#he's entranced by the peacock | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 3 months ago

Text

supersonic — gojo satoru.

Finally, Gojo breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly serious. “Was it really that bad?” You blink, confused. “What… what do you mean?” He leans back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that catches you off guard. “That I like you. Was it really that bad to hear?” “......I’m sorry, what?”

Genre: Alternate Universe — Canon Convergence;

Warning/s: General Rating, SFW, Romance, Fluff, Humour, Comfort/No Hurt, Strangers to Friends, Friends to Lovers, Sorcerer! Reader, Tsundere! Reader, Feelings, Romantic Confession, Getting Together, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Happy Ending, Gojo Satoru Loves Reader But Reader Doesn't Know How to React;

Words: 8k words.

Note: the bubble words is gojo saying you shouldn't fall hard for him!!! i didn't think this would be longer than 5k but I just??? i swear someone has to tell me not to make stuff longer because i feel bad that its way too long and people just suffer my yapping </3 anyway, i love you all!!! thank you so much for reading once again <3

masterlist

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YOU LIKE TO THINK THAT YOU HAVE GOOD MEMORY. You often boasted to Atsuya about your memory, especially during exam season or when the two of you had to write detailed reports after every mission. It was a point of pride—being able to recall every detail with sharp accuracy, a skill that set you apart.

But lately, that once-reliable memory has been betraying you, twisting itself into something both frustrating and bittersweet. Because now, instead of recalling battle strategies or obscure curses, you find yourself remembering everything about him. Gojo Satoru.

No matter how much you try to push the memories away, they persist, etched into your mind like an indelible mark. It’s infuriating because he’s the last person you want to think about. Yet, there he is, popping into your thoughts when you least expect it, with that smug grin and irritatingly carefree attitude.

You can’t forget that day during the Sister School Goodwill Event in your first year. It’s impossible. That was the first time you met Gojo Satoru, and even now, the memory of it lingers like a stubborn shadow. He was everything you couldn’t stand—arrogant, always grinning like he knew something you didn’t, and constantly cracking jokes that got under your skin. The moment he opened his mouth, you knew he was in trouble.

He’d waltzed into the event with an air of confidence that bordered on cocky, his white hair catching the sunlight as if to announce his presence to the world. You remember the way his sunglasses glinted as he surveyed the arena, looking completely at ease, like he owned the place.

And maybe, in a way, he did—after all, his reputation had preceded him. The strongest sorcerer of his generation, a prodigy unlike any other. Everyone was talking about him, and you had been curious, but when you finally met him, that curiosity quickly morphed into annoyance.

It wasn’t just his arrogance; it was the way he seemed to have an almost supernatural ability to push your buttons, like he had a map of your every weakness. From the moment he opened his mouth, you knew he was trouble.

He didn’t even bother with formalities, didn’t extend his hand or offer a respectful bow like any normal person might when meeting someone new. No, Gojo Satoru made his grand entrance with all the subtlety of a peacock in full display.

“Hey there, I’m Gojo Satoru. Don't fall in love with me too much, okay?” he said, his tone so light and casual it was as if he was talking about the weather.

And then came that wink—oh, that infuriating wink. It was the kind of wink that dripped with self-assurance, as if he’d already decided that the world, including you, was his playground. The kind that made your blood pressure spike and your temper flare in an instant.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you glared at him, eyes narrowing into a scowl that you hoped would convey just how unimpressed you were. But if you expected him to back down, to maybe realize that he’d crossed a line, you were sorely mistaken. Gojo didn’t just take your scowl in stride—he laughed, a sound that was as easy and carefree as everything else about him.

The laughter caught you off guard. It wasn’t mocking, but it wasn’t exactly kind either. It was the kind of laugh that made it clear he was enjoying this, enjoying you. It was like he’d found a new toy to play with, and your irritation only made it more fun for him.

“Aw, come on, don’t look at me like that.” he’d said, still chuckling. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood. We’re supposed to be having fun with this, right? No need to be so serious.”

But you were serious—deadly so. This wasn’t some lighthearted game to you; it was a competition, a test of skills and strength, something you’d been training for relentlessly. The Sister School Goodwill Event was your chance to prove yourself, to show that you weren’t just some novice from Kyoto who could be easily brushed aside. And here was Gojo Satoru, with his casual grin and infuriatingly relaxed demeanor, treating the whole thing like a joke.

Yet no matter how much you glared, or how much you tried to put him in his place with your icy demeanor, it seemed to only amuse him more. He had this way of tilting his head just so, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he were daring you to say something, to try and put him in his place. But what could you say? Anything that came to mind seemed to bounce off him like water off a duck’s back. He was untouchable, not just in skill but in personality.

And that’s what really got to you. The way he seemed to glide through life without a care, untouched by the things that would have sent anyone else into a spiral of self-doubt. He was arrogant, yes, but it was the kind of arrogance that was infuriatingly earned. He knew he was good—no, he knew he was the best—and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

As the day went on, you found yourself trying not to react to his constant quips and jabs, but it was like trying to ignore a particularly persistent mosquito. The more you tried to brush him off, the more determined he seemed to get a rise out of you. And the worst part was, he was succeeding. Every time you shot him a glare or bit back a retort, he’d just laugh that infuriating laugh, as if to say, “See? I knew I’d get to you.”

It was like he could see right through you, past the carefully constructed walls you’d built to keep people at a distance. He saw how much you cared, how much you wanted to succeed, and he poked at that vulnerability with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Not because he was cruel, but because he found it entertaining.

And that’s what made him so insufferable. He wasn’t just some cocky sorcerer throwing his weight around—he was someone who enjoyed getting under your skin, who relished in the challenge of breaking down your defenses. To him, it was all a game, and you were the unwitting participant.

Looking back now, you can almost see the moment he decided you were worth his attention. It wasn’t when you scowled at him or tried to brush off his comments; it was when he realized that no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, you couldn’t hide the way he got to you. And from that moment on, it was as if he’d made it his personal mission to see just how far he could push you.

He was everything you couldn’t stand in a person—arrogant, overconfident, and far too comfortable with himself. But even then, there was a part of you that knew there was more to him than just that. A part of you that recognized that behind the jokes and the winks, there was someone who saw the world in a way you didn’t quite understand, someone who, for better or worse, was going to be a part of your life whether you liked it or not.

That was the beginning of your tumultuous relationship with Gojo. Every interaction since then had been a battle of wits, with him always managing to get the upper hand, no matter how hard you tried to stay one step ahead. He was insufferable, and yet… you can’t stop thinking about him.

You remember how Gojo had effortlessly dodged your attacks during that time. He was skilled and perceptive. It wasn’t just that he was fast—he moved with a fluidity that made it seem as though he was dancing rather than fighting.

Each time you lunged at him, he sidestepped or spun away with an ease that was almost maddening. His grin never faltered, never wavered. It was as if he were enjoying the entire spectacle, completely unfazed by your every attempt to land a hit.

“Come on, is that the best you’ve got?” he’d taunted, his voice carrying a casual amusement that only fueled your frustration.

The way he said it, so nonchalant and dismissive, made it clear he wasn’t just teasing—you were genuinely failing to impress him. It wasn’t just a challenge to him; it was a game. And for someone like Gojo, who seemed to have everything handed to him on a silver platter, the stakes felt almost trivial.

What made it even more infuriating was the way he seemed to almost predict your every move. No matter how you changed your strategy, how you tried to outthink him, he was always one step ahead. It was as if he had a sixth sense for reading your intentions, a talent that made him appear almost supernatural. Every dodge, every counter, was executed with a precision that left no room for error.

In that moment, it felt as though the fight wasn’t just about physical skill—it was a battle of wills. You were pouring everything you had into trying to best him, to prove that you were more than just a novice from Kyoto. But Gojo’s demeanor, his seemingly effortless ability to avoid and counter your attacks, made it feel as though you were trying to fight against an immovable force.

It wasn’t just that he was good; it was the way he made it look so easy. It was like watching someone play a video game on the easiest difficulty setting while you were struggling on the hardest. His ease in the face of your best efforts was both impressive and infuriating. It was clear he was toying with you, not out of malice but because he genuinely enjoyed the challenge, however mild it might have been for him.

Every time you threw a punch or unleashed a spell, his reaction was a mix of amusement and mild surprise. It wasn’t as if he underestimated you—he knew exactly what you were capable of, and he relished the chance to outmaneuver you. His grin was a constant reminder that he was having fun, that he wasn’t taking this seriously because he didn’t have to. For him, it was all just another day, another opportunity to show off his skills.

“You’re strong!” He tells you with a grin on his face. “Let’s be friends! Give me your phone number, quick!”

"Huh?"

"Hurry, bring out your flip phone already!"

"We're in the middle of a one on one, you idiot!"

"So? I wanna be your friend!"

And that was what made him so exasperating. The whole event felt like it was being played out on his terms, with him in control of every aspect. To him, it was less about proving himself and more about showing just how superior he was in a way that made it almost seem effortless. The arrogance wasn’t just in his words; it was in every action, every movement that demonstrated his dominance.

