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kunasthiast · 5 months

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My God (2)

If last night's events are already stressful as it is, today's much worse than ever. With a visit to your father's office, what could go wrong?

Oh yeah, everything!

a/n: okaaaaay, so i'm halfway Chapter 3 as of posting this one >.<

I reaaally appreciate all your notes, reblogs, & comments for the taglist – it makes my heart flutter so much & it gets me so excited to finish this story already T^T

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + angst, Yakuza AU, Enemies to Lovers Word Count: 2,877 All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

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Taglist: @cr1sta11y @idk-bro-gay @tojis-ball-sack @thepurpleempath @fangirl-332 @jijijihanji @thedondiva45

As the first light of dawn crept into your room, a small gap in the blackout curtains that you forgot to fully close last night betrayed your efforts to keep the morning at bay. Yep, definitely starting the day this bad, how else will the rest of the day be like?

“Fuck,” you exclaimed so early in the morning. Or so you thought. Grabbing your phone from your nightstand, you tapped the screen to peek the time.

9:54 AM.

With a groan, you closed and threw your phone somewhere in your room and laid down on your stomach. Face clearly being suffocated by your pillows. This life sucks.

“Why does it have to feel this way?” You said with a groan.

Flipping around, and lying on your back, you stared blankly at the ceiling. Absolutely feeling so devoid of everything in life. Your eyes are as empty as the void. It’s like everything was sucked out of you.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you walked over to the window and yanked the curtains shut, shutting out the intrusive light. The darkness offered a slight comfort from the harsh reality of the day ahead, but you knew you couldn't hide forever.

With a heavy sigh, you forced yourself to your feet and began getting ready for the day. Each movement felt like a chore, every action weighed down by the burden of disappointment and betrayal. I hate everyone already.

As you made your way downstairs, the familiar sights and sounds of your family's mansion served as a stark reminder of the life you were born into. Despite the opulence that surrounded you, you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at your insides.

Walking to your father's office, you braced yourself for the inevitable confrontation that awaited. The door loomed ominously before you, a silent barrier between you and the truth that lay beyond.

With a heavy sigh, you told yourself, “Here goes nothing.”

Summoning all your courage, you pushed open the door and stepped inside, steeling yourself for whatever may come. Little did you know, the events of the day were about to take a turn you never saw coming.

—

“Okay, first of all? What the fuck!” You erupted, your voice dripping with anger and disbelief as you confronted your father.

His face tightened in disappointment at your choice of words, “Language, dear,” he chided, his tone laced with irritation.

Yeah, never mind all the fucking respect he deserves. Scoffing at him, you paid his scolding no mind, too consumed by the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

“Might I remind you,” pacing back and forth, you continued with your voice trembling with pent-up rage, “that you promised me a lot. A fucking LOT of times! That I’m the next head, only to have you pass it over to Sukuna – who by the way isn’t even a part of our family. I’m your family, your flesh and blood, damn it! I’m not even processing this properly yet and now you’re telling me that you already got me on a fucking arranged marriage to someone from the Gojo family? Oh, fuck off, father!”

Your father remained unmoved, his expression unreadable as he calmly countered your tirade. “Honey, it’s just the way it is. Take it or leave it. And, for once, try to act like a respectable daughter,” he retorted, his words like a slap in the face, dismissing your turmoil cold-heartedly.

His indifference fueled your frustration further, and you fought to contain the seething anger threatening to boil over. “I can’t believe this,” you muttered, the weight of betrayal heavy in your chest with your fidgeting fingers.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, your father returned his attention to his book that you unfortunately cut him off from reading earlier, effectively ending the conversation. “I’m busy. Come back when you’re done with your tantrum. Now, leave.”

“I’m not gonna do as you say this time. I’m not gonna marry anyone from that fucking family,” you confidently declared with the fire still burning within you. “I’m not gonna be your fucking pawn, father. I’m leaving this family. So, deal with it.”

Fuming with indignation, you stormed out his office. And, let’s not forget, you slammed the door hard when you left.

This is not the day I’ve envisioned to have today.

—

Back in your room, the weight of the recent events bore down on you like a heavy burden, pressing against your chest with a suffocating intensity.

Yet, there are no tears threatening to fall down anytime soon, just the palpable heartache and silent screams echoing through the depths of your soul. Please, I’m too strong for this.

As a way to make yourself calmer, that can help you gather your thoughts, you decided to go to your restaurant. Yes, the restaurant your father gifted on your 18th birthday. It’s apparently his gift symbolizing his support for your aspirations outside the family’s legacy.

A bitter scoff escaped your lips, “Well, fuck legacy.” Words heavy with anger. As you made your way out your room towards the mansion’s carport, you know in yourself that you got to leave this place. “Yeah, I won’t go back home here,” you mutter to yourself as you approach your car.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, you revved the engine, the purr of the powerful machine echoing throughout the carport. But, as you were getting ready to live, your thoughts inevitably turned to the arranged marriage your father and the Gojo family had arranged.

Just the mere mention of this family sent shivers down your spine. Yeah, I fucking hate that family. They’ve been your family’s rival from the start. Always the territorial disputes, the dirty, underhanded tactics, and the arrogance that runs throughout every family member.

And, then there was Satoru – the one your father chose as your groom. Well, he has no choice, Satoru’s the only heir of his family, definitely of flesh and blood.

To call him attractive would be an understatement – Satoru has that magnetic, alluring charm that was impossible to ignore. Heck, he’s beautiful. With those azure eyes, fluffy white hair, and velvety voice, he’s every woman’s dream – except you. You’re not even sure why you think his hair’s fluffy!

But, all beautiful things have ugly sides. And his was a huge ass dent to his looks. He’s a fucking asshole. Clenching your jaw, you tore yourself away from your thoughts and the carport, steering yourself towards the way to your restaurant.

The drive to the restaurant made you forget everything for a moment. With each passing mile, you felt the tension in your shoulders begin to ease. As you pulled into the parking lot, the sight of your restaurant filled you with a sense of calmness.

Stepping out into the cool embrace of the wind, you savored this feeling that offers a temporary calmness within the raging storm inside you.

“I’m so glad to be back,” you murmured to yourself.

Pushing open the door to the restaurant, you were greeted by the familiar sights and sounds of the bustling kitchen, the savory aroma of spices and herbs filling the air. Your staff, surprised by your unannounced visit, immediately greeted you with a mixture of surprise and fear. You rarely visit. Rarely.

You may own this business, but, you couldn’t really care less about the business side of these things as you’re too busy learning everything your father taught you with. And, this one’s not a part of it. Or, so you think!

He just gave this one to you when he learned you love to cook – which definitely by the way is a short occurrence in your life. You were bored, you learned how to cook, you made everything you’ve been craving for, and now you were bored, again.

But, you can’t deny the calmness that cooking brings you. It takes you out of your thoughts and just focus on prepping and cooking everything up.

Uraume, your most trusted confidante and your restaurant’s head chef, immediately approached you with a knowing look.“You’re only here when you’re stressed,” they remarked, their tone a mixture of sympathy and understanding.

You chuckled wryly as you made your way towards your office. “Yeah and today is no exception,” you replied, the weight of the previous events pressing heavily upon you. “I’ll whip something up in the kitchen. You know what to do.”

As you entered your office, you felt the sense of zen and calm wash over you. With each passing moment of taking in the familiar surrounding, the tension began to ebb away. You slipped into your chef’s jacket, your mind already buzzing with ideas for today’s creations.

Glancing at the clock, you noted the time – 11:21 AM. Perfect timing. Your restaurant is supposed to open in a few minutes, but you instituted a rule long ago: when you were here, no one is allowed to enter the kitchen, and the restaurant will be closed to the public.

A tub of orange chicken sounds nice.

—

Sukuna's luxurious penthouse was filled with the soothing sound of water coming from the shower as he emerged from the steam-filled bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. With a flick of his hand, he silenced the insistent ringing of his phone, its screen lighting up with a call from Uraume, his most trusted confidante.

Walking across the marble floor towards his bedroom, his thoughts drifted to you, your demeanor from last night.

He knows you’ve been expecting to become the next head. He knows how frustrated you are feeling after the announcement has been made. He just knows. And, it amuses him to see your reaction, the way you wore your emotions so openly. He’s keen on observing you.

“Cute,” he mused to himself with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Dressing himself in a black slack with an unnecessary tight black folded sleeves, definitely outlining his sexy physique, topped with a suspender, Sukuna admired his reflection in the mirror. Yeah, more like it. His demeanor exuding with such confidence, power, and authority.

Adjusting his reading glasses, his mind buzzed with what’s to come for the day – negotiate with the Naoya from the Zenin family regarding the territorial disputes, dealing with the underground firearm deliveries he missed last night – all in a day’s work for a man of his calibre.

Yet, amidst the chaos of his busy schedule, thoughts of you lingered, an unexpected distraction in his otherwise meticulously organized life.

Shaking this off, Sukuna stepped out onto the expansive balcony overlooking the city skyline. Before he could go on with his day, there was one matter that demanded his attention. Gotta see princess first.

As he reached for his car keys, Sukuna’s thoughts went back to you, a nagging reminder he couldn’t quite shake. How the fuck are you doing now. And, he can’t believe he’s this worried about you.

Brushing aside the thought for the nth time, Sukuna exited the penthouse with a confident stride, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

As he was walking towards the elevator, his phone buzzed with an incoming text message. Glancing at the screen, a smirk tugged at his lips as he read the words: “She’s here.”

“Talk about coincidence,” he chuckled to himself.

Yeah, he can’t wait to meet you.

—

Sukuna stepped out of his sleek black car, the sharp click of his shoes against the pavement. He approached the entrance of the restaurant – which has a sign that says ‘closed’ – and his gaze fixed with a single purpose: to see you.

Pushing open the door that Uraume left unlocked for him, he stepped into the warmth of the restaurant, the savory aroma of the spices and herbs enveloped the cool air. The whole place is completely deserted with only Uraume sitting at one table.

“Where is she,” Sukuna commanded as Uraume pointed towards the kitchen as their answer.

Sukuna’s eyes swept across the room, his gaze setting on the bustling kitchen where you were too focused on. There was a flicker of intrigue in his eyes as he watched you move, completely absorbed in your culinary hobby. You once told him that it was just a hobby and it sticked to him.

As he approached to observe you, the noise of the kitchen seemed to dim. Sukuna’s presence filled the space around you. Sensing him, a prickling sensation at the back of your neck sent a shiver down your spine. Can’t this day get any better?

Turning, you met his gaze head-on, your expression guarded. Yeah, still attractive. You roamed your eyes on his whole physique, with a quick glance at his folded arms that showed his defined biceps. Okay, wrong move because the fluttering pterodactyls in your stomach are back.This made you sigh and cut your gaze off him.

“What do you want?” You asked, your voice tinged with a hint of irritation and skepticism. Sukuna’s smirk only widened at your boldness, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“I came to see you, princess,” he replied smoothly, his tone dripping with charm. You swear even without looking at him, you can see his smug smile that you want to wipe off his face and kiss – okay, what the fuck was that?

You rolled your eyes at his flirtatious tone and breathed heavily to clear up your thoughts, choosing to focus on your cooking instead. Sukuna’s presence is a distraction you didn’t need, especially not today. To top it off, you’re not ready for another confrontation.

“I don’t have time for your games, Sukuna,” you retorted, your voice firm. “If you’re here to eat, then see yourself out.”

Sukuna chuckled at this with his hands unfolding to raise it to a low surrender pose, “I don’t have games for you, princess. You know that. Just came here to check in on you.”

“How did you even know I’m here?”

“Uraume.” Oh, yeah. Even though Uraume’s your trusted confidante, they also are Sukuna’s trusted confidante. It just works like that.

Sukuna’s response only fueled your frustration further. The pterodactyls in your stomach long gone. Of course, Uraume would rather reveal your whereabouts to him that tell you how they even got close with Sukuna. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of annoyance at that.

"I assure you, princess, I mean no harm," he reassured, his voice smooth as silk. "I simply wanted to see how you're holding up after last night.” Yeah, he’s here to gloat.

Last night. The mere mention of it sent a wave of emotions crashing over you – anger, betrayal, frustration. You clenched your jaw, fighting to keep your composure in front of him.

“I’m fine. You can have the fucking title as the head of the family all you want. I’m out of this family,” you replied curtly. Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of amusement and skepticism, as he leaned casually against the wall near the door.

“Why leave?” He challenged, his voice dripping with casual disdain. “You’re just proving to your father that you’re not deserving to be a head. Too weak for this shit, princess?”

“Oh, fuck off, ’Kuna. You don’t know anything,” you shot back, your tone sharp with annoyance.

Sukuna’s facade of nonchalance faltered for a moment, replaced by a feigned hurt expression. “It hurts my pride that you don’t acknowledge me that much, princess,” he said, his words clearly laced with mock sincerity.

“I can see it in your face,” he continued, his tone shifting to one of quiet intensity. “You don’t think I deserve to be the head.”

“Because you really don’t,” you retorted, your words cutting through the tension like a knife. “You’re not even blood-related to father, to us. Just a stranger who climbed up the ranks.” Yeah, you’re quite harsh on this one.

Sukuna’s smirk only widened at your brutal honesty. “Yet, a stranger better than the supposed one-and-only heir,” he quipped, his amusement evident.

Fed up with the conversation, you flipped him off.

Sukuna chuckled, his laughter filling the space between you that made your eyes roll – you swear, you almost blacked out from that eye roll.

“Well, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me. I’m just a phone call away, princess. You know and I know that I’m on your speed dial,” he said with a wink and a smug smirk yet his tone is surprisingly genuine and a bit flirtatious.

But before he could make his exit, you called out to him, the desperation evident in your voice. “Wait.”

Oh, fuck his captivating eyes. Fuck his infuriatingly sexy smirk. Fuck the way his muscles strained against his tight shirt. Fuck those damn eyeglasses that he doesn’t even have to wear because he has a clear vision! Fuck everything, it’s all too much. I just need a way out so fuck my plan, too.

Sukuna paused, turning back to fix his gaze on you with a newfound intense curiosity glinting in his eyes. “Missed me already, princess?” His lips curled into a smug grin as he spoke, a hint of amusement lacing his words.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gathered the courage to blurt out the unexpected request.

“Marry me, ‘Kuna.”

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #yakuza!au sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk #sukuna x you #au sukuna #my god #jjk x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #yakuza au #jujutsu kaisen

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sonamytrash · 7 months

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Just friends, right?

❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃

Just a Levi × reader fluff, some of the gang catch a glimpse of Levis softer side.

Warnings: Suggestive themes, fem reader deacribed, semi public displays of affection, Christa is a fangirl, the aot characters ship levi x reader.

❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting an amber hue across the landscape as the scouts had the opportunity to have an evening of rest and relaxation following a day of training. Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Sasha, Connie, Jean, Ymir, Reiner, and Christa were gathered on a hill overlooking the stables, watching as you tended to the horses. The gentle sway of your hips and rhythmic movement as you worked were almost hypnotic, drawing the group's gaze like moths to a flame. Their eyes followed your every movement, even as they engaged in idle conversation about their day's training. It was then that they noticed Levi approaching you from across the field, his stride purposeful and determined.

Ymir and Christa exchanged knowing glances as they all observed the exchange between you both.

"There they go again," Ymir snickers, nodding in the direction of the two figures. "I swear, it's like they can't keep their hands off each other."

"Hey, Ymir," Sasha began, trying to gauge her friends reaction. "You think Levi and y/n are...?"

"He's probably just going to ask her about her day," Armin ventured, trying not to encourage any gossip. But even as he spoke, a blush crept up onto his cheeks. "I mean, they're just friends, right?"

Jean raised his eyebrow at Armin. "When has the captain ever asked anyone about their day?."

Ymir smirked, her eyes fixed on you and Levi. "Oh, come on, Armin. You're supposed to be smart, you know better than that." She said, teasing the innocent blonde.

Christa cleared her throat, a fond smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "It's sweet, really," she mused. "But, they're definitely more than friends. She is the first person he goes to see after a mission."

"Probably to make up for lost time." Ymir replies with a sly smile. "If you know what I mean."

Armin's cheeks flushed redder as he glanced over at the two of you, Ymirs comment making his imagination run wild.

Eren, on the other hand, was still confused. "Wait, what do you mean, 'they're more than friends?" he asked, his brow furrowing. He turned to face Ymir as she continued to watch you both with interest.

"Oh, come on, Eren," Reiner teased. "You can't tell me you haven't noticed the way they look at each other. It's obvious they're more than just friends."

Jean couldn't help but sigh with a jealous frown, watching as you and Levi spoke. "Yeah, but what does she see in him?" he muttered under his breath. "She is such a beautiful, intelligent, and kind woman." He rests his head in his hand, "and he's such a grumpy, short, old man." He says with a pout playing on his lips.

As if on cue, you let out a girlish giggle in response to something Levi had said. The group collectively sucked in a breath, their eyes wide with surprise. "I guess she doesn't mind his grumpy old man act," Reiner remarked with a chuckle.

"You mean like, in love?" Connie cut in, his voice a mix of curiosity and disbelief. A little slow to the conversation.

"I think they are," Mikasa said quietly, a small blush painted accross her cheeks.

The group fell silent as they watched you both converse, your bodies comfortably close together. Suddenly, you lean in closer to Levi, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered something that made the usually stoic man blush.

The gesture was so intimate, so familiar, that it left the group speechless. Even from a distance, they could see Levi's cheeks flush red as his eyes meet yours. You seemed to revel in the effect you were having on him, teasing him with your eyes and the gentle brush of your fingers against his arm.

"Oh my god, Captain Levi is blushing." Christa squeeled her eyes wide with excitement, propping herself onto her knees. "Do you think they're going to kiss!? I mean, they're totally in love, and I just know they're going to kiss right now!" she gushed, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink.

