#...will rewatch last christmas this week and lose my mind. excited! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cno-inbminor · 5 years ago

Text

adsentio - the masque

a/n: it’s royalty!au once again! i would recommend reading adsentio AND bonus letters for the full context. thank you to those who were waiting patiently! did i rewatch ‘ever after: a cinderella story’ for inspiration? of course.

genre: royalty!au ft. fem!reader, angst, fluff; warnings: terribly written sword fight, somewhat unedited.

summary: You’re starting to wonder if an impostor wrote those letters instead of Prince Akaashi, but the show must go on.

wc: ~7.4k

royalty!au: adsentio (pt. 1) | bonus letters (pt 1.5) | the masque (pt. 2)

“Are you sure everything is packed?”

“Yes, mother,” you reply, voice laced with exasperation.

“Is your dress for the ceremony there as well? We absolutely cannot leave without that gown!”

“Yes, mother, it’s in there,” you reassure, pointing to a trunk that’s already in the carriage. An audible sigh of relief leaves your mother’s lips. Even though your mother’s fretting was starting to grate at your last nerves, you still felt the excitement of going back to the Fukurodani Kingdom.

After all, Prince Akaashi is waiting for you.

Akaashi’s Christmas gift had come a month and a half before the holiday it was intended for. Soon after, the two of you agreed to refrain from sending any letters during the months of frost, wanting to lessen the burden on the delivery man. He needed to be home with his family when possible, and the journey could be treacherous during those times. As warmer weather rolled around in mid-March, his familiar face had arrived at your castle steps with a small bundle of letters tied with parcel string. They were all addressed to you in a handwriting that you had grown extremely fond of.

If it were up to you, you would be adorned in your most comfortable riding attire and charge full speed ahead. You would probably be able to cut the journey time by about a third, and though it wasn’t much, it would still mean that you would see Akaashi sooner. With how forward he was in his letters, you could only bubble with enthusiasm at how different this summer could be.

Nevertheless, time passes as it does, and you’re once again at the entrance of Fukurodani’s castle. As always, the king and queen stand side by side at the bottom of the steps, the prince standing politely by them. It seems that Prince Akaashi has only grown more handsome since last summer. If you had to guess, he would be more than a full head taller than you. Besides height, Akaashi’s face seems to have lost any remaining baby fat, leaving nothing but a pointed chin and a sharp jawline. Whether or not it be a result of your newfound attraction towards him, there’s no room to deny just how handsome he truly is, bordering on ethereal beauty.

His piercing blue orbs seem to sparkle in delight when you step out of the carriage. In fact, he’s quick to take place of their usual footman and hold out a hand for you to grasp, securely ensuring that you don’t lose your step. Your grip is tight, and you can only hope that he sees the joy reflected in your own eyes. With intention and purpose, he presses his lips to the back of your hand, needing no reminder from his mother this time, and never removes his gaze from yours. Your breath seems to have escaped your lungs, even more so when he straightens and takes one daring step closer to you. Both of your parents must be brimming with satisfaction at this interaction, but all of it is ignored and disregarded. Akaashi still keeps your hand in his as he slightly leans down to whisper in your ear.

“You look beautiful as always, Princess (y/n).”

Your title had always moderately annoyed you over the last 18 years, but you decide then and there that there would be no complaint if he addressed you as so for the rest of eternity. Furthermore, if it weren’t for your dignity and pride, you would kiss him right now in front of everyone. As he pulls away, you do your best to compose yourself. After all, two can play this game.

“Thank you, Your Highness. You’ve grown more handsome since I last saw you.”

“Have we returned to formalities again?”

“Please forgive my old habits, Prince Akaashi.”

“(Y/n),” he murmurs darkly, metallic blue eyes full of warning and mischief. “Need I remind you of my given name?”

You register the tightening of his grip. Don’t even dare, his eyes seem to caution, not when so much progress was made through paper and ink. But you know he will rise to a challenge for his desires when he sees one – it’s only in his nature.

“Perhaps I need a reason to address you as such,” you quip, watching his eyes flash with an emotion you are unable to pinpoint. Nevertheless, you remove your hand from his, ignoring the yearning for the warmth that he had provided. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must greet the king and queen or they’ll have my head.”

Akaashi only watches with longing as you trek away to curtsy before his parents. Could your birthday celebration come any sooner?

You’re beginning to think that someone other than Prince Akaashi wrote those letters to you, that someone else had just forged his handwriting to a tee and perfectly replicated his writing style. Since the little interaction between you two on the day of your arrival, Akaashi was acting as if this were any other summer. Very little was said to or done with you – even last summer, the two of you had often strolled through the gardens while discussing various topics. Yet now, it was five summers ago all over again: the two of you at opposite ends of the castle reading your desired books.

You only ever saw him during mealtimes or in passing – even then, he would simply nod in your direction or only speak to you when he had to. Your efforts to narrow the gap diminished significantly by the third day, and by the end of the first week, you decided to completely give up. The prince has constructed a wall between you two and you possessed no ability to strike it down.

On days you weren’t reading, out of boredom and the need to fill your mind with thoughts of anything other than Akaashi, you would help prepare for the ball and your coming-of-age celebration. A private, proper ceremony would be done in your own kingdom once you returned, but it had long been determined that the festivities would be held here. Invitations and RSVP’s had steadily increased over the months, indicating that this would be a grand occasion. All the lessons on design and party-arrangement were finally paying off in its fullest, but your mother could not ignore the lack of life in your eyes.

It’s two weeks before the ball – you’re currently sitting in your chambers, lounging in a chair on your balcony with a book in your lap. You’ve recently taken an interest in philosophy, first starting with the works of Aristotle and Plato. A faint rap of knuckles on your door breaks your focus. “Come in,” you call out loud enough for your visitor to hear. The door clicks open and shut, and you’re mildly surprised to see your mother turning the corner to search for you.