For you, the fight was a matter of pride, a chance to show that you were more than capable, that you could stand toe-to-toe with someone of his caliber. But every time you saw that grin, every time you heard that taunting voice, it drove home the fact that no matter what you did, you were always going to be playing catch-up. And the more you tried, the more it seemed like you were just feeding into his amusement.

The whole experience left you feeling both frustrated and oddly impressed. Frustrated because you couldn’t seem to catch him, no matter how hard you tried. Impressed because, despite your annoyance, you couldn’t help but admire his skill and confidence. It was a bittersweet combination of emotions, one that made you both present and respect him in equal measure. And as much as you wanted to forget that day, Gojo’s presence in your mind remained an ever-present reminder of the challenge he represented—and the way he seemed to effortlessly stay one step ahead.

But what bothers you the most is how, despite all of his flaws, there’s something about him that draws you in. No matter how hard you try to deny it, those memories of him, those moments where he’d flash you that grin or make a ridiculous joke, are seared into your mind.

You find yourself remembering the smallest details—the way his voice sounded when he teased you, the warmth of his hand when he’d casually patted your shoulder after a mission, the way his eyes, hidden behind those sunglasses, seemed to see right through you.

It’s maddening because you’ve spent so much time trying to forget, trying to focus on anything but him. But no matter what you do, the memories remain, vivid and persistent. And it leaves you wondering, despite everything, why you can’t just let go. Why, after all this time, you’re still thinking about Gojo Satoru.

Back then, when you first met Gojo Satoru during the Sister School Goodwill Event, you had quickly dismissed him as just another arrogant brat who seemed to have the world handed to him on a silver platter. His cocky attitude, the way he flaunted his abilities, and his effortless charm made it all too easy to write him off.

To you, he was nothing more than a figure of annoyance—a sorcerer who, with his overconfidence and privileged position, would never be someone you’d get along with. It seemed clear from the start that your paths would never truly align.

Fast forward to the summer break of that year, and you find yourself face-to-face with him again. The sun blazes overhead, turning every outdoor spot into a sweltering inferno.

You're trying to navigate the heat while staying cool, but Gojo Satoru appears as if the oppressive temperature doesn’t affect him at all. His white hair seems to shimmer in the sunlight, and he’s wearing his trademark sunglasses, the kind that makes him look perpetually unbothered.

You’re waiting in line at a smoothie stand, desperately trying to cool down with a cone in hand. You were fanning yourself, trying to evade the intensity of the strong Kyoto sun. That’s when he shows up, casually strolling towards you with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face.

“Hey there, struggling to beat the heat?” Gojo calls out, his tone light and teasing.

You roll your eyes, not in the mood for his games. “It’s scorching out here, Gojo. Not exactly the time for you to be playing your little tricks.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, leaning against the counter with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m just here to offer some company. Can’t have you melting away all alone, can I?”

You try to ignore him, focusing on your drink as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “I’m fine. Really.”

But Gojo isn’t deterred. He follows you as you leave the stand, his presence like an unwelcome shadow. “So, where are you headed next? I hear there’s a nice little café down the street. We could cool off there.”

“I’m not interested, Gojo.” you snap, quickening your pace.

“Are you sure?” he persists, easily matching your stride. “It’s not every day you get to hang out with the strongest sorcerer in town. I promise I won’t bite.”

You shoot him a skeptical glance. “You’re really not going to give up, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he grins. “You look like you could use a break, and I could use some company. Besides, I’m a great conversationalist. You might even enjoy it.”

Despite yourself, you find his persistence a bit endearing. You sigh, finally relenting. “Fine. One quick stop at the café, and then you leave me alone.”

“Deal!” Gojo exclaims, his grin widening. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

At the café, as you sit across from him, the air conditioning feels like a blessing. Gojo Satoru is still as relaxed as ever, leaning back in his chair with that same self-assured smirk. “See? Much better, right?”

You can’t help but smile a little. “Yeah, this is definitely better. But don’t think this means I’m going to start liking you or anything.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, captain!” Gojo says, his tone playful. “I’m just here to make sure you’re not melting away into a puddle of frustration.”

As the conversation flows, his teasing starts to feel less like an annoyance and more like genuine fun. He talks about his latest adventures, exaggerates stories in his usual dramatic fashion, and even shares some surprisingly insightful observations about the work you both do. Somehow, he manages to not get on your nerves today.

“You know,” he says between bites of his own ice cream, “for someone who hates me so much, you sure seem to enjoy spending time with me right now.”

You snicker, shaking your head. “I don’t know about that. I think I’m just making the best of a bad situation.”

“Well, I’d like to think it’s more than that.” Gojo says with a wink. “Maybe you’re starting to see that I’m not just a cocky brat. Maybe I’m actually kind of fun.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Gojo.” you warn, though you’re smiling. “This doesn’t change anything. I still think you’re incredibly annoying.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” Gojo chuckles. “But I’ll take that as a win for now. Maybe one day, I’ll get you to admit that I’m not so bad after all.”

As you finish up your meal, you reflect on how different this encounter is from your first meeting. The arrogance is still there, but it’s mixed with a kind of charm that’s hard to ignore. Despite yourself, you find that you’re enjoying his company, and maybe, just maybe, there’s more to him than the cocky façade he puts on.

By the end of the day, as you part ways, you can’t shake the feeling that this summer break—this unexpected reunion—might just be the start of something different. Gojo’s persistence has managed to chip away at your defenses, and you’re left wondering if there’s more to this irritating sorcerer than meets the eye.

You tell yourself he’s still as annoying as ever, but your heart betrays you, pounding in your chest whenever he’s near. You don’t understand why, but you can't help but feel drawn to him. Every time you think of how he made you laugh when you least expected it, or how his confidence seemed to shield you from the world, your feelings get more confusing.

Is it possible that the guy who irritates you so much is the same one who’s now making your heart race? You can’t figure it out, but one thing’s for sure—something has changed, and you can’t ignore it anymore. You try to shake it off, convincing yourself it’s just the heat messing with your mind. After all, why would you like someone like Gojo Satoru?

He’s arrogant, overconfident, and never takes anything seriously. But then, you remember how, during that first encounter, he didn’t just laugh at you—he noticed things. Little things. Like how you tried to stay strong even when you were clearly out of your comfort zone, or how you struggled to keep up with the fast pace of the event but never gave up.

You tell yourself it’s nothing, that he’s just good at reading people. Yet, the memory of his voice, the way he looked at you with those sharp eyes hidden behind his glasses, keeps replaying in your mind. The more you think about it, the harder it becomes to deny what you’re feeling.

It’s frustrating. You’re not supposed to like someone who drives you crazy, who makes you question everything about yourself. But here you are, your heart beating faster every time you think of him, and that infuriating smirk of his. Why did he have to be so… so irritatingly charming?

You find yourself wondering what it would be like to see him again, to have him tease you just so you can feel that strange flutter in your chest. But then, you immediately scold yourself for even thinking that way. There’s no way you could actually like him… right?

But deep down, you know the truth. No matter how much you try to deny it, the thought of Gojo Satoru won’t leave your mind. And with each passing day, the line between irritation and affection blurs just a little bit more. Yet you can’t do much about it. One way or another, somehow—you were just stuck with him being around. In Kyoto or Tokyo, or everywhere else. He’s just somehow always round.

Months passed by, and it was summer again.

You’re sitting with Shoko Ieiri under the shade of a tree, fanning yourself with a hand to combat the relentless summer heat. It’s one of those rare, blissful afternoons where you’ve managed to carve out some free time. With Utahime-senpai occupied with a mission from Gakuganji and no assignments on your plate, you decided to take advantage of the break to catch up with Shoko. The two of you have become quite good friends over time, and her presence is a welcome relief from the sweltering heat. And you think that even under this hot summer this year, you’ll end up becoming better friends.

Shoko leans back against the tree, her posture relaxed as she takes a sip from her drink. She listens with a wry smile as you continue your tirade. You’ve been going on about Gojo Satoru for what feels like hours now, pouring out your frustrations about how annoying and insufferable he is.

“You wouldn’t believe it, Shoko. He just—ugh! He keeps showing up everywhere I go! It’s like he has a personal vendetta to make my life miserable.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow, her smile barely containing the amusement she’s clearly feeling. “And yet, you don’t seem to be able to stop talking about him.”

“That’s because he’s impossible to ignore!” you exclaim, waving your fan more vigorously. “He’s always so… so smug! Always grinning like he’s got some big secret. I can’t stand it!”

Shoko chuckles, taking another sip of her drink. “You know, the way you’re describing him, it almost sounds like you’ve got a bit of a crush.”

You nearly choke on your own breath. “A crush? Are you kidding me? I can’t stand him! He’s arrogant and insufferable. There’s no way I’d ever—”

Shoko cuts you off with a knowing look. “Oh, come on. It’s perfectly normal to be irritated by someone you’re secretly interested in. You’re practically obsessed with him.”