"He's never like this," Reiner mused, studying Levi's face. "I mean, I've seen him angry, and I've seen him determined, but this... this is something else entirely." The others nodded in agreement, their attention fixed on you both as you conversed.

Ymir nudged Armin, her grin widening, "See? I told you."

As if to prove her point, Levi leaned in even closer, his hand moving up to rest on your hip, the gesture bold and possessive. The others couldn't help but hold their breath as they watched, transfixed by the scene unfolding before them. Sasha, her cheeks flushed a deep red, whispered, "I didn't know Levi had it in him." Reiner chuckled, "Neither did I."

Connie whistled lowly, impressed by the display of affection. "Who knew Levi was such a romantic?" He muttered under his breath. Eren snorted, his cheeks flushed pink. "Oh, come on. You don't think they're really...?" His voice trailed off, his gaze fixed on the couple before them. Ymir laughed, "Oh, they're definitely doing more than just talking," she assured him.

The group watched as Levi pulled back slightly, his hands moving up to cup your face. You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as he brushed a stray hair behind your ear.

Christa covers her face, blushing furiously. "They're so cute together," she squeels, watching you both with a dreamy expression. "It's like they're the only two people in the world right now.".

Sasha glanced over at Ymir, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of her lips. "So, Ymir," she said, her voice low and teasing, "what do you think they're like in the bedroom?."

"I bet they go at it like a couple of alley cats every night behind closed doors." Ymir smirks.

When your lips finally met, the group let out a collective gasp, their eyes wide with wonder. As they watched Levis hand travel lower, cupping your behind before pulling you against him, causing you to let out a soft moan.

Armin stands up, blushing furiously. "I think that's enough for one evening!." He exclaims, waving his arms frantically to obscure the groups view. "But it's just getting good!" Sasha protests, trying to move him aside.

"I agree with Armin. If the captain finds out we were watching..." His face turns deathly pale. "He'll kill us."

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi x y/n #captain levi x reader #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #eren yeager #armin arlert #sasha braus #reiner braun #connie springer #jean kirstein #levi fluff #fanfic fluff

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harrysmimi · 2 years

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Sweet Memories

Synopsis: Harry walks in on YN jamming to his songs whilst making lunch

CW: A fuck ton of fluff

Series Masterlist | More of my work

A usually Saturday afternoon at home it was.

Harry was working away and answering a few email interviews in the bedroom whilst YN offered to make them a nice lunch at home. He didn't like it when she was doing all the work by herself so he tried to finish up everything as soon as he could.

YN didn't mind doing everything on her own, especially when he's in London he's home most of the time with her does all the house chores whilst she's at work. Now he's working and it's only fair she does the same for him. This morning he had a few online interviews now he's got a few emails to answer to, get on a little online meeting with his Pleasing team for the new collection.

He still tailed her around the house in between, helping her fold the laundry in the living room as he was working in the bedroom to make a mess in there. He helped loading the dishwasher from breakfast. Fed the fish. That's all he could do today.

He was on the last call with Jeffery for the day when he got to know his fans have been making a huge deal of the video from YN's cafe online. Especially on Twitter. The media was making their own narratives because no one knew the whole story, him calling the girls out was nowhere to be seen. False narrative of Harry being pissed by his girlfriend's behaviour was being spread around, everyone even went as far as to make up their breakup rumours.

"Harry, don't worry about it. We'll take care of this." Jeffery assured him once Harry went silent on the line.

"Yeah, yeah I'm not." He spoke up finally, "I'll figure something out and let you know."

"I'll get the PR team on it, okay? Now go enjoy your weekend." Jeffery said before he bid him by and hung up.

When Harry finally walked to hear his debut album playing in the background in a very low voice, YN swaying to the the music as she chopped up the veggies for something she was making. Dressed in one of his black hoodie which was almost drowning her and her sweats, her hair tucked neatly in a braid on the back like always and her glasses perched up on the bridge of her nose. It was a new pair she got last week for herself and has been obsessed with it since.

"You have a great music taste baby!" He complimented her, dropping his phone on the counter. He went on to connect her phone to the little speak she had perched on one of the display shelves next to the fancy dinner set. To his surprise, Sweet Creature started playing.

She seemed too lost in her work, as she put some rice to cook in the electric cooker and got back to prepping for rest of the lunch. But she caught him perching up his phone on the coffee machine with the front camera on.

"What are you doing?" She chuckled. It wasn't unusual for him to take pictures of her or film their funny and goofy moments, especially when she's fangirling over her favourite celebrities. She knew he was about to do something goofy or cheeky.

He walked upto her, took the knife out of grip and placed it on the cutting board carefully before he pulled her closer to him. His arm wrapped around her waist whilst his palm was placed on her hip to keep her as humanly close as possible, he carefully took off her glasses and held onto her right hand with his fingers intertwined between her own after placing the pair on the counter next to them. He smirked watching the apples of her cheek grow crimson as she tried not to smile and give into his teasing by reacting, very well known of what he's doing. He started swaying both of them side to side delicately.

He sang to along his own self to her.

"Sweet creature

Had another talk about where it's going wrong

But we're still young

We don't know where we're going

But we know where we belong

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

It's hard when we argue

We're both stubborn I know, but oh!"

She mumbled a little, "no we're not!" looking up at him. Because they're not. Yes they just had an argument last night and Harry ended up being kicked out to the living room because he was messy pants and leaving his stuff all around the house. But they made up an hour later. They're not stubborn, but understanding. He chuckled nudging the tip of his nose against her in a puppy kiss.

"Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home!"

He whispered the last word to her as if it were his secret. She could see each little pattern in his eyes, hints of blue and hazel dominated by shades of green and his pupils dilated through a gentle gaze which never moved from her eyes.

"Sweet creature

We're running through the garden

Oh, where nothing bothered us

But we're still young

I always think about you and how we don't speak enough

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

I know, it's hard when we argue

We're both not stubborn

I know, but oh!"

She chuckled at the little change. It reminded her of their little picnics Harry used to take her to randomly to the Hyde Park, they'd eat junk food and laugh at funny videos on Instagram. They had to stop because his fans had picked on their pattern and they were bombarded by them twice. She disliked that, but there's nothing that can be done.

His lips brushed against hers as he sang to her, moving back when she tried to kiss him. He brought her hand to his mouth to place a smear his lips on the ring on her finger, making her grin sheepishly. He loves to play with her ring for some reason. He's fiddling with it when they're cuddled up on the sofa watching a movie or in bed getting ready to get a good nights sleep. He draped her hand over his shoulder so he could cradle her prettiest face in his hand singing along.

"Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

You're my home."

That little change earned a soft gasp from her, enough to make her tear up. She finally got her kiss, before she pulled away enough to hug him. Her face having found a home in his chest.

"I love you so much!" She mumbled.

"No, I love you more." He play argued, making her lift her head up to look at him. Taking the advantage he stole another kiss from her.

Only Angel started playing in the background making both of them burst into fit of laughs.

"Ruined my own moment." He sighed dramatically, he grabbed his phone and turned off the recording and placed it back on the counter and turned off the music. He carefully placed her on the counter making room for himself in between her thighs and earning a squeal from her.

"Oh, it's getting hot in here!" She said in a sing-sang voice. No, that really make butterflies have a field day in her tummy. "Why did you do that?"

"Why not?" He shrugged. "Feel like loving on my Fiancé today."

"You don't feel like that everyday, how sad?" She pouted with her faux-concern.

"I do," he confessed, "but today I feel more like it."

"How lucky am I, that I get free, personal shows from you." She booped his nose with her pointer finger, making him blush, "you look cute when you blush!"

"Stop!" He shied away.

"Do you want to get started with wedding planning soon?" She asked.

"Yeah, we can." He agreed, "do you have any idea about you want it all to be? We can try to merge our ideas!"

She beamed at the thought, "yes, yes, yes! We can make a Pinterest board?"

"You want to do this just so you can Pinterest board, don't you?" He giggled. "But anything you wish for, my love."

"Yay!"

"You're adorable!" He planted a firm kiss on her cheek. "Do you mind if I post about our engagement online?" That caught her off guard.

"What happened to my private Harry?" She gasped.

"I'm serious, baby, I do want to share this so people stop talking." He breathed out, "please, can I?"

"Of course you can!" She exclaimed, "I don't mind, Haz. It's your account post whatever you want."

"Will you show me how to post it on the reels?"

She guided him through the steps of how to post on reels, he wanted to post the video he just took and used one of their engagement photos which Sophia sent just yesterday as the cover for the reel. He captioned with two ring emojis before he pressed the post button.

"Your fans are going to go crazy." She commented, feeling the hint of anxiety in her chest as the video was posted. She watched him limite the comments to just the people who he follows immediately, but about a hundred of his fans managed to comment on it very fast.

"They are." He agreed. "What were you making by the way?"

"Just some usual, Okra and Roti." She shared.

"Hmm, sounds delicious, baby." He helped her off the counter. "Looks like you're done with everything but do you still any help?"

"No, I'm almost done here." She said.

"Dinner is on me then."

"If you're not going to burn down our kitchen."

"Come on, that was one time!" He fake cried, whining like a toddler. "I burnt a piece of bread."

"And your fingers." She added.

......................................................................

N O T E:

I FUCKING LOVE THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

......................................................................

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hornyfor-redacted-onmain · 8 months

Text

The One With Friends

Pieces of My Heart - Chapter 7 Stray Kids OT8 x reader, Soulmate AU

Masterlist | Next Part

It was a unanimous decision to have you leave the venue from the back and walk over to the entrance to wait in line with the rest of the crowds. None of you wanted nor needed the attention you could get if someone noticed you coming from backstage.

It’s for that very reason you made sure to hide your backstage pass deep in your bag, pulling out the upgraded tickets that the boys’ manager got for you.

You sent out a message once you got into line.

Soulmates

Y/N Guess who’s about to see Stray Kids live? Image.png Felix Omg really? Lucky Jisung And you didn’t invite me?!! How dare you （ > ﹏ < ） Chris Enjoy the concert. Felix Oh yeah, they’ll enjoy it alright ;) Chris Felix …

You let out a laugh, which quickly turned into cooing when Felix sent a selfie with a reluctant Seungmin, and you quickly closed your phone before anyone around you could see it (but not after saving it to your phone first). The line wasn’t moving just yet, so most people were either on their phones like you or chatting with each other.

You got into a fun conversation with the boy in front of you about your favorite choreographies, and then the girls behind you caught wind of your argument over how easy Maniac’s chorus really was and decided to start dancing to it. This caused the others in line to start cheering, and you were quick to film the moment to send to the boys later.

Once the doors were open and people were being let in, the line started to move quickly. Since you had arrived a little bit later, it took you a while to get in, but the conversations you enjoyed with other fans and the occasional text to the boys more than made up for it.

You found your seat easily, a girl with bright pink hair and a tall lanky boy with glasses sitting in the spot next to yours. You didn’t think much about it, sitting down and about to text the boys that you were inside the venue when the girl suddenly turned to face you with a blinding smile.

You turned your phone off to hide your chat.

“Hey, I love your outfit!”

You blinked at her. “Umm, thank you! I love your hair.”

“My name’s Sophie!”

“Soph, please. You can’t just start spontaneous conversations with every person you meet,” The boy piped up, placing an arm on the girl’s arm.

Sophie pouted. “But I really did like their outfit.”

“It’s okay,” I reassured. “I really do like your hair.”

You introduced yourself to Sophie, who then introduced the boy sitting next to her as her boyfriend, Alexis.

“Don’t mind him, he thinks it’s embarrassing to be as friendly as me.”

“I never said that. I think it’s adorable, but I know not everyone does,” Alexis argued.

“No, you just think I’m adorable,” Sophie corrected.

You let out a giggle. “You are kind of adorable.”

“I know!”

Both of you laughed. You spent the next few minutes chatting and getting to know each other, and you found that you had a lot in common with Sophie. The pinkette was easily excitable and a bit loud, which made her bias being Han unsurprising. Alexis was also surprisingly a Han bias, and you found yourself gasping when they admitted that they had met at a fan sign and were fangirling over Han next to each other in line.

It was like a moment out of a movie when they realized they were soulmates, sharing a hidden soulmark that they discovered months into dating each other.

“Have you met your soulmate?” Sophie asked, smiling at you in such an endearing way.

You returned the smile. “Yeah.”

“Oooh. Are they a stray kids fan?”

“I sure hope they are,” You said with a laugh.

The lights started to dim then, and the both of you immediately grew silent for a split second before the music started, and then everyone started to scream. Even though you had spent the past two days literally in the arms of the men who would be performing, you screamed along with the others in excitement as they came on stage.

You knew just from the double take Seungmin made in your direction that you were going to be teased relentlessly for it later, but in that moment, you couldn’t find it in you to care. Sophie echoed your screams, and the both of you shared a brief look in your excitement.

During the next 2 hours, the two of you would sing along to the songs, laugh at the members antics, and chat with each other during the moments between songs. When Sophie made a mad dash to the bathrooms the second the fan dance cam began, Alexis leaned over to whisper to you.

“Hey, thanks for not brushing her off. It’s nice to see Soph having fun with someone else.”

You frowned. “Yeah, sure. I mean, she’s really cool. Do people … brush her off a lot?”

“You’d be surprised,” Alexis told you.

When Sophie returned, since the next song had yet to begin, you took the opportunity to ask her for her number. Her face lit up in excitement and astonishment, and you found yourself feeling annoyed that anyone could ever push her away. Sure, she was a little loud and overly excitable, but it seemed like you were the first person to ever want to be her friend.

You made sure to periodically check in on her for the rest of the concert, which ended far too soon.

"That was amazing," Sophie gushed.

"I know!"

"Did you see when Han hugged Seungmin from behind? Ugh! So cute."

"Or when Changbin winked at Hyunjin and then got surprised when Hyunjin winked back. I was laughing so hard!"

"Babe, what was your favorite part?"

Alexis hummed, moving to grab Sophies waist when she stumbled trying to walk backwards. "I might be a bit biased, but when 3racha were singing their song, Han was looking a little too fine. I'm pretty sure a couple people died when he stuck out his tongue."

"Ugh, a menace that man is. He does it on purpose, I swear."

You laughed at them as they pretended to fan themselves, and as you walked with the pair towards the exit you suddenly remembered your plans to meet the boys backstage after the show. The route you would need to take was in the opposite direction to the exit you were heading towards.

You paused.

"Hey, it was really nice meeting you two, but I actually have to head over that way," You told them, pointing towards the other exit.

"Hmm? Oh, I was going to offer you a ride back to your place since you mentioned not having a car … are you going to uber?"

"Nah, my … my soulmate is going to give me a ride."

Sophie nodded. "Cool. Do you want us to wait until you meet up with them?"

You blinked, letting out an awkward laugh. "Oh, no. That's fine. I think they're already here anyways."

This time it was Alexis who spoke up. "We can walk you to their car. Its dark out, it might not be safe for you to be walking around alone."

"No, really. It's fine," You assured them, finding yourself panicking. "Really, its not that far."

You were touched by their worry, and if this was any other situation you wouldn't have hesitated to accept the couple's offer. But you couldn't exactly have them see you get in a car with Stray Kids without it spelling out your situation in large bold letters.

Sophie frowned, looking very much like she'd like to continue to argue with you, but Alexis just nodded.

"Fair enough. You should let us know when you get home safe though, just in case."

Your shoulders slumped in relief. "Yeah, that would be great."

You exchanged numbers quickly, and you gave the pair a quick wave as you turned around. The stadium was almost empty at this point, most people already having made their way out through the exits and leaving behind a handful of staff members who started cleaning up in their absence. You almost ran head first into the chest of one of those staff members as you turned around, and you took a few steps back with your hand raised.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't see you there."

The staff member gave you an easy smile, and then proceeded to say your name with a questioning tone. Sophie and Alexis looked back from where they had begun to leave.

You nodded your head slowly

"Your soulmates sent me to get you," The guy said cheerfully.

You froze.

The staff member motioned for you to follow them, and you only managed to get a glimpse of Sophie as you shot a look over your shoulder. Her brows were furrowed in confusion, and you gave her a quick wave, hoping the panic that you were feeling didn’t show on your face. You didn’t get to see if she returned the wave as you turned around quickly to make sure you didn’t trip over the piles of confetti that other staff members were sweeping up, and if you weren’t so confused and worried, you might have offered to help them.

Chris was waiting for you outside the waiting room, and the moment you caught sight of him you rushed past the staff member to hug him.

“I think I fucked up,” You groaned.

He patted your back. “What happened?”

You explained the situation as he led you back into the room, and not even the sight of a shirtless Felix could make you feel better. The others listened in as you explained how some random fan might have enough information to put together the puzzle pieces to who your soulmates were.

“Sophie seemed really nice, and I don’t think she’d ever do something like that, but … ugh!”

You expected them to be upset. But you were surprised when Chris simply smiled at you, telling you not to worry. The others looked more or less unphased at the news, Hyunjin even leaning back into the couch with a pout, saying something in Korean. Changbin nodded in agreement, running over to steal you out of Chris’s arms.

“I don’t care if world finds out. You my soulmate, I am proud.”

“But you’re idols. This kind of news could ruin your career!”

The group began to protest, but Changbin cut them off by grabbing your face in between his hands so he could look you in the eyes. “I have your initials on my body since the moment I was born. I have always knowed that I belong to you, and I don’t care if everyone else knows. Only thing that matters, is you.”

“Binnie-“

“Also, I want to sleep with you tonight.”

You brain froze. “Come again?”

“Hey, hey!” Jisung protested.

Chris sighed. “Poor choice of words, Bin.”

Changbin looked around at the others, his face twisting in confusion. “Ah, Minho sleep with you last night. I … want my turn?”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” You let out a giggle. “Of course you can sleep with me tonight”

“Poor choice of words!”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Felix!”

0o0o0

You ended up seated in between Seungmin and Jeongin on the way back. While exiting the venue, the boys told you to hide, so you squeezed yourself down onto the floor until you were far enough away that you could get back into your seat, nearly falling into Jeongin’s lap as you did. He pulled you into his arms as soon as you were next to him.

