#(doesn't fully spin dry but at this point I'll take it)

[gillianthecat]

I also found my missing watch 🥳 It went on a journey of 417 steps through the washing machine.

[argisthebulwark]

Did I Find You, Or You Find Me?

summary: Due to forces outside of your control, you've found yourself stuck in an arranged marriage. f!reader, no y/n used. feat: Brynjolf, Miraak, Vilkas, Farkas, Arnbjorn warnings: they're long lol. alcohol consumption, not super healthy relationship dynamics, a bit suggestive a/n: i meant to put some more fellas in here but tumblr was struggling to load this draft so i'll have to do a part two masterlist

Brynjolf

Born as the middle daughter of the Black Briar family you are fully aware of their interactions with the Thieves Guild. You've watched your mother meet with Brynjolf, catching glimpses when you're instructed to carry in stacks of paperwork or clearing away empty wine bottles after a long negotiation. His flirtatious remarks remarks leave you breathless, never going further than a shared smile or brushing shoulders in the hall.

As a middle child, you've often found yourself in an odd position - you're an adult and are expected to handle many responsibilities, yet still infantilized by your siblings. Often forgotten between Sibbi and Ingun's rebellions and Hemming's single minded dedication to the family, you're expected to pick up the pieces without making a fuss.

"We need to solidify our ties with the Thieves Guild." Mother's sharp voice interrupts your dinner. You nod along, picking at your potatoes and planning out the rest of your week. "How old are you now?"

"Twenty four."

"Oh, good!" The excited tone of her voice rouses suspicion. You peek up at your mother, heart ramming against your ribs - she's never taken an interest in your life before. This can lead nowhere good.

You can only hope that silence will make her forget you. Her schedule is usually so full that you're allowed to exist out of her eyeline - taking a few extra moments in the market to flip through some books or visiting Ingun in the alchemy shop to chat. There is joy to be found in those small moments when you escape from her calculated gaze.

Of course this doesn't happen. Before the week is out you find yourself standing in the Temple of Mara, heart in your throat and siblings snickering from the pews. The handsome thief is gentle when he holds your hands, voice a bit shaky as he reiterates every vow back to the priest.

Returning to the Ratways feels odd. You part from your family, ink drying on the many contracts as Brynjolf - your husband - leads you through the Cistern. You feel a bit like you're floating as the events of the day settle on your mind. Panic chokes out all rational thought - who will ensure that the animals are fed and organize the contracts in your absence?

"I'm sorry - this all happened so fast, you may need to show me around once more when my mind stops spinning." You can't recall half of what he's pointed out and your feet are aching. You gulp, staring up at Brynjolf's kind eyes.

"Don't worry, lass." That soft grin makes your heart race when he shows you the private quarters, a small room branching off from the tavern. "We're in the same boat, you've got me."

With each day that passes, that knot in your chest lessens. The anxiety shrinks as you settle into your new life, finding the lack of routine comfortable - no list of chores awaits you, no one calls for you to sit in on meetings. After twenty four years of responsibility it is terrifying to realize that no one expects anyone from you.

Despite all the initial fears you find yourself flourishing. Far from your mother's prying eyes you discover that you enjoy hearing stories from the other thieves, Vex and Delvin teaching you a few tricks and Tonilia offering to scrounge up a set of armor. No longer are you Maven's daughter or Hemming's sister - you are yourself.

Brynjolf maintains a respectable distance, never straying too far but making no moves toward romance. He acknowledges that your partnership is just that - an agreement set forth by others, it is not a true marriage. He joins you for dinner each night, finding himself eager to hear about what you've done that day.

"What did you mean back then?" You finally ask, surprised at how steady your voice has become. Brynjolf's gaze still makes your heart flutter but you no longer feel the need to shrink away from it.

"By what, lass?"

"When you said we're in the same boat."

"Ah." He leans closer, voice conspiratorially low. Your cheeks flush when his fingers dance over yours, barely a touch. "Well, I'm guessin' you weren't exactly excited by the prospect of marrying a stranger, yeah?"

"It wasn't my first choice."

"Wasn't part of my plan, either." You hate how your stomach drops at the admission. Of course you're aware that he hadn't truly wanted you, but that knowledge does little to soothe the sting.

"Delvin's too old and Vex hates dealin' with your mother." His eyes drop to where your fingers have twisted together, the toes of his boots brushing yours. "I didn't plan on it bein' me but I couldn't stomach the thought of anyone else marryin' you."

The weeks blend into months, changes in your life slow but steady. Brynjolf sets aside time each week to teach you how to wield a dagger. Your beds scoot closer and you stay up later talking, candles burning down to nubs while you share every little shred of yourselves. He tells you of this the people he's lost and you share the desperation you've always felt for more, blushing when he jokes about the fulfilling life of a thief.

Your confidence continues to blossom the longer you're away from your family, brave enough to disregard a direct summons from your mother. Somewhere she is steaming, Hemming probably cursing your name at her side. It's freeing to realize how little you care.

"Proud of you, lass." Brynjolf grins when you bounce up to him, excitedly recounting how cool it felt throwing her letter in the fire. His hand is warm when it cups your cheek. "How should we celebrate?"

A bit drunk on your newly found courage, you kiss him. You've thought about it for months, stomach fluttering when you first noticed the way his eyes linger on you. It's quick and your lips tingle a bit when your husband chuckles, already leaning in for another.

Miraak

"All of our efforts to reign in Miraak have failed." Arngeir's eyes pin you in place. Your ass is going numb from those stone seats but there's no escaping this conversation. "Dragonborn, the Jarls continue to call for action."

"I have tried everything to defeat Miraak."

"Yet we remain unsuccessful." Biting your tongue barely contains the multitude of protests. Your body bears scars from the many times you've faced Miraak and his cultists, brain addled by the ages you'd spent combing through Apocrypha's twisting hallways.

"Miraak has a clear interest in you." Borri chimes in, voice hoarse from lack of use.

"He speaks the truth, Dragonborn." Arngeir concurs. "We have formulated a new plan. The Jarls have approved, as have many leaders from Solstheim."

"Wonderful." You grumble, hauling yourself to your feet. Might as well start preparing. "What is this new plan of attack?"

"You will offer yourself to Miraak."

"Your plan is to sacrifice me?" The shrill tone of your voice echoes off the stone walls. "How will my death resolve anything?"

"Not as a sacrifice. As a bride."