“Mother, what a surprise,” you express while standing. She pulls you in for a hug without a word, only confusing you in the process as you return the embrace. After removing herself, she guides you back inside until the two of you are sitting on the edge of your bed, still holding your hands.

“Something has been bothering you, my child. Is there something you wish to tell me?” Your mother doesn’t want to push – she knows of the letters, your developed affection for Akaashi, and the lack of interaction between the two of you this summer. It’s hard to miss the lack of your figure by his side when he’s wondering around the castle, the ever pensive, calculating look on his face never fading. It’s hard to miss the way you often pick at your food, even going as far to request smaller portions for all your meals.

But it’s even harder to ignore the worried look in the prince’s eyes that’s cast your way when you excuse yourself after every meal, leaving earlier than everyone else.

You can only sigh before your teeth begin to gently gnaw on your bottom lip. “Mother, how angry would you be if this engagement doesn’t proceed as you’ve planned?”

“To be quite honest,” she begins as a small smile forms on her face. “I wouldn’t be angry at all. Not if the cost of it was your happiness.”

“But what about the merger?”

“With all these years between our kingdoms, engagement or not, a merger of sorts would only be inevitable. We only hoped that naturally, you and the prince would be drawn towards each other. But to force the two of you together would be unfair – your father and mine, as well as his parents, main concern is the happiness of our children.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Of course,” your mother emphasizes, a hand reaching up to cradle your cheek. “In fact, if you would like…

“We don’t have to come here next summer.”

Your eyes widen. Your mother was giving you a choice in this?

“Are you...sure?”

“I’m absolutely positive, (y/n). I will not force you and neither will your father, especially if forcing you would only make your pain greater.”

“Very well then, mother. We shall see.”

“Keep your chin up, my dear. We must keep you in your best shape for the ball, and…” she pauses, her smile turning somewhat mischievous. “Perhaps remind the prince that he should be properly courting you by now.”

“Mother!”

“Is it proper for a princess to be sparring?”

“Bokuto, you’ve known me for so many years, yet you still ask me this question every time. Do you really think my father would allow me to marry without knowing how to defend myself?”

“I can’t really say, Princess. At least, not without possibly offending the king.”

Every summer, you make it tradition to leave time for sparring. When you turned fourteen, many of the younger guards in training had been terrified of practicing with you, fearing that they’d be punished for engaging in behavior that could possibly harm the princess. But after much coaxing and convincing (as well as written promise from King Akaashi), they finally felt comfortable in sparring with you. Back at home, you had a few designated training partners from the royal guard, but it would do no good if you didn’t keep up with your skills.

You’ve won your fair share, as well as lost a few handfuls. But you were never a sore loser and only thanked your partner for their time, even asking for pointers. On a few occasions, you would duel with Akaashi, though for times when you were at an advantage, you would purposely lose. The prince needed faith and trust from his men, and many would be dimwitted enough to let a few losses to a woman diminish their view of him. Akaashi was very well aware of your generosity, as well as Bokuto, which only caused him to tease the prince relentlessly in private.

For the sixth time this summer, just one week before the masque, you had pleaded with Bokuto for his time. At this point, you prefer to not ask for anything from Akaashi, especially when you’re so obviously kept at arm’s length. Bokuto is much more agreeable and doesn’t treat you like a glass figurine, thanks to the many years of roughhousing during your childhoods. He isn’t afraid to use his full force behind the strikes of his sword and you could always guarantee a few good rounds from him. Additionally, he always offers a lot of good advice after each duel. When you incorporate his teachings into your skill set, he recognizes it immediately and howls with pride, praising himself for being such a wonderful instructor.

“Why haven’t you asked Akaashi to spar with you yet?” Bokuto asks while tightening his gloves. The training grounds are empty at this time, though to be fair, it’s still quite early in the morning. You wanted to spar comfortably without the overbearing heat of the summer afternoon sun. A sigh leaves your lips – it’s not as if he doesn’t know already.

“I believe you’re well aware of why I haven’t, Bokuto. He’s barely spoken to me in these weeks. In fact, I’m sure he has better things to do than to indulge me.”

“He still cares for you.”

“Well, he has a funny way of showing it,” you reply bitterly and draw out your sword. “Come on, no time to dawdle.”

Disobeying your words, Bokuto bides his time with some extra stretching. “I’m his closest friend, I would know.”

“Then he can tell me himself. Can we please start?”

“Very well then.”

His words have riled you up significantly, Bokuto notices. Your attacks are relentless and your senses seem sharper than ever, easily dodging and parrying with the footwork of an experienced soldier. In fact, your movement is breathtakingly graceful, almost as if you were dancing. The duel goes on for minutes until Bokuto accidentally hesitates and can only surrender when the tip of your sword is millimeters from his neck. He drops his sword and a big grin forms on his face.

You lower your weapon and step back as the both of you catch your breath. Behind you, Bokuto spots a familiar figure leaning over the edge of their balcony. They’re too far away to hear what you’re saying or what expressions you’re wearing, but that doesn’t stop Bokuto from coming up with a devious plan.

“(Y/n), don’t look behind you, but he’s watching.”

You freeze – you completely forgot that Akaashi’s room faces the direction of the training grounds. Naturally, he has his own balcony, but you didn’t think he’d be watching. Had he been observing all your other sparring rounds? And how was he awake now? He’s usually never up this early.

“I have an idea,” Bokuto continues. “But you have to play along, all right?”

“I’m not liking the sound of this…”

“You just need to follow my lead. Now, pretend you’re about to start another duel.”

With all the confusion displayed on your face, you warily adjust yourself into your preparatory stance. Bokuto steps closer to you while sheathing his sword, eyeing your position with his hands behind his back. He quickly checks to see if Akaashi is still paying attention, and after confirming so, he enters your bubble of personal space.

“If you begin to feel uncomfortable, tell me. If I’m right, it’ll only take a few minutes before he’s down here.”