“Jagi, did you enjoy the concert?”

You nodded enthusiastically, immediately gushing to both him and the others in the car (Chan and Minho) about your favorite moments and how much you enjoyed the concert. Halfway through your explanation, Seungmin reached over and grabbed your hand. You didn’t falter for a second, intertwining your fingers as you praised Jeongin for his performance to Thunderous, and you cooed when he got shy and tried to hide behind his hands.

“Leave the baby alone, love,” Chan told you from the front seat, his face betraying his own amusement.

“Poor baby bread,” You played along. “So shy now, but you definitely weren’t shy during the concert. Don’t think I didn’t see you wink at me during Red Lights.”

“Hmm, don’t think I didn’t see you fanning yourself when he did,” Seungmin said.

“Man, why would you call me out like that?”

The boys all laughed, and you giggled along with them. When you arrived to the hotel, you all split off to get ready for bed individually, and you took the opportunity to send a message to Sophie that you were back at your hotel. She replied immediately.

Sophie

Sophie That’s great!!! So, about your soulmate … Y/N I know. I wasn’t sure how to explain. Sophie You could have just told me that your soulmate was a staff member. I think it’s sweet they sent a coworker to make sure you were able to get backstage. Y/N Oh. Yeah. I mean, I needed to be safe about it. Sophie No, yeah. I understand. Just out of curiosity though, did you get to meet Stray Kids. Y/N Haha, Yes! They were amazing! Super nice, it’s a shame I didn’t get any photos or an autograph. Sophie Man, that does suck. But you’re so lucky you got to meet them at all.

You felt a little bad about not telling Sophie the truth, but technically you didn’t lie. You just … didn’t tell her the whole truth. It took a huge weight of your shoulders. As much as Changbin and the others insisted it wasn’t a big deal, you knew just how vicious the internet could be to idols and other celebrities when they found their soulmate.

You would protect them for as long as you could.

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lee-doesnt-knoww · 7 months

Text

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 - 𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧

ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ - fem!reader, smut, kissing, thigh riding, nickname (angel), spit kink (?), jealousy

ᵃ/ⁿ - first ff ever so it might not be awesome, english is not my first language so if you see any mistakes, please tell me babes

Taehyun was the captain of the famous basket team at your school, but you and him both have hated each other since forever. Your parents have been friends ever since you were born and even before. You both argue over every single thing that happens, fighting for nothing and bikering 24/7. One day, his mom asks you to drop him his lunch at practice as she got called back into work for an emergency, as nice as you were, you couldn't say no to a woman who was basically your second mother.

As you came into the gymnasium, you saw him with some of his friends, some girls cheering and admiring their every move from the bleachers. He saw you coming in with a bag in hand, he walked over to you with an angry expression on his face, some girls spying him "What are you doing here?" "Your mom asked me to drop that to you" As you give him the bag, he searches inside and grabs a towel, also noticing his lunch and a drink. "Why did she need you? Couldn't she come herself?"

He asks with a hint of annoyance both from having to thank you and from the girls who are whispering loudly, not far. You roll your eyes as they talk about me being his possible girlfriend while giggling and whining about how jealous they would be if it were true. You sigh as you answer him, ignoring the fangirls. "I'll see you later, mom said you're coming for dinner"

You wave at him as you walk towards one of his teammates, greeting him with a smile and a small hug as you chat happily. As Taehyun sees this, his jaw drops slightly, only adding more to his confusion, he hears the girls talking between them, giggling not so silently.

"Wait isn't she his girlfriend??" "Maybe that's the one who's her boyfriend!"

He gets jealous at the view of you near him, not knowing why it bothers him so much to know you close with his friend. Seeing you laugh as you waved at him while walking to the gymnasium's exit, he calls you out while catching up with you. "Hey, wait!"

You turn around, letting out a small gasp as you collide with his chest making you take a step back as you tumble. He grabs you by the waist to stabilise you, his arm wraping around you. He asks with an angry and demanding tone. "How do you know him? Is he..?"

He shakes his head as he stops himself from ending his phrase, letting go of your waist as the girls observes them. You look up at him, head tilted and face full of confusion as you neat your shirt, wrinkled from his arm. As you hear the fangirls once again, you let out a groan and grab his hand, dragging him out of the gymnasium to a nearby foutain, the place only full of trees. Nobody to hear you talking.

"What was that about?" You cross you arms as you look at him with a frown, leaning on your hip. He stares at you, a mix of jealousy and annoyance on his face. "How do you know him?"

"Is that all you're angry about?? He's my classmate who helped me with the math I was struggling with!"

He looks even more pissed as he takes in your answer, he's about to say something but he's distracted by the sight of your lips, you bit them while you were dragging him away, making them more puffy and pink now. He was spacing out, only focusing on your lips as he grabbed your chin, making you look up as he examined your lips, his thumb playing with your bottom lip. You put your hands on his chest, trying to push him away. "T-Taehyun what are you doing..." Blushing as his hand goes to the back of your head, the other reaching for your cheek. He stares at you, loving the feeling of having you blushing for him, he gets lost in your eyes as he gets closer, his forehead resting against yours. "You make me crazy...I hope you know that, angel"

As you whispered his name, his lips close the distance and kiss yours. One of his hand playing with your hair as the other rubs over your chin, making you let out a small sigh as you kiss him back. He pulls you closer, his lips kissing yours over and over, letting out a soft grunt. Your legs trembling as his tongue pokes at your bottom lip, asking entrance to your mouth.

You moan in the kiss, grabbing at his shirt as on of his leg takes place between your thighs, the hand that was on your cheek now on your hip, pressing you to sit down on him. While you do, your hips stutter, heat spreading to your lower core. His hand starts to make you ride his thigh as you gently accept and follow his hand. As your hips start moving on their own, you let out sinful moans of his name in the kiss, only making him more turned on.

Suddenly a call of his name from afar brings you both back to reality. You pull away, a string of saliva connecting your lips together, making you blush as he wipes your lips with his thumb then licking it. As he takes his leg away, he holds your hips and neat up your skirt, brushing away any dirt or wrinkle. While he does so, you hold onto him, your arms wrapped around his neck as you stand on your tippy toes. Even if he's now done with your skirt, he hugs you, arms wrapped your waist as he whispers in your ear. "I'll see you at home later, yeah? I'll be over as soon as practice is over angel." He kisses your forehead as you both let go, waving as you part ways.

For some reason, you were happy that he was coming for dinner this time.

#tomorrow x together #txt #txt post #taehyun x reader #x reader #fem reader #taehyun smut #smut #kang taehyun #oneshot #one shot #fanfic

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loveephia · 2 years

Text

:¨ ·.· ¨: atsumu miya's valentine special.

`· . ꔫ sypnosis: in which you wanted to confess to atsumu, but as the school's beloved vice president, you've been too busy helping out with the limited valentine's day events. because of how often you were pulled away from atsumu, he decides to entertain his fangirls to try and make you jealous

content: (🦷) tooth-rotting fluff, hurt with comfort, osamu is in two clubs (volleyball and culinary), kita is mentioned, reader has glasses, you cry because of atsumu, but don't worry, he calms you down toward the end.

⚠ warning/s: atsumu being atsumu none.

my HQ masterlist. (valentine's edition)

"hello, ms. vice president. yer lookin' prettier than usual today. did ya do somethin' with your hair? you smell like a meadow." atsumu teased you non-stop. you were one (if not, the only) girl he'd stop by to bother during school hours. you don't even know if he truly means his teasing or if he's just messing with you.

whatever it is, it worked because you silently crushed on the faux blond.

"cut it out, miya. i'm trying to sign a few papers of allowances for the upcoming valentine's event." you stated sternly, making sure to emphasize the miya. you knew how much he disliked being called that, especially from you. "still on the last name basis?! i have a twin brother who's also named miya, y'know! how'll you call us if we're both present?" atsumu whined.

you thought for a moment, "i'll call you 'the-more-annoying-miya.'"

"no way, call me 'the-hotter-miya' instead! it's got a better ring to it." atsumu winked

"you and osamu have the same face." you factually deadpanned. "wait—! yer callin' 'samu by his first name but not me?!" atsumu said at a loud volume, taking no notice of the rest of your statement.

"whatever.. i have to go now." you said, slipping away from atsumu to head to the afternoon student council meetings.

valentine's is coming, meaning a lot of booths, a lot of food, and potentially, a lot of heartbreak. you can't even imagine the headache atsumu will be by then.

sure you had a crush on him, but he could be a bit of an annoyance sometimes.

time skip.

the meeting came to an end, and you huffed. you skim over your clipboard to see the busy schedule ahead of you.

1. help the botany club sell roses.

maybe one of those roses have a thorn magical enough to prick your finger and put you into a deep sleep until valentines is over; kinda like sleeping beauty with a few details changed.

2. deliver the anonymous love letters.

at this point, all the enveloped confessions should just go straight to the miyas. those two always end up getting the most every year anyway.

3. give each and every schoolmate a pouch of specially made chocolates from the culinary club.

you only like this one because you were told that you get to keep the leftovers.

"hey, ms. vice president!" atsumu greets you with the familiar nickname he specially made. you look up to see the setter, and your eyes widen. "miya.. it's late in the afternoon. what are you still doing in school? i don't think you guys even have volleyball practice today." you said.

"yeah, i know, but i wanted t'walk you home! i didn't know that the meeting would last up to two hours, though." atsumu said, "still, it was time worth waitin'." he smirked at you.

disregarding the flirty comment, your heart swelled at the fact that he was thoughtful enough to wait and walk you home. you smiled softly, "thank you for being so considerate. just let me get my bag, and we can get going."

atsumu was expecting you to roll your eyes or even sigh restlessly, but to his surprise, you didn't.

"okay." he replied quietly, watching you go jog to your own classroom. atsumu sighed longingly.

osamu, who unwillingly witnessed the scene before him, could only cringe. "why is he still at school?" one may ask. he couldn't go home because his older twin of three and a half minutes was entrusted with the keys to the house. atsumu also refused to let him go by himself due to stubbornness.

"i hate it here." osamu murmured.

time skip.

on the walk home with the twins, you all shared your day almost peacefully (not without the twins bickering every now and then, of course). you didn't even realize osamu was there earlier outside the meeting room..

the sun had set, and you were finally at the foot of your house. osamu was standing by your house's gate while atsumu was right next to you. "i'll see ya tomorrow, ms. vice president." he said, patting your head and messing up your hair.

you let it slide since it's the end of the day anyway. you lean close to kiss his cheek, "thanks, atsumu." you quickly expressed your gratitude before going inside your house, leaving atsumu to malfunction outside.

"did— did she just call me by my first name?!" he thought, puffs of smoke cartoonishly coming off the top of his head. his fingers came in contact with his blazing cheek, the cheek that you kissed.

finally going back home with osamu, atsumu couldn't think straight. he even fumbled with the keys to simply unlock their door. the younger twin who's too tired to deal with atsumu's behavior, takes the keys, and unlocks the door himself.

time skip.

valentine's day was here, and your feet were aching from the number of times you had to run up and down the stairs to help out with booths.

the duties of being inarizaki's virtuous vice president were ample. every year, it truly never gets easier. but you enjoy seeing the satisfied expression on your schoolmate's faces from your helpfulness, so you'll continue to run for a spot on the student council if it means—

"y/n!" atsumu calls out. you turn around to see the boy. just as you were about to come up to him to say hi, a female voice cuts you off. "y/n! the president is looking for you, he says it's urgent." your classmate said. you nod, excusing yourself from atsumu's sight to see what the matter is.

atsumu understands. you're a busy girl, so he lets it slide.

until the fourth time, that is.

"y/n, can you please help me carry these boxes of flowers to class 2-E?" the head of the botany club sweatdropped. you nod, helping him out.

"y/n, my adorable underclassmen, would you be a dear and send this to kita shinsuke from class 3-A?" the student council treasurer asks playfully, "i don't want him to know it's from me~" she whispers with red cheeks. you nod, running off to the third year's classroom.

"y/n, can you head to the kitchen with me? we made a new variety of chocolates, and we need your thoughts." osamu said, a sheet of sweat glistening on his forehead from the heat in the kitchen. you nod, "of course, osamu."

atsumu can't believe this.. his own brother?!

"y/n this, y/n that. i just wanna be with her on valentines!" atsumu grumbles, kicking a pebble on the ground, feeling like a defeated puppy.

"excuse me, atsumu?" a hesitant voice disrupts atsumu of his thoughts. "t- this is for you." she bravely hands him a letter. this is the seventg time today that he's received a confession. un-anonymously, that is.

"thanks." atsumu mumbles half-heartedly, though he knows he won't read it.

wait.

this just gave him a brilliant idea.

time skip.

you finished your duties. everything is going great; sales are booming for the botany club, all of the love letters have been delivered, and you even got a few leftover chocolates.

you're off to find atsumu, excited to see him.

only to see the one and only setter surrounded by plenty of fangirls.

"can i have a selfie, atsumu?" a girl asks. "sure, darlin'." atsumu replies. did he just call her by a pet name? and, more importantly, is he actually entertaining his fangirls? this is odd..

your heart starts to feel heavy, and before you know it, atsumu eyes land on you. just one look, and he's forgotten all about his fangirls. "y/n!" he exclaims.

atsumu is so happy to finally see you unoccupied.

then he sees your nose tint a shade of red and your eyes all glassy.

you run off in a weak attempt to hide your tears, and atsumu is quick to run after you. "no— wait, y/n!"

you keep running until you reach a more deserted spot in inarizaki high. you're not athletic. your legs were sure to give out soon, especially when the one chasing after you is a part of a volleyball club.

you try not to sob aloud, very hurt by atsumu's actions. you don't even turn to look at him, and he knows he messed up big time. you sniffle your nose, and atsumu pulls you in for a warm hug. you let him pat your back and hush you quietly.

"..m'sorry. i was actin' like a jerk all because i didn't get to talk to you the entire day." atsumu apologized, "i know my words aren't gonna cut it, but i want t'make it up to you because.." he reaches for both your hands. "i really, really like you."

your breathing is choppy, "d- do you mean that?" you look up at him. your glasses were foggy, and your red cheeks stained with tears. hair a bit disheveled from the run. atsumu smiles at you, "there's my pretty vice president." he says before pressing a kiss to your forehead, "i do." he confirms your earlier question.

you giggle at yourself for falling for a dumbass like atsumu. how silly. "i- i like you too." you stuttered quietly between your sobs.

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01zfan · 7 months

Text

wow you guys…i hit 1000 followers sometime this week! im sorry for not noticing earlier but wow im so grateful!

i seriously didn’t expect this account to even break 100. i was just writing as a little escape from my normal life. i got into riize pretty recently after losing interest in kpop as a whole for a really long time. i was a carat and nctzen (a fan of many groups, ive been into kpop since 2014 ish) but lost interest and just kinda focused on myself for a long time. i finished school, made friends, started working, started going to school AGAIN, picked up hobbies, moved away from my hometown to pursue my passion, etc.

i kinda thought that part of my life was over but riize literally stole my heart from the moment i got into them. i havent felt this way about a group for a long time and one day it just got a little too much so i wrote about separate fics for my top two (eunseok and sungchan). and you guys liked it! and you guys wanted more! and you guys commented on it and sent me asks hyping up my writing! and you guys followed me! and reblogged my stuff! and now we are here!

seriously would’ve never thought i’d have so many receptive, sweet, and sincere interactions on the stuff i write. i was seriously expecting to speak into the void like i’ve seen happen with alot of writers for fandoms. i write screenplays and sometimes its hard to remember why i like writing so much. you guys reminded me why i want to write for the rest of my life. we fangirl and talk about it together and have built a community over shared love and words. isn’t that so wonderful? i want to repay it back with good alot of good writing ^^

if you’ve been here since third and/or bad idea, right i want to say i love you so much seriously. i remember the accounts of the first people to ever follow me and comment on my stuff. i recognize the users of people who silently support me and i love you guys too heh.

if you’ve ever sent me a request thank you for giving me inspiration! i’m a big believer that on this earth one of the few things that belong to us and us alone are our ideas. it’s something no one can take from you—so thank you for giving me something so precious and trusting me to do it justice. i hope to continue making you guys happy! and if you just followed me, welcome!! i have alot of stuff to read and i plan on releasing more!

i’m working on argue with you pt three (planning on that dropping on wednesday!) and other stuff, like requests and sacrilegious so i have alot of stuff coming! thank you for your patience and thank you again so much for following me and supporting this account. you are all so special and dear to meeeeee :3. lets continue to love riize and fangirl togetherrrrr.

#sorry for the long post im such a sap #love you guys dearly #milestonez

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sleepyxxhead · 1 year

Text

༉‧₊˚. flufftober 2023!!

WEEK 1: Troublemaker!Matsukawa x Goody-two-shoes!Reader

CONTENT: fem!reader, partying, underage drinking, drunk!reader, Mattsun calls reader “princess”, “doll”, “doll face”, etc.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

CHARACTERS: Mattsun x fem!reader

NOTES: FLUFFTOBERRRRR YAYYYY!! I’m definitely not going to be posting at consistent times each week but i’m hoping to do each saturday. idk tho maybe i’ll post late probably

Matsukawa was crazy in love with you. The class president, the volleyball team manager, you were constantly consumed in extracurriculars; it seemed as if you were focused on everything except for him. Every other girl in school wanted him -- except you.

“Matsukawa-san! I got you chocolates!” Another one of his crazy fangirls squealed before scurrying away.

“Thanks,” he replied dryly, before tossing it into the pile of chocolates he had received for Valentine’s Day.

“Wow, Mattsun, that’s more than usual,” Hanamaki mused, chewing lazily on some of the sweets from the pile.

But instead of swatting his friend’s hand away, Matsukawa stayed silent - much to the former’s confusion.