Despite your many protests, it seems that Miraak could not pass up an opportunity to get under your skin. He agrees to the proposition - you become his partner and he scales back the attacks on civilians. The rage becomes almost mind numbing. You cannot believe that this plan is being enacted, that your elders are offering you up for the mere promise of peace.

When Arngeir bustles you out the door he instructs you to slay the First Dragonborn. His voice is stern when he informs you that you will not be welcomed back to Skyrim's shores until Miraak is dead. The old men don't listen to a single protest that passes your lips, somberly shaking their heads and claiming that this is the last resort. Their trust is placed in you.

There is no ceremony, no hint of romance - just your stack of books and a bout of seasickness as you're ferried to Solstheim. Cultists meet you at the dock, Raven Rock entirely silent as too many pairs of eyes watch them escort you to Miraak's palace. You walk with your chin held high and pray that no one notices the fear simmering just under your skin.

Miraak's glare tracks each move you make as you prowl through his manor. You keep your distance, intent on finding some hidden weakness that will break him without rousing too much suspicion. You circle one another, neither willing to break the peace and strike first. Even when you are alone he maintains some sort of mask - always obscuring at least half of his face, never giving you a full view.

Meals are silent except for thinly veiled threats. Doors to both bed chambers are locked and barred each night. You find comfort in his library, sprawling shelves holding volumes thought long lost and safe from the mind bending power of Apocrypha. On days when you grow too exhausted to search you tuck yourself away into a secluded corner of the library and read until your eyes can't focus.

"You do not have to hide." Miraak's deep voice shocks you out of your reading. He eyes the stack of books at your side and you feel terribly vulnerable. "This is now your home as much as it is mine."

Clearly displeased with your lack of response, he huffs and walks away. Your brain struggles to catch up - the usual nasty tone of his voice was gone, something almost kind about the way he'd spoken to you. It's disconcerting.

Thankfully, you are too preoccupied with your assignment to notice how deeply he burns for you. You do not see the heat behind his glare or the tension in his body when you drift too near, barely keeping a leash on the gut wrenching desire.

Miraak finds it quite easy to convince himself that he detests you - the flipping of his gut is mere disgust and your permanent place in his dreams is blamed on that damned prophecy. You are too distracted sniffing around for clues to notice how deeply and shamefully he wants you.

"What is it you seek?" His voice nearly stops your heart. Blade aimed for his chest you whirl around, scolding yourself for lowering your guard enough for him to get so close. You pause, gaping at the face he's hidden behind masks for months and fight back the horrible wave of attraction.

The crooked nose, stubble trailing up his jaw, dark eyes glaring down at you. Grey streaks are visible where his hair's pushed away from his forehead. A scar drags through his lower lip, drawing far too much of your attention. Grinding your teeth against the way your cheeks blush, you summon every ounce of vitriol you can.

"None of your business."

"Incorrect. You are in my study."

"What I am searching for does not regard you."

"Doubtful, little dragon." You curse your heart for flipping at that pet name. Miraak's grin is nearly a snarl when he leans closer, unable to keep himself away from you any longer.

For one night, he will release his self control. He will make himself vulnerable if it means he can get a bit closer to you.

Vilkas

As the eldest daughter of a Jarl, your duties never cease. Keeping an eye on your siblings, watching the advisors in preparation for your role, learning from wizards and teachers and warriors alike - it is endless. From a young age you'd intended on caring for your beloved city of Whiterun whether you acted as Jarl or advisor, content with putting in the work for your future.

"We need a foot in the door with the Companions." Proventus' words had roused no suspicion at the time - he'd said similar things about the guild before. "They are unregulated, acting entirely separate from us."

"This is true." Your father had turned to you, heart in your throat at the prospect of proving yourself. You'd fine tuned your political knowledge over the past few years and finally, an opportunity to prove yourself to his court. "Can you be trusted with this task?"

You had no clue what you were agreeing to. You'd anticipated a cordial relationship, that you would be acting as a emissary. You expected to form a diplomatic relationship with the Companions. You'd met a few warriors for training but the prospect of working with them was intriguing, their reputation was equally vicious and respectable.

You try to keep it together for the first meeting. Kodlak Whitemane is intimidating but you stand tall beside your father, chin held high and sword strapped to your side. It has never tasted blood but the advisors had insisted upon you looking your best, presenting yourself as a capable fighter.

Kodlak's warriors appear cleaned up, though you notice the scars - tattoos swirl between the gaps in their armor and wary eyes watching every shadow. The one at his side looks ready to implode; hand wrapped menacingly around the hilt of his sword and dark eyes sweeping over you with barely contained disdain. He sneers, clearly seeing through your carefully placed facade. Your stomach drops when he stands only a few paces from you, arms crossed over his broad chest.

The meeting moves too fast to follow. Kodlak and your father speak in hushed tones, all the other advisors cloistered around them. Notably, you are left out - they must be bartering on your behalf, right? Why else would you be left out of the conversation? Three Companions stand at your side, each appearing equally annoyed.

"May I ask why your folks seem displeased?" You whisper to the man at your side, the one who appears less standoffish than the others. Soft brown eyes blink back at you, a short laugh badly disguised as a cough.

"Surprised you're takin' this so well. We had bets on you running out."

"What?"

"Aela thought you'd last through the discussions. I thought you'd bolt as soon as you saw him. And Vilkas, well he refused to make a bet." The man laughs again, a hand extended toward you. Your head is spinning when the dark haired man walks off in a huff, his anger radiating through the hall.

"Vilkas?"

"Yeah." You follow where he points out the man now shouldering his way into the circle of advisors. "Your new husband."

Despite his initial vitriol, Vilkas is annoyingly formal. He speaks to you as a member of the court - stiff and respectful. He spends little time in your company, taking every assignment offered by his elders to get him out of the city.

You can't say it isn't hurtful. Your union was one of mutual convenience for your families but to see your husband so clearly uninterested wounds you. Your conversations are brief, each focused entirely on whatever business Kodlak has with your father.

You hold your chin high, remaining in your father's home and listening to the advisors fret. Your visits to Jorrvaskr are not unpleasant but there is a notable lack of progress - Aela and Farkas are friendly, Athis slowly warms to you, but it is abundantly clear that they all view you as an outsider. Vilkas can barely remain in the hall, his brother kindly making excuses on his behalf.

Sleeping in your childhood bedroom as a married adult feels strange, though you console yourself with the knowledge that it is not a real marriage. No rings or tender words had been exchanged. It was merely a contract signed by Kodlak and your father on your behalf. You drift off to sleep with the image of Vilkas in your head, wracking your brain for what can be done to smooth things out.