“I am not!” you insist, your face turning a shade redder as you realize how ridiculous you must sound. “I’m just... venting! He’s always there, poking at my patience, and it drives me insane!”

“Uh-huh.” Shoko says, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “And yet, you’ve been ranting about him for an hour now. You don’t do that with just anyone.”

You huff, crossing your arms defensively. “That’s because he’s a special kind of irritating. There’s nothing romantic about it, Shoko. It’s purely aggravation!”

Shoko leans in, her expression teasing. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say. But if you don’t want to talk about Gojo, maybe we should switch topics.”

Before you can respond, a familiar voice calls out from behind you. “Hey, I didn’t realize I’d find you here.”

You turn to see Gojo Satoru standing a few feet away, his sunglasses reflecting the sunlight in a way that makes him look even more infuriatingly cool. Beside him was Geto Suguru, who had a face that reflected yours. He was, you supposed, as done as you were with the man with bright cerulean eyes. You purse your lips. He’s grinning, that same smirk plastered across his face as he casually approaches.

“What are you doing here?” you demand, trying to keep your irritation in check. “This is a private conversation, Gojo. Leave us alone.”

“Yeah, Satoru.” Geto parrotted back, his hands in his pockets. “Leave them alone!”

Gojo just laughs, seemingly unfazed. “How cold! I was just passing by and thought I’d say hello. But it seems like I’m interrupting something. Were you talking about me?”

Shoko suppresses a grin behind her drink as you try to regain your composure. “No, we were just—”

As Gojo stands there, still grinning, Shoko decides to have a little fun. She leans in, looking as though she’s about to share a juicy secret. “Actually, I was just telling her how annoying you are,” she interjects with a playful nudge. “In detail too. Nothing was held back.”

Gojo’s smirk only widens, clearly amused by Shoko’s teasing. Before he can respond, Geto Suguru—who has been hovering just out of sight—steps into view. He’s carrying a large bag of sweets and looks somewhat frazzled, his usual cool demeanor slightly ruffled. He looked so worn out, you think. Much too much heat and Gojo, you feel for the guy.

“Honestly, you should have called me. Geto says with a grin, eyeing both you and Shoko. “I have a lot more to share about this freak.”

You turn to Geto, eyes wide in surprise. “What did you just call him?”

“HUH!? Suguboo, how dare you call me a freak?” Gojo’s voice rises in mock outrage, his face turning into an exaggerated scowl.

Geto rolls his eyes, clearly unbothered by Gojo’s antics. “You dragged me around Tokyo to buy sweets all day. I can’t feel my body anymore.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his expression one of mild exasperation. “You’re currently not on my good side.”

Gojo throws a hand up in dramatic defense. “Hey, I had to make sure you didn’t miss out on the best sweets Tokyo has to offer! It’s not my fault if you overindulge.”

Geto shakes his head, still grumbling. “I’m pretty sure it was more than just overindulgence. I was about ready to collapse by the end of it.”

Shoko laughs, thoroughly enjoying the banter. “See, you’re not the only one who has complaints about Gojo. Even Geto here has his grievances.”

You look from Shoko to Gojo and then to Geto, feeling a mix of amusement and relief. The dynamic between the three of them is light and playful, and it’s clear that there’s a strong sense of camaraderie, despite the occasional grumbling.

“Well, it’s nice to know I’m not alone in my irritation,” you say, letting out a small chuckle.

Gojo’s grin turns into a more genuine smile as he turns to you. “Hey, don’t be too hard on me. If I’m really that annoying, at least I’m entertaining.”

Geto snorts, clearly unimpressed. “Entertaining or not, you owe me for today. We’re going to need a serious dessert break after all that.”

You nod in agreement, feeling more at ease with the situation. “Agreed. And Gojo, don’t think you’re off the hook just because you showed up here. I’m still not happy about you popping up everywhere I go. You’re so annoying!”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Annoying, huh? Well, I guess that’s one way to describe me. But if I’m annoying, why do you keep bringing me up?”

You groan, feeling the heat on your face increase, whether from the sun or from embarrassment you can’t tell. You didn’t want to know. “Oh, just go away. We were having a perfectly nice conversation before you showed up.”

Gojo chuckles and leans casually against the tree. “Well, I was hoping you might invite me to join you. But if I’m that annoying, I guess I’ll just have to prove I’m not.”

Shoko looks between you and Gojo, clearly enjoying the scene. “You know, it’s kind of nice to see you two together. It’s like watching a rom–com soap opera, but with crazy strong superpowers.”

You shoot Shoko a mock glare, though it's clear you’re not truly upset. The corners of your mouth twitch into a smile despite your best efforts to look annoyed. “Thanks for your support, Shoko.”

Suguru Geto, still holding the bag of sweets, grins broadly. “Shoko, you and your talent for fueling fires. I swear, you live for this kind of chaos.”

Shoko, not missing a beat, gives an exaggerated bow. “Anytime, folks. I’m here for your entertainment. It’s my specialty, after all.”

Geto chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m starting to think you enjoy stirring up trouble more than actually helping out.”

“Maybe,” Shoko admits with a playful glint in her eye. “But where’s the fun in being boring?”

You can’t help but laugh at the exchange. It’s moments like these, filled with light-hearted teasing and genuine friendship, that make summer breaks so enjoyable. The heat of the day, the annoyances of the past, and even the unexpected encounters with Gojo seem to fade into the background as you relax with friends who make even the most mundane moments entertaining.

“Well…..” you say, still smiling, “if I have to deal with more of Gojo’s antics, I’m glad I have you two around. It definitely makes the experience more bearable.”

Shoko grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “We aim to please. Just remember, if Gojo starts getting on your nerves again, you know where to find us.”

“Absolutely.” Geto adds, lifting the bag of sweets in a mock salute. “And if you need more sweets to get through it, I’ll be your guy. Though, I can’t promise I won’t complain about it.”

“Oh, Suguru! There’s a Digimon-themed café nearby!” Gojo exclaims, excitement clear in his voice as he checks his flip phone. His eyes are practically sparkling with enthusiasm as he waves the phone in front of Suguru and you.

Suguru Geto, clearly exhausted from the earlier sweet spree and the relentless summer heat, groans. “Hehhhh, I don’t wanna go anymore, Satoru. I’m tired.”

Gojo, however, is undeterred by Suguru’s reluctance. He leans in, practically vibrating with eagerness. “Suguru, please! You can sit down throughout while I do my thing. They have card trades going on there right now! You know how rare those are.”

Suguru looks at Gojo with a mix of amusement and frustration. “Card trades? Really? Is that what’s got you so worked up?”

“Yes!” Gojo says, his voice rising with a mixture of pleading and excitement. “I’ve been looking for a specific card for ages. This is my chance!”

You watch the interaction with a smirk, enjoying the dynamic between the two. Suguru’s exhaustion is palpable, but Gojo’s enthusiasm is infectious. It’s clear that Gojo is determined to drag Suguru along, no matter how tired he is.

“Come on, Suguru!” Gojo continues, his tone softening as he tries to appeal to Suguru’s better nature. “Just a little while. You can rest while I geek out over the Digimon stuff. And there’s bound to be something good for you too, right? Maybe a nice, cool drink or something.”

Suguru sighs, clearly defeated but not entirely unmoved. “Alright, alright. But if this turns into another full day of Gojo dragging me around, I swear I’m going to collapse.”

“Deal!” Gojo says, beaming with satisfaction. “I promise we’ll keep it short. Just a quick visit, then we can head back. I owe you one, for real.”

Shoko could only sigh as though this is the hundredth time today. “Looks like we’re going to a cafe.”

“How do you deal with this everyday, Shoko?”

She shakes her head. “Believe me, you do not wanna know.”

As the four of you make your way to the café, you can’t help but chuckle at the contrast between Gojo’s boundless energy and Suguru’s weary resignation. It’s moments like these that highlight the unique blend of personalities and friendships that make summer days so memorable.

When you finally arrive at the Digimon-themed café, the atmosphere is lively, with colorful decorations and enthusiastic fans trading cards and chatting about their favorite characters. Gojo is immediately in his element, diving into the card trades with a fervor that makes you smile.

Suguru, though still looking a bit tired, finds a comfortable spot to sit and relax, occasionally glancing over at Gojo with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Shojo sat beside you, sipping her cold peach iced tea. For a moment, the three of you look at Gojo and think he seems almost like a child.

“You’re a trooper, you know that?” you say, handing him a cool drink you picked up from the café. “I don’t know what I would do if Kusakabe dragged me half across town for a Digimon card.”

Suguru takes a sip and smirks. “Yeah, well, it’s not every day you get to see Gojo this excited. I guess it’s worth it. Plus, more excitement for him means he’ll be less active at the dorms tonight and not bother me.”

“That….” You paused. “So he runs out of energy too, huh?”

Suguru nodded. “Well, Satoru is a human being too. He gets tired too.”