“...Mattsun?” Hanamaki waved his hand in front of his friend’s face. “Earth to Matsukawa~”

“What’s this idiot up to?” Iwaizumi asked, entering the gym alongside Oikawa.

“Looks like he’s staring at president-chan~” Oikawa hummed.

“What? No I’m not,” Matsukawa grumbled, snapping out of his trance.

“Sure,” Makki teased, slapping a hand on his friend’s back.

“I’m nOT sTArinG..?” Iwaizumi mocked, rolling his eyes. “Fucking dumbass.”

“Mattsun likes Y/N-chan~!” Oikawa sang repeatedly as the four boys started stretching for practice. “Aw, look! His cheeks are turning red!”

Matsukawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was never going to hear the end of it.

You hated Matsukawa Issei.

He was disruptive, annoying, and very good-looking.

“‘Sup, coach?” Matsukawa draped his arm over your shoulder, using the nickname he had given you ever since you became the volleyball team’s manager. You could smell his cologne despite him being all sweaty from practice. “No chocolates for your favorite volleyball player?”

You shrank under his weight, face heating up at the touch. “It seems like you have plenty already, Matsukawa-san.”

The boy didn’t seem to like your answer, because, in an instant, he had your back against the wall outside the gym, one hand planted beside your head.

“Come on, darlin’,” he breathed into your ear. “Nothin’? Really..?”

You could feel heat shoot up into your cheeks, his bold actions yet again flustering you.

“Look at you, cheeks all red f’me,” Matsukawa rasped. “So cute.”

With a satisfied look on his face, he pulled away, casually turning around to catch up with his friends. “Later, princess,” he called at you, wearing a shit-eating grin.

You covered your crimson-red face, trying to process what had just happened. “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!” You muttered to yourself, grabbing your backpack to walk home.

“I hate him,” was all you could mumble as you headed towards the train station, furrowing your eyebrows and balling your fists. He made you feel so…uncomfortable. Whenever you were around him your heart would pound, and your stomach would do flips, you’d get all sweaty -- the list goes on.

But the more you thought about how you hated him, the more you thought about him. His dark, curly hair; his lazy eyes; his crooked grin. Just thinking about him made your heart flutter.

You groaned in frustration, finally realizing your feelings: you had fallen in love with one of the dumbest, most annoying -- but somehow most highly sought after -- boys at your school.

You knew that he didn’t like you and he was just teasing, you knew he was going to break your heart if you confessed, you knew all of his fangirls would hate you for the rest of eternity, but you just had to go and fall in love with him. He just had to make you fall in love with him.

As your week went on, you had hoped that your little “crush” would subside, but it didn’t. In fact, it only grew stronger the more he pinned you against walls or called you flirty nicknames.

He came up to you more frequently now, draping his arms over your shoulders from behind just to see you jump at the sudden touch. Whenever a guy would approach you he’d become even more relentless, calling you more nicknames, finding more excuses to pull you close.

He was driving you insane and he knew it. Now whenever you were around him your face would turn so red it looked as if you were ready to explode. It frustrated you to no end knowing that he flustered you so easily and didn’t share the same feelings.

“Yahoo~! Manager-chaaan~!” A high-pitched voice caught your attention as you finished up some classwork at lunch.

You raised your head, looking around for the voice. To your left, you saw Oikawa and Iwaizumi walking up to you.

“Over here! Hi! Can we sit?” Oikawa asked you, sitting down before waiting for an answer. Iwaizumi stayed standing, waiting for your response.

“Yeah, sure,” you told him, turning back to your homework. “Do you need something?” you asked the boys with a sigh.

“Manager-chan~ no need to be so cold!” Oikawa whined as he snatched your homework away from you.

You looked at him, a small pout on your face. “Yes?”

“Great!” Oikawa chirped. “Do you want to come to the bonfire by the river tonight?”

“What? No,” you answered immediately. “I hate parties -- bonfires, whatever. Plus, I have work to do for the student council.”

“C’monnn Y/N-chan~! Loosen up a bit, you’re always working. You need to relax a bit, have some fun, y’know?” Oikawa whined, filing his nails.

“I just can’t Oikawa-san. You know I love hanging out with you guys but I’m not that much of a ‘party animal’ like you two,” you said, drawing air quotes with your fingers.

“President-chan! Don’t be such a party pooper,” Oikawa complained. He leaned in close, cupping his hand around his mouth. “Mattsun’ll be there~”

Your eyes widened, hoping the two boys wouldn’t notice the heat rising to your face. “W-what makes you think that’ll convince me?”

Iwaizumi chuckled, lowering his voice. “It’s pretty obvious, y’know?”

“What’s obvious?” You sat up straight, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Oh our sweet, sweet manager…” Oikawa cooed. “Her face is so red thinking about Mattsun~!”

Your hid your face with your hands.

“Come on Y/N,” Iwaizumi sighed. “You don’t have to drink or anything, just have some fun.”

The ace raised his eyebrows expectantly at you; he almost reminded you of your mother. You were a third year and had never been to a single house party, why not have some fun? You groaned, knowing you’d regret your decision later. “Okokokok, fine!”

“Yay!!” Oikawa clapped his hands together. “We’ll pick you up tonight!”

As you got ready, you couldn’t help but notice a nervous feeling rising in your stomach. It would be the first real social event you had gone to, after all. Not some student leadership meeting or team bonding experience. You had no clue what to expect; the only vague images of parties or bonfires you had were scenes of huge house parties in movies that you watched with your friends a long time ago.

Just as you were grabbing your purse, your phone buzzed, indicating that your friends were here. You checked that you had everything that you needed -- or thought you would need -- and headed out the door.

“You really got her to come,” Makki remarked, grinning at you as you climbed in the back seat next to Mattsun. Iwaizumi was driving, Oikawa in the passenger seat, and Mattsun and Makki sat in the back seat with you.

“That’s right! I told you she would~” Oikawa responded, snatching five dollars from his friend’s hand. Makki rolled his eyes, looking out the window.

The car was fairly small, causing you, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki to be squished together, shoulder-to-shoulder, in the back.

Looking out the window you caught Oikawa wiggling his eyebrows at you through the sideview mirror, to which you gave him a confused look, but you knew exactly what he meant.

“So, Coach.” Matsukawa leaned impossibly closer to you, causing warmth to rush into your face. “How did this shithead convice you to come?”

“Not nice, Mattsun!”

“I-I dunno, we’re all third-years now and I’ve never been to anything like a party before. I just wanted to experience it, I guess,” you pondered.

“That doesn’t sound like you at all Y/N-san,” Makki said with a snicker.

“Yeah, I guess I just wanted to relax for once.”

“Makes sense, you’re constantly working -- I don’t even know how you have time to manage the volleyball team,” Makki thought aloud. “Have you ever had alcohol before, Y/N?”

“Uh, no? I wasn’t planning on having any tonight either,” you answered.

“To be expected of Mrs. President-chan!” Oikawa commented. “You know, you really should try some at least!”

“Eh, maybe,” you responded sheepishly. To be quite honest, you weren’t even thinking about alcohol until Hanamaki brought it up.

As the five of you arrived, you started to feel even more nervous. Despite being outdoors, the strong smell of alcohol and smoke overtook your senses, nearly knocking you over.

“Feelin’ woozy, princess?” Matsukawa asked under his breath, bringing his hand up to your back to help balance you.

“Just don’t like the smell of alcohol is all,” you responded, grateful for his hand. You watched Iwaizumi, Oikawa, and Hanamaki walking up to some other friends, saying hi.

You saw many other teenagers, just like yourself, walking and sitting around, holding cans and bottles and cups of alcohol. You couldn’t help but feel like an outlier as you followed your four friends around, staying behind them and looking at the ground nervously.

You soon found a spot to sit down, leaving your friends to go enjoy themselves. You watched them mill around, having fun and laughing with other friends.

“Hey, what’s your name?”

Turning your head, you found a girl that looked your age. She had dark hair and a big smile across her face. Judging by the way she acted, she had clearly had a couple of drinks already. She held in her hands two cans of beer as well as her phone.

“I’m L/N Y/N, and you?” you asked politely.

“I’m Nakamura Megumi! You want one?” she asked, holding out one of the cans to you as she sat down beside you.

“Uh, sure,” you responded, taking the can. You took a small sip, almost making a face at how foul it tasted. “I go to Aoba Josai, how about you?”

“I go to Johzenji!” she said, taking a sip of her beer. “Ohmygod, do you know Oikawa Toru?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m the manager of the volleyball team actually.”

“Oh my god! He’s so hot! Is he here?” she asked you giddily.

“Yeah, he’s right over there.” You pointed to him.

“Oh my gosh, isn’t he so hot?!” she fawned, noticibly slurring her words. “I’m going to go talk to him!”

You let out a sheepish exhale, watching her run stumble towards your friend. You took another sip of the awful liquid in your hands, deciding that you would finish it, not wanting to waste anything -- even if it was so horrible.

As the evening went on, you finally finished the contents of the can, throwing it to the side as you tried to focus your vision. Your head was spinning and your face felt horribly warm. You stood up, almost losing balance as you tried to spot your friends.

“Y/N?” Matsukawa said as the four of them walked up to you, grabbing your shoulders to keep you standing. “What’s goin’ on princess?”

“‘Wanna go home…” you whined. “‘M tired.”

“Okay, let’s get you home,” Matsukawa muttered, steering you towards the direction of the car.

“How much did you have to drink?” Oikawa asked you.

“Mmmm, like…one can?” you drawled, leaning into Matsukawa.

Your friends chuckled as you all got into the car. “Of beer? Damn, Y/N I didn’t know you were such a lightweight,” Hanamaki commented.

“Hey..! Not nicee!” You grumbled in Matsukawa’s shoulder.

The rest of the carride was silent, the thrumming of the car’s engine slowly lulling you to sleep.

As Iwaizumi finally pulled into your parents’ driveway, your eyes fluttered open. “Are we home?”

“Yeah, are your parents home?” Matsukawa asked, reaching across your body to open the door.

“M-m.” You shook your head. “Business trips…”

Matsukawa sighed in relief as he awkwardly climbed over you to get out of the car. He bent down, back facing you, sticking his arms out behind him. “Get on my back princess, I’ll carry you inside.”

You slowly draped your limbs over him, resting your head on his shoulder. “You guys can go, I think I’m just going to stay with her to make sure she’s okay.”

Iwaizumi nodded as Oikawa winked at his friend through the open window. “Use protection!” Makki called out teasingly as the car backed out of the driveway.

Matsukawa used the spare key under your doormat to enter you house. “How did you know ‘bout that..?”

“You told me about it awhile ago,” he said as he carried you upstairs to your bedroom. “Take a shower, I’ll get you something to eat, yeah?”

You nodded, getting off his back. You stumbled into the bathroom with your pajamas under your arm and turned on the water.

Matsukawa walked back downstairs, grabbing two packs of instant ramen for the both of you. As he waited for the water to boil, he left a glass of water as well as an Advil on your nightstand.

The smell of ramen convinced you to take a quick shower, feeling your empty stomach grumble. Opening the door to the bathroom, you found Matsukawa sitting on your bed, watching a show on your laptop and slurping up a bowl of ramen. He nodded towards your bedside table on top of which was a glass of water, an Advil, and a steaming bowl of ramen with some chopsticks. You almost drooled looking at the ramen.

“Have some water and ramen, then you should take the Advil,” Matsukawa instructed as you climbed under the covers next to him, grabbing the bowl of ramen and chopsticks.

“Watcha watching?” you asked him, looking at the screen.

“Spirited Away,” Matsukawa chuckled.

You gasped. “I love that movie!”

“I know, princess. Eat up.”

Once you finished your bowl and took the Advil, you snuggled up into Matsukawa trying to focus on the movie.

“Tired…” you told him, rubbing your eyes.

“Alright, doll,” he said, shutting the laptop and putting it to the side.

You wrapped you arms around his neck, hiding your face in it.

“I like you,” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “But don’t tell anyone though, ‘t’s a secret…”

“I like you too princess.” Matsukawa wrapped his arms around you, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down your back. “Go to sleep now.”

NOTES: AHFDSLAKJF flufftober is here!! anyways matsukawa is more flirty/bold than a troublemaker BUT THAt’S OK. this is the longest work i have posted here 💀

anyways i’ve been trying to get my 2 REQUESTS done AND IM SO SORRY ITS TAKING SO LONG but i’m having writer’s block rn idk and i know that’s like a really shitty excuse but i just can’t write LFDMSAFD please be patient as i try to write those 👍

have a nice day cutie <33

dividers: @cafekitsune

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inspired by prompts from: @creativepromptsforwriting

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ibbythebee · 1 year

Text

Late Night Study

»»————-　➴　————-««

pairing: college!peter parker x reader

genre: fluff, such big fluff and smut

summary: Peter’s having trouble with his homework, and you help him out... in more ways than one. And a scene inspired by 'Fangirl' by Rainbow Rowell

warnings: 18+ content, because there is sexy time and tiny bit of swearing. No established relationship. This is protected sex, and vanilla, because it's my favourite flavour. Also consent is sexy.

words: 3.6k

masterlist

You’re ready for bed. Skincare done, pyjamas on, teeth brushed and now melting into the mattress of your bed, sinking underneath the mountain of plushies, just enough so you can still see the computer screen on your lap, playing a movie.

You finished your work for the night and felt accomplished enough to reward yourself with a lazy night in. As far as you were aware, your neighbours from your floor had dolled up to go out. At first you considered it, but Peter had just recommended you to watch the movie About Time, and you knew you were not going to get to sleep unless you fed into your curiosity.

Peter was right. The movie was amazing. By the end you felt so warm, soft and complete, that had you not heard the knock on your door, you would’ve been out cold.

You rub your eyes and don’t move for a moment. Maybe you were just hearing things.

The knock comes back, and this time there’s a rhythm to it. You smile, knowing the culprit.

“Come in!” You yell, “you know my door’s carded.”

Familiar brown curls peek from the door and then Peter’s there, closing the door quietly behind him. He barely sees you beneath the plushies and chuckles, immediately dropping his belongings by your bed. He speaks to you through his eyes for a moment, and when he goes limp you immediately tense up, knowing exactly what he's about to do.

He ignores your squeal, landing right on top of you and the soft objects. "Ah, so soft." His head buries into the blankets, fully aware of his dead-weight crushing you.

“Get...” you squirm underneath him, pushing upwards, shifting your legs to try and escape, but to no avail. Giggles pass your lips as you squeal again, “get off me! I can’t freakin’ move!”

His laugh rumbles against your body, and after a few minutes he finally rolls off, reaching down to grab his bag from where he dropped it. “Alright, but for real, I was actually wondering if you could help me study for a bit?”

You both straighten up, to look over his work book. It’s a bit awkward for you, so you shuffle across your bed, and tug on his hoody till he moves to sit beside you, backs pressing against the plushies.

“Well, what do you need help with? This is very unorthodox, Pete.”

He laughs, combing fingers through his hair. The action does little to keep his locks away from his forehead. They droop right back down and it takes everything in you not to reach up, push the strands to the side and kiss his forehead.

Peter takes you out of your trance, flipping to a page of his notebook and then his textbook, resting half of it on your thighs. “This section.”

You gloss over the text, and then look at his notes. He’s silent as you do this, watching your previously playful expression turn quickly to concentration.

Peter thinks you’re cute when you’re focused. Something about the way you seem to be in another world, the way you can recite pages of text about different technology, physics, designs, and be humble about your abilities at the end of the day. Bonus was, he could stare at your face for a while and you wouldn’t mind, because you just wouldn’t know that he was observing.

“I can help you,” you finally say, “but it’s like 1am.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, but I gotta get this done for tomorrow. My tutor’s been on my back about this since the start of semester.”

You make a face at him, “you have Flynn, right?”

“Exactly!” He laughs when you give a dramatic shudder of your shoulders. The older man was a good teacher, yet all anyone remembers from his class is the smell; as though he hadn’t showered in a month, and then tried to mask it with spray deodorant. “And you know what he told me? He said that you aced your exam, and that I need to come to you for help.”

“Nah, I don’t believe you.”

“He also said you’re like really pretty or whatever, so I have to come to you anyway.”

Your face feels warm, and you drop your head when you smile. You respond coyly, “yeah, now I believe you.”

“So, you’ll help me out? I can make it up to you.”

“I was gonna help you out anyway, but I’m listening. What’s my reward?” You had an inflection to your question, which you hoped Peter wouldn’t miss, though at the same time, hoped he'd dismiss as a joke.

He licks his lips, and then nudges your shoulder with his. “It’s a secret. Let’s study for a bit, and then I’ll give you your reward.”

Now, he definitely had meant something when he said ‘reward’. It sent a hot flush to your cheeks, and you press your thighs together subconsciously.

“Yes, sir.”

»»————-　➴　————-««

“Historical uses of engineering. Progress is not made without recalling our past.” You were reading out loud, voice low. At first you would read and then quiz Peter to see if he remembered anything about what you recited.

It was no surprise to you that after a few minutes you both made an unspoken decision to let you keep reading without stopping for quizzes. There wasn’t enough time in the night for quizzing and Peter’s brain was like a sponge.

“Ancient era, middle era, renaissance era, and modern day--”

You cut yourself off, shifting uncomfortably. Suddenly your neck and back were all sore, and you found no escape for the pain. “Sorry,” you mutter, massaging the corner where your neck curves into your shoulder.

“Wait, what about this?” Peter moves a few of the plushies to your desk and situates himself right in the middle of the bed, his back against your pillows.

You move up to your knees as his legs and arms spread. A bold invitation, to which you accept without hesitation. Turning around you fall between his legs and press your back against his chest.

“Better?” He gently asks.

“Not quite.”

As though he could read your mind he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

“That’s better,” you add in barely a whisper, allowing your neck to rest by nesting your head on his broad shoulder.

He smells divine. A freshly showered kind of smell with remnants of his usual cologne by the collar of his hoody. It feels so good and safe here. You melt further into his warmth and twist around till you could feel the material of his clothes under the side of your head and your hair tickling the bottom of his chin.

