tries to explain her situation - whether it’s true or not - but Jimin is relentless.

He looks around the hall to make sure no one is too close to listen - all but you anyways - and gets closer to her, “But don’t you know the legend behind the necklace?”

“Of course I do! King Kim Namjoon’s soulmate is supposed to wear this necklace.” She says.

“Yes, but that’s not all!” Jimin makes a point of string into her eyes, unwilling to break their eye contact, “Legend says he prayed to the moon goddess herself to find his true love and she gifted him with her own special moonstone to guide his other half to him!”

He moves closer, so that the two are almost shoulder to shoulder just so he can give her a closer view of the product, “These pink stones are pieces of the King’s soulmate's heart, and they’ll glow brightest when his lover wears his necklace by his side!”

“Wow...that’s so romantic.” You can see her resolve breaking, and you almost feel bad for her that Jimin is the clerk on duty today.

“Do you want to know the best part?” He asks, his smile reaching his cheeks and his eyes full of mischief that resemble love almost too closely. She nods enthusiastically and Jimin brings the box closer so she can see, “This gold string that holds it altogether represents their connection to each other. It’s a bond that can’t be broken by anything in the universe.”

He carelessly throws an arm over her shoulder, just light enough to be seen as friendly. Though, it would seem the small trick is already working it’s magic on the poor thing. He squeezes her shoulder, “A lot of people believe that wearing this necklace will bring you closer to finding your own true love, so they package them with their own prayers to the moon goddess in hopes she’ll grant them eternal love as well.”

“Really?!” She asks. She looks to him as if he holds the whole universe in his hands, having been swayed by the blonde’s charm.

“Yeah!”

Just like that, you watch him lead her back to the counter and then wave her and her new treasure goodbye, holding a sticky note close to his heart.

“Should you really be lying like that?”You ask from the store’s entrance. You’re more than disappointed to see yet another girl fall for the man’s charms

Jimin shrugs, “I didn’t lie. I just stretched the truth.”

You walk up to the counter and snatch the note out of his hand, “Stretching the truth sounds a lot like lying.”

“Don’t you have a monitor to watch somewhere?” He teases. You hand him the paper back and he sticks it in his pocket, bending below the counter to grab another.

You can’t help but think about what he said, and the legend behind the real necklace. You’ve heard a lot about the real thing, but all of it usually went in one ear and out the other as myth for you. Now that you know it’s real and far from a hoax, you have so much more that you need to know.

Jimin pops back up with a stack of necklaces in his arms and sets them on the counter in front of you, pulling out a sheet of tags that go with them. You take the sheet from his hand and peel one off, handing it to him, “Can I ask you a question? About the necklace?”

“Sure, but Taehyung is the expert around here.” He says, accepting your sticker to place on the box in front of him.

“You think I don’t know that?” You laugh. You look down and peel off another one, “Is all of what you said about the necklace itself true? About the real necklace?”

“According to Taehyung it is!” He nods, not even sparing you a glance, “The moon goddess gave the King a necklace so powerful that only he and his lover could tear the bond if they chose to, but they never got the chance to meet.”

You hand him another sticker, but you stare into space as you do, “That’s...really sad.” You can’t help but think of the pain Namjoon had to go through knowing his soulmate would be by his side, but not knowing it wouldn’t be in his first lifetime. Not only that, but to wake up and then be met with someone who doesn’t even want to be his soulmate? You can’t help but think about how you’d act towards him if the roles were reversed and he were in your shoes.

You’d be devastated.

“It is.” He takes the sticker from you with one hand and flicks your forehead with the other. You flinch and pull back with your hand rubbing the spot he hit while he just smirks at you, “You would know if you ever listened to Taehyung.”

“Yeah.” You don’t even register your response before handing the sticker sheet back to Jimin and pushing off the counter, “Thanks Jimin! Have a good night, okay? Don’t call me at 2am like last week.”

“No promises~” He sings, going back to his work in front of him.

Later that night when you’re handing Namjoon his dinner, you sit with him to eat yours as well. The look Namjoon gives you as you calmly open your dinner across from him is almost too good to ignore.

“What are you doing?” He asks, slowly unboxing his own lunch.

You pay him no mind as you break apart your chopsticks to start eating, “You wanted me to keep you company, remember? Or is my presence no longer appreciated?” You pick up a clump of rice and turn your attention to him, eyebrow raised.

Namjoon is quick to shake his head and get started on his own food, “Of course it is!”

You both eat in awkward silence, neither of you quite sure how to start a normal conversation. You’ve only ever made polite talk with him, and he only ever seemed to anger you no matter what he said. The only time you were ever civil was when you would show him something new.

Namjoon swallows his food and clears his throat, “Where would you like me to escort you tonight, my lady?”

You shake your head, “First of all, don’t call me ‘your lady’ or anything else other than my name.” You warn him, pointing at the tag on your jacket. He nods and you continue with your rant, “Second, I have some rounds to do, so you can join me tonight as long as you don’t bother me too much. Understood?”

“Yes, my la-” You narrow your eyes at him and he corrects himself, “(Y/n).”

The two of you finish your food quickly with some small talk made here and there. When you’ve cleaned up, you allow Namjoon to lead you to another exhibit he’s yet to see. All the way on level 1, he wants to see art he’s more familiar with.

“So, you said you asked the moon goddess for a chance to meet your soulmate?” You ask one you’re inside the museum.

“Indeed,” Namjoon nods, listening to you as he takes in the art around him, “I prayed to her one night on a full moon and I begged her to send me a lover. Someone I could confide in and care for, and would do the same for me.”