“I think I like this version of him better.”

Shoko snickers. “You sure you don’t like him?”

“Now, now. Don’t scare them away, Sho.” Suguru smiles back at his friend. “If anything, they might be the last shot for Satoru to be a human being. After all, love makes one completely human.”

“B–but that’s not….. I don’t like him like that! He’s annoying and I just….”

“Denial that sounds like absolute lies is wasting Mother Earth’s air, you know?”

You shoot Shoko a playful glare, but your frustration is tempered by an internal chaos that’s increasingly difficult to ignore. Gojo, completely absorbed in his Digimon card quest, is a whirlwind of excitement and enthusiasm. His eyes are locked on the card he’s been wanting, and the moment he finally acquires it, his face lights up with an infectious joy that makes it hard for you to look away.

As Gojo gushes over the card and exchanges high-fives with fellow fans, you’re left sitting at the table with Shoko, trying to make sense of your own turbulent emotions. Your mind feels like a jumbled mess, caught between irritation and a confusing, unwelcome admiration. The way Gojo’s energy radiates around him, how his excitement seems to draw everyone in, including you—it’s all so bewildering.

Every time Gojo moves closer, whether he’s showing off his latest acquisition or simply passing by with that characteristic, carefree swagger, your heart races a little faster. It’s a reaction you can’t quite explain, and no matter how much you want to deny it, it’s becoming increasingly clear that you’re affected by him more than you’d like to admit.

You glance over at Shoko, who’s watching the scene with an amused expression. “How does he do it?” you ask, more to yourself than to her. “How does he make everything seem so... effortless?”

Shoko’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she leans back in her chair. “Oh, come on. You know exactly how he does it. It’s the same way he manages to get under your skin so easily.”

You try to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the way he gets so wrapped up in things. It’s like nothing else matters to him.”

Shoko chuckles softly. “It’s his passion. It’s what makes him who he is. And it’s probably why you can’t seem to get him out of your mind, even when you try.”

You groan, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I thought I had him all figured out, but every time he’s near, it’s like everything I thought I knew just... unravels.”

Shoko’s grin widens as she takes a sip from her drink. “Sounds like you’re having a hard time sticking to your own rules. Maybe you’re just more affected by him than you want to admit.”

You shoot her another glare, but this time it’s softer, tinged with resignation. “Yeah, well, thanks for pointing that out. I really needed the reminder.”

As Gojo returns to your table, holding up his prized card with a triumphant grin, your heart skips a beat. His enthusiasm is undeniable, and despite your internal struggle, you can’t help but be drawn to his infectious energy. He flashes a quick, radiant smile in your direction before turning his attention to Suguru, who’s still looking somewhat worn out but is clearly amused by Gojo’s excitement.

“Look what I got!” Gojo announces, waving the card in front of Suguru and you. “It’s the one I’ve been searching for!”

You try to muster up a response, but the sight of Gojo’s unabashed joy and the warmth of his smile make it difficult to focus on anything else. Your heart continues to beat faster, and despite your best efforts to keep your feelings in check, it’s becoming increasingly clear that Gojo’s presence has a profound effect on you.

Shoko leans in closer, her voice a soft tease. “Looks like you’re in for an interesting summer. Who knows? Maybe there’s more to this adventure than just the heat.”

You let out a soft sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and acceptance. As Gojo continues to share his excitement with Suguru and the other café patrons, you find yourself caught up in the moment, realizing that no matter how much you try to resist it, Gojo Satoru is undeniably a part of your world now—one you can’t seem to escape, no matter how hard you try.

“I’m craving some ice cream, it’s still too hot.” You muttered under your breath towards Shoko. “I’m going to go and buy some.”

“You want me to go with you?” Shoko asked, looking up towards you.

You shake your head. “I’ll need some time to think for a bit. Besides, it's just around the corner.”

She nodded back at you. “Okay, then call us when you come back. Gojo might be here a while, the nerd he is.”

“Sure.” You managed to mutter as you walked off.

It didn’t take you long to get to the ice cream store. You settle into a corner booth, hoping the relative solitude will give you a chance to cool down both physically and mentally. The air conditioning provides a much-needed respite from the relentless summer heat, and the cold, creamy sweetness of your ice cream is a soothing balm for your frayed nerves.

Despite the comfort of the cool air and the calming effect of the ice cream, your mind refuses to be at peace. It keeps drifting back to Gojo Satoru—his teasing words, that infuriating grin, and the effortless way he seemed to handle everything while you were left feeling like a tangled mess of frustration and confusion. You replay the scene in your head over and over, each replay adding another layer to your mounting exasperation.

You stab your spoon into the ice cream with a little more force than necessary, your frustration spilling over into the simple act of eating. The satisfying crunch of the spoon hitting the ice cream echoes your internal struggle. You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice the door of the shop opening until a familiar voice breaks the silence.

“There you are.”

You freeze, spoon halfway to your mouth. Slowly, you look up to see Gojo Satoru standing in the doorway, his tall frame casting a shadow over your table. He’s got that same easygoing smile on his face, but there’s something different about his expression—something softer, almost hesitant.

“Where’s Suguru and Shoko?”

“They wanted to stay behind to rest up.”

“....Makes sense. You drained them up from energy.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, not waiting for an answer as he steps inside and takes a seat next to you at the small table.

You can’t help but feel a surge of panic mixed with irritation as you watch Gojo settle into the seat next to you. Of all the places in the city, why did he have to find you here, in this tiny ice cream store where you’d sought refuge from the chaos of the day? The familiar flutter in your chest is back, and despite your efforts to remain calm, your heart races as he sits down across from you.

Gojo’s presence feels overwhelming, and the proximity only amplifies your confusion. You can’t seem to reconcile the image of him as the carefree, teasing troublemaker with the more subdued, almost earnest expression he wore earlier. The combination of his unexpected arrival and the emotional turmoil from the day makes it hard to focus on anything else.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The only sounds filling the space are the steady hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clink of your spoon against the bowl of melting ice cream. It’s a stark contrast to the earlier energy of the café and the animated conversations you’d been a part of. Now, the silence feels almost oppressive, adding weight to the tension hanging between you.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, trying to focus on the ice cream, but the act of eating feels mechanical, a mere distraction from the growing unease. Each clink of your spoon against the bowl seems louder than it should be, amplifying the silence and making it harder to ignore the pounding of your heart.

Gojo, seemingly unfazed by the silence, takes a casual sip from his own ice cream. His relaxed demeanor is in sharp contrast to your internal turmoil, and it only serves to heighten your frustration. You want to break the silence, to say something that will diffuse the tension and make sense of the situation, but the words elude you.

Finally, Gojo breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly serious. “Was it really that bad?”

You blink, confused. “What… what do you mean?”

He leans back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that catches you off guard. “That I like you. Was it really that bad to hear?”

“......I’m sorry, what?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you suddenly feel the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. But the words won’t come out. Instead, you’re left staring at him, wide-eyed and completely at a loss for what to say.

Gojo’s expression softens, and he gives you a small, almost shy smile. “I’m not the best at being subtle, I know. But I meant it. I like you.”

Your heart skips a beat, and in your shock, you try to respond—but instead of words, all that comes out is a choked gasp as you accidentally inhale a spoonful of ice cream.You start coughing, the cold dessert lodged in your throat as you struggle to catch your breath. Gojo’s eyes widen in alarm, and he quickly reaches over to pat your back, trying to help you out.

“Hey, hey, easy! Are you okay?”

You manage to swallow the ice cream, though your throat still feels cold and tight. Your face is burning with embarrassment, and you can barely bring yourself to look at him. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine… I just… you just…”

Gojo lets out a relieved laugh, though there’s a hint of concern in his eyes. “Sorry, didn’t mean to shock you that much. I guess I should’ve picked a better time to say it, huh?”

You don’t know how to respond. Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, disbelief, and something else you can’t quite identify. The fact that he just confessed, out of nowhere, is overwhelming, to say the least. He waits for you to say something, his usual playful demeanor tempered with genuine concern.

“I’m serious, though. I know I tease you a lot, but that’s just because I like being around you. You’re fun, and… well, I like you.”

You feel your heart pounding again, and you’re not sure if it’s because of his words or the way he’s looking at you. It’s different from his usual teasing gaze—there’s a sincerity in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

“I…” You struggle to find the right words, but nothing comes out the way you want it to. “I don’t know what to say.”

He smiles, that playful edge returning just a bit. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just wanted you to know how I feel. But… if it’s too much, I’ll back off.”

You shake your head, feeling a mix of emotions too tangled to sort out. “No, it’s just… I wasn’t expecting this. At all.”

Gojo’s smile softens, and he reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. “It’s okay. We don’t have to figure it all out right now, okay?”

You nod slowly, your mind still reeling from everything that’s happened. As he sits there beside you, holding your hand in his, you realize that despite all the teasing and frustration, there’s something undeniably real about the way he’s looking at you now. Maybe, just maybe, this summer heat isn’t the only thing making your heart race.