Once you get comfortable you continue reading, catching yourself eyeing how beautiful his hands are, entwined together right by your rib cage. Not close enough to your breasts.

Another long half-hour passes and he just listens to you. His heart beating calmly underneath your ear, small breaths blowing against loose strands on your hair. At some point, you had both slid into the bed sheets and now you’re both lying on your sides facing each other. The book is the only thing keeping you from moving in closer.

From what began as your normal voice turned to a whisper as you read for another hour. You finish a paragraph on computer-aided design fundamentals, and look up at Peter, who's already gazing at you.

The silence is comfortable, yet thick. You press your knees together, feeling your tummy stir when his dolomitic eyes dip to your lips.

A sudden weight on your waist pulls you in, closing the gap between your hips.

You don't read on and instead close the book, all while keeping your gaze on his face. It's clear that there is only one thing on your minds.

His masculine hand comes down from your hip to grip the top of the book.

"I think it's about time I gave you your reward." You allow him to take the thick object out of your hands, placing it on the ground and turning to you immediately, hand tentatively resting back onto your hip.

You wiggle in closer, free from the obstruction of the book and hold onto the fabric of his hoody by his waist. "I have an idea of what it might be."

"Do you now?" He smirks, meeting you in the middle and closing the gap between your chests. "Since it's a surprise, can you please close your eyes?"

No hesitation, you do as told, excitement running through your body as you feel his fingers feather across your cheek, until they settle by the back of your neck.

Sheets shuffle as he moves with care, taking in the scent of you, the softness of your hair and skin under his hand and how long your eyelashes look.

Peter's breath fans over your lips and on instinct, your mouth opens slightly. With a final shift, your lips finally touch and you melt into him, tugging his hoody toward your direction, resolving to hook a leg over his and softly grinding your hips into his own.

He reciprocates your hungry action, cupping your jaw with both hands, and making sure to worship your bottom lip. It's so soft and intoxicating, he just has to kiss you there. He smooths his tongue over, muffling the gentle moan you emit.

Hands begin to roam while your heads twist with each kiss. Your fingers finally crawl into his locks and then it's his turn to make a sweet noise when you give a light tug.

He pulls away to look at you for a moment, drawing his hands down to your hips, before slipping his fingers just underneath the hem of your shirt.

"Can I?"

You nod immediately, taking a hot breath in as he traces over your belly, and then over your ribcage. Closer and closer, your shirt pooling by his wrist.

He watches you watching him, and smiles when your eyes meet. He's barely begun and your response to him is a clear invite to keep tracing up your bare skin.

The tip of one of his fingers touch your nipple and you realise you had been holding your breath. It hardens at the contact, sending electricity straight to your lower abdomen and your legs tangle further into Peter's.

With your mouth already open, he comes back to your lips. The kisses get wetter as he gives a squeeze to your chest. After a while, Peter pulls away from the kiss, with your bottom lip between his teeth. He's obsessed.

Your eyes open with the action and you share a smile, caressing his cheek as your lips disconnect. You run a thumb over his mouth, and then your other hand and fingers are there grazing over the skin of his face. They trace from his forehead to the tip of his nose, and then gently move over his eyelids, around his cheeks and down his jaw till they make contact with his Adam's apple.

He purposefully swallows his saliva to make the bump on his neck move. As soon as it does, your mouth is there and he exhales when he feels your tongue ease over it. You're obsessed. He's completely mesmerising. His jaw is sharp, but his skin is so soft. He's so masculine and bold, yet so boyish and sensual.

An abrupt moan escapes your lips and you slap a hand over your mouth. You hear a chuckle and then he's on top of you, hoody strings dangling over your bare breasts.

His fingers have curled into your pyjama pants while you were distracted with his neck, already feeling wetness there. The flushed look on your face is encouraging and he presses down on your clit, acutely aware of how your eyes cannot help but shut and your legs squeeze together.

"You're so beautiful," he says, voice low and smooth. "You don't have to hold back, okay? Everyone's gone out."

You're completely under his spell, and you barely whisper out a response, before he presses against your pants again, eliciting a hum. Your hands go to his arm, feeling the way his muscles work to ensure you respond with pleasure. While he rubs, you manage to slip your shirt off, letting it fall to the ground by your bed.

You watch with lustful eyes as his head dips to your chest, attaching his lips to your right nipple. Upon impulse your hands tangle into his hair, giving tugs when new waves of arousal wash over your body.

You suddenly feel cold as he sits up, leaving your breasts with the sound of a wet smack and removing his hand from your damp pyjamas. You almost whimper when he meets your stare and smirks, pulling his hoody over his head. You then help him with his shirt, pushing yourself up from lying down, and the moment the material hits the ground with a thwump, you're at his lips again, fingers roaming over every inch of his chest and waist.

Peter pushes you back with a firm kiss till your head meets the pillow.

He kisses the tip of your nose and hooks his hands under your legs, pushing against the back of your thighs, until your knees are facing the ceiling. "You comfy?"

Before responding, you guide his hands to your hips, where you help him grip the edge of your pants. Taking the hint, he shimmies the last bit of your pyjamas off, adding it to the growing pile on the ground. Then before he can even take a look at you, you're pulling down on his trackies and underwear.

"I'm comfy now," you giggle.

Both of you are naked and drunk with lust. There's no visible sense of discomfort on your face, but Peter is a gentleman and has been since he's entered your room, and so he has to check in with you before continuing. "You okay to keep going?"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes."

He laughs, sliding his hands along your thighs. "Well, thank fuck for that, because I don't think I can hold it in anymore."

Your eyes dip downward, a smirking playing on your lips. "I never would have guessed."

He gives you a face before leaning down to share an ardent kiss.

"You have a condom?" You enquire with a hushed tone when he pulls away, keeping your foreheads together.

"Do I?" He feigns shock and reaches into his backpack retrieving his wallet. Suddenly he reveals a handful of condoms which you question how they had even fit.

Your jaw drops at the amount, chuckling with a mix of surprise and arousal. Why is the sight of Peter holding a bunch of condoms so hot to you?

"I know it looks like I'm just out here having sex every other day, but the truth is Aunt May insisted I take all of these."

"She's a wise woman. Protection is very important."

"Absolutely, you never know when they'll come in handy.

"You can come in my handy."

"Y/N."

He picks one out, tearing it open with his teeth. You've always fantasised having a guy tear a condom wrapper open with their teeth. Something about the action guarantees that you will be turned on, and with Peter doing it without being asked - without knowing how much of an effect he has on you - takes you into overdrive and you bite down a moan.

You watch with increasing excitement as he rolls over the latex. The sight of his beautiful, long fingers working is enough for you to feel that electricity in the bottom of your abdomen again.

When he's done he positions himself between your already trembling legs and begins to slide himself along your folds. You both sigh at the contact, and instinctively gauge at each other's dazed reactions.

"You're actually so wet," he breathes, a crease forming between his brows as every stroke forward and back already feels like heaven.

"That feels good... oh my- can you press harder?"

And he does. Boy, does he deliver. Hands planted on either side of your head, he hovers over you for a better angle. A few times you feel pressure by your entrance, which result in whimpers when he doesn't fully go in.

Unbeknownst to you, Peter's thinking the same and his patience is beginning to run thin with every stroke.

"I'm gonna put it in now, okay?"

Hearing him is like music to your ears, and you hum eagerly in response.

One of his hands come down to steady himself, and the other comes up to yours where your fingers intertwine. "Tell me if it hurts, or if you want to stop. I want you to feel good. This is your reward after all."

You give him a nod and squeeze his hand. There's pressure at your entrance again. This is it. You suck in a breath as Peter's hips slow forward and then the pressure is replaced by a full feeling. It's been a long time since you last had sex, and you thought it would sting a little, but to your pleasant surprise, Peter fit in perfectly and it feels surreal.

Yours and Peter's moans echo in your room when your hips meet. He pauses for a moment, taking a mental picture of you beneath him; the way your eyelids are drooped, the way your whole face somehow looks more kissable. As he dips his head down to meet with your lips, his hips begin to move again. In and out. Slow and steady. He leans on his elbows now, chest against chest, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

You have to put your hands by his lower back, squeezing his skin there when his hip dips into you. Such a simple action of the curves of his back drives you crazy and your toes curl when he hits a spot.

Peter muffles your pleasure-filled noise with his tongue, addicted with your taste and the vibration of your voice. Heat radiates off the two of you, as the pace quickens and you don’t realise that you’re getting wet in more than one place.

Peter’s groans fill your senses, as he sits back on his knees, pulling you back into him by your waist. If he wanted to, he could easily lift you up, move your body around to fit his sexual needs. You kind of wanted him to do that. To use you the way only he wishes.

As if reading your mind yet again, he scoops you up from the sheets, keeping you connected as you settle on his lap. A new wave of arousal washes over you with the new position. You were already close together while doing missionary, yet this position feels so much more intimate and sensual.

You wrap your arms around his neck and arch your back into him, finding a sweet angle which forces your head back in pleasure.

“Fuck,” he whispers with heat by your ear while his hands squeeze your bum, aiding your movements.

Sighs, moans, wet sounds and the creak of the bed all mix, echoing in your room and probably the hallway too, but either of you couldn't care less. The pleasure and the images of your movements were all you can think about.

Your hips rock into his at a moderate pace, the addictive feeling of him and the sounds he's making begin to increase the urge to climax and you rest your head in the crook of his neck.

Your voice by his ear consumes Peter's entire body and he starts to tremble underneath you, his thrusts becoming messy.

"Ah, think I'm gonna finish," he says at the speed of light, his hold on you tight and only tightening my the second.

"M-Me too," you respond airily, your head full of stars.

"Oh my God, Y/N."

His arms lock around your torso, pulling you flush against his chest. With your name passing Peter's lips and the beautiful messiness you're creating you spiral off the edge, squeezing your thighs and knees into the side of his hips.

Drawn out noises of pleasure escape yours and Peter's lips, as you share the moment. Eyes are shut tightly and heads are fill with ecstasy.

His movements pause for a second and then he's riding out the climax, thrusts slow but hard. His grip around your back loosens, and soon you're staring at each other.

His cheeks are tinted pink, eyes hooded and mouth open slightly to catch his breath. A few curls are slick on his forehead, and you don't think you've seen Peter look so attractive before. You drink in the sight, whimpering when he lifts you up, pulling himself out of you.

He sets you down against the pillows, brushing his lips over your own hot cheeks. You reward him with a breathy giggle as he traces up to kiss your nose. Then he's back down to your mouth, this kiss in some way more special than every other he shared; it's full of warmth, safety and complete adoration of you.

After when he stands to discard the condom, you feel so cold. There was no way you were going to let Peter go back to his room for the rest of the night.

"Hey, Pete?"

"Yeah?" He beams at you, throwing away some tissues from cleaning himself up and promptly returning to you on the bed.

You laugh as he flops right next to you, a hand over your waist. "Wanna shower together?"

"There's no way... that I'd want to do anything else right now than shower with you."

Your eyes squint at him, as you give him a playful push. "You had me in the first half not gonna lie."

"No, I don't think I want to leave your room tonight. Or maybe ever."

There's a silent pause. At his answer, you're practically squealing and kicking your feet in your head, though all you explicitly express on your face is an ear-to-ear grin.

"You're so... ugh!" He attacks you with kisses. Your adorable, post-sex-glowy face is too much for him. "So fucking pretty. I can't."

With every kiss you laugh and your heart is so full and warm, you forget that you have classes to go to in the morning and that it's around 4am now.

"From now on come over anytime you need help with studying. Please," you say once you've settled from your laughter.

"You too. Call me if you ever need help. I've got more rewards up my sleeve."

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader smut #mcu #mcu x reader #marvel x reader #tom holland #tom holland x reader

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nerevar-quote-and-star · 3 months

Text

I Didn't Know You Were Keeping Count — Part 12: Owl

ao3

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Author's note: Picking up where the previous chapter left off, Leara must work through the rest of the peace conference, all while her day continues to spiral out of control.

Tag list:

@ravenmind2001 @incorrectskyrimquotes @uwuthrad @dark-brohood @owl-screeches @binaominagata @constantfyre @kurakumi @stormbeyondreality @singleteapot @aardvark-123 @blossom-adventures @argisthebulwark @inkysqueed @average-crazy-fangirl @the-tuzen-chronicles @shivering-isles-cryptid @orangevanillabubbles @cosmermaid @thelurkershideout

Content Warning: After the third line break, Bishop is, well, the worst of Bishop. Attempted dub/con; sexual assault.

#######

The pinprick of eyes didn’t leave her even after she shut the outer door and darted down the hall. Up a short flight of stairs and then down a long corridor, she ran until she fell against the door to her cell. With a silent sob, she twisted the knob and fell into the room.

Karnwyr was at her side at once, his soft face and warm body pressing up and into her to keep her from collapsing all the way. Shaking, Leara wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his fur. The wolf’s gentle breathing was the only sound beyond her frantic heartbeat. She tried to focus on it, to focus on the wolf. Bishop had told her once that wolves knew loyalty. If there ever was a wolf loyal to a fault, it was Karnwyr. Warm, safe, comforting Karnwyr.

“I’m frightened,” she whispered into the wolf’s neck.

A high whine rang in Karnwyr’s throat; she could feel it vibrate against her cheek. Sometimes, she was half-certain that the wolf understood her. Others, she didn’t know. But she wanted to hope. These days, she had little else to put her hope in.

“She’s going to get me,” she went on. Karnwyr’s ears twitched, listening. “She’s going to get me and kill me if Alduin doesn’t kill me first.” New tears gathered on her eyelashes, their frost melting from Karnwyr’s warmth. Her chest still hurt, breathing was still a chore, and she was cold and numb and electrified all at once. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die alone!”

Tap! Tap! Tap! came from the door.

Leara stilled, her arms locking stiff around Karnwyr’s throat. A growl rumbled from the wolf as, slowly, Leara lifted her head. Meeting Karnwyr’s dark eyes, she sniffled. “Shh,” she soothed, rubbing a trembling hand over his shaggy velvet ears. “Shh.” But Karnwyr simply looked at her, a deep sadness reflecting back at her. Leara swallowed back the lingering tears.

The knock came again.

Struggling to her feet, Leara grabbed the handkerchief from beside her small bag of toiletries and dabbed at her face. With icy fingers, she pressed along the underside of her eyes, easing the redness and soothing the skin. This was followed by reinforcing her little glamor spells, the same she’d been using to cover up the sleeplessness for the last couple of weeks. The sensation sent a new swell of tears rising in her throat, but she forced them down. She had a job to do. She could not afford to keep crying over Elenwen. She’d wasted years of her life doing so already.

The third round of knocking was cut short when she opened the door.

“Ah, see, Delphine? I told you she would be here!”

The pinch-faced Breton rolled her eyes.

“Good afternoon,” Leara greeted the Blades, an unchecked warble in her throat. She clamped her mouth shut.

Either not noticing it or not caring to point it out, Esbern brushed past her into the room, a reluctant Delphine following. At the intrusion, Karnwyr growled, neck bristling as he pressed his side against Leara’s leg.

“Do you mind calling off your dog?” Delphine sniffed, popping a hand on her hip.

Leara’s fingers were already carding over the top of Karnwyr’s head. “Shh, boy. It’s all right. They’re friends.”

If wolves could look skeptical, Karnwyr did. Leara pretended not to notice.

“What can I do for you?” Leara asked, drawing attention away from the still-agitated wolf.

“Now you’re asking?” Delphine half-laughed. “Where have you been? You disappear off to Talos knows where, chasing Dragonrend, and the next thing we hear is you got your ass handed to you by Alduin!”

“Delphine, please,” Esbern shook his head. “That’s not why we’re here.”

“It’s why I’m here,” grumbled Delphine. “Did the Greybeards turn you against us? Do they have you a little meditation mat out in the snow so you can Shout to the wind like a mad woman?”

Leara’s eyes drifted closed. Inhale. Feim. Exhale. Zii. Her spirit was too strung out for this. “I’ve been following the path laid out for me as Dragonborn, just as you so eloquently pointed out earlier, Delphine, or have you forgotten?”

“That’s why we’re here,” coughed Esbern.

Delphine scowled, her thin brows scrunching into little knots. “We need you to take this seriously, Leara!”

“Oh, but I do!” Casting her hands out beside her as if to say Look at me! Leara let out a hoarse laugh. “I’m taking this very seriously. I am the most serious I’ve ever been, and I was able to continue my primary mission during the Great War, unlike some people! It’s hard to get any more serious than that, but I have!”

Delphine lunged.

Karnwyr barked. Esbern cried out. Leara sidestepped, avoiding the steel dart grabbing for her. Pivoting, Delphine rounded again; though she made no further movement, her face was dark. “Somehow, I doubt that! Because at least some people didn’t run away when things got too hard! How could we know when you went after Dragonrend that you hadn’t done it again?”

Ice tickled the palms of Leara’s hands. Her rings burned. The lingering frostbite stung. Just as Delphine understood her meaning, Leara understood hers. Delphine may be inept, but she stuck to the Blades’ mandate. Leara did not. She ran away. She always ran away. Her face tight, she turned to Esbern, who was looking toward the ceiling, an unwilling witness to the continued rift between his fellow Blades. After a moment, his gaze dropped, and Leara met it with an awkward tilt of her head. Ignored, Delphine crossed her arms.

“I’m not running now,” said Leara, flat. “What do you want? After today, I won’t be coming back to High Hrothgar. I’ll be able to rededicate myself to my oath as a Blade.” Elenwen would be hunting her anyway. If Leara survived Alduin, serving as a Blade would be all she had left. Bishop would either have to live with that or leave.

Elenwen said he would leave anyway. She was usually right.

Clearing his throat, Esbern said, “That is part of what I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Here we go,” Delphine rolled her eyes. Leara frowned.

“What is—”

Tap! Tap! on the door again. As one, the three Blades turned to stare at it. Karnwyr grunted.