"Hey."

Scrambling for the knife under your pillow, you barely manage to swallow the scream building in your throat. With the blade quivering in your hand you aim it toward your attacker's chest. Vilkas' dark eyes glare down at you, hair mussed and usual armor missing. You blink a few times when turns toward the door.

"Can't sleep. You coming?"

"Coming where?"

"Anywhere but here."

He hardly says a word when you stride out of Dragonsreach. He scoffs at the way you sneak past the guards, dagger still gripped in your hand. You follow him down the chilly steps until you're seated on a bench, backs to the Gildergreen.

"Sorry." He grumbles, dropping his cloak around your shoulders. "Bet you're freezing."

You're too stunned to question it. The cloak smells of him and you find yourself burrowing deeper into it, the first kind move he's made. Vilkas sits at your side, glaring out at the starry sky for what feels like hours.

"What is happening?" You finally ask, glancing over at him. You catch his striking profile, outlined by the silvery moonlight of late night; the sharp bridge of his nose and harsh brows, the lips that look surprisingly soft when they aren't grimacing. Your stomach flips when his eyes slide to you, though they appear uncharacteristically kind.

"Needed to get out for a bit." He shrugs, heaving a sigh. "Figured you could use a break from that place."

It's hard to predict when he will seek you out. Vilkas only appears in the dead of night, often the night before he departs for an assignment. You wander through Whiterun, enjoying the emptiness of the town while he tells you of his recent missions. You are giddy each time he refuses your attempts to return his cloak, wrapping it around your shoulders to walk aimlessly at his side.

Not wanting the conversations to be one sided, you soon find yourself sharing more. Stories of court and your siblings feel boring in comparison but Vilkas seems interested. He remembers names remarkably well, asking after your brother's injured arm weeks after you'd brought it up.

It takes months for you to broach the topic of your future. You've grown comfortable in his company, no longer unsettled by the intensity of his gaze. He is still far from a husband but there is something like friendship blooming between you, an attraction that squeezes at your heart each time he smiles at you.

"I just want to be free." You admit, gazing out over the horizon. As you've spoken the sunrise has begun, rays of pink and orange reaching out to steal the night. You have to return to Dragonsreach soon before everyone else wakes. Despite that reasoning you find yourself leaning into Vilkas' shoulder, heart fluttering when he accepts your touch.

"Free?" He snorts, chin resting on the top of your head. "You're the Jarl's kid, you can do whatever you want."

"I've never made a choice for myself - I didn't even get to choose my husband." Clearly the lack of sleep has loosened your tongue. Vilkas chuckles, a sound that never fails to warm your heart.

"That's fair." He sighs, staring over your shoulder at Jorrvaskr. He's sure that the others have already awoken, chest tight with the unending duties threatening to drown him. "Someday, when we're done solving everyone else's problems, we'll get out of here."

Farkas

Since an early age, you've been warned to stay away from the Companions - their shimmering armor and heroic deeds are inviting but they do not live like you do. Their beast blood is a secret held only by those in the highest ranks, hidden away from the rest of their guild. You've never understood the secrecy but abide by your parents' warnings, heeding the wisdom of your pack.

Numbers have dwindled over the years. Tales told around the long table recount times when your pack commanded Whiterun's rolling plains, hunting and celebrating to their hearts' content. Each generation shrunk - the beast blood not passing on to younger generations and civilization encroaching upon the wilds. Handfuls of families have splintered off, some moving to new Holds while others joined larger packs.

You're fairly certain your hearing must be failing - after ages of warning every wolf off from dealing with the local guilds, your grandmother grimaces around those unbelievable words.

"What?"

"We can no longer survive on our own." She reiterates, your ears ringing. "These lands have been overhunted and new farms claim acres of land every day. Now with the Silver Hand moving into Whiterun," she sighs, gathering herself. Tears prick at your eyes when she rests a wrinkled hand on your shoulder. "Our family has entered an agreement with the Companions."

"Okay." You're struggling to wrap your head around this change but you'll manage - the pit in your stomach for months could finally cease. You know that food sources are growing scarce and numbers are falling but you're still a bit lightheaded at the finality of her statement.

"We've assured their continued support. They cannot back out of this deal."

"How? What do we have to give them?"

"You and some of the others will be married to the younger members of their inner circle."

It's like a punch to the gut. Your marriage is still a handful of years off but you will never forget about it - wondering each day if this is your last before being shackled to the Companions for the rest of your life. Your first meeting happens during a celebratory dinner, your heart in your throat as Kodlak presents the members of his pack.

One boy glowers across the hall and sneers at anyone who dares to speak to him. His brother stands nearby, a friendly smile on his face when Kodlak's hand lands on his shoulder. You can only pray that you aren't partnered with the unpleasant one.

"I'm Farkas." The kind boy introduces himself, calloused hand warm against yours. It takes a moment to remember your name - thankfully, your grandmother pats your shoulder and speaks for you.

"Nice to meet you." You choke out, terrified to be staring into the face of your future husband. His smile comes easily, dimples in his cheeks eyes radiating kindness. Light brown hair is braided out of his face and a broadsword is strapped across his well muscled back.

You spend the night awaiting the horrible stories your elders passed down to come true - that the Companions will shame your way of life or scoff at the state of your hall, but they are amiable. A bit reserved but they do nothing to earn your distrust. They share food and drink hauled down from their hall, listening intently to the stories told by your parents.

Farkas fits in too well. Even after Kodlak and the others stop visiting, contracts signed and goods exchanging hands, Farkas keeps coming. He shows up on your mother's doorstep with an armful of food and brings your siblings presents on their birthdays. Each time he appears you're shocked - this was sold to you as a marriage of convenience, one to fully unite your families. The grin on his face when he teaches your brother how to properly swing a sword or his willingness to help clear the dishes after dinner make you wonder if he was told something different.

Even as the season of your intended wedding approaches you cannot scrape up any distaste for him. You find your heart fluttering when Farkas rolls up his sleeves to help your father chop firewood or falls onto your bed at your side, curiously eyeing whatever book you're reading. You've both grown into a comfortable friendship, choosing to not speak of what awaits you only a few months away.

"Wanna go for a walk?" Farkas offers, eyes sliding your way. Even after all these years he still makes speech difficult, the friendly smile causing your brain to stop functioning. He's asked the question dozens of times but there's something loaded behind his words that makes this feel different. He's so careful when he holds your hand, clearly giving you space to shake him off.