Gojo’s hand is warm against yours, and the feeling sends a flurry of butterflies through your stomach. He’s still looking at you with that playful grin, but there’s a tenderness in his gaze that makes your heart flutter.

“Sorry for springing this on you out of nowhere.” he says, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “But I couldn’t help it. Seeing you all flustered and cute earlier… I just had to tell you how I feel.”

You glance down at your hands, trying to process everything, but all you can focus on is the way his fingers are interlaced with yours. It’s surprisingly comforting, and you find yourself feeling a little less overwhelmed by the situation.

Gojo leans in a bit closer, his voice dropping to a soft, teasing tone. “You know, you’re even cuter when you’re flustered. I might have to make it my mission to see that expression on your face more often.”

You feel your cheeks heat up again, and you instinctively try to pull your hand away, but Gojo holds on gently, his smile widening. “No escaping this time. You’ve caught my attention, okay? I’m not letting go so easily.”

You huff, trying to sound annoyed, but it comes out more flustered than anything. “You’re such a pain, Gojo.”

“Ah, but I’m your pain, right?” he quips back, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “I never said that.”

“Well, I’m saying it." he replies, leaning in even closer until you can feel his breath against your cheek. “And I think you secretly like having me around, even if you won’t admit it.”

You’re about to protest, but the words catch in your throat when you see how close he is. His face is only inches from yours, and the playful grin has softened into something more sincere.

“I like being around you, you know?” he murmurs, his voice gentle. “Even if I drive you crazy sometimes.”

You swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. There’s something incredibly endearing about seeing Gojo like this—still teasing, but with a softness that makes your heart melt.He pulls back just enough to give you a bit of space, his expression turning thoughtful.

“You know, I’ve had a lot of people in my life, but no one’s ever made me feel the way you do. It’s different with you… in a good way.”

You blink, taken aback by the honesty in his words. “Really?”

“Really.” he says, his smile warm and genuine. “You’re special to me. And I don’t want to let go of something that feels this right.”

Your heart swells at his words, and for a moment, you forget all the teasing and frustration. All you can think about is how sincere he’s being, how much he actually cares.

Gojo must notice your softened expression because he chuckles lightly, his eyes twinkling. “Now, I know this is a lot to take in, but… would you mind if I tried something?”

You tilt your head, curious. “What?”

Instead of answering right away, he reaches out with his free hand, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is featherlight, almost hesitant, as if he’s waiting for your reaction. When you don’t pull away, he smiles softly and leans in closer.

“Just wanted to see if you’d let me do this.” he whispers, and before you can respond, he presses a quick, gentle kiss to your forehead.

The contact is brief, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. You stare at him, wide-eyed and speechless, while he pulls back, looking pleased with himself “There,” he says with a grin. “Now you can’t say I don’t have feelings for you.”

You finally find your voice, though it comes out more like a squeak. “Y-You… Gojo!”

He laughs, not at all fazed by your reaction. “What? Too much? I thought it was pretty sweet.”

You bury your face in your hands, trying to hide the furious blush spreading across your cheeks. “You’re impossible!”

Gojo just chuckles and gently pries your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at him again. “I might be impossible, but you’re stuck with me now. So… what do you say? Think you could handle having someone like me around a little more?”

You glance at him, and despite your embarrassment, you can’t help but smile. “You’re not going to give me much of a choice, are you?”

“Not really.” he admits, his grin turning playful again. “But I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

You sigh, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. Instead, there’s a warmth spreading through your chest that you can’t ignore. “Fine,” you say, pretending to be reluctant. “But if you keep teasing me like this, I’m going to get back at you.”

Gojo’s eyes light up, and he leans in with a smirk. “Oh, I’m looking forward to that. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

And just like that, the tension melts away, leaving you with a strange sense of contentment. You don’t have everything figured out yet, but with Gojo sitting beside you, still holding your hand, you think maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t mind figuring it out together.

803 notes · View notes

kiesbrainjuice · 4 months ago

Note

hey hey hey 💆🏻‍♀️ i saw you wrote something about “them reacting to you at your first match as a their gf”(hope it’s understandable 😭😭) with fukurodani so can i request the same but with inarizaki ? particularly with the twins

thank you have a good day ! ♡

—THEM REACTING TO YOU AT YOUR FIRST MATCH AS HIS GIRLFRIEND ! inarizaki

pr : atsumu x fem!reader; osamu x fem!reader; suna x fem!reader; kita x fem!reader

syn : them reacting to you playing volleyball for the first time since you got together

wc : 3.8k

tw : none, just some jealousy and tease ykkk, pure fluff

a/n : sure! i wanted to do it for a long time! anyway i did the twins in particularity :) enjoy reading!

As they entered the bustling gymnasium, the air thick with excitement and the chatter of spectators, he felt a surge of pride. He might not be on the court today, but he was here for something equally important - to support the person who had become such a significant part of his life.

The Inarizaki team made their way to their seats, ... positioning himself for the best view of the court. As they settled in, the atmosphere electric with anticipation, he allowed himself a moment of reflection. He thought about the countless hours of practice you'd put in, the late-night strategy discussions you'd shared, the unwavering determination he'd seen in your eyes. A warmth spread through his chest, a feeling he was still getting used to but cherished nonetheless.

The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers, introducing the teams. Kita leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on the court entrance. Any moment now, you would step out, ready to show the world what he already knew - that you were a force to be reckoned with, both on and off the court.

ATSUMU MIYA

The gymnasium buzzed with anticipation, its air thick with the scent of excitement and nervous energy. Amidst the sea of spectators, one figure stood out - Atsumu Miya, the talented setter from Inarizaki High. He couldn't contain his enthusiasm, his body practically vibrating with excitement as he perched on the edge of his seat. His honey-brown eyes, usually sharp and calculating on the court, were now wide with childlike wonder.

"There she is! That's her!" Atsumu exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. His arm shot out, finger pointing eagerly as you stepped onto the polished wooden court. "Did you see that serve warm-up? She's gonna crush 'em!"

Atsumu's teammates, seated in a row beside him, exchanged knowing glances and suppressed smiles. They had endured weeks of Atsumu's endless chatter about you, his voice always taking on a dreamy quality when he spoke your name. Now, finally witnessing the object of their setter's affections in person, they couldn't help but be curious.

Osamu, Atsumu's twin brother, leaned back in his seat with a smirk playing on his lips. He ran a hand through his dyed gray hair, a stark contrast to Atsumu's blonde locks. "You've been yammering about her nonstop, 'Tsumu," he drawled. "Time to see if she's as good as ya say."

Atsumu whirled to face his twin, indignation flashing in his eyes. "She ain't just good, you scrub! She's freaking amazing!" he declared, puffing out his chest like a proud peacock. "Watch 'n learn, 'Samu!"

As the shrill whistle pierced the air, signaling the start of the match, all eyes turned to the court. You immediately took center stage, your presence commanding attention. Your serves were nothing short of spectacular - powerful and precise, they cut through the air like missiles, leaving your opponents scrambling. When you spiked, it was with a ferocity that belied your frame, the ball slamming onto the opposite court with resounding force. On defense, you were a wall, your receives steady and your blocks impenetrable.

Atsumu's voice rose above the cacophony of the crowd, his cheers the loudest and most enthusiastic. "That's my girl! Show ‘em what you're made of, [Y/N]!" he shouted, his face flushed with pride and exertion from his constant yelling.

As the match progressed, however, the Inarizaki team couldn't resist the opportunity for some playful banter. Suna Rintarou, known for his deadpan humor, leaned over with a mischievous glint in his usually sleepy eyes. "Damn, Atsumu," he commented, nudging the setter with his elbow, "She's a real catch!"

Atsumu's reaction was instantaneous. His cheeks flamed red, clashing adorably with his blonde hair. He tried to sound nonchalant but failed miserably, his voice coming out squeaky. "Course she is! She's perfect... Got the best setter in Japan teaching her, after all!"

Kita Shinsuke, the team's stoic captain, surprised everyone with a chuckle. His usually stern face softened with amusement as he added, "Careful, Atsumu, he might steal her away from you."

The effect on Atsumu was electric. His eyes narrowed dangerously, a pout forming on his lips as he clutched the armrests of his seat. "Hey! Don't even think about it!" he declared vehemently. "She's mine, you hear?"

Despite the constant teasing from his teammates, Atsumu's focus remained unwaveringly on you. His eyes tracked your every movement on the court, drinking in the sight of you in your element. You were a force of nature - fierce yet graceful, your movements fluid and purposeful. There was no doubt in anyone's mind about your skill and dedication.

"I taught her that move!" Atsumu often retorted when you executed a particularly impressive play, his chest swelling with pride and admiration. "Well, mostly. She's a natural, you know?"