“Come in!” Leara called.

Cracking the door open, Master Einarth poked his head in. In silence, he regarded Delphine and Esbern before looking to Leara. His hands flew in a quick sign. Then he watched her.

“Thank you, Master.” Nodding, the Greybeard withdrew. Leara turned to Delphine and Esbern. “It’s about time to rejoin the peace talks. This will keep until later.”

“According to the old man, it’s already waited centuries,” Delphine grumbled, almost under her breath. Nonetheless, she brushed by Leara and Esbern to the door.

Karnwyr made to follow Leara. “No, boy,” she whispered, chest pained. Karnwyr stared up at her, eyes wide and full. The iron encasing her lungs buckled under her breath. “I’ll come back for you later, okay? I need you to wait here for me until then. That’s a good boy,” she whispered, running her hand over his head and down his neck once, twice. “It’s for the best.”

Karnwyr whined, but Leara didn’t look back as she shut the cell’s door.

The other two Blades were already far down the hall. Leara slowed her pace, pretending to straighten up her ruined hair. She wasn’t eager to catch up with them and risk more of Delphine’s temper. She would deal with it later.

Outside the doors to the meeting hall, Legate Rikke and one of her legionnaires stood in the quiet discussion, though Leara saw them still as Delphine and Esbern went through to the chamber. Rikke’s eyes followed the Blades with a frown, then connected with Leara’s down the hall.

“That will be all, Orianus. Rejoin General Tullius in the hall.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Saluting, the blonde legionnaire left.

Then, Leara found herself face-to-face with the Legate. She just kept her shoulders from dropping under the taloned point in her eyes. “Good afternoon, Legate.”

“Dragonborn, can I have a word before you go back in there?” Rikke asked, to the point. “It will only take a moment.”

“Of course.”

Casting an eye in either direction, Rikke waved Leara closer. “Look, I don’t think talking peace with Ulfric is the way to handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

Rikke’s face was grim. “If Ulfric gets his way, he would expunge from Skyrim citizens whose only crime was to be born of a non-Nordic woman.” A quick dart of amber eyes told Leara that Rikke’s attention was on her elven ears. “That is unacceptable to free men everywhere. If you think you can get through to him, you’re either a fool or an optimist, and I don’t think you’re an idiot, Ormand."

So, the Legate wanted to caution her against the potential fallout from the peace conference. If Leara wasn’t already keenly aware that Skyrim’s—and the world’s—fate hung by a thread entangled with her fingers, she’d give the warning about Ulfric’s intentions more consideration. Yet, it niggled at her. She recalled walking through the Grey Quarter in Windhelm with Jolinar Aren. There was a cultural divide in the city that cut through its citizens. Did the people there make any attempt to understand each other? It was so far removed from the cosmopolitan melting pot of the Imperial City that she was used to. Leara regarded Rikke, keenly aware that they needed to return to the meeting hall. Yes, there were racial tensions in Windhelm—there were racial tensions throughout Skyrim and the whole Empire, even the Imperial City, if she were being honest—but until Ulfric threw her out because she was half-elven (and that was the only reason), she would push for peace. She would try.

“Perhaps I am an optimist,” she conceded at last. “Thank you, Legate.”

Rikke nodded, mouth drawn, and they entered the chamber.

Leara had a peace to negotiate.

·•★•·

The melancholy shroud that wrapped around her with the strength of burial linens hadn’t left when she woke up far too early the next morning. For a while, she lay there, the weight of darkened memory pressing into her chest nearly to the point of suffocation. Pearls glittered in her mind’s eye, fractured and crumbling to bone dust with every beat of her heart. And oh, how deep her heartbeat felt, pounding a drum she never knew she could play. At once, there were festival and funeral drums dancing together. Joy mingled with grief, and it wouldn’t leave her. It clung to her like white sand between her toes, working its way throughout her person until she came through pain to be a pearl herself. Safe in her warm bed amid the furs, behind palace doors and city walls, she still felt thousands of miles and years away. Lost, lost to a time without balls and wars, or at least not the kind that moral men understood. She couldn’t sleep again, not with that melancholy kissing her soul.

One glance at Julia on the other side of the bed told Elisif that her friend was awake. Supine on her back, Elisif could only see part of Julia’s face and the trickle of tears slipping down into her hair, spread in a dark cloud across the pillow.

Elisif reached out and snagged her hand, giving Julia’s fingers a comforting squeeze. “I didn’t know anyone could play like that,” she whispered.

Julia turned to her. “I don’t even know what that was.”

“Do you,” Elisif began, then cut off. Blinking, she realized she was also crying. Divines. “Do you think it’s because she has the Voice?”

Julia’s hand in hers tightened, bone-crushing, pearl dust. “I don’t know.”

Elisif and Julia weren’t abed for long. At half past six, a knock came at the door. Although the ball ended prematurely, and they’d gone to bed earlier than expected, neither Elisif nor Julia felt as if they’d slept at all.

It was Erdi, with a note. “Your grace, Lady Julia,” she curtsied to Elisif and then Julia, her knees and ankles wobbly. Sitting in her bedclothes with a face damp from tears, Elisif waved her on. “This came from Castle Dour.”

“General Tullius?” Elisif asked.

“Yes, your grace. He expects a reply as soon as possible.”

The note, it turned out, was a short directive telling her to get ready for a long trip to High Hrothgar—High Hrothgar!—where the Dragonborn was holding a peace conference between the Imperials and the Stormcloaks. “Is she mad?” Elisif asked Julia as they quickly put together a traveling trunk.

Julia didn’t pause her work, but she looked thoughtful. “I think she’s trying.”

“So are we!”

Julia just shook her head.

That was over two weeks ago. Now Elisif sat at a table in High Hrothgar, across from her husband’s murderer, while General Tullius debated giving away Markarth, and her concerns went ignored.

The trip to the Throat of the World wasn’t horrible, per se . . . only, General Tullius made as much time for her on the road as he did back in Solitude, and traveling, Elisif didn’t have Julia’s arm and will with her to get Tullius to listen to her. Legate Rikke was willing to give her an ear on occasion, but Elisif knew that was more out of sympathy than anything. The Legate was strong and commanded respect, knowing what to do and when to act, even if her temper sometimes got the better of her. Elisif wished she could be like that. As it was, she spent most of the trip in turns dreading the peace conference and caught in the memory of sorrowing harp song. When she wasn’t pushing for the General’s attention or dwelling in her turmoil, she was entertaining Erdi.

Oh, Bolgeir said she didn’t have to entertain her ladies’ maid, but the girl was so excited to be on the road, traveling through Skyrim, that Elisif felt she could give the girl some of the attention no one would give her. Divines knew she wasn’t going to as the two Thalmor for company. Yes, she did enjoy Elenwen’s dinner parties and soirees, but there was something in the First Emissary’s eyes that had unnerved Elisif since they left Solitude. And Hindalia, well, she wasn’t very amicable from her experience anyway. It was a very trying trip.

Sitting there, stuck in a peace conference she couldn’t believe in, Elisif hoped that Erdi was keeping out of trouble. Hopefully, the other legionnaires wouldn’t get too upset with her.

Lost in thought, she half-watched the Dragonborn, Leara Ormand, enter the room. Legate Rikke came after her. Somewhere behind her, General Tullius and Jarl Balgruuf were talking in heated whispers, the Jarl of Whiterun seeming not entirely pleased with whatever Tullius wanted to talk about. At Leara’s reentrance, the two men quieted.

“Where’s Master Arngeir?” Leara asked.

“He went to meditate,” Ulfric told her.

Leara nodded, pale gold face pensive as she returned to her seat.

Across the table, the pale Breton in armor, the one Ulfric had called Delphine before, rolled her eyes. She mouthed something to herself that Elisif couldn’t catch. No one else seemed to pay her any mind, so Elisif ignored her.

Elisif twisted the handkerchief in her lap. As soon as the Dragonborn called a recess and left, the Greybeards left to meditate, a sigh whispering in his wake. Ulfric and his general, with their guards, went quickly after, leaving the Imperial delegation hauled up in the meeting hall with Jarl Balgruuf and his men. General Tullius paced the length of the room for much of the remaining hour, his face drawn in a thoughtful frown. Occasionally, he would stop to speak to Legate Rikke or ask her a question, but otherwise, he kept to himself until the other delegates returned. Clearly, he didn’t like being here any more than Elisif did, but they came nonetheless at the Dragonborn’s request.

She was going to trap a live dragon in Whiterun!

How could she do that? Even if Whiterun still had the mechanisms that legends said were used to bind Numinex, how did Leara Ormand plan to lure a dragon into that trap? And how did she draw out the dragon? Reports flooding in over previous months made it clear that dragon attacks couldn’t be timed. But was it possible for the Dragonborn to time them? Elisif was bursting with questions, but she held them in check. Now was not the time.

General Stone-Fist slid a new goblet of mead to the Dragonborn. Elisif then realized that earlier, when she was serving, she never set one down for herself. “Care for some mead, Dragonborn?”

Leara blinked up at him, owlish with surprise. “Oh, thank you, General.”

“It’s not poisoned,” he added.

What?

A slight giggle escaped Leara’s mouth. “Why would it be poisoned?”

Galmar Stone-Fist actually smiled at her. Elisif couldn’t believe it.

Apparently, Ulfric couldn’t believe it either, if the slight crease between his brows was anything to go by. Then he caught Elisif’s eye on him, and his narrowed at her. She ducked her head.

From the corner of her eye, she spied Legate Rikke steal a glance toward the Leara, who was sipping her mead. Perhaps Elisif wasn’t the only one who couldn’t quite make her out. She couldn’t decide if that was reassuring or not.

As she mused over this, Master Arngeir returned alongside the other Greybeards. Seeing that they were all seated around the table—more or less—Master Arngeir nodded to himself. “Dragonborn, I trust this recess has helped you.”

If Elisif hadn’t turned to watch, she would’ve missed the pale knuckles blanching as Leara tightened her hold on her goblet. “Yes, thank you for obliging me, Master Arngeir.”

Master Arngeir seemed not to notice. “Good. Now, General Tullius, Jarl Ulfric, if you would, we will resume the negotiations.”

“Yes, let’s get on with it,” General Tullius agreed, straightening in his chair.

“At present, the negotiations stand thus: Before our recess, General Tullius made a bid for the Rift, which was met with Jarl Ulfric’s demand for Markarth and the Reach. These terms have not been agreed to. As the mediator, the Dragonborn spoke against land trades from either side.” The Greybeard Master turned a steady watch from Tullius to Ulfric.

Involuntarily, Elisif shuddered at the memory of the explosive shouting match that broke out earlier and her heavy hand in instigating it. But if getting a rise out of General Tullius was all she needed to do to protect Western Skyrim from being broken apart to feed the Stormcloaks, then she would do it again and again.

“Now that we have reconvened, I would ask the Dragonborn to elaborate on her reasoning,” Master Arngeir continued.

“Thank you, I will,” Leara said, standing. Her gaze swept the room; for a moment, Elisif looked into eyes bluer than a winter sky and nearly as cold before they moved on. She shivered. Leara continued, “I recognize that all of you have come here to negotiate a treaty, and with that comes certain expectations. You see this as an opportunity. I do as well. This peace conference is an opportunity for us to come together for the good of Skyrim so that despite whatever differences we may have, we can rest assured that our cooperation here today give us the opportunity to address those differences at a later date.” She paused, breathing evenly. “I cannot stress enough how vital this treaty is as a means to handle the dragons and Alduin himself. Esbern has already explained how the ongoing conflict is feeding the World-Eater’s strength.” She clenched her fingers together. “I know with the present conflict, it’s hard to look beyond the turmoil of politics and battle strategy, but we need to remember that our enemies are not always other men and mer. History has shown us that we struggle not only against flesh and blood, but against darkness and evil itself. Was the Oblivion Crisis so long ago that no one remembers what we were fighting against? Is our memory so short that we cannot see the greater picture beyond our personal desires?”

“She makes longer speeches than Stormcloak,” Elisif heard Captain Thrain whisper in an aside to Lieutenant Orianus.

“The dragon threat is real. Alduin is real. Many of you have seen him already.” Then Leara held out her palms so that everyone could see. For the first time, Elisif noticed the pink flush lingering along her hands, tapering into a pink at the ends of her fingers. It reminded Elisif of snowberry juice stains after having washed her hands twice but with the pigment still clinging to her fingertips. Frostbite. “I fought him, and I must fight him again, once more for all. If I don’t, Skyrim will burn, and the land you conquer and trade will be dead.”

“If you lost to the World-Eater once, what makes you think you’ll be victorious in a second meeting?” Jarl Balgruuf asked.

Leara’s hands fell against the light blue of her skirts. “Before, when I faced Alduin the first time, it was here on the Throat of the World. When I fell, he fled back to his stronghold. To defeat him, I need to cut him off at the root.”

“Why didn’t he kill you then?” Elisif heard herself ask before she thought better of it.

Straightening, Leara merely smiled. “He couldn’t get to me. I was in a safe place.” Then she looked to Master Arngeir, who Elisif was surprised to see give the Dragonborn an almost-fond look, but it was gone so quickly that she was sure she imagined it.

“I’m sure we’re all very thankful you survived,” Tullius said briskly. “But I can’t just agree to a truce because you asked nicely. The Emperor will expect a reason why there’s a ceasefire without a resolution. You can’t just expect us to come here and agree to your treaty without receiving anything in return. We need something substantial here, or else you could have gone ahead with your little plan without dragging us halfway across the province to talk about it.”

“Of course,” Leara agreed. “I wouldn’t dream of wasting your time, General. What do you suggest?”

Tullius tapped the tabletop. “We want compensation for the massacres Karthwasten and Kolskeggr Mine.”

General Stone-Fist’s fist slammed against the tabletop. “Shor’s bones, what are you saying?”

It was Legate Rikke who replied. She always seemed quick to try and match Galmar Stone-Fist’s temper with hers. “You slaughtered the very people you claim to be fighting for! True sons of Skyrim would never do such things!”

“Damned Imperial lies!” General Stone-Fist spat. “My men would never stoop to such methods, even in retaliation for your butchery at Dunstad—"

Ulfric’s face was hard. Elisif could feel the weary sigh escape Leara Ormand, even if she couldn’t hear it. “This is our homeland, Tullius. All the blood spilled in this war is on your head.”

“Don’t forget who started this war, Ulfric!” jabbed Tullius. “One way or another, you’re going to pay for your crimes.”

“If I’ve committed a crime,” Ulfric sneered, “it’s because the Empire decreed the lives of men should be held by the Aldmeri Dominion, rendering free men to be slaves!”

“Once again, the Empire gets blamed—"

“Excuse me,” Leara interrupted, holding up two frost-damaged fingers. Jaws snapped shut as she directed those fingers toward Galmar. “What happened at Dunstad? Where is that?”

“Dunstad Grove was fortified by Fort Dunstad in the Pale, south of Dawnstar,” Galmar explained. Elisif shifted uncomfortably: She knew what he’d say next. “The Imperials attacked in the night with a couple of their battlemages. Next thing our men knew, the wall was breached, and the village inside was on fire.” His voice was gruff, emotion swelling his words. Elisif felt her own throat wobble. But while tears stung the backs of her eyes, Galmar Stone-Fist’s grew dark with rage. “It was a bloodbath! The entire village was destroyed!”

A tear trailed down Elisif’s cheek. But Legate Rikke, she was affected in a different way. Rikke’s hair flew about her shoulders as she rose to her feet, righteous anger glinting in her amber eyes like fire. “That's a lie! Dunstad Grove burned because of your marauders! My legionnaires are disciplined, unlike those—"

“By Shor, that’s a mug of sheep’s piss!” Galmar Stone-Fist spat. “You saw what happened, Rikke! You slaughtered them, and not just the men, but the women and children too! You slaughtered them like animals, you butchers!”

“Do you hear that, Tullius?” Ulfric asked, low. “The blood of Skyrim’s innocents cries out for wergeld.”

“You’re determined to have our silver whether you get Markarth or not! But you don't really expect compensation every time a village is destroyed in a war that you started, do you, Ulfric?” Tullius asked, passing a weary hand over his chin. Elisif could hear the grit of his teeth.

“What happened at Karthwasten? And Kolskeggr?” Leara’s voice broke in before Ulfric could retaliate.

“Ulfric’s made no secret that he wants Markarth. The Stormcloaks led a raid, and half of Karthwasten burned or fled!” said Rikke, still heated. “Now the town’s more vulnerable to Forsworn attacks than ever!”

“And Kolskeggr?” Leara asked, raising a hand to cut off whatever sharp remark was pending from the Stormcloak side.

“Richest gold mine in Skyrim. Now the Forsworn have that too,” bit out the Legate.

Leara cast a brief glance at the seething Stormcloaks. “Let me see if I understand this correctly: Because the Stormcloaks failed to take these places and the Imperials couldn’t hold them, the Forsworn came in and took over.” She sniffed, “Perhaps I should be negotiating with the Forsworn then.”

“Try if you like, but they’ll betray you as soon as your back is turned.” A storm darkened Ulfric’s face.

“Aye,” said Galmar.

“Both sides want compensation for grievances dealt by the other,” Master Arngeir said. “The Imperials wish to recoup the losses from Karthwasten and Kolskeggr Mine, while the Stormcloaks seek retribution for the massacre of Dunstad Grove.”

“That’s fair,” said the Dragonborn, tone placid. “Seeing as both sides demand compensation from the other, the clear solution would be for both sides to nullify their claim.”

General Tullius actually groaned. “So, that’s it. You’ve dragged us across Skyrim for a social call.”

“On the contrary, General, I believe we’ve accomplished quite a lot here today.”