“But I don’t want—”

“Shh,” Bokuto interrupts with a gloved finger on your lips. He smirks when he spots Akaashi suddenly straightening himself, his posture turning stiff and guarded. You watch as he reaches for the hand holding your sword, wrapping his own around your grip.

“What are you doing?” You hiss at him.

“Wait a few seconds…okay,” Bokuto removes himself from your personal space. You relax and put down your guard, resisting the urge to punch him in the arm.

“What ever was all that for?!”

“Look,” he replies, pointing in the direction of Akaashi’s balcony. “He’s gone. I guarantee he’ll be here in the next five minutes.”

“Bokuto—”

“Now, now, let’s have another round to pass the time.”

“But—”

You’re interrupted when Bokuto swings his sword towards you, your own blocking his instinctively. You could try to protest all you want, but he wasn’t going to let you have it. You would make sure that he regrets it. Much like the first round, you put your all into the sparring session, fury growing as Bokuto’s grin widens over time. He’s taunting you over and over, leaving you so focused that you’re completely oblivious to the third figure currently making their way towards the two of you. Once within earshot, Akaashi clears his throat and you whip towards him with horror in your eyes.

“Ah, Akaashi, excellent! So glad you could join us!” Bokuto yells, walking away from you to clap him on the shoulder. “In fact, would you mind taking over from here? I just remembered I needed to attend to something back inside the castle. Thank you, Akaashi!” And then Bokuto just…leaves.

A shroud of silence covers the two of you – your attention is directed at anything but the object of your affections, choosing to focus on the dew of the grass, the glint of the light on your sword, the light morning breeze blowing past your stray hairs, the loose threads at the waist of your pants—

“Shall we begin?” He asks, breaking the tranquility.

Akaashi is infuriating; infuriatingly handsome, infuriatingly good at stripping down your defenses, infuriatingly adept at raising your heartbeat to an alarming rate. It’s simply unfair, and it angers you.

You say nothing while taking a few steps backward, your feet adjusting yourself in the same position that Bokuto had you stand in just mere minutes ago. Akaashi observes and also readies himself, his stance very similar to yours. Only seconds pass before he’s charging towards you, and the fight begins.

The first round falls in his favor, his face showing little reaction throughout the whole clash. You demand another round, barely giving time for a break because you’re brimming with the need to have some semblance of a victory. Weeks of pent up furious confusion make themselves known in the way you fight – you no longer move with the grace seen earlier with Bokuto. Instead, traces of sloppiness are there in your footwork and Akaashi takes advantage of this, though he begins to worry. If this were a real duel, you would’ve long fallen victim to his sword.

The second round lasts much longer than the first due to your obstinate refusal to back down and give up. Your braid had long come undone and Akaashi can’t help but think about how beautiful you look, even with your hair seemingly flying wildly every time you spin to try to catch him off guard. His split focus costs him when your weapons meet in the middle, allowing you to push and twist his hand around to force him to lose his grip. The metal is flung towards the side and he’s met with the shimmer of your sword that’s dangerously close to his jugular vein. He slowly brings his hands up in surrender and you falter.

Both of your chests rapidly rise and fall, lungs desperate for oxygen. Akaashi struggles to remember the last time you had put so much effort into a duel, your desperation to win screaming itself into the air. He notices how much thinner your face has gotten, how your arm slightly trembles with exhaustion. You need to rest and eat more, Akaashi concludes with furrowed eyebrows. Your well-being is of utmost importance to him.

You feel yourself begin to quiver under Akaashi’s stare, yet long to know what could be going through his mind. Even though you’ve won this round, Akaashi still has your heart and the thought somewhat embarrasses you. You’ve always prided yourself in being level-headed, yet you just spent the last thirty to forty-five minutes taking out all your frustrations on him.

“Have you been getting enough sleep, (y/n)?”

Don’t say my name like that.

“I don’t see why it matters,” you sigh, moving away to pick up his fallen sword.

“You need to look after yourself,” Akaashi replies, following after her with a slight sense of urgency. You whip around too fast for him to react, only groaning from the impact when you practically shove his weapon to his chest. Nothing prepared you for this conversation – you aren’t ready to have it, and you’d rather not have it with swords nearby.

“I am looking after myself, your highness,” you bite through gritted teeth. Your feet carry you as fast as possible towards the entrance back into the castle, but a hand latches onto your wrist and demands your attention. You have no choice but to turn your body towards him, denying that his eyes are flashing nothing but concern and frustration.

“You’re eating less. You’re always awake at odd hours. Your corsets are too tight – they look as if they’ll squeeze the life out of you. You keep pushing yourself too hard during sparring sessions. It takes you longer than usual to finish books. You’re under the sun too much—”

“You have no right!” you accuse, attempting to wriggle your wrist from his grip. Why does he speak as if he’s been keeping a watchful eye on you when he can barely meet your own over the dinner table?

Akaashi refuses to relent, even pulling you closer to him under the shadows of the doorway. “Please (y/n), you must know how much I worry—”

“Then pray tell, why have you ignored me since I stepped foot into your castle?!” You cry out, tears of vexation beginning to form. “Why have you ignored my very existence, as if we are twelve again and trying to escape something seemingly inevitable?! How could—how could you build me up for months and months, only to tear me down without a second thought?”

Akaashi knows his reasoning is botched and full of fallacies – he’s beginning to understand the extent of how much his actions have affected you, but he can’t help but try to save some face. His cool, collected façade and wisdom had long taken a backseat towards matters concerning you, and he feels like a fool. A big, bumbling, inexplicably irrational fool in love.

“Princess—”

“I would have no qualms if you had just outright told me that you didn’t care for me,” you interrupt once more, though in a calmer tone. Your body is still shaking from the emotional downpour, tears streaking down your cheeks unattractively. You wish you could just take a horse from the stables and ride home, away from all this nonsense. “But you can’t write me those letters, the very ones that I’ve so deeply cherished this passing year, and treat me as if it were all some dream that my brain so desperately sprung together.”