As the match drew to its climactic close, tension mounted in the gymnasium. The scores were tight, but your team had the slight edge. In a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, you leapt high into the air, your arm drawn back like a loaded spring. Time seemed to slow as you connected with the ball, sending it hurtling across the net with a resounding crack. The ball slammed onto the opposite court, untouched by the opposing team's defenders.

The gymnasium erupted into a deafening roar as the final whistle blew, signaling your team's victory. But even amidst the chaos, Atsumu's voice rang out clear and jubilant. He jumped up from his seat, nearly toppling over in his excitement, his fist pumping the air triumphantly. "You did it! That's my girl! Told ya she was the best!"

As the crowd began to disperse, still buzzing with excitement from the match, you made your way over to where Atsumu and his teammates were seated. Your face was flushed from exertion, wisps of hair escaping from your ponytail, but your eyes shone with happiness and pride.

The moment Atsumu saw you approaching, he bounded down the bleachers, taking the steps two at a time in his haste to reach you. Without hesitation, he swept you up into a tight embrace, his strong arms lifting you clean off your feet. You felt the rumble of his laughter against your chest as he spun you around, uncaring of the amused looks from passersby.

"Ya were amazing, [Y/N]!" Atsumu exclaimed, his voice thick with emotion. "Knew you had it in ya! Bet those scrubs didn't know what hit them!"

You laughed, the sound muffled against his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Thanks, Atsumu," you replied, your heart swelling with affection. "Means a lot that you were here."

As Atsumu set you back on your feet, his teammates approached, each offering their congratulations. Suna stepped forward first, a genuine smile replacing his usual deadpan expression as he offered you a high five. "Great game, [Y/N]," he said, impressed. "You're as impressive as Atsumu said. Maybe even more so."

You returned the high five with a warm smile. "Thanks, Suna. That means a lot coming from you guys."

Osamu grinned, throwing a muscular arm around his twin's shoulder. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he said, "Ya know, [Your Name], with skills like that, we might have to recruit ya."

Atsumu's reaction was immediate and predictable. "Back off, ‘samu!" he protested loudly, pulling you closer to his side possessively. His cheeks puffed out in annoyance, reminiscent of a child protecting his favorite toy. "She's mine, and she's staying right where she is! Go find your own amazing girlfriend if you can!"

Aran Ojiro, the team's powerful wing spiker, let out a deep, rumbling laugh. "Looks like Atsumu's getting protective," he observed, his kind eyes crinkling at the corners. "Can't blame him, though. You're quite the player, [Y/N]."

You felt a blush creeping up your neck at all the attention and praise. Squeezing Atsumu's hand reassuringly, you chuckled. "Don't worry, 'Tsumu, I'm not going' anywhere," you assured him, before adding with a playful wink, "But maybe I'll join a practice or two. Could be fun to spike your sets for a change."

Atsumu's face lit up like a Christmas tree, his grin threatening to split his face in two. His eyes, usually sharp and focused, now shone with unbridled affection and pride. "You're the best, [Y/N]," he declared, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "Let's go celebrate! I'm buying! Gonna treat my star player right!"

As you walked off the court hand in hand with Atsumu, surrounded by his boisterous teammates, you felt a profound sense of belonging. The victory was sweet, but the knowledge that you had such unwavering support - especially from Atsumu - was even sweeter.

OSAMU MIYA

The Sendai City Gymnasium hummed with anticipation, its vast interior a cacophony of excited chatter. Amidst the sea of spectators, Miya Osamu sat with uncharacteristic restlessness, his usually calm demeanor betrayed by the slight tapping of his foot. His grey eyes, typically laid-back, now held an intensity that matched his twin's on the volleyball court.

"There she is," Osamu said quietly, a soft smile playing on his lips as you stepped onto the gleaming court, your team's colors vivid against your skin.

Beside him, his twin brother Atsumu leaned forward, honey-brown eyes wide with curiosity. "So that's her, huh? The girl who's got my brother all soft and mushy?"

Osamu's elbow found Atsumu's ribs with practiced ease. "Shut it, ya scrub," he muttered, but there was no real heat in his words. His eyes remained fixed on you, drinking in your pre-game ritual.

Suna, seated on Osamu's other side, smirked. "Never thought I'd see the day Osamu got all worked up over something other than food."

"I'm not worked up," Osamu protested, his calm voice at odds with the slight blush creeping up his neck. "I'm just... supportive."

Atsumu snorted. "Yeah, real supportive. That's why you've been fussing with your hair for the past ten minutes, right?"

Osamu's hand, which had indeed been absently running through his grey locks, dropped to his lap. "I don't fuss," he grumbled.

As the teams gathered for their pre-game huddles, Atsumu's curiosity got the better of him. "So, what's she like on the court? Any good?"

For the first time since arriving, Osamu's eyes left you, turning to his brother with a hint of pride. "She's amazing," he said simply. "Just watch."

The shrill whistle cut through the air, signaling the start of the match. From the very first serve - yours, as it happened - it was clear that Osamu's assessment wasn't just lovestruck bias. Your serve rocketed across the net, leaving the opposing team scrambling.

"Woah," Atsumu breathed, genuinely impressed. "That was-"

"I know," Osamu interrupted, unable to keep the smugness from his voice.

As the match progressed, Osamu's teammates couldn't help but notice the changes in him. The usually stoic middle blocker was on the edge of his seat, grey eyes tracking your every move. When you scored a particularly impressive point, a rare, unguarded grin split his face.

"Look at that," Suna drawled, nudging Atsumu. "I think we've found something Osamu loves more than fatty tuna."

Atsumu snickered. "Nah, that's impossible. But maybe it's a close second."

Osamu ignored them, too focused on the match to rise to their bait. But when you executed a perfect cut shot, threading the ball between two blockers, he couldn't contain himself. "That's my girl!" he shouted, startling those around him with his uncharacteristic volume.

Atsumu's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, 'Samu. I didn't know ya could yell like that."

"Learned from the best," Osamu retorted dryly, earning a laugh from his teammates.

As the match drew to its climactic close, even Atsumu and Suna found themselves caught up in the excitement. The scores were tight, but your team had the edge. In a heart-stopping moment, you leapt high, arm drawn back. The gymnasium seemed to hold its breath as you connected with the ball, sending it hurtling past the opponents' defenses.

The final whistle blew, signaling your team's victory. The crowd erupted, but no one cheered louder than Osamu. He was on his feet in an instant, pumping his fist in the air. "That's it! Ya did it!"

Atsumu stared at his twin in amused disbelief. "Who are you and what have ya done with my brother?"

As the crowd began to disperse, you made your way over to where Osamu and his teammates were seated. Osamu vaulted over the railing, ignoring Kita's reproachful look, and met you halfway. Without hesitation, he swept you up into a tight embrace, spinning you around.

"You were incredible," he murmured, setting you down but keeping his arms around you.

You laughed, flushed with victory and affection. "Thanks for coming, 'Samu. Means a lot."

"Wouldn't have missed it for anything'," he replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Oi, oi," Atsumu called, approaching with the rest of the team. "Don't I get to meet the girl who's turned my brother into a cheerin' softie?"

Osamu rolled his eyes but kept an arm around your waist as he turned to face his team. "Guys, this is [Y/N]. [Y/N], these are the scrubs I put up with."

As introductions were made, Atsumu couldn't resist teasing his twin. "Ya know, [Y/N], if you ever get tired of this guy's cooking, I make a mean-"

"Don't even think about it," Osamu cut in, pulling you closer. "My cooking skills are part of the package deal."

You laughed, leaning into Osamu's side. "Don't worry, 'Samu. You had me at onigiri."

Suna smirked. "Now that's true love."

As the group headed out to celebrate your victory, you found yourself in the middle of the twins' familiar bickering, Osamu's arm a comforting weight around your shoulders.

RINTARO SUNA

The Sendai City Gymnasium buzzed with anticipation, its vast interior filled with excited chatter. Amidst the sea of spectators, Suna Rintarou sat with his usual languid posture, but his typically half-lidded eyes were wide open and alert, fixed intently on the court entrance.

As you stepped onto the gleaming court, your team's colors bold against your skin, a small, genuine smile tugged at Suna's lips - a rare sight that didn't go unnoticed by his teammates.

"Woah, is Suna actually showing emotion?" Atsumu teased, nudging the middle blocker with his elbow.

Suna's expression immediately smoothed back into his characteristic deadpan. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he drawled, though his eyes never left you.

Osamu leaned forward, intrigued. "So that's her, huh? The one who's got our Suna staying awake during matches he's not playing in?"

"I always stay awake," Suna retorted, finally tearing his gaze away to give Osamu an unimpressed look.

"Yeah, but ya usually look like yer wishing you were asleep," Atsumu chimed in. "Now ya actually look... interested."

Suna shrugged, a hint of pride seeping into his voice despite his best efforts. "She's worth staying awake for."

As the teams gathered for their pre-game huddles, Atsumu's curiosity got the better of him. "So, what's she like on the court? Any good?"

For a moment, Suna's usual bored expression gave way to a smirk. "Just watch," he said simply, settling back in his seat.