Farkas follows the same path as always around local farms, a pleasant expression on his face but you feel the nerves radiating from him. Perhaps you've just got enough anxiety for you both.

"What's wrong?" You blurt, unable to contain the nerves any longer. Eyes sparkling in the moonlight Farkas turns to you and you're certain the whole valley can hear your heart ramming against your ribs.

"I want to marry you." His voice is uncharacteristically serious.

"That's been arranged since we were kids."

"No, I mean for real." Farkas insists, chilly fingers tracing the shape of your cheek. You've been close to others but nothing has felt like this, no one else has set your skin ablaze with a simple touch.

"I need you to know that I'm not just doing this because Kodlak said to. I want to be here with you, with your family - I want you."

It takes a few minutes to digest that - he wants you. Farkas is patient when you work through that, fingers tightening around yours as he awaits an answer. Butterflies erupt in your stomach when you finally voice the feelings you've ignored for years.

"I want you, too."

Kissing him is so easy, it feels natural. He smells like home; the hands cupping your face are stained from helping your parents cook and the scent of your fireplace clings to hair you'd tied back. Farkas kisses you like it's the first time he's taken a breath, needy and desperate. His nose brushes yours before he's pulling back, that comforting smile rousing butterflies in your gut.

The wedding you'd spent years dreading surpasses all your expectations. Farkas cries the moment he sees you, tears streaming down his cheeks when he pledges each day of his life to yours. You pointedly ignore all the vows regarding duty and tradition - you love this man. You've fallen in love with him slowly and without realizing it, loving him a bit more each day you've spent with him. He speaks of his love for you and respect for your family, summoning fat tears in your eyes when he kisses you.

"Thanks for lovin' me." He murmurs into your hair, crushing you to his chest.

Arnbjorn

"You should do it."

"Absolutely not."

"It's the best way to ensure the survival of both our Guilds!" Delvin insists, that smug look on his face. He thinks he's already won. "If we don't come to an agreement, our groups are bound to cannibalize each other. Our customer base and services are too similar."

"All good points."

"Every Jarl is out for our blood and both of our Guilds have recently lost leaders." It's annoying how correct he is. Delvin nudges the ale toward you, clearly urging you to consider. "A partnership would solve nearly all our problems."

"And why can it not be a business partnership?" You ask, accepting the drink. "Your relationship with the Brotherhood has stood since before I even joined the Guild, has something caused you to doubt it?"

"Unfortunately." Delvin's expression sours at that. "Their new leader."

You agree to a meeting with their new leader, expecting the Listener - they've visited a few times when the Brotherhood needed Delvin's aid, most recently during their move to Dawnstar. Your friendship is easy but holds no attraction, certainly nothing that would tempt you into a marriage.

"The Listener isn't their official leader." Delvin corrects you at the last minute, the group of shadows entering the Flagon. "It's the old leader's widower."

He stands before you, intimidatingly tall and muscled. Unimpressed eyes shamelessly comb through the crowd of thieves, white hair braided away from a handsome face. Delvin's elbow nudges yours and your face burns when you stumble over your introduction, clearing your throat before the conversation begins.

It's rough. Their leader, Arnbjorn, clearly lacks his former partner's knack for negotiation. You'd only encountered Astrid a couple times before her death but remembered her way of speaking, calculated with a constant threat in each word. Arnbjorn is much more straightforward, the Listener and Nazir looking a bit uneasy at his side.

"I have no need of a wife." He speaks plainly, earning a glare from his companions. "My hands are full running the Brotherhood and looking after the recruits."

"My thoughts exactly." you concur, though the conversation spirals away from that point once again.

Gods, you feel like this is never going to end. Hours pass and Delvin's sheet of notes has become illegible. The Listener is predictably quiet, taking in everyone's words while Delvin and Nazir hash out the details - where barriers for contracts should be, how to notify the other, who can recruit in what regions. After far too many drinks their words devolve into an obnoxious drone.

You aren't entirely sure anyone notices when you excuse yourself. Maybe a breath of fresh air will clear your head. You're certain that the sun has risen and quite possibly fallen once more since the negotiations had begun, shuffling your way through the Cistern in search of the outdoors.

"Hey."

Two strong fingers grab your elbow just as you're about to climb to freedom. You turn, sucking in a deep breath when you realize that you're cramped into the secret passageway with Arnbjorn. His cheeks are flushed - he's had even more drinks than you, leaning on the wall for support.

"What?" You try to sound sure of yourself despite the distracting closeness of his body. It's troubling how handsome he is. Arnbjorn blinks at you, sucking in a deep breath before speaking.

"I didn't want you to think my protests have anything to do with you." He clears his throat, obviously struggling to speak so plainly. "It's just - my wife passed away. You're very pretty but I have to think about the Brotherhood."

"I understand." You breathe, unable to ignore the way his eyes seem glued to your mouth. He leans a bit closer and you can smell him, smoke and pine and you fight back the wave of attraction.

Kissing him is foolish. You know this. It is a dumb mistake that you cannot stop yourself from making, closing the tiny distance between you. His lips are warm and god, the large hand curling around your waist and drawing you closer feels divine. His body presses to yours, crowding you against the stone wall until you can feel every delicious inch of him.

"Oh gods -" Delvin's voice shatters the moment. You're shrinking back, Arnbjorn stumbling a few steps away but it's too late. Your face burns when Delvin and the Listener's stares pin you in place. "Well, looks like our problem solved itself."

Marrying him is strange. Arnbjorn is stiff and standoffish, barely grumbling when the arrangements are drawn up. It's hard to forget that kiss, heat creeping into your cheeks every time the memory emerges. He's not unkind, just unwaveringly professional.

"If you're not interested in your wife," the client's words are slurred when he nudges Arnbjorn. "Mind if I take a swing?" A few too many celebratory drinks have been shared after your first successful joint contract. He stares intently at you, arousal pounding through his veins at the sight of you wearing Brotherhood armor.

"What?" The wave of sheer rage catches him off guard. Arnbjorn glares down at the drunken lord, anger building when the man leers toward your group of thieves. He's restrained himself for so long, ignored the way your eyes linger and seek him out because of his damned principles - but he will not allow this.