“I have my deepest regrets – I’m so sorry, it’s just…with the way we greeted each other on the first day, I somehow convinced myself that you didn’t mean what you wrote—”

“Keiji,” you interrupt softly. How he wishes you were saying his name in a different context, in a tone that was full of love than disappointment. How he wishes there were no salty tears tracking down your cheeks. “You have known me for almost thirteen years. Thirteen long, playful, revealing years. Nothing ever escapes you, and you said so yourself; we are old friends. Therefore,” you pause, gulping.

“Shouldn’t you know that I would never pen those words to just anyone?”

And you disappear into the castle.

Akaashi feels that there’s nothing more appropriate than beating his head into the wall, cursing himself for being so stupid.

What have I done?

“I must say, in the most appropriate sense, you are truly, royally fucked.”

“I know, Bokuto. I know.”

Akaashi tries to make up for his mistakes in his classic fashion: silently, with small thoughtful gifts.

He has resumed leaving flowers from the garden in your chambers again: some days, you return to a peony. Other days, you return to the addition a single rose in the ardent shade of passionate love. They accumulate on your dresser, your room becoming filled with the floral scents. The lingering fragrance haunts your dreams, filled with flashes of childhood memories and anticipated encounters at the masque. You often wake up feeling as if there’s a lead weight on your chest, and even though you physically slept for eight hours, the fatigue in your eyes vehemently argue otherwise.

Akaashi becomes insistent on escorting you everywhere, always offering his arm for you to take. At first, you’re hesitant, but just a day later, it becomes second nature. Akaashi joins you again when reading – if he can, he’ll take a seat next to you. If not, he’ll be sure to be across from you, though he’s not reading most of these times. He often carries a journal with him, assistants always prepared to provide him with a writing utensil and ink, and scribbles away. Akaashi has never held back his admiration for the world’s literature, and four days before your birthday, you pause in your reading to feed the curiosity.

“What are you scribbling in there, if I may ask?”

“A…personal work of sorts.”

“Your Highness, an author? I must say, it suits you. Is it a work of fiction?”

“Not this time,” he says with the ghost of a demure, secretive smile on his face. “You could consider it a memoir.”

“If you say so.”

It had been decided some time ago that the ball would be held the night before your birthday, rather than the day of. These events were known to last well into the night, so at midnight, they would make an announcement in your honor and present you before everyone invited. With these change in plans, your original deadline for Akaashi to find you had to be moved ahead, and he was less than pleased to hear this the day before the ball, even though it was anticipated.

“Fifteen minutes is precious time, Princess,” Akaashi expresses with displeasure. “Could you permit me at least five ‘til midnight?”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, milord. I must have enough time to prepare myself.”

“Have I only been upgraded to being called ‘milord’?”

“How is it that your title irks you so?”

“Only when it’s coming from you, Princess. And I must say, you’re one to speak – don’t think I’m unaware of how much you greatly dislike it when you’re addressed as such. You’ve never bothered to correct me though. Why is that?”

“Perhaps…” you say, giving him a side glance full of mirth. “Perhaps you’re just an exception.”

Akaashi’s eyes widen a bit before crinkling with delight. You never cease to amaze him, reminding him at the most unexpected times that you are also invested in this growing relationship with him. He quickly looks around him before gently dragging you to the nearest empty bedroom, hoping that even though the walls have ears, they don’t have the eyes to witness this. Once the door is quietly shut behind him, Akaashi begins to take slow steps in your direction, towering over you and crowding you until your heels hit the wall. You struggle to maintain eye contact as well as keeping your breathing under control. Akaashi continues to pin you down with his piercing gaze, gradually bending down until he’s at eye level with you. Thoughts run amok in your brain as his face nears yours. Is he going to—

Your internal process ceases when he tenderly places a kiss at the corner of your lips, then moving until his breath is right by your ear. The sensation triggers a shiver down your spine, causing him to chuckle.

“To give you an idea of what I’d like my reward to be when I catch you tomorrow night, Princess,” he murmurs before moving away.

You’re blushing furiously no matter how much you fight it, barely registering when he lifts both of your hands to place a similarly gentle kiss on your touching knuckles. Part of you wants to protest when he steps towards the door and cracks it open, peeking out to see if anyone is lingering in the corridors. Akaashi keeps a hold on one of your hands, quickly leading you out and folding it into the crook of his other elbow. He fixes his gaze in front of him to bring on an air of normalcy, as if he didn’t just sneak you into a spare bedroom to do something that many would somewhat frown upon. Akaashi had yet to ask to formally court you, but he has full intentions to change that tomorrow night.

“Perhaps you’ll give me an insight on what you’ll be wearing tomorrow night?” He inquires cheekily and you send him your dirtiest glare.

“Only in your dreams, milord. Did you not read the part about making this harder on you so I could have some fun?”

“Wouldn’t it be better to have fun with each other?”

“Do you mean to tempt me?” You tease, chuckling into the back of your free hand.

“There was no guarantee that you’d refuse – am I not allowed to grasp onto any remaining hope?”

“Whatever satisfies you, milord.”

“Then let me find you tomorrow night. I don’t believe I’ll stand for any of the other suitors attempting to whisk you away with baseless words and ill intentions.”

“What would you know of their intentions?” You ask curiously, looking up towards him. His eyes darken and harden with an emotion you’re not familiar with. It’s one that is never directed towards you, almost dangerous in a way.

“More than you should know, Princess,” he replies gravely.

Before you realize it, you’re sitting in front of your vanity, sitting as prettily and patiently as you can while your handmaiden, Yachi, does her best work on your hair. You observe your current features – a faint blush had been dusted on your cheeks and a deep rouge painted on your lips. Your mask would be similar to many those of the other attendees, one more thing to pull in your favor in this game of cat and mouse.