You tilt your head in confusion, “And instead she gave you the necklace?”

“No, she gave you a way to find me.” He says, a genuine look of happiness on his face.

“Still-“ You feel a heat rising in your face and you can’t help but turn away from him out of embarrassment. Your eyes land on a painting of a couple and you feel the knife dig just a little deeper, “-you asked her for someone to rule by your side as your equal and she let fate tear you apart.”

He shrugs, “Maybe we weren’t meant to meet before now.”

His calm exterior bothers you. If you had asked for what he had, you’d be livid! He made a promise and that promise was misguided!

“How can you be so calm?” You ask, allowing your thoughts to be heard.

Namjoon stops to look at a picture of a cherry blossom in the winter, it’s petals covered in frost. He smiles, “You said you read about me from one of your current books. The internet? What do they tell you of me?”

You chuckle at his misunderstanding of what the internet truly is, “Well, the internet told me that you were a very generous and beloved king. They said you were intelligent and caring.”

He chuckles, “I’m flattered.” He looks to you with an amused smile and you elbow his side carefully, causing him to laugh, “I’m only joking!”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, sure.”

Moving on to the next painting, he follows after you, “What else did your book tell you?”

“Well, it told me about your love for the arts.” You remember the extensive biography you’d found during your research. You didn’t read it in its entirety, but you did skim through it, “I read that you would host a festival every year?”

“Yes! Just something special during the summer seasons to enlighten everyone.” He has a far away look in his eye as he recalls the fond memories of his past life, and you can only begin to wonder what a day in his life would have been like, “I’d import goods from everywhere just to have the best for my people.”

“It would seem you’re truly generous, your majesty~” You tease.

“Namjoon.” He corrects you. You give him a quizzical stare and he only smiles in return, “If I’m to call you by your more common title, then you should feel free to use mine. I am attempting to woo you after all.”

“Right.” You smile awkwardly, remembering that you were actually trying to give him a chance. You’d actually been comfortable for once, that you hadn’t even noticed just how easy it had become to talk to him.

“And to really answer your question of why I am as calm as I am,” He pauses in front of a portrait of a town under the night sky, his attention trained on the light orb in the background of the painting. “The moon goddess is lonely herself by nature, so separated from our world. Just like this portrait, we see her, but we pay her no mind.”

You stand beside him and take your own, clear look at the picture. If you would have looked at it on your own, your main focus would have been on the town and the people in the foreground. You would have glanced at the moon, but the orb and her stars were painted so faint compared to the rest of the picture.

“She came to me - and perhaps it was out of boredom for her own happiness - but she made me a promise. Promises are something I don’t take lightly.” He says. His words are spoken like a true king, but you can’t help but wonder if he himself truly means what he says.

Namjoon turns to you with a peaceful smile, “Fate works in mysterious ways, and sometimes it’s best for us to wait and see what it brings.”

He’s ready to move on and you both bask in a new found silence as you continue to walk through the exhibit, stopping occasionally at a portrait here and there. Though at every painting you stop, you can’t help but look at the man next to you.

This was the man described in everything you read. This was King Kim Namjoon at his finest, and you were privileged enough to be there.

“Did you really house orphaned children?” You ask out of the blue.

He blinks at first, registering your sudden outburst. Though, when he does realize what you’ve asked, he smiles fondly, “I did. Of all the people we should take care of, our children and our elderly are most important!”

His words are filled with passion, and you can tell he really cares about the people he’s talking about, “Our elders have shaped our generation, and we shape the generations after us. It’s only fair that we see they’re well taken care of.”

There’s a part of you that truly wishes to see what he was like as a ruler for yourself. You smile, “Well, I guess the internet doesn’t lie.”

“I suppose it doesn’t, though I’m probably not the correct person to ask.” He sheepishly admits, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

You nod in understanding. He really didn’t know much about this era or it’s advancements besides the kiosks in his exhibit. It takes you a moment, but you think of the perfect exhibit to introduce him to the 21st century.

You take his hand in yours - effectively catching him off guard - and you pull him in the direction of the exit, “Well, allow me to educate you about the world I live in.”

Namjoon doesn’t even attempt to hide his blush this time around. He only nods and allows himself to follow you, “Please.”

You lead him out of the more classic featured art section and into the Modern Art Exhibit. This exhibit starts very tame, sticking to photography and modern painting styles before it morphs into free form art sculptures in the connecting rooms.

One sculpture is made of metal and it’s shape reminds you of a round mushroom. It's definitely interesting, but you don’t necessarily understand it’s appeal. It would seem Namjoon is confused as well.

“This is art?” He asks, his head tilted to the side as he follows his distorted reflection.

“It is.” You assure him. You had a feeling he wouldn’t get it either, you just wanted to show him what he was missing. You sigh, “I don’t really understand it either so don’t fe-”

“It’s so intriguing.” Namjoon says, cutting you off.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, slightly confused.

“The structure and the colors, they’re so complimentary to the other! I don’t want to look away.” His entire being is completely enraptured with the piece in front of him. It’s so simple, yet his eye contact doesn’t break from his reflection. “I feel as though I am in a trance.”

You squeeze his hand - not even caring that your hands are still connected, “Well, there’s much more of this to see.”

A look of pure joy and elation blossoms on Namjoon’s face and you feel a faint flutter in your heart. You’d never noticed how bright his eyes shine until now, nor did you notice just how cute his dimples really were.

Are you really falling for him?

~ Read: Part 2 ~

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