"You clearly don't want her. No harm in someone else gettin' a chance, right?" The man grumbles into his goblet. "After all the coin I handed out for this job -"

All conversation ceases when Arnbjorn bolts out of his seat. Before you can ask what's wrong he's stalking toward you, fingers gentle but insistent when they grip your chin and tilt your lips toward his. His kiss is full of heat, brain flooding with unabashed arousal as your husband's hips press firmly into yours.

"What's this all about?" You pant, cheeks burning bright red when his nose brushes yours.

"Don't worry about it." Arnbjorn grumbles against your lips. He'll let his reservations slip for this evening of celebration. He tells himself that he will rebuild all those walls in the morning, allowing himself this one night as your husband.

[vampcubus]

Hrrrrmmmm... Boys who; when you whistle, or tell them to "heel", or "sit", or "stay", they listen

"C'mon, pretty boy." You spin on your heel and start walking, slowing to a stop when you fail to hear footsteps behind you.

Turning around, you see him still standing there, expression clueless and kind of lost, like a puppy waiting to be picked at the shelter.

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He meets your stare - he always does, such a good boy - tilting his head like the puppy he is.

Trying to pinpoint your fixed gaze he turns slowly, craning his neck around him before turning his body fully to see no one else around him. Spinning back to look at you so quickly he almost loses his balance, he still looks a little bewildered, pointing at his chest for confirmation.

"What, do you not know how to heel?"

Eyes light up with excitement as he realizes your compliment and desparation as he hears your command, almost tripping in his effort to obey.

There's only one seat left in the room, couches and chairs taken up by your shared friends who had taken the liberty of getting comfortable as the two of you had gathered your own drinks from the kitchen.

"Ah, you can take the chair." He concludes without a second thought, not even comprehending an option where he lets you sit on the floor, moving to take his seat on the carpet.

"That's okay, I think we can make it work." You hum, but he's already shaking his head.

"Really, I don't mind." Truly, he doesn't. Heart full with the knowledge that he'll get to sit beside you, he draws beside the chair.

"What if-" He interrupts you this time, and for once his endearing need to accommodate you stirs some annoyance, "No, I'll just-"

"Sit." He's in the chair before his brain even registers your words. Thankfully his body was attuned to your whims; hands politely resting on the arms of the chair, feet planted square on the ground.

He doesn't dare turn to look at you or his friends, not sure if it's because he doesn't want to defer from his soldier-like posture or because he doesn't think he can face you without begging for another order.

Your hand caresses his neck as you slide into the chair, letting your butt fall into the gap between him and the chair before slinging your thighs over his, hanging your knees over the other arm of the chair. His hands automatically reach to steady you as you take your place, but hover just above touching you.

Your fingers never leave him, trailing over his shoulder as you extend your arm to hang around his neck. He can feel your warmth press against his side as you lean closer until your breath tickles his throat and your lips catch his ear as you whisper to him.

"Good boy."

"Stay down." He swallows. Throat dry. You'd noticed how flushed he seemed in your presence and offered to get him a drink. He was going to get it himself, desparate to serve you, when you gave the order and he felt his senses leave him.

A sweating glass hovers in front of his face and he has to remind himself to take it.

"Drink." You don't take your eyes off him. Addams apple bobbing, it burns to admit it but some desparate part of him hopes he's doing a good job for you. Thoughts spiralling past rationality, if he was anywhere close to his right mind he'd feel ashamed for being so desperate to think of something as simple as drinking as a performance of obedience.

But he's never in his right mind around you.

The urge to obey buzzes under his skin.

He can be so good for you, just give him a command, he'll do it, whatever you want, please just tell him what to do, give him a chance to prove how good he can be for you.

He doesn't realize he's panting, grip lose on the glass you gave him. Doesn't even notice when you take it away to set it somewhere safe.

"I thought I told you to stay down." You're in front of him now, hands gripping his thighs, on either side of his-

Mortification floods him.

His hands fly to cover himself-

"Stay." He freezes, hands twisting in his pants instinctively for something to ground him. Your voice leaves no room for argument, tone distant and harsh like you were scolding a dog.

His already hard cock twitches.

- Goku (DB) / Izuku, Shoto, Tenya, Denki (bnha) / Tanjirou, Zenitsu, Kyojurou, Akaza (kny) / Naruto, Lee, Shikamaru?, Choji? (Naruto) / Julian, I feel like kinda Asra and Muriel possibly? (Arcana) / Etc...

- 🐌

I AM GOING CRAZY OVER THIS, YOU ARE SO RIGHT!!! god i love puppycoded men so much. i'm going insaneeeee. will b re-reading this a lot, so thank you for sharing this meal 🧎‍♀️

[umbracirrus]

1. What memory would your OC rather just forget?

16. What is your OC's pain tolerance like?

For the edgy oc ask! For Elyse and Thorne

I'll answer 16 first!

Elyse doesn't have the best pain tolerance, though she can usually grin and bear it - especially if it's something she can handle with her very limited knowledge of restoration magic. Her tolerance grows the longer she spends in Skyrim though, the amount of bumps and bruises and injuries she receives.

Thorne has been quite hardened to pain, and is used to getting hurt - though she hates experiencing pain and will do anything to avoid it. Spending years in the Thieves Guild and sneaking around a lot helps her out in that. When she joins the Companions it's a bit harder for her to hide that she hates getting hurt, but it's something that she works on with the help of everyone there.

Now, for number 1 for Elyse, it is something that is yet to happen in The Perfect Storm... In a few chapters, actually! It's to do with her family and an interaction which she has in relation to that. And I don't wanna spoil any more!!

Now, for Thorne, I've actually gone a bit over the top and wrote the memory in question. It is something which happens years before the events of Tempest, and even before she joins the Thieves Guild or starts going by Thorne. I'll put it under the read more.

In summary, she was captured by the Thalmor when she was younger, after she and her family had spent almost the entirety of her life in hiding from them. The memory gives her nightmares, and she is plagued by 'what ifs' with regard to her capture.

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

The smell of distant smoke had been the first sign that something was wrong. She had been slowly trudging through the snow and ice covering the road leading from Dawnstar after she had slipped away for a few drinks when she first noticed it. It was a stark contrast to the usual smell of cold which lingered in the air, accompanied by the faintest scent of salt from the distant Sea of Ghosts.

Though she had been doing her best to focus on her steps, her head still fuzzy from the alcohol and not wanting to hurt herself through slipping on any ice, she turned her head up when she knew herself to be getting closer to the cottage which she lived in with her mother in the middle of nowhere in the frigid terrain of The Pale. When she saw plumes of smoke in that same direction, a chill went down her spine, and no longer caring for if she were to trip and fall, she ran.