Your heart begins to beat faster as the seconds tick by – there’s no doubt that Akaashi is already by his parents’ side, carrying a princely aura and politely greeting all the guests. The ball began at 9PM and it was already thirty minutes after. You can hear the faint sounds of the musicians playing up a lively theme, imagining that the festivities will be in full swing soon. Soon, your handmaiden is patting you on the shoulder, notifying you that she was done. In the mirror, you turn your head left and right and nod appreciatively, thanking her for her hard work. Your fingers shakily pick up your mask and Yachi ties it securely behind your head and underneath your hair.

“Do you think he’ll recognize me?” You ask nervously, fiddling your fingers in your lap. Yachi knew almost everything about the ordeal and had even come up with some good ideas to make things harder on the prince.

“If he keeps in mind that you’ll be the most beautiful maiden at the ball, then I’m sure he will,” Yachi giggles, tucking in some stray hairs.

“You’re not here to lie to me,” you whine, pouting slightly. “In all seriousness…”

“I have no doubt, milady,” Yachi says, her eyes and tone softening. “If His Highness likes you as much as he says he does, then he will certainly find you.”

You let out a deep breath before standing from your chair, the nerves beginning to course through your system. In the reflection, you gaze upon the line of flower-filled vases on your dresser, their presence somehow bringing you some serenity. Yachi is right -- with how much he boasted in letters about studying every memory he has of you, there should be a reasonable level of certainty that he would catch you by your deadline.

But now was the time to be festive. After all, the guests were here in your honor (and to have a joyous time) and you’d be rude to not partake in the activities. Some of the maids are bustling around, ensuring that drinks and food are readily available, never running low. The sound of your heels clicking along the granite echoes against the walls, yet your heartbeat seems louder and louder as you near the ballroom. The castle beholds two specific large ballrooms with double doors towards the courtyard, allowing the cool summer air in. You take a quick detour and choose to enter the ballroom from the outside, much less likely to arouse suspicion.

At least everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, you think to yourself with a smile. It’s easy to spot Bokuto in the crowd with that hair of his, just as you predicted. The band just finishes a song when you sneak in, yet starts up a familiar tune not long after. The piece calls for a large group to dance together, and wanting to join in, you make your way to the center. Luckily, one more female was needed and you are welcomed, as well as gently shoved to a tall man who seemed to be lacking a partner. It’s not hard to guess who it is, however. Even with a mask, you could recognize that crooked grin from anywhere.

As per tradition, he bows to you and you curtsy, then routinely placing your hand in his. He draws you close to him by the waist, but his grip is light and barely holds any weight on your back. Taking a quick once-over at the group, he addresses you.

“Should I be counting my lucky stars to be dancing with the princess in honor?” He teases just loud enough for you to hear.

“I would advise against it, Prince Kuroo.”

A quiet laugh leaves his chest as he gives you a spin, flawlessly bring you back to him. “You can trust me, Princess. Bokuto has already informed me of the game in place, though I suppose it was more of a warning more than anything.”

“Oh, how so?”

“If I didn’t want to face the wrath of your dear prince, I should refrain from attempting to convince you that a merger between our kingdoms would be more ideal.”

“I must say, I’m a little surprised that Bokuto isn’t trying to stir up trouble.”

“I would advise against speaking too soon – he’s already on his third glass of mead.”

“Good gods,” you mutter in disbelief. Kuroo shakes with laughter.

“For my amusement, I’d like to see Akaashi be a clumsy fool in love. You have my word that I’ll keep this interaction secret for now,” he promises, rushing his words a little bit. Soon, the two of you will need to break apart and switch partners.

“But don’t forget to have a little fun. Happy birthday, Princess,” Kuroo says sincerely in your ear, sneaking in a quick kiss to the back of your hand before letting you go. You fall into the hands of another male, one you don’t recognize, and fall into silent routine until the dance is over. When the band comes to a stop, everybody bows to each other with a wide smile on their faces and cheeks tinted red from happiness. Momentarily, you had forgotten about your nerves and Akaashi, but now that there was nothing else to focus on, the shivers of being chased creep along your body.

In one sense, it’s almost thrilling. The thought has you questioning your own sanity, but perhaps it’s only because Akaashi is the one searching for you, finding the right time to pounce. As a result, you never stay in one place for too long, mingling into other crowds and making small talk. Very few have noticed who you were, and even Bokuto replaces his antics for a wink when he passes by you, knowing his usual behavior would give it all away.

The clock strikes eleven, each toll causing your heart to skip a beat. You grant yourself one more glance towards Akaashi.

Earlier during the dance, you had spotted him in the far corner of the ballroom staring in another direction. Now when you have the time to watch and appreciate, you can’t help but marvel at how beautiful this man is. Time boded well on him, his features and height resembling a strong, trustworthy young prince. He had the intellect and perceptive level worthy of being king, and even the atmosphere around him agreed. His head was fit to hold a crown, and any woman would fall at his feet in seconds. Tonight, he is donned in the kingdom’s colors, his own attire a regal show of ivory, ebony, and gold. The design is not overly ornate or flamboyant, yet regal enough to instantaneously remind others exactly who he is. Each hue makes him shine like a beacon of light in darkness.

Needing some fresh air, you slip out towards the courtyard and quietly make your way to the garden entrance. A couple of guards are standing watch but let you in once you untie the mask from your face. Your feet pad down a familiar path towards the rows of peonies and you’re thankful for the uninhibited rays of the full moon tonight. They’re cast in a soft glow of white and blue – you can’t help but tenderly touch petals of one half-open.

“I had an inkling that you would come here.”

The familiar tenor startles you out of your wits, your hand flying back up to your chest as you turn towards the perpetrator for your premature heart attack. None other than Prince Akaashi stands before you with his hands behind his back and a twinkle in his eyes. Then, the weight is lifted off your chest.