That was it, Elisif realized. There was nothing left to bargain for, and they couldn’t leave without agreeing to the truce, or else every military leader here would look like a fool. She wondered what Falk would think of it, then decided that her steward would grumble and say there’d be no need for her to leave Haafingar and the safety of Solitude after all. Falk and Bolgeir were always concerned about her leaving the palace, even with Bolgeir’s steady protection. Their fears of a Stormcloak assassin striking out at her in the streets of Solitude crept into her heart, coiling there with biting surety. But for all her fears of being killed during the war, Elisif was afraid of surviving it. She was afraid of what would happen to her if Ulfric was elected High King, and she was there to see it. She was afraid of the aftermath.

She was afraid that the cost of a lasting peace would mean selling her hand in marriage to her husband’s killer.

Except, now, Elisif began to wonder if that was a transaction Ulfric would even entertain. Often, his eyes would flit to the Dragonborn, following her as she settled the terms of the treaty. The near-constant glare Elisif had kept directed at the Stormcloaks for the duration of the conference eased, and she wondered. If the Dragonborn could bend the wills of the war leaders to her own for a temporary and non-invasive truce, what else could she do?

“I believe we may have an agreement. General Tullius, Jarl Ulfric, these are the terms presently on the table: The Stormcloaks will forgive the compensation owed them by the Empire for the massacre at Dunstad Grove, and in return, the Empire will forgive the compensation owed for the losses at Karthwasten and Kolskggr Mine.” Master Arngeir gave them both a look as if challenging either of them to raise new objections. “You both agree to this?”

Leaning forward, Ulfric braced his arms against the table. “The sons of Skyrim will live up to their agreements.” His glare sought Tullius. “As long as the Imperials hold to theirs.”

Tullius worked his jaw. “The Empire can live with these terms, yes, for a temporary truce until the dragon menace is dealt with.” He stood, then, leaned forward as he added, “After that, there will be a reckoning, Ulfric. Count on it.”

Ulfric Stormcloak barred his teeth, a silent threat, and Elisif shuddered.

Then, her husband’s murderer’s attention fell on her. “You should be pleased, Elisif. You've done well for yourself as the Empire's pet Jarl. But beware! The Empire's loyalty is fickle. They will tire of this war, and then I will be the one dictating terms to you.” His punctuating smirk was as final as a period.

“I have nothing to say to that murderer,” hissed Elisif, turning up her nose.

“Jarl Ulfric, General Tullius, come ratify this treaty for me, please,” Leara said, cool voice cutting the heat.

Out from under the shadow of Ulfric’s storm clouds, Elisif breathed a sigh of relief.

As much as she wanted the Dragonborn to defeat Alduin the World-Eater and save all of those poor souls in Sovngarde, Elisif hoped that she would also be able to curtail any more warfare from Ulfric’s quarter. Skyrim needed Leara. They needed her desperately.

·•★•·

Rubbing her eyes, Leara fell back into one of the chairs in the Greybeards’ small library. The peace talks exhausted her. For a while, she’d worried things would devolve into aggressive negotiations. But thank Mara and her many mercies, she actually got through the ordeal unscathed! Or as unscathed as she could be after giving such a heartfelt speech and strong-arming Ulfric and Tullius into agreeing to a temporary peace without splintering Skyrim and destabilizing its peoples further. All while wearing the invisible corset of anxiety that Elenwen so effectively tied her in. Persuasion and perseverance under pressure were nothing new to her, but, gods, the carry-through was far more draining than she remembered.

Well, Bishop would be surprised, she decided. He didn’t think she could it off, but she had, and now there was peace. A temporary and fickle peace, but it was enough to satisfy Balgruuf. As they’d left the hall to return to their own parties, the Jarl of Whiterun pulled her aside and commended her for her efforts. “For a while there, I didn’t think we would make it through,” he said quietly.

“Neither did I,” Leara found herself admitting. “But I’m glad it worked it.”

“It won’t hold for long,” Balgruuf cautioned her. “This ceasefire of yours rests on you. The armies won’t march on Whiterun if the dragon becomes more than we can handle, but they won’t rest their heels long. They don’t have the incentive. If the World-Eater isn’t taken care of soon, their goodwill will run dry.”

“I know,” Leara said, watching the legionnaires trail after Jarl Elisif and her housecarl. “Tullius isn’t as submissive to Jarl Elisif’s will as Ulfric may believe.” She peered at Balgruuf from the corner of her eye. “He answers directly to the Emperor. If Titus Mede tells him to jump, Tullius will ask how high. If the Empire doesn’t think it needs Skyrim’s trust, they’ll settle for taming her through other means.”

Balgruuf looked surprised. “You sound bitter.”

“I prefer realistic.” She sighed and stopped walking. Balgruuf hung back, waving his guards forward. If Irileth were here, she’d have a guar. “This war is a sideshow to the politicians in the Imperial City,” Leara said quietly. “The Emperor is more concerned with holding the southern border against the Dominion.” She glanced over her shoulder, keenly aware that the Dominion was there in High Hrothgar. Balgruuf nodded, grave. “That is where the Legion’s strength is massed. But the Thalmor know this. If—when the next war comes, and it will come, they will use Skyrim as a staging ground. The civil war is just a means for clearing the way.”

“How do you know?” Balgruuf asked.

Because it made sense, she thought. While Skyrim wasn’t in their plans when she was a member of the Aldmeri Dominion, she knew how they worked. The Thalmor were more opportunistic than anyone in the Merchants Guild could ever dream of being, and the destabilization of the North was an opportunity if ever there was one. “They’re sharks,” she said at last. “Skyrim is full of blood, and when everyone is dead or dying, the Dominion will gorge. They will take the Empire from its weakest point, and that will be it.”

Balgruuf believed her, though she knew he was reluctant to. She painted a dark landscape. But twice upon a time, he asked her to join his court as a thane, and though Leara refused, she knew in part that he must value her perspective to a point.

She mulled over this as she sat in the library, a collection of venerations to Kyne cracked open and unread on her lap. Now that she’d thought about the Dominion taking a destabilized Skyrim, she couldn’t escape it.

But that was a concern for later. Her present worries needed to be concentrated on Alduin and the Dragonsreach plan.

And Elenwen.

“Ah, there you are! I’ve been looking for you!”

Starting, Leara breathed a sigh of mixed relief and exasperation when she saw it was just Esbern. Standing just inside the door, his attention roved the shelves and scroll boxes lining the walls. The room was a trove of knowledge dating back to the Battle of Red Mountain in the First Era. Many of the texts Leara couldn’t read as they were written in Old Nordic, but she had no doubt that Esbern could work his way through them as easily as any of the Greybeards. It was truly unfortunate that the Blades and the Greybeards couldn’t put aside their old strife and share in knowledge, though Leara had a sneaking suspicion that much of the information found in Sky Haven Temple would be of little use to the Greybeards. Some of it, she was sure, they would outright repudiate.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Esbern said.

“Not at all,” Leara half-lied, shutting the book in her lap. She didn’t bother marking the page. She wouldn’t be coming back. “Where’s Delphine?” she asked, noticing the woman’s absence for the first time.

It should’ve been obvious when the quiet atmosphere of the archive wasn’t disturbed by Delphine’s tension.

“She’s in the courtyard, practicing her katas.”

“I’m glad to know she at least learned something during training.”

“Elanor, please,” Esbern’s sigh was heavy. “Why must you and Delphine be so at odds? We only have the three of us. We cannot afford to fight each other.”

“Does she understand that?”

Esbern dragged a withered hand down his face. “Delphine’s will is strong.”

“I know.” And she wouldn’t accept any opinion but hers, either. “But so is mine.” Leara didn’t go through years of exposure to the Thalmor’s indoctrination and come through with her person intact for her to surrender to Delphine now.

A fond smile peaked through the old Blade’s tiredness. “That reminds me,” he said, a spark of his once-familiar excitement popping to life. “I wanted to ask about your katana.”

Her katana . . . “Didn’t you ask me about it before? In Sky Haven?”

“Yes, we discussed it briefly,” he said, taking a seat in one of the other chairs. “But I still have questions. I know you’re tired, but satisfy an old man’s curiosity, eh?”

“All right,” Leara resigned herself. It’s not that she never wanted to talk to Esbern. As a young Knight Sister, she was quite fond of the chronicler who kept the records and histories of the Blades. She recalled on occasion when he would instruct the younger apprentices and acolytes in their Order’s lore. It was from Esbern that Leara learned most of what she knew about Tiber Septim and the founding of the Third Empire. But that was a long time ago, and after today, her patience was wearing thin. Most Blades lorekeepers didn’t encourage apprentices to read something like The Arcturian Heresy. There would be time enough to entertain Esbern’s questions when she returned to Sky Haven Temple—if she survived Alduin.

Putting up with Delphine would be a real pain in the—

“The Altmeris runes on the blade, those aren’t the only mark your katana bears, are they?”

Leara blinked, then shifted. “Why?”

Esbern leaned forward, hands grasping the clawed arms of his chair. The intensity in his face made Leara want to squirm. “You said your great-grandmother was a Knight Sister during the Oblivion Crisis.”

“Yes.”

“Is there another glyph or symbol on her katana?”

Lips pinched, Leara nodded, short and to the point. “On the pommel,” she relented. “There is a rose, engraved and set with red enamel. It was a personal symbol, or so I was told.”

“I wonder what it meant.”

“I don’t know. It was important to my great-grandmother, but it was nothing I ever knew about.”

Esbern studied her. “What was her name?”

Her name? Why was he so fixated on her mother’s grandmother? She cast back into her memory, seeking a name amidst the dusty remembrances of the Breton countryside and her aunt’s kitchen, of magic lessons and whispering voices. Pastries and Spellcraft. There was a day, she recalled, before her mother left, when she never saw her again. She insisted she was being hunted, but Aunt didn’t believe her. Who or what was after Maman, Leara was never told. She didn’t even know if her aunt and uncle knew. But she remembered her grandmother, pale in her rocking chair, muttering that Marelen was just like her grandmother: She courted Death, and he drove her mad. “Avarin,” she said at length. “Her name was Avarin Racuvarla.”

“Starfall.”

“That’s the common translation, yes.”

Esbern sat back, his face aged and drawn. Something haunted him. Something besides Alduin and the years of ridicule he received for believing in prophecies that others condemned as fairytales. Whatever it was, it was serious. More serious than even the dragons, Leara realized. And that scared her. Horrified her to a level that before was reached only by Elenwen and the Thalmor.

“During the Oblivion Crisis,” Esbern began, oblivious to the tension and terror twisting Leara’s insides, “There were few active Altmer agents in Cyrodiil. None were named Avarin.”

“I never said she—”

“In the annals, the name Racuvarla was recorded once when she took the Blades’ Oath during Frostfall following Uriel Septim VII’s assassination in Last Seed.” Esbern’s grip on the chair arms was white, hard. An eager light shown in his face, but Leara couldn’t stand to look at it. She shrunk into her seat. “That Knight Sister was Avarenya. You have the Hero of Kvatch’s katana. Which means . . .”

Then he trailed off.

Bile bubbled up her throat. She swallowed once, twice. Her chest burned. “Esbern, stop.”

“Don’t you see? Don’t you understand?” Getting to his feet, Esbern began to pace the room. “It makes sense now. Everything about you, the prophecy, it all has clicked together to form a full mosaic. It’s extraordinary! It’s a miracle!”

Fisting her hands in her skirt, Leara felt the enchantment from the Black Band scorch her skin, searing her veins and boiling her blood. Please. Stop. Don’t continue where she feared to tread.

“It’s in your eyes, in your soul!” Still, Esbern rambled on. “The truth is plain as day now. It was no secret that she was devoted to him. Some theories even suggest they were in love. But the truth remains that if she hadn’t been an exile, it was more than likely the Elder Council would have encouraged the match! But we could never have known they were so close. Yet now it makes sense: Those were dark times, and the end of the world was at hand. Then, when it was saved, he was dead, and she left. She left, and now you are here.”

Disconnect resonated in her chest, pushing her soul beyond the confines of her anxiety and the nauseous acid within. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to control her breathing. Feim. Zii. But the course of the day had already abused her poor lungs nearly to collapse. It was all she could do to maintain her composure.

Feim. Zii. Fade. Spirit.

She sucked in a breath. Then another. “Speak plainly.”

“Your great-grandfather was Martin Septim.”

Martin Septim. The Dragonborn Emperor and last of the Septim bloodline.

Except apparently not.

“Was he?” Her voice was faint.

“I see it now in your eyes,” said Esbern. “They are the same Rumare blue as the Septim Emperors. There is no life without water, and Lake Rumare is the life of Cyrodiil. The Septims kept their throne on the Imperial Isle, and they were the life of the Empire. You are the life of the Empire.”

To her astonishment and mounting horror, the old Blade bowed before her. “Esbern!”

“You are the heir to the Septims,” he said. “If things were as they should be, you would be Empress of Tamriel.”

Leara pressed a hand to her mouth.

“But the world is full of peril now, and you can no more claim your birthright than the Blades can return to Cloud Ruler Temple.” His voice rang in mourning that Leara couldn’t help but echo, but surely for different reasons. Here, at this moment, she longed for the simplicity of her days as a Knight Sister more than she desired anything else in her life.

“What would you have me do?” Leara thought she sounded far away. No, she sounded like someone else entirely.

“Do?” echoed Esbern. “There is nothing you can do but continue toward your destiny. But this changes everything for the Blades! Once again, there is a Septim to protect, and when the dragon menace is taken care of, we must return to that mandate.”

Her soul teetered between astral flight and smothering under her flesh and bone. “Air, I need air.”

Esbern blinked, as if seeing her for the first time. Mara’s mercy. “I see that you had no prior knowledge of any of this.”

“No,” was her thin reply.

“Extraordinary,” he mumbled, teetering on the edge of a sea of lost thought. “This must be a great deal for you to take in.”

“A bit.”

“I’ll leave you to take it in, then,” he said. “The Greybeards have taught you meditation, yes? We may be at odds over certain issues, but we can still agree that meditation is good for the soul.” He made as if to pat her hand, then, thinking against it, bowed a second time. Leara was floating, anyway. Or she felt like it. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Elanor Septim,” he muttered this last to himself as he left the library, awe sparkling from him.

Leara doubled over, her arms wrapping around her, trying to hold herself together. The grip on her shoulders was so hard that her fingers ached. The frostbite burned anew as if it had never healed. She wasn’t just the Last Dragonborn, she was the heir to the Dragonborn Emperors. She was a Septim. Gasping, she drew her legs into her chair, loosening her hold just enough to readjust her arms around her knees. Then, they were pulled tightly into her chest. She wanted to be small, so small that she’d float away unnoticed like a dust mote in the air. But she couldn’t. Oh, she couldn’t!

She had a destiny to live up to. Not only was she to fulfill the prophecy of the Last Dragonborn, but now the mantle of the Septims fitted itself to her shoulders, weighing her down and making her more real and present than she’d ever been.

What did she do with this information? How did it serve anyone? What would she be expected to do now that she was not only heir to Tiber Septim’s calling as Dragonborn, but to his Empire?

If people knew, would she be assassinated?

Ariella, assassinated. Geldall, assassinated. Enman, assassinated. Ebel, assassinated. Calaxes, bastard that he was, was assassinated by the Imperial Guard for threatening rebellion! Their father, Uriel VII, was assassinated before the Blades’ very eyes. Beyond them, back throughout history, assassination and insurrection defined the Septim Emperors. For all that their Dragonblood kept the Princes of Oblivion at bay, politicians didn’t care. Seldom did they take religion seriously, and when they did, it often turned to heretical and cultish practices. Hadn’t she touched on this during the peace conference? Even if her Dragon Soul helped her guard the world against Alduin’s maw, as soon as she inconvenienced an important figure or got in the way of some upstart’s plans, she would fall as easily to the assassin’s blade as any of her ancestors.

She couldn’t stand for that. Martin, last and greatest of the Septims, he didn’t fall because he stood in the way of someone’s machinations. He faced the Daedric Prince of Destruction for the good of Tamriel and sacrificed himself to seal the liminal barrier once and for all. If it was from Martin Septim’s line that she sprouted, maybe she should fall in her battle with the World-Eater. Better than being taken by the Thalmor and killed by Elenwen for her defiance.

It sounded eerily like Kintyra II and the War of the Red Diamond.

All illusions of choice shattered like brittle fish scales from before her eyes. She was a Septim. She was going to die. She was destined to die.

She was a Septim.

When the first tear fell, she couldn’t stop the others that followed.

·•★•·

Her arms ached when he pried their death grip from around her knees.

“Stop, stop,” she choked, chest too full and heavy and tight and—

“No can do, sweetness. You’ve been hiding in here for over an hour,” said Bishop.

“I want to hide!”

“Hey, you’ve been crying,” his rough fingers brushed as the still-present tears gathered under her lashes. Leara jerked back, but his other hand on her shoulder held her in place. “I’d’ve thought you’d be as pleased as a queen since your little peace plan seems to have worked and all.”

A shudder rocked Leara’s body. “I am pleased, but I, I.”

“Is it because that Thalmor bitch spoke to you?”

A tremor ran through her limbs, whether from stiffness or fear, she wasn’t sure. It was likely both. Prickling along her skin sent the fine hairs on her arms and neck standing on end. The whiff of ozone stung her nose. “What are you talking about?” She was hoarse.

She needed water.

“You don’t have to hide from me, darling. I saw you together.” Bishop’s tone was almost gentle. “Is that the reason you keep refusing me? Do you want to be dominated? Because I promise you, sweetness, I can dominate you in ways she could only dream of. Unless . . .”

Leara could only shake her head, fresh tears and new terror swelling inside her. Pounding started up a long drone at her temple.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who think real pleasure can only come from another woman.” The gentleness was gone. His hands grasped hers, crushing. Fragile nerves trembled and threatened to shatter in his hold. “C’mon, let me show you what real pleasure is! One night with a man like me, and you’ll forget that Thalmor bitch and all the lies she’s whispered in your ear.” He leaned toward her, and the memory of Elenwen’s breath on her ear, her lips on her skin, constricted Leara’s throat. She couldn’t breathe. “I can touch you in ways she couldn’t hope to, I can reach places inside you that no one else could find.”