The shrill whistle cut through the air, signaling the start of the match. From your very first move, it was clear that Suna's confidence in your abilities wasn't misplaced. Your plays were sharp, your reflexes quick, and your game sense impressive.

"Damn," Osamu muttered after you pulled off a particularly clever feint. "She's good."

"Of course she is," Suna replied, unable to keep a note of smugness from his voice. "We practice together sometimes."

Atsumu's eyes widened. "You mean ya actually voluntarily do extra practice? Who are you and what have ya done with the real Suna?"

Suna merely shrugged, but the soft look in his eyes as he watched you play spoke volumes.

As the match progressed, Suna's teammates couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in his demeanor. While he wasn't as openly expressive as Atsumu might be, the tension in his shoulders when you were up to serve, the way he leaned forward during crucial points, and the ghost of a smile when you scored - it all painted a picture of a Suna they rarely saw.

When you executed a perfect block that sent the ball spinning back to the opponent's court, Suna actually stood up, a rare grin spreading across his face. "Nice kill," he said, loud enough to be heard over the crowd.

Kita raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I've ever heard Suna cheer before."

"It's not cheering," Suna protested weakly, sinking back into his seat. "It's... appreciating good volleyball."

"Sure, sure," Atsumu snickered. "And I'm sure it has nothing to do with who's playing that good volleyball, right?"

As the match drew to its climactic close, even Suna couldn't maintain his usual nonchalance. The scores were tight, but your team had the edge. In a heart-stopping moment, you leapt high for a spike, your form perfect. The gymnasium seemed to hold its breath as you connected with the ball, sending it hurtling past the opponents' defenses.

The final whistle blew, signaling your team's victory. While the crowd erupted in cheers, Suna's reaction was more subdued but no less meaningful. He was on his feet, a genuine smile on his face, clapping with more enthusiasm than his teammates had ever seen from him.

"Way to go, [Y/N]," he said softly, though his eyes shone with pride.

As the crowd began to disperse, you made your way over to where Suna and his teammates were seated. Suna met you halfway, his usual languid movements quickened by excitement he couldn't quite hide.

"Nice game," he said, pulling you into a hug that surprised his watching teammates. "You were amazing out there."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him. "Thanks for coming, Rin. Means a lot."

"Wouldn't have missed it," he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before pulling back, aware of his teammates' eyes on you both.

"So this is the famous [Y/N]," Atsumu said, approaching with a grin. "The girl who's got our Suna actually showing interest in something besides blocking and napping."

Suna rolled his eyes, but kept an arm around your waist. "Guys, this is [Y/N]. [Y/N], these are the idiots I'm forced to play with."

As introductions were made, the twins couldn't resist teasing Suna.

"Ya know, [Y/N]," Osamu started, a mischievous glint in his eye, "if ya ever want to see what it's like to date someone with actual energy-"

"I have plenty of energy for what matters," Suna cut in smoothly, pulling you closer.

You chuckled, leaning into Suna's side. "Don't worry, guys. I like my volleyball players tall, skilled, and delightfully snarky."

Atsumu clutched his chest in mock hurt. "Ouch, what about us?"

"I said skilled, didn't I?" you retorted with a grin, causing Suna to snort in amusement.

As the group headed out to celebrate your victory, you found yourself in the middle of the team's friendly banter, Suna's arm a comforting weight around your shoulders.

SHINSUKE KITA

The Sendai City Gymnasium hummed with anticipation, its vast interior a sea of excited spectators. Among them sat the Inarizaki team, with Kita Shinsuke at the center, his posture perfect and his expression serene. Yet, those who knew him well could detect a subtle tension in his shoulders, a barely perceptible eagerness in his usually calm eyes.

As you stepped onto the gleaming court, your team's colors vibrant against your skin, the corners of Kita's mouth turned up in a small, but unmistakably warm smile.

Aran, seated beside Kita, noticed the change immediately. "I don't think I've ever seen you smile before a match you're not playing in, Kita," he remarked quietly.

Kita's expression remained soft as he replied, "There's a first time for everything, Aran."

Atsumu, never one for subtlety, leaned forward with a grin. "So that's her, Kita-san? The one who's got our captain all starry-eyed?"

"I wouldn't say starry-eyed," Kita responded evenly, though his gaze never left you. "But yes, that's [Y/N]."

Osamu, more perceptive than his twin, noted, "Ya look proud, Kita-san."

Kita nodded, a hint of warmth coloring his voice. "I am. [Y/N] works hard and plays with integrity. There's a lot to be proud of."

As the teams gathered for their pre-game huddles, Suna couldn't resist asking, "So, what's she like on the court, Kita-san? As disciplined as you?"

For a moment, a flash of affectionate amusement crossed Kita's face. "She has her own style," he said simply. "Watch, and you'll see."

The shrill whistle signaled the start of the match. From your very first move, it was clear that Kita's pride wasn't misplaced. Your plays were precise, your movements efficient, and your game sense impressive.

"Wow," Atsumu muttered after you executed a particularly well-timed set. "She's really good."

"Of course," Kita replied, his tone matter-of-fact but tinged with warmth. "She practices diligently every day."

Aran chuckled. "Sounds like someone else we know."

As the match progressed, Kita's teammates couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in their usually stoic captain. While he remained composed, there was an intensity in his gaze as he watched you play, a slight lean forward during crucial points, and a barely audible intake of breath when you were up to serve.

When you pulled off a perfect receive that turned the tide of a rally, Kita actually stood up, applauding softly but earnestly. "Excellent form," he said, loud enough for his teammates to hear.

Atsumu's eyes widened in surprise. "Woah, Kita-san actually cheered!"

"It's not cheering," Kita corrected calmly, settling back into his seat. "It's acknowledging good volleyball."

"Right," Osamu smirked. "And I'm sure it has nothing to do with who's playing that good volleyball."

Kita's response was a serene smile that somehow managed to silence even the rambunctious twins.

As the match reached its climax, even Kita couldn't maintain his usual calm demeanor entirely. The scores were tight, but your team had the edge. In a critical moment, you positioned yourself perfectly for a block, your timing impeccable. The gymnasium held its breath as you jumped, your hands forming a solid wall that sent the ball spinning back to the opponent's court.

The final whistle blew, signaling your team's victory. While the crowd erupted in cheers, Kita's reaction was more subdued but no less meaningful. He stood, applauding with genuine enthusiasm, a proud smile gracing his features.

"Well done, [Y/N]," he said softly, his eyes shining with admiration.

As the crowd began to disperse, you made your way over to where Kita and his teammates were seated. Kita met you halfway, his usual measured stride quickened by an eagerness he couldn't quite conceal.

"Congratulations," he said warmly, reaching out to take your hand. "You played beautifully."

You beamed at him, squeezing his hand. "Thanks for coming, Shin. It means a lot."

"I wouldn't have missed it," he replied, his thumb brushing over your knuckles affectionately.

"So this is the famous [Y/N]," Aran said, approaching with a friendly smile. "The one who's managed to make our Kita break his composure."

Kita's expression remained serene, but a faint blush colored his cheeks. "Everyone, this is [Y/N]. [Y/N], these are my teammates."

As introductions were made, the twins couldn't resist some gentle teasing.

"Ya know, [Y/N]," Atsumu started with a mischievous grin, "if ya ever want tips on how to get Kita-san to loosen up a bit-"

"I assure you, she doesn't need any tips," Kita interjected smoothly, his calm tone belied by the protective way he stepped closer to you.

You chuckled, leaning slightly into Kita's side. "Don't worry, guys. I appreciate Shin just as he is - reliable, hardworking, and wonderfully supportive."

Osamu nodded approvingly. "You've got good taste, [Y/N]-san."

As the group headed out to celebrate your victory, you found yourself walking beside Kita, his steady presence a comforting constant amidst the team's lively chatter.

tag : @haechansbbg

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4unnyr0se · 5 months ago

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❥ pretty and possessive

warnings: reader is a model, fem! reader, timeskip! oikawa, unprotected sex, public sex (bathroom), marking, spanking, possessive oikawa (duh), oikawa is just a tiny bit perverted, kageyama and the haiba siblings mentioned

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 915

Possessive! Timeskip Oikawa met you at a dinner event for famous people from the Miyagi prefecture. It was mostly athletes from Karasuno, Shiratorizawa, and Aoba Johsai who had gone on to play in sports teams worldwide, but there were a few non-athletes there. Such as yourself, a famous model who worked with the Haiba siblings, although you were based in Miyagi. He knew you had to be his the second he looked at you. You just had to.

Possessive! Timeskip Oikawa who strode up to you and put on a performance that would rival a peacock during mating season. He brought up his best moments on the court, subtly flexing his biceps covered with expensive white cotton. He asked you a million questions, getting physically closer to you with each answer received. How well did you know the Haiba siblings? How long has a pretty girl such as yourself been modeling? Do you have a boyfriend? What did you think of his sets? What high school did you go to? Did you know Tobio? He desperately needed to know if there was a man in your life and if he should try to rip you away from him.