He had found you.

Once you catch your breath, you can only let out a suppressed laugh. There was nowhere to hide, not when your mask is grasped between the fingers of your other hand. He hadn’t even bothered to wear one, though you’ll scold him later for not participating in the festivities.

“I suppose you followed me here?”

“You could say that,” Akaashi replies with a smile, moving closer to stand right in front of you.

“It did take you over an hour and a half though.”

“(Y/n).”

“…yes, milord?”

“I noticed you the second you stepped into the ballroom.”

The statement baffles you and freezes you to the core. You find yourself unable to do anything when Akaashi grasps both of your hands in his, bringing them to his lips much like he did yesterday.

“Then why did you not come to me then?” You question after finding your voice again. Akaashi says nothing at first, only rearranging your limbs to a familiar posture for a waltz. He begins to step and lead, your own feet naturally following him as if you’ve been practicing this for a long time together. His silence makes you grow more unsure of all this.

“I wanted to observe, reconfirm my suspicions that I was already fully convinced on. In addition, I wanted you to enjoy yourself. You and our mothers have spent so many months preparing this – it’s only right that you enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

“Then you saw me dance?”

“Yes, and you were the best of them all,” he instantly compliments, always honest and straightforward to the point, sending blood to your cheeks.

“Thank you, milord,” you reply sheepishly.

“You’re welcome, Princess. Though I must say,” Akaashi’s tone turns dangerous, leaning over to whisper in your ear. He notices how your hands tighten their grips on his, perhaps trying to ground yourself. “Why did Prince Kuroo of Nekoma speak to you like this, so intimately? I thought, perhaps, this would also be left as a privilege solely for me?”

“He was doing just as you had warned before,” you chuckle, silently apologizing for pulling the wool over Kuroo’s eyes. Judging by the sharp inhale, Akaashi was less than pleased at what you were insinuating. “He may or may not have been attempting to persuade me into forming a more personal alliance with his kingdom.”

“Was he now…” Akaashi murmurs. In an effort to contain the green jealousy rising within him (and gain a little leverage), his hands slowly release yours to gently grasp your waist. For a moment, he wishes they were holding you this way in a different situation, but that doesn’t stop him from daringly ghosting his lips over the column of your neck, his breath sending goosebumps along your skin. You keep as still as possible, completely unsure of what to do. But if there’s one thing that is certain, it’s that no man could ever have an effect on you like Akaashi does.

“I have known you since you were young,” he proceeds. “And though we didn’t want anything to do with each other, we eventually grew accustomed to each other. Before I even realized it, I was watching your every move, listening to every word you said. Even when we were twelve, I found myself wanting to be near you. I wanted you to take notice of me just as I did you. When we were fifteen and you sat against me by the fireplace…there was the most wonderful sense of belonging, as if you were supposed to be right there by my side.”

Your heart might fail you at this point, aching for the man who was now lifting his head away to face you. The back of one hand lifts to caress your cheek, and your eyes catch the ardent passion in his, even in the moonlight.

“I penned those words to you with every intention of properly courting you. I wished for you to understand the lengths I would go to ensure your happiness. It was never about this merger between our kingdoms and hasn’t been for a long time. I only want you to know that should you allow me to, it would be my honor to court you and perhaps…be your husband.”

Unshed tears of joy are brimming in your eyes. Akaashi has suffered enough, you believe. A tear must have escaped because he catches it with his thumb, softly wiping it away. You can’t help but let out a breathless laugh, and Akaashi knows it’s a good sign. The smile on his face grows wider as you collect yourself to give your response.

“You do, after all, deserve a reward for finding me.”

Akaashi smirks and tilts his head forward, his lips millimeters away from yours.

“And what would that be, Princess?” He purrs.

Your heart takes a leap and you press your lips to his. Instantly, Akaashi cradles your face, refusing to separate from you. The first kiss is innocent and unmoving, allowing the both of you to revel in the sensation. A thrilling streak of adrenaline courses through your veins and sets your soul on fire as he puts more force, conveying to you his neediness and years of pent-up desire. You return it ounce for ounce until you can’t breathe anymore, pulling back to breathe in some much-needed oxygen. Akaashi doesn’t stop, sensuously kissing every available surface of your cheeks until he’s tired of waiting to kiss your lips once more. You give in and let yourself fall until the point of no return – even if Akaashi was the devil incarnate, you would gladly hand over your soul for an eternity of his love.

“As much as I want to continue this,” he states over bated breath. “We have a ball to return to.”

You sigh and nod, brushing your nose against his before allowing some distance between the two of you. Akaashi offers to tie the mask before taking hold of your hand, folding it into the crook of his elbow as he has done many times before. The two of you bide your time as much as possible, giving each other knowing glances when the courtyard is within your view again. Some of the ladies (and men) throw you nasty looks for having had private time with the prince, but none of it matters as Akaashi asks for a dance, spending the rest of the minutes until midnight with you in his arms.

After midnight strikes and being presented to the crowd, Akaashi keeps a hold on you again, ignoring the jeering and teasing gestures from Bokuto and Prince Kuroo. Kuroo, the ever honest yet playful man he is, sends you a wink behind Akaashi’s back and you bury your face into his chest. Whatever the cause may be, Akaashi continues to envelop you in his arms with a light and comfortable conversation taking place. As a natural silence passes over, he whispers into your ear, “Happy birthday, Princess.”

“Thank you, Keiji.”

Ecstasy fills his soul -- there hasn’t been anything more gratifying or more satisfying than hearing his name from your lips again. Finally, from now until death...he feels absolutely complete.

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trashfor-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

My Senpai | 4

Ushijima x Reader

Summary: You’re Goshiki Tsutomu’s older doting sister, second year at Shiratorizawa and captain of the girl’s track & field team. At your brother’s first practice you sneak in to support him and end up meeting the impressive force that is his captain. Warnings: None really. Mentions sex. Spoilers: We’re encroaching on manga territory. Takes place after Karasuno v Shiratorizawa.