Was her mother safe? Had some logs fallen from the fireplace and set the building alight? Had a candle ignited a curtain or rug?

Her head was almost spinning once the cottage came into view, fully regretting cracking open that second bottle of Alto wine, to the point that she found herself seeing multiple footsteps within the snow. It didn’t take her long to realise that she wasn’t seeing things though... Not when she realised that the cottage had visitors.

There were people around the burning building. Elves. Altmer. Dark robes... Her throat turned dry as she took a trembling step back.

Thalmor. They’d found them.

Where was her mother?!

“-ka! Run!”

The shrill cry which tore through the air made her head turn in a direction where there seemed to be many of the elves, before she let out a horrified gasp at the sight of her mother being restrained. A pleading look was across her face, and that was all it took for her to take another few steps away before turning around and running. She knew for certain that she was being pursued, distant footsteps and spells being thrown in her direction narrowly missing her in spite of her balance being off kilter.

She was almost beginning to regret drinking at all that evening as she stumbled on a stone on the road, her boot almost half being tugged off as he caught. However, something caught her eye as she shook off that trip – the nearby Windward Ruins. They were small, but whenever she had wanted peace from her parents in the few years they had been hiding out in The Pale, if she didn’t get drunk in Dawnstar she hid herself in there. If she could just distract her pursuers…

Taking a deep breath, she changed the direction which she was running in and slipped into the ruins as quickly as she could in spite of the dizzy feeling which lingered in her head.

The musky yet cold air surrounding her almost felt sobering as she inhaled through her nose whilst creeping deeper around the small hallway which bordered it. She pulled out her dagger from about her belt and held it close to her chest.

She huddled in against a wall, pale wisps of breath as she did her best to remain quiet. What she wasn’t expecting was the sudden sound of a spell being cast, which made her flinch and lose her grasp of her weapon. It was horribly dark though, so she quickly dropped to her knees and began feeling around on the frozen stone to retrieve it.

“Looking for this?”

Turning her head up after a frantic few moments, her eyes widened in horror when she realised that one of the Thalmor were standing over her. He was holding her dagger in one of his hands as he cast a candlelight spell with the other, whilst looking down at her with a smirk.

In a panic, she scrambled up and tried to back away from him as he went to try and grab hold of her, and it clearly irritated him as he muttered “Nord bitch,” under his breath.

Her stolen blade then cut through the air, and though she tried to avoid the swing, the alcohol in her system slowed her reactions and resulted in it catching her cheek. From the edge of her vision, she could just about see red beading up from the wound, as a stinging sensation spread from just below her eye across to her lower jaw.

There was another attempt made by the Altmer to attack her with her own weapon, but she was just about able to avoid that. She knew that if she kept backing up, she would be able to slip out through the exit of the ruins, and she could try to make a run for it back to Dawnstar. She could surely hide in one of the mines there.

Just when she thought that she had the opportunity to do just that though, instead of backing out into the open air, she found herself backing into a solid object. With a gasp, she quickly turned around, and saw another Thalmor agent stood in the ruin doorway. It was at that moment the one who had been attacking her took advantage of her shock to wrap an arm around her to hold her own dagger to her throat, grab hold of one of her arms, then kick behind one of her knees to knock her down.

“Let go of me-!” she shrieked, doing her best to elbow her assailant. He twisted her other arm enough to make her stop and let out a sob, though she was soon to realise that it had been little more than a ruse to distract her. The other elf seemed to have been preparing some sort of spell which struck her in that moment, and suddenly… she found her energy slowly sapping away. And her eyelids growing heavy.

The Thalmor agent holding onto her released his grasp of her as she slumped down to the ground. Her body was refusing to do anything she wanted it to do.

“I’ve heard that the Ambassador has been looking forward to meeting these ones... They’re apparently key to rooting out those last few-“

And everything faded to black.

When she began to feel consciousness return to her, it was abrupt. She coughed and spluttered as the ice cold water which had been thrown over her head dripped to the ground, soaking through the rough material of whatever it was she was wearing. That was quickly overtaken by the need to throw up, the scent of blood and bile accompanied by a headache she could only associate with being hung over doing little more than make her stomach churn. The fact that her hands felt to be restrained above her head did very little to help that fact.

“Awake, hm? It’s about time...” A cold hand grabbed at her chin, and turned her head up. The face of the Altmer who was sneering down at her was one that would be burned into her memory for the rest of her life. “You’ve spent a long time hiding, but we’ve finally found you. How... tenacious of you. Let’s see if that will last.”

[x-useobwa-x]

༄ Swipe, baby! | Part 12 - Oh, a real gentleman, I see

Idol!Taehyung x Reader sm/au

< Previous | Next >

➺ Word count: 1,5k

Genre: Crack humor, Romance/Fluff

╰ You both swiped right on each others tinder profile with no pictures of yourselves.

You keep the details on the low; no names, no nothing, only your ages. To keep the interest until the meeting, you started talking casually, but little did you know that the guy that's trying to get into your pants is no one else than Kim Taehyung, Singer of BTS, and little does he know, that you are completely whipped for the man, an army by heart since day 1.

Start reading!

⇣ ⇣ ⇣ ⇣ ⇣ ⇣

Taehyungs grip around your wrist is tight and his pace is fast, it's taking all you've got to keep up and not stumble over your own feet.

„Tae- Taehyung,“ you stutter. „Can we slow down it's really hard to walk if you- if you pull me like this.“

„You brought this over yourself y/n, you'll have to learn your lesson.“

Hearing your name falling from his lips nearly has you losing your breath. Your name? Said by the Kim Taehyung? The man you've been losing your mind over for around 6 years? This is more than you've ever dared to dream. It almost makes you lose all the confidence you've built up over the evening. It was fun to tease him and drive him crazy, but now that it's close to happening you're getting pretty nervous, and the fact that he pulled himself together and took the upper hand again is almost intimidating.

As soon as you reach the doors Taehyung agressively types in the door code and continues to drag you over to the elevator. He's repeatingly pressing the button impatiently while waiting for it to arrive.

As soon as it's there, the doors open agonizingly slow and Taehyung shoves you through them the second the doors give enough space to do so; unbothered by the fact they did not fully open yet.