Jerking, Leara’s chair went falling back. She was stunned only a moment before she scrambled away across the floor, her skirt tangling around her legs. Bishop, not expecting the chair to fall, stumbled forward with a shout. Leara shot a frantic look over her shoulder to see him catch himself on the upturned chair legs before he could faceplant the shelf in front of him.

Good, at least the books were safe.

“Damn it to Oblivion, woman!” Bishop rounded, eyes a poisonous fire, but Leara was already at the door, her back to the wood and her hand on the knob. Her heart was thundering so loudly that it was as if a storm had sprung up around High Hrothgar, threatening to tear it from the mountain. “When will you stop playing hard to get?” He stalked forward, every inch the hunter he claimed to be.

She could only shake her head. Everything was swimming.

“Trust me, you’re going to want me, and when you see that, you’ll be all mine. That I can promise you!” He was almost upon her. “Never give a hunter a target, ladyship, and you’ve given me a pretty irresistible one.”

Shadows darkened Bishop’s eyes. Black spots fluttered across her vision. He was on top of her.

The knob twisted in her hand. The door disappeared, and she fell back into the hallway, scrambling away. But while Leara was faltering on her feet, Bishop was steady. Her heel caught on her skirt, and she went down.

White lightning, Bishop’s hands were on her arms, pulling her up and into his chest.

“Am I stirring something inside of you, princess?” His voice rumbled in her ear, heavy, cloying. Princess? “Desire? Passion? I’ll gladly stir it some more until you give into it.”

“I don’t want it,” she choked out.

“A hunter loves a challenge, sweetness.” Then his mouth was on her. “Hmm.” The moan in his chest was obscene. Leara’s knees buckled. Wind rushed in her ears.

Wind rushed against her. She caught herself, her wrist jarring from the force.

“The woman said no, you bastard!”

Blinking, Leara stared up from a pool of silk and chiffon to see Ulfric Stormcloak looming overhead, the thunderclouds in his eyes were baring down on Bishop. Bishop, in turn, was against the opposite wall, one arm braced against the stone while his offhand clutched his shoulder. His jaw was tight, and the glare—a dagger couldn’t cut any deeper. Did, did Ulfric throw Bishop into the wall?

“Oh, piss off,” he sneered.

But Ulfric did not “piss off.” He turned to Leara, crumpled on the ground. Akatosh, Mara, Kynareth, Divines. A red flush burned up her neck and across her cheeks. Mortification stirred every other ill feeling that accumulated in her bones since waking from her nightmare. Today was a nightmare.

To her eternal surprise and confusion, Ulfric didn’t walk away. He crouched before her, his eyes softening as he offered his hand to her. Stunned, Leara saw herself extend her left hand toward him. Her fingers curled around his. Ulfric’s hand was warm but not burning, not like the Black Band. At once, the ice lingering under her skin settled into a faint chill.

“What the Hell?” Bishop’s whine cut through. “Get off her!”

“So you can crawl back on her like a leech?” Ulfric growled back. Still, he cradled Leara’s hand in his. “She said no.”

“What do you know, old man?” Bishop sneered back. “Can you even get a woman off anymore? How’s your performance?”

Ulfric’s jaw was so tight, Leara was sure a vein would pop in his forehead. Yet she couldn’t speak. Her mouth moved, fishlike, and like a fish, she couldn’t breathe the air around her. No sound would come out. Bishop’s yammering was ringing in her eyes, but she no longer comprehended what he was saying. The tension was too much, the weight too heavy. Her lungs were so shriveled within the anxiety’s iron corset that she couldn’t draw air.

Something in Ulfric’s face shifted, pulling his features. She tried to latch on, desperation flooding her veins. She wanted out, she needed out. A soundless sob burst out, stealing away any strength she had left. The first tear fell, and then another.

Sound faded in and out as Ulfric took her other hand, cradling both her hands between his. She thought Bishop said something. Then Ulfric shot a half-heard, “Shut—” up? over his shoulder. Thunder raged in her chest, suffocating.

“Please,” she whispered, airless.

Ulfric was saying something, but she couldn’t really understand him. A broken “safe” and “breathe” made it through, but her mind was too sluggish to make sense of it.

Her veins began to burn.

“What is—on—”

Ulfric looked up in relief.

Then Master Arngeir was beside Ulfric, and one of Leara’s hands was passed to him. She thought she heard him ask Ulfric what was wrong, but whatever he said, Leara heard it as if from underwater. Her tears were drowning her, flooding her lungs.

She wanted out, she wanted away.

Take me away.

Feim. Zii.

“Paarthurnax,” she rasped. She thought she rasped. She thought.

A frown pinched Ulfric’s brows, but Master Arngeir simply nodded. “Jarl Ulfric—up.”

Ulfric’s arm slipped warm and heavy around her waist, and Leara found herself being drawn to her feet. Her knees wobbled, but Ulfric’s hold on her was steady.

“Let me see her,” Master Arngeir said, drawing her other arm around his shoulder. Elevated between the two, she felt air trickle into her lungs. Feim.

Leara gasped, and the sobbing began in earnest. Zii.

A cloth was pressed to her face.

“Hush, child,” Master Arngeir murmured, wiping at the tears. “We will take you.”

Beside her, supporting the brunt of her weight—though there wasn’t that much there these days—Ulfric remained silent. Leara could sense the storm brewing in his presence, but for the first time, she wasn’t afraid that it was directed at her.

It was for her.

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lyriumcoloredskies · 11 months

Text

Written in the Pages pt.2

Pairing: Bakugo x Villain!Reader WC: 2.7k Summary: In which Bakugo finds himself a little too attached to a certain public nuisance, much to the detriment of his own life. pt.1 here CW: slight angst, happy ending, therapy mention, coming to terms with reality AN: UwU the fact that I wrote this in a day is astounding bc ya gorl usual could never

Kirishima stood outside of Bakugo’s high rise apartment, hesitant and unsure of how this would go. He checked his phone to see that both Mina and Midoriya had texted him their ETA. He pocketed the phone and adjusted the case of beers in his other hand to stop the cardboard from digging into his fingers. He was glad to have backup for this and prayed to whatever gods were listening that Bakubro wouldn’t turn away a small “friendly get together”.

He wasn’t dumb, despite all the himbo attributes that tended to be pinned onto him by his rabid fangirls (not that he wasn’t grateful for their almost too enthusiastic support). He certainly wasn’t clueless when it came to his best friend. Kirishima knew Bakugo like the back of his hand. From the angry insecure boy he used to be, to the aloof and pragmatic man he had become. Rarely had they spent a day apart since starting the agency or since UA for that matter.

So it worried Kirishima when Bakugo began to become snippier, especially toward the sidekicks. After a tantrum of yelling and biting insults, he would silently come behind the storm Bakugo left to console the sidekicks letting them know it was nothing personal. He was willing to let Bakugo work through his feelings, these things tended to resolve rather quickly. Despite his rough exterior, Bakugo had gained a fair amount of emotional intelligence as he matured.

To his surprise, that wasn’t the case. More and more frequently Bakugo came in with exhaustion draping over his face, bags deep under his eyes, and his emotions like a bomb on the edge of explosion if the wrong wire was clipped. Most concerning of all was how Bakugo was doing on the field.

Kirishima could tell something was wrong with Bakubro, and Red Riot could tell things were amiss with Dynamight.

He had spent so much time alongside him that he knew every intimate detail of how he fought. Their moves a complex ballroom dance, a waltz for two. The man was sharp and calculated. Bakugo strove to be the best, and that meant he did things with frightening efficiency (if you ignored the massive amount of property damage that came along with his quirk).

But for the last few months his reflexes were lagging, the exhaustion of too many late nights showing, leading to avoidable injuries that seemed to linger for too long.

It wasn’t just him that noticed either. Midoriya had made an impromptu visit to the agency ask if things were okay with the blonde. Kirishima felt guilty to let him know that he had no clue, that the two of them were in the same boat, clueless to Bakugo and his inner turmoil.

Then a few weeks ago during a get together with the Bakusquad at their favorite izakaya, Mina pulled him aside to ask if things between him and Bakugo were alright. She had suspected Bakugo’s continual reluctance to meet up might have been due to a fight between the two friends. He quickly let her know that it wasn’t the case and that he had been concerned too. It didn’t help that Bakugo was a masterclass in shutting down any discussion of his health, be it physical or mental. Each time Kirishima would pluck up the courage to ask if something was wrong, he was met with a scoff or roll of the eyes.

“I’m fine, drop it.” Bakugo would grit out between clenched teeth. His arms crossed in front of him defensively.

Kirishima knew better than to keep pressing lest he and the sidekicks wanted to deal with a testy Bakugo for the rest of the week. His efforts to try and get him to talk in another setting hadn’t worked either. Bakugo had pointedly been ignoring his texts, Kirishima had been lucky if he was even able to get a one worded reply. Bakugo hadn’t been very active in their group texts either. It seemed like if it wasn’t work, Bakugo didn’t care. Kirishima really tried to be a patient and good friend but at this point he knew it was only a matter of time before something happened. His friend was too exhausted, too hurt, too withdrawn. He knew the consequences of sloppiness of the field, he had witnessed it firsthand.

That was how heroes died.

Kirishima would be damned if this was how his friend would go out. No, Bakugo was a bright star - destined for more than the inky black loneliness he had decided to surround himself in.

Drawing in a breath, he steeled his resolve and knocked.

***

Bakugo walked through the neighborhood, the cold winter air biting his cheeks, staining them a ruddy color. He took in the sights of the street vendors beginning to set up their stalls as the barely peeking sun bathed the world in its soft orange pink light.

He let his mind wander back to the talk he, Kirishima, Deku, and Mina had a few months ago. At first he had felt offended, like an animal cornered and threatened. The hot coals of embarrassment turning into a roaring fire as he lashed out. How humiliating to be confronted by everything he knew was true. He knew his performance as a hero had been suffering, but to see it in front of him in the form of his friend’s concerned faces had been a slap in the face, even then it was no match to Mina’s words about how they were worried he was isolating himself. Those words froze his veins over and settled into permafrost in his chest.

How quickly had he forgotten everything he already had to turn to a siren song? He was so desperate for a love, a touch he never knew, that he was willing to forget everything he already had to plunge into the icy waters of an illusion that would never be.

Bakugo had never been one to do things lightly. His feet continue to carry him as he reminisces of the month it took to overhaul his entire life.

He packed up his romance novels, haphazardly stacking them all into a cardboard box, which he unceremoniously shoved deep under his bed, too far for him to reach. He cleaned his apartment, dusting the blinds and the ceiling fan, collecting the trash from his floors, and scrubbing the dirt off every surface. He even took a rag to the baseboards. Hours of effort would culminate into a sparkling apartment, the sight lifting his mood and settling his soul. He took it as a sign that perhaps - things would be okay.

As he settled into his couch he poured himself a glass of whiskey as a treat for his hard work today. A groan involuntarily left his lips as his joints popped and creaked when he fished his phone out of his pocket. He shot off a quick text to Kirishima, letting him know that he was going to take two weeks off of work, a rarity for him. A ghost of a smile played on his lips as he read through Kirishima's enthusiastic emoji ladden reply encouraging him to take the time to recover.

Things would be okay.

Knowing he would have to inevitably face this, he texted his PR manager to pawn his social media accounts off to her. It felt like the right step in his detox from his addiction - from you. He took a large sip of the whiskey, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat before pleasantly settling into his stomach. The balmy feeling slowly floating into his veins, helping him feel a little number and a little better for what he had to do.

The hardest had yet to come; he knew he had to delete his account on the writing site. As he logged into his account, he stared at the bookmarks of writings he had collected over the months. Each title brought a smile to his face as he reminisced over the hundreds of lifetimes with you – too many to count, each perfect and special in their own ways - moments of utter intimacy that swept Bakugo off his feet.

Reading the various titles was like a loaded gun, ready to spray his messy emotions out into the world again. Katsuki hesitates, his finger floating over the delete account button. It would be easy to just not do it in order to preserve every memory, the emotions shared, the trials and tribulations you two had been through. He drains the rest of his whiskey and embraces the burn settling into each taste bud.

Bakugo presses the screen of his phone.

The warmth of the alcohol seeps into him as the same time as the tingle of loneliness enters every marrow of his being.

You were gone.

Steadily he began filling his life with the things he loved. For the first time in months he finds himself in his childhood home to visit his mother and father. He takes in the sight of their greying hair, wondering how life had managed to go by so quickly. It had done him some good until the old hag began nagging him about not yet finding a wife.

Bakugo tries his best to ignore the cold tendrils encircling in his heart.

He starts going to his friend's scheduled hangouts again at their favorite izakaya. He would never admit it but Sero and Denki’s jokes and laughter breathe life into his worn self. He ardently denies the furling vines of jealousy from taking root as Kyoka and Momo announce their wedding plans.

He checks in on his classmates and even finds himself back at UA for a charity event. The nostalgia grips his heart as he wanders the same old halls and sees his old teachers. Aizawa-sensei is the same as ever, sleep deprived and utterly done with life, though Bakugo can spy the fondness in his eyes as he looks over his old troublesome students. While mingling, although Mina would disagree and say he was just standing intimidatingly, he finds out that Deku and Cheeks were expecting their first child.

He tries to block out the feeling of the lead in his stomach.

His shitty love life has nothing to do with their happiness so he grunts out a congrats and ignores the dopey lovesick expression on that idiot Deku’s face.

That night at UA reignites his efforts of trying to maintain a normal life and he throws himself into his hobbies. He signs up for a rock climbing gym and then sporadically adopts a small tortie kitten he saves on a total bullshit hero job (he affectionately names her Princess Explosion Murder). He starts cooking with a renewed fervor, trying desperately to ignore that he was cooking for one. He also ignores the weird tight feeling in his chest as he glances at the chair on the other side of his dining table, always empty.

Bakugo thinks he's doing everything right until he's somehow not. He brings it up to his therapist (one that he doesn't want but Kirishima bullied him into getting). That's when his therapist recommends that he “reconnect with himself” by not keeping busy, but rather listening to his "inner feelings". The phrase makes Bakugo quirk an eyebrow and internally decide that therapists are fucking quacks. His therapist bargains with him and asks him to just try it once. "What's the harm?" she says, eyes measured and too analytical for Katsuki's taste. Sure enough, two weeks ago he abandons the plush interior of his BMW and the ever present traffic of downtown Mustafu for the scenic 30 minute walk to his agency. It infuriates him to no ends that his fucking therapist was right. No wonder he paid out the ass for weekly visits. As the days he walks progresses, so does Bakugo. He decides that while the loneliness would probably never leave him, that in the context of the world, he could slowly see himself accepting that things weren’t so bad.

Things would be okay.

Today his feet took him to a familiar path, a back street filled with vendors that would connect to the busy main street that passed by the small café near Mustafu University, where he would pick up a cinnamon latte before taking a left to the office.

A fresh cold breeze made him draw himself closer his jacket, his feet picking up the speed wanting to get out of the bitter cold. Lost in his own thoughts and the beauty of the watercolor sunrise, he didn’t realize he wasn’t paying attention until it was too late. He collided into something solid and it snapped his attention back to reality. The soft feminine gasp accompanying a not so feminine “fuck” made him look down. He saw papers scattered, escaping a tote bag with the Froppy logo, tilting his chin down a little further he could see the shine of spilled coffee all over his camo green Canada Goose jacket. Without even knowing it his mouth bent down into a scowl. The person who bumped into him seemed fine, just a little shaken up. He knows the polite thing to do is offer a hand and tell the stranger that it was no problem, the jacket is waterproof after all, but after 2 seconds of soul searching he decided that he didn’t give enough of a fuck to be nice. He opened his mouth to release his scathing remarks to the clumsy fuckwad who ran into him until he caught sight of something that skyrocketed his pulse. His mouth dried and he felt his heart drum in his ears.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry” you said as you shakily stood up, akin to a fawn.

You reached into your jacket, fishing out crumpled napkins to help sop up the mess on his expensive jacket. He stood in silence not sure if this was an amalgamation of his own sick mind, because how many times had he imagined exactly this?

“I’m so sorry I should have been more careful!” you profusely apologize, refusing to meet Bakugo’s eyes out of embarrassment.

Bakugo takes in every detail. It was everything he remembers. Your soft bouncy hair, the floral smell (lilacs he commits to memory) of your shampoo wafting to him as you stood entirely too close to him. Though you're bundled in a winter jacket, he can make out the distinct shape of your body that had him in a chokehold for months. The skin of your hands shines, its clear that you managed to also drenched in yourself in coffee. Your hands shake as the liquid on your skin settles into a chill that penetrates your bones.

Katsuki trembles, his fist clenches in his pockets, desperately trying to ground himself. He can feel the cold winter air, he can smell the spilt coffee, and he can hear the rustle of the napkin over his jacket. This is all real.

You continue your efforts to clean Bakugo’s jacket until he places his warm hands over yours. He relishes in it, despite the temperature difference, he can tell your skin is soft and smooth. Your hands are tiny in his and he drinks up the sight, his pulse racing. His actions seem to surprise you as your head darts up, catching his brilliant vermillion eyes, like the prettiest sunrise you had ever seen. Your breath catches in your throat as the two of you stare at each other, locked in a stalemate.

“I’m sorry” you whisper, Bakugo savors the way your words escape you, the heat of your words brought to life by the winter air. Your lips are as beautiful and kissable as he remembers.

His eyes search yours for an answer, any indication that, somehow this isn’t all just in his mind- that you aren’t just an off duty villain surprised to bump into an off duty hero - that some part of what he wanted was something you wanted too.

“Let-” Bakugo rasps out, his words catching in his dry throat, “Let me buy you another coffee.”.

A beat passes between the both of you.

“Yes”, you reply breathless and airy as if anything more would break the magic spell between you two.

“I’d love that.”

#bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x you #mha #bnha #fanfic

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