Author’s Note: Sorry for not updating in forever! I lost my original chapter and got discouraged. I started rewatching Ushijima episodes to refresh my grasp on his character.

[1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5]

It was a shock. You never thought Shiratorizawa was capable of losing this year. Ushijima appeared unaffected, but that was just him. It was always mental for him and he had the ability to act with a sort of chivalric grace whenever faced with conflict. God, your boyfriend was really cool. Your brother, however, it broke your heart to see him cry.

After the award ceremony, you raced down to wait by the bus. Ushijima walked out first, his head held high. Noticing you, he simply rested his large hand on your head before getting on the bus. Quiet hello’s and thanks for coming’s were whispered to you. Your little brother could barely make eye contact, the last one to get on the bus. Reaching for his hand, you gave it a squeeze before letting it go and heading for the bus that brought the cheer squad.

The ride felt long. You spent most of it listening to music and playing with the sleeve of Ushijima’s spare team jacket he’d given you shortly after dating. You smiled and chatted occasionally with your fellow students, but the topics of discussion were focused on how Ushijima and the third years were doing. They expected you to have the answers and quite frankly, you thought it was obvious.

Getting back, you made your way into the gym to see the team working on serves. You sat quietly on the sidelines and watched as everyone gave their all, letting out their frustrations from the day. You never knew you could find the slams of volleyballs to be comforting to where they could put you to sleep. Or maybe you were just exhausted. Either way, you woke up from being carried.

“Wakatoshi,” you mumbled, snuggling closer to his chest.

The two of you snuck into your dorm room, stripping down into your underwear and entangling under the sheets. Ushijima’s body was like a radiator, warm and comforting.You ran your fingers through his hair patiently. If he wanted to talk, then he would. Until then, you whispered little praises to him, pressing kisses to his shoulder between sentences.

“I won’t lose again,” he spoke quietly.

Months passed and things continued to go well between the two of you. They were better than ever honestly. During Christmas you visited each other’s families at his request. You didn’t even have to prompt it! Your parents loved him. They thought he was quite the protector type and approved. His mother ended up accepting you once she realized you were intelligent and genuinely loved her son. Your personality had definitely thrown her for a loop.

Graduation was soon approaching and the two of you decided on a five year plan together. Long nights were spent discussing goals and dreams, wondering if they would be compatible with one another. He intended on going pro right after school; the Schweiden Adlers seemed most likely and they were based in Oita. You still had your third year of high school to finish, but you were applying to Kyushu University for architecture. It was in Fukuoka and closer than your other options to Oita. It was just a couple of hours by train or car. You also had plans to stick with track and field and keep your spot on the national team for as long as you could. You both had your eyes on the 2016 Olympics.

For a year the two of you managed to maintain a healthy long distance relationship.

After graduation, there were farewell and congratulatory parties almost every day, but the most fun for you was going apartment hunting, together. It was like a vacation, enjoying the beaches and hot springs. You spent a week staying at his apartment where the lease was ending soon. He said the two of you needed a new place together, that his current apartment wasn’t fitting enough for you. On your third day in Oita, Ushijima decided on the place, a 2 bed and 1.5 bath townhome instead of a one and one apartment. When you told him it was a bit expensive, he said it was perfect because he wanted you to have your own space at home to study for school without being bothered by him. You cried right there and he handled it like a champ. The two of you moved in a week before you started school.

“Wakatoshi!” you called to him from the rooftop terrace. He appeared, sticking his head out from the sliding glass door. You wiped your cheek, smudging dirt across your face. “Can you help me move this bag?”

He slipped on his outdoor shoes and walked over, lifting the bag of dirt and moving it to one of the two raised garden beds that he built earlier today. The two of you had plans for a small vegetable garden. “I thought we were going to plant seeds after lunch. I’m almost done cooking.”

“I know, I just got really excited. I was staring at your beautiful work and couldn’t help myself,” you cooed, giving him starry eyes.

Sighing, he set the bag down where you needed it before taking your hand and dragging you back inside. “We’ll do this after lunch. Together.”

“Aw, are you jealous I tried to start before you?” He didn’t say anything in response, making you grin. “My handsome farmer, I’m so sorry.”

After lunch, the two of you filled the garden beds with dirt and carefully planted seeds for carrots, lettuce, tomatoes, peas, basil, parsley, rosemary, thyme, marigolds, lavender, and scarlet plume celosia. Ushijima had done quite a bit of research on complimentary plants. Hours really. Hours spent doing online research and drawing diagrams of how the garden should be set up for its fullest potential.

You were watering one of the garden beds when you caught a glimpse of Ushijima squatting with a spade in his hand. It was so cute how concentrated he was and how much attention he was giving this simple task. Biting your lip, you sprayed him briefly. He blinked, as if not comprehending what happened and looked up, as if blaming the sky. A muffled laugh escaped you. You went back to watering the garden bed as he went inside. Minutes later you heard the glass door slide open and didn’t pay much mind to it. Suddenly you felt chilled and were thoroughly soaked. Moving your hair from your eyes, you looked up to see your boyfriend holding a bucket over your head.

“Wakatoshi!”

Soon you were off to university, moving into a small dorm room with a single suitcase. Your dorm was littered with photographs of you and Ushijima and it was hard to cope with the fact that you wouldn’t see him through at least the rest of summer, maybe not even until the end of September if your school’s track team did well.

For a month you and Ushijima would call or FaceTime every night and tell each other about your days. He was quite proud of the garden the both of you planted and would send you progress photos and then describe what he saw in fine detail. Honestly, you didn’t realize your boyfriend was capable of being so invested in something other than volleyball. There were a few times you tried spicing up your phone calls, but honestly Ushijima didn’t get it. He was terrible at phone sex. It was fine though. Summer break was.... just a few months away.