With one swift pull he spins you around so your back is meeting the wall on the left side as he slams his hands onto it and traps you between his arms. Seconds later, all you recognize is how he's leaning in sharply, with his face so close to yours that it has your breath hitching in your throat.

„You shouldn't have played me like this, y/n.“ he says while one of his hands is leaving your side to push the button thats starting the elevator.

You're meeting his hand halfway as he's about to bring it back and take it into yours, locking eyes with him. He's in control right now and you don't like it; you have to do something about this.

After stopping his hand with yours and holding it in place for a second, you're guiding it to rest on your cheek, not losing the intense eye contact even for the smallest of moments.

You watch as his bottom lip trembles and his adams apple bobs in his throat before he exhales shakingly.

Within the blink of an eye, what follows next is his lips crashing onto yours and his fingers diving into your hair. His lips are warm and soft and the kiss is greedy and filled with passion and in this moment its taking you everything to not rip his shirt off of him. His teeth are pulling eagerly at your lower lip and as he lets go of it his tongue is softly grazing your mouth, begging for entrance.

As much as you wanted to have a taste of is tongue, you don't get to let him in; the elevator opens its doors and Taehyung pulls away.

„Let's get out of here so we can continue somewhere more comfortable,“ he growls under his breath while he takes your hand, fingers intertwined.

As you walk towards the door, you can't help but feel overwhelmed by the impressive and gigantic building the boys are living in- not to mention how overwhelming the fact, that you're about to enter their dorm and spend a night with your bias, already is.

Taehyung is quick to type in the door code and he doesn't hesitate to push you through the door immediately.

With the sound of the door closing, he's already finding his way back to your body; his hands are gripping tightly around your waist as he's pulling you closer.

Sadly, just as he's about to lean back in to kiss you, nature is suddenly calling. This might not be the best timing, but on the other hand, it's pretty much just fitting into your plan of gaining back the upper hand. It won't hurt to leave him hanging high and dry for once more.

„Not so fast, big boy,“ you say while bringing up one finger, placing it on his lips, stopping him midway.

„What is it?“ he's asking under his breath as he's planting a kiss onto your finger.

„I kinda have to use your bathroom... can I?“

He's pulling away sharply, confusion visible on his face. „Uhm, of course you can... uhh, it's right over there,“ he responds with raised eyebrows as he's pointing into a direction.

You free yourself out of Taehyungs grip and start making your way towards the bathroom as you hear him calling out to you.

„I'll be waiting for you in my room, just walk down the hall on the right side.“

You turn on the spot, sending a nod his way. „Sure, I'll be right there,“ you assure him, making him smile.

But you wouldn't let go of a perfect opportunity to put one on top, not in this fight over dominance. So what you're doing, is forming a silent ,daddy‘ with your mouth, watching as Taehyungs eyes are widening while you turn back around to continue walking.

As soon as you reached the door Taehyung has pointed towards, you're quick to push down the handle- you wanna make him wait, but you don't want to make him wait for long.

Surprisingly the door won't open, though. Instead, you hear a voice calling out to you.

„Uhm, hyung?? I'm still in here so... would you mind??“

Being an Army for so many years, you know exactly to whom that voice belongs to. It's no one else than Jeon Jungkook, and it has you shocked. You would have thought that no one would be in the dorm when Taehyung brings you over, but certainly you've been proven wrong. Too bad that you have to keep the act of not knowing them up.

„E-... excuse me?“ you say nervously.

It doesn't help that now there's a big awkward silence, caused by probably both of you being equally surprised.

„I... uh... I-I'm sorry but-... uh yeah... occupied,“ Jungkook stutters out, being obviously just as nervous as you are.

„Uhh, okay, that's fine. Do you think it'll take long? I really have to... you know... pee.“

„Sadly, I think so... I'm sorry but I have been here for a while already and I don't think that'll change anytime soon...“ he says with the tiniest of voices. He sure sounds embarrassed.

„Oh dear, how long have you been in there?“

„... four hours...“

„Fo-four hours? You poor boy, what happened to you?!“

„I might have eaten 21 buckets of KFC... it's kinda taking its toll right now...“

„What- twenty-one buckets? That's... well, yeah. I can see that might take a while,“ you laugh. „But that doesn't change anything... do you happen to have a second bathroom?“

„Yes, it's actually two doors to the left, it should be free!“ he responds, now a bit more excited.

„Thank you! And... good luck in there!“ you cheer, as you turn away to find the other bathroom.

„Thanks.“

As you are about to pass the first of the two doors, it suddenly shoots open and Hoseok is sliding out of what seems to be his room.

He's leaning onto the door frame, arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

„Hey sexy, how are we doing tonight? Who's your daddy, huh?“

„Someone that's not you,“ you reply as you keep walking, unfazed.

„Fair enough,“ is all he says as he quickly disappears, shutting his door.

That sure was not what you'd have imagined what Hoseok would be like, but who are you to judge, you are not better.

As you push down the handle of the door next to Hoseoks, you are relieved to see that it in fact is the bathroom. You step inside and quickly do what nature is calling for.

Taking two, three glances in the mirror after washing your hands, you straighten your dress, fix a couple strands of hair and are ready to go find Taehyung.

‚Just walk down the hall on the right side,‘ you recall. ‚Shouldn't be too hard.‘

The right side of the hall is pretty much in front of you now, there is only one problem- it hasn't exactly only one door.

„Of course he didn't tell me which one,“ you mumble to yourself. You could try and call out his name, but you aren't very fond of the idea of making a fool out of yourself.

This damn guy. You immediately understood why you had to give your phone away as soon as you saw him and you didn't mind, but right now it wouldn't have been too bad to have it back.

Taking a deep breath you place your bet on the first door there is. Every rational thinking person would mention which door it is if it wouldn't be the first one, so that must be it, right?

Slowly you open the door and dare to peek inside. The lights are out, yet the space is dimly lit by a monitor that's left turned on. The whole room is a mess made out of empty bottles of banana milk, ramyeon bowls and a giant load of KFC buckets.

‚Jesus christ, Jungkook...,‘ is all you think as you close the door again. Not the room you were looking for.

Now you're getting nervous. As it seems, you'll have to go through all the doors, as much as you'd wish that wouldn't be the case.

Gathering some courage, you're knocking on the door next to Jungkooks before you open it carefully.

This time, the lights are on and the room isn't empty either; someone's sitting in their chair working on something on the computer. You immediately figure that you've barged into the wrong room again, but when he's starting to turn around in his chair, you'd feel rude if you would just leave now.

„You must be the girl that's Taehyungs guest for the night?“ Yoongi says with a monotone voice.

„Yes, I am and... you are?“

„That's not important right now. It's just good that I met you before, because...,“ he says while turning back around, opening a drawer, looking for something. When he found what he's been looking for, he reaches for his pocket, pulling his wallet out and turns back around as he continues his sentence. „You're going to stay over night, I assume? So, let me ask you, how exactly are you going to pay for this? I can accept cash,“ he says while lifting the wallet a bit, „....or credit cards,“ he says as he lifts a pocket card reader with his other hand, smirking.

You chuckle. This is probably the most hilarious thing you've ever witnessed. These guys are rich, and yet he asks you for money?

„Excuse me, but... this house doesn't exactly look like you'd need this, are you for real?“

Yoongi lets out a breathy laughter while putting down both of the items in his hands.

„We might seem rich, but I like to be on the safe side, you never know when you run out of money, you know?“ he explains with a smile, his expression kind of thoughtful.

You assume that this mindset probably has its roots in the fact that he grew up very poor, so he'd try to do everything to keep that from happening.

„I think I can understand that,“ you start. „and who would I be if I wouldn't support that? Also I kinda liked the way you asked. It was funny.“

You're laughing as you finish your sentence. Reaching into your bag, you drag out your wallet and pull out a dollar.

„I'm so sorry, but I can't just give you everything I have, since you never know when you run ouf money. But I can give you this as a thanks for the hospitality.“ you mock, and his eyes widen in surprise as you offer him the money.

„Are you for real?“

„Yes, just take it,“ you respond with a laughter.

„Holy shit, this is the first time someone actually does that. Geez, girl, you might not be as bad as I thought!“

„Excuse me?“ You're cocking an eyebrow.

„Nothing, forget it!“ he quickly says.

„Alright... listen, I should probably get going. Keep doing what you do, it's amazing!“

Shit. You didn't think that sentence through.

„What?“

„Uhh, the... the money thingy, you know. It's amazing how you, uh yeah, how you're managing that! I'll leave now, enjoy your night!“ you stutter out.

Yoongis face is decorated with a huge smile.

„No, you better enjoy your night.“

Closing his door behind you, you're taking a deep breath. That was close. You have to be more careful with what you're saying.

Giving the next room a try, you definitely did not expect what just happened, and neither did the person inside expect someone to walk in.

You are peeking your head into Kim Namjoon's room, which isn't a bad thing at all, but his eyes are fixed on you as his mouth hangs open in embarrassment.

He was listening to a song you know all too well, no, he wasn't just listening, he was enjoying it. He enjoyed ‚Expensive girl‘. He danced to it.

„That never happened.“ he says emotionless.

„Deal.“

You know exactly why he's embarrassed, but since he doesn't know that, you decide to take a different route.

„That was a nice song, though. What's it called?“ you say with a soft smile.

Namjoons eyes widen even more when you said that.

„Are you- are you serious?“

„Yes, I am.“

„Fuck yeah it is right?! I knew someone will think so. You know what? I'm sick and tired of hiding that song. I'm sick and tired of pretending I don't like it. It's a good song, and thats the facts, ain't it like that?“ he says with way too much exitement and somehow a hint of aggression.

‚Who hurt this poor boy? Jesus christ, why does he feel so angry?‘

„The song is actually a cover, someone named Rap Monster made it. He changed his name though, but he's really sick!! You should give him a try,“ Namjoon says with a smirk.

You're having a hard time not to laugh. If only they'd know.

„I'm sure he is.“

„You're not in here for me, though, huh? You're looking for Taehyungs room. It's the last door at the end of the hall. After mine there's a couple other rooms following. You probably stumbled into some other rooms before mine, I guess I'm just... yeah, I guess I'm just trying to be nice so you won't waste your time.“

„Trying to be nice, huh?“ you laugh.

„Yeah, I mean, how could I not? You promised not to tell anyone about what just happened, so I'm just giving back the favor.“

„Oh, a real gentleman, I see.“

You both laugh out loud and remain smiling at each other quietly for a few more seconds afterwards. The guy that just seemed like an angry one now doesn't seem angry anymore at all; he suddenly feels warm.

„You're pretty cool, do you know that?“ you compliment him, your voice sincere.

Namjoons smile fades away, and he's staring at you with big eyes.

„I'll go now. Keep your nice taste in music up, alright?“

He doesn't say anything. Instead, he just nods a couple times.

Poor guy. You must have flustered him, although you have to say that this expression looks pretty cute on his face.

With a smile on your face, you wave him goodbye as you close the door behind you.

Namjoon's a decent man. At least he's told you where Taehyungs room is.

So here you are, walking towards the end of the hall, and as you reach it you realize that you're facing another problem. Just as you thought you might finally be able to get this night started, you are standing in the middle of two doors.

‚At least its a 50:50 chance now... instead of tons of possible doors that could be the right one.‘

Namjoon really could have mentioned if it was the left or the right door. But well, you're thankful that you didn't have to open the other 5 doors thanks to his hint, so you're not complaining.

‚Fuck it, let's just go with the left door.‘

Knocking first, you open the door ever so slowly before you step inside a bit. You can't see anyone to your left, but as your head turns over to the right, you find Jimin sitting on his bed in a cute pajama set.

This is probably the purest thing you've ever seen. He was reading a book, and as he faces you, your eyes lock. He looks as if he's absolutely mesmerized; his eyes wide and lips slightly parted, and you'd be lying if you'd say that this moment doesn't make your heart skip a beat.

„....I- uh.... I'm sorry.... wrong room,“ is all you can bring out, your eyes still locked.

He slowly nods at your words.

There's a short moment of silence before you cut the tension that lays thick in the air.

„I should... uhm... yeah,“ you stutter as you point over your shoulder with your thumb. Again, he only nods in response.

Just the second before you close the door, you can hear Jimin whispering a quiet ‚wow‘ under his breath.

As soon as it's closed, you're leaning onto his door. What the fuck was that?

While you're leaning there, though, your eyes fall onto the door in front of you.

Taehyungs door.

‚Alright, y/n. Game on.‘

a/n: jfc what a riDe this chapter was clykslxls. N E WEIGH I HOPE Y'ALL ENJOYED IT!!

And before you ask, y e s. The next chapter will be exactly what y'all are thinking. 👀 🐸☕️

Thanks for reading, ILY ALL SO MUCH 💕💕💕

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