It was a Saturday night after track practice when you got a phone call from your boyfriend.

“Wakatoshi! You’re calling early. I haven’t gotten back to my dorm yet,” you spoke, excited to hear from him.

“(Y/N), I’m lost.”

Your brows raised in surprise. “Lost, how? Do you need me to look up how to fix something?”

“No, I’m somewhere on your university’s campus.”

You felt your heart skip and you immediately ran toward main campus. “Okay well tell me what you see.”

In thirty minutes you were in your dorm taking a shower and Ushijima was reading the newest shonen jump he picked up at the train station on your bedroom floor. You came out with your hair in a towel and one of Ushijima’s t-shirts you had stolen. He set aside his magazine and pulled you down into his lap, holding you tight.

“I’m so surprised you came. I’m so happy,” you squealed, burying your face into his neck and running your fingers through his hair.

“I missed you too. I can stay for two days, but then I must go home.”

Pulling back, you let your fingers run over the stubble on his jaw, pouting a bit, “So what do I owe this short visit?”

His stare was intense and a faint blush kissed his cheeks. “I recognize that a few times you’ve tried to... initiate some things on the phone. I admit I’m not very good at it, so hopefully my presence now can make up for my... lack of experience.”

“Wakatoshi,” you breathed out in surprise, gazing at him with so much love. He literally traveled almost three hours because you were horny without him. Pulling the towel from your hair, you knocked him over onto his back as you jumped him.

Visits like these happened sporadically and soon it was fall. Track and field season was over which meant you could make your weekend visits home to Oita. You’d leave Wednesday nights and head back to school on Sunday mornings. Despite the second bedroom serving as a private study for you, you found yourself curling up to Ushijima almost always - as long as he wasn’t busy.

This was life for a couple of years. The two of you had become quite the duo. In fact, throughout your relationship, you had only argued about two things:

You broke your phone once and he wasn’t able to contact you and he freaked out from not knowing what was going on.

He forgot your anniversary and cancelled on your date for volleyball and you laid in on him for it.

Things were great until the 2016 Olympic qualifiers came around. You had broken a metatarsal in your right foot at the first qualifying meet of the 2015 season. You were out for the next eight weeks and even then, you weren’t going to be in shape to qualify because you had to go through physical therapy and get your athletic abilities up to par. Your coach told you that staying on the national team, going pro, and qualifying for 2020 was still possible for you. It didn’t stop the feeling of complete and total devastation that wrecked you and you were jealous.

Ushijima wasn’t sure of how to help you; he’d never seen you so vulnerable before, never seen you so sad, but he did his best to support you, even if that meant being a punching bag. He was consistent, despite things he had going on for his own Olympic goals.

After two months it was summer break. You had to go through physical therapy and you moved back home to Oita, transitioning to online classes for the second term of the year. Because Ushijima’s love language was different from most, you found yourself being forced to do your PT homework exercises, no matter how down and bratty you got.

“Wakatoshi, I don’t want to do stairs,” you groaned, curling up into a ball on the couch.

“You must, or you won’t be ready to start training any time soon,” he replied simply.

Your foot was throbbing and you were on your period, and everything just felt like shit. All you wanted was to watch anime and eat the small bag of chips you had hidden under the blanket you were under. Ushijima had been so strict with your diet and honestly all you wanted were trans fats, sugar, and carbs. With ease, he ripped the blanket from you, exposing you in your underwear clutching a bag of Calbee honey butter flavored potato chips.

“You should get up and walk the stairs now,” he said, prying the bag of chips from your hands, “if you want these back.”

Throwing your legs over the couch, you winced, balling your hands into fists in frustration. You got up, favoring your left foot, which he noticed. He walked up the stairs and sat on the top step, waiting for you to follow. Biting your lip, you moved slowly, trying to ignore the pain. There were 14 steps to the top and you had to go up twice and down twice. You were doing fine until your second trek up the stairs. It was a misstep and you slipped and you were clinging to the stair case, crying. It was embarrassing for you to be like this in front of him. This sweet giant quickly enveloped you in his arms and had you lying on your side of the bed, gently caressing your foot as you sobbed through it.

When you were calm again, Ushijima left for a while before returning, dinner in hand. The two of you sat in bed and had the meal he made in silence. You’d barely eaten, but you waited until he finished before you curled up to his side.

“I’m so sorry, Wakatoshi.”

“I would be surprised it you took this easily. You’re a competitive person. It’s one of the things I find attractive about you,” he replied. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, his fingers gently running up and down along your own arm.

“Really?” you asked, feeling shy. He hummed in affirmation, glancing down to make eye contact. Smiling, you played with the hem of his shirt that was beginning to ride up. “What else do you... find attractive about me?”

“You’re thoughtful, kind. The way you pursue your passions and you’ve encouraged me to pursue my own; you believe in people wholeheartedly.” A thoughtful expression settled on his face as he spoke on effortlessly. He paused and his brows furrowed briefly before settling into a relaxed expression. “You’re beautiful.”

Placing a kiss to your forehead, you watched as he got up and headed to take his evening shower.

While you couldn’t compete, you concentrated on therapy and school and finished your courses early for your degree. You picked up a simple class to stay enrolled until your four years at school were up*, this way you could go back to competing your last year of university. The summer of 2016, Ushijima took you with him to Brazil. Japan didn’t win, but the competition was incredible. You got to meet with track and field athletes and it reignited your passion for competition.

You’d graduate come spring and then your focus was on 2020 Tokyo.

*In Japan, early graduation doesn’t exist. It was explained to me that if you attend a 4 year university, you have to be a student for 4 years before graduating, even if you complete your degree early.

tag list: @hihiq

#Ushijima Wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #shiratorizawa #my senpai #haikyuu!!#haikyu #haikyū!!#reader insert #imagine #fanfic #volleyboys

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