Possesive! Timeskip Oikawa who wanted to kiss you then and there when you told him that you were tragically single, not having anyone special in your life. He finally had a fucking chance. He pulled you out of the main event room as soon as he could and shoved you both inside the private washing room, locking the door instantly.

Possessive! Timeskip Oikawa who pinned you against the bathroom door and kissed you with a molten desire that would rival anyone else who had dared touch your angelic lips. Whose tongue prodded against your pouting lower lip until you opened up for him, allowing his wet muscle to explore your cavern. Who groaned into your mouth as your hands tugged on his perfectly done hair, messing it up in an instant. His arms held the underside of your thighs for support as your tongues danced together, leaving a faint string of saliva once the two of you separated.

Possessive! Timeskip Oikawa who planted kisses on your delicate neck before sinking his teeth into your flesh, the floral and sweet aroma of your perfume filling his nostrils. His lips suckled and bit and licked desperately, wantingly, to form perfect purple bruises on your vexing neck, groaning in annoyance as he had to constantly move the pearls away from your collarbone.

Possessive! Timeskip Oikawa who wasted no time pulling down your lacy panties and shoving them in his pocket for later. Whose lips met your clit and started sucking, his calloused hands supporting your body as you trembled above him. Who was so happy that you were basically suffocating him as he lapped at your soaked folds like a starved man, growling into your core about how he would ruin you for anybody else. Who made you finish on his tongue, your wanton moans filling the bathroom and bouncing off the tiled walls and right into his ears. Who looked up at you, smiling as his lower chin was covered in your slick.

Possessive! Timeskip Oikawa who turned you around so your chest was pressed against the bathroom door, legs spread and on display for him. Whose cock poked at your entrance, gathering the remnants of your slick on his mushroom head before sliding his throbbing cock inside with ease, adoring how you immediately took him in so well. How your gummy walls squeezed around him, dragging him further into your depths. Who wanted to be so gentle with you, but your pussy was being so fucking naughty for him. He just had to be rough.

Possessive! Timeskip Oikawa who fucked you against the bathroom door like his life depended on it. Whose hands spanked your ass, kneading the doughy flesh after each slap to assure you that it was all okay. Whose cock pistoned in and out of your sobbing cunt, grunting as you attempted to milk him for all he was worth. Who didn’t even bother putting on a condom, he didn’t need them. Who relished in your desperate moans as you let go on his cock, your release coating his shaft and driving him all the more wild.

Possessive! Timeskip Oikawa who came inside you without asking for permission, whimpering as he saw his seed leak out of your core when he pulled his cock out of you. Who smirked as he heard you whine, no doubtly being sad that you weren’t stuffed full of his member anymore. Who slapped your ass once more, taking a moment to admire the view. Bruised and stuffed full of his cum, just how he wanted you to be.

Possessive! Timeskip Oikawa who reluctantly gave you back your panties, grumbling profanities under his breath. Who grabbed your phone and put in his contact info for every form of communication, triple checking each method to make sure you wouldn’t have an excuse not to contact him. Who kissed you on the cheek and squeezed your breast before exisitng the bathroom, whispering how you should visit him in his hotel next week.

Possessive! Timeskip Oikawa who got off to that sensuous encounter every night until you showed your pretty face in his hotel room, your bodies melting into each other as the ordinary Friday night, as well as every night after that, turned into a ravenous one filled with passion and desire.

#haikyuu smut #oikawa smut #time skip oikawa #haikyuu x reader #toru oikawa smut #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu!!#toru oikawa #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa

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florencemtrash · 5 months ago

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Four

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Some family-related angst, some family-related fluff

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Your father had never summoned you like this before.

Helion was all charming smiles and dramatic entrances into rooms without invitation. The pegasus he’d sent to your apartment to invite you to a party said as much about his character. So, sliding a letter beneath your door in the early hours of the morning felt decidedly tame in comparison.

Although, it may have had to do with the unimaginably protective Shadowsinger sharing your bed.

He snatched the letter off the floor immediately, wings flaring out in suspicion. Then, recognizing Helion’s familiar scrawl, handed it over to you.

“What does it say?” He sank into bed, concerning himself with kissing the curve of your neck so he wouldn’t read the words. Nosey bastard that he was.

You scanned the words again, feeling excitement flutter in your stomach. “He wants to have breakfast with Lucien and I. As a family.”

Your hands dropped to your lap. “He knows?”

Azriel nodded, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “He knows. He and Lucien stopped by every day to check in on you.”

“And did you let them inside the room?”

Azriel stiffened. “Yes.” Then he wrapped his hands around your waist, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt — his shirt. He sighed. “I could have been warmer to them.”

You leaned back against his chest, breathing in the quiet morning for as long as you could stretch it. But you had a breakfast to attend. Perhaps the most important breakfast you’d ever have in your life.

Azriel accompanied you as far as the double doors to one of Dawn’s minor halls, although “minor” was likely a relative term. There wasn’t an inch of Dawn’s court that wasn’t dripping with gold embroidery and color.

Purple lace curtains, hand-stitched to look like peacock feathers, fanned the open windows. Stained glass threw their colors over ivory walls and the hand-painted tiles could have put the sea to shame in its color and finery.

Your brother paced in front of the doors, and the golden light of morning seemed to follow his footsteps, outlining him in a halo of pale yellow.

“Y/n!” Lucien’s eyes softened at the sight of you.

You were whole. Well. Safe.

Your eyes lit up at the sight of him and soon you were clutching the layers of your dress in your fists and running down the hall. Silent footsteps ended with a dull thud as you slammed into Lucien’s chest, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“Thank the gods you’re ok.” You breathed into his chest.

“I should be the one worrying. You’re the one who killed a death god.”

You huffed. Talking about what happened felt strange. Like it was too true to be real.

He gave you a once over glance, and you did the same, checking for bandaged wounds and new scars.

His hair was braided back at the temples, but your keen eyes saw the strands of hair that had been shorn short during the fight. You smoothed them back into place, tucking them into braids so they wouldn’t stick out awkwardly.

Lucien glanced over your shoulder at where the Shadowsinger lingered halfway down the hall. Azriel was trying very hard, and failing, to give you your privacy. But the moment Lucien stepped away, Azriel was at your side once again, his hand firmly placed at the small of your back.

Together, you cut a striking silhouette against Dawn’s colors. You, with your silky white and gold dress flaring down your back like bird wings, and Azriel with his black leathers and broad shoulders wrapping around you like shadows.

A Librarian and her knight.

A Shadowsinger and an Inkbird.

Two mates. Different. Same.

Your brother smirked, but there was no animosity in his tone when he said, “I was wondering when your guard dog would come to attention.”

“Careful,” you reprimanded him. Your eyes sparked dangerously.

Azriel slid his hand from your back to your waist, pulling you ever closer to his chest. A flicker of pride reverberated through the bond. He didn’t mind Lucien’s comment, but he did like to hear you defend him. Very much.

There was a strange understanding that passed between Azriel and Lucien. Perhaps even some sliver of respect as Azriel kissed your cheek.

“I’ll be waiting outside,” he promised.

He surveyed the hall, eventually finding the darkest corner available to tuck himself into. Even without his shadows he managed to disappear from sight.

“How is Vassa doing?”

Lucien tried to smile for your sake. “She’s grateful to you. You took away the worst of her pain. But I don’t think she’ll truly begin to heal until she sees Jurian again… or at least where we’ve buried him.”

You took your brother’s arm and squeezed tightly. You suspected the same could be said for him. He’d never gotten a chance to say goodbye.

“And how are you? Have you spoken to Helion since the lake? Azriel said you both came to see me.”

“Those have been silent visits.” Lucien’s eyes flickered over to the darkness he knew Azriel was hiding in. “And it’s not like your mate let us stay long. Territorial bastard.”

“We’re also bastards.” You reminded him. “It’s not much of an insult when we say it.”

He hummed half in agreement. “Helion’s been busy with Court business, and aside from visiting you, I’ve been avoiding him like the plague. ”

“But you still came today.”

“I did.” Lucien winced and squeezed your arm. “I’m glad you’re here. I was afraid I’d have to face him alone.”

You furrowed your brows at his choice of words. “Why would you be afraid of—”

The doors opened of their own accord and you quickly shut your mouth as Lucien stiffened beside you.

Helion was many things — charming, charismatic, flirtatious to a fault. Always giving off an air of carefree happiness. Like the sun in the sky, he shined brightly in every room he entered, lifting spirits with his head held high.

You’d never seen your father so nervous in his life. Or so… normal in appearance.

He’d forgone his crown, which was not unusual, but he’d also left off his bracelets and necklaces. Nothing but a few gold cuffs added to his locs served as decoration for his cream-colored tunic and trousers.

You and Lucien were wildly overdressed in comparison. Without realizing it, you’d both prepared for a breakfast with a High Lord. Not your father. And Helion could not hide his disappointment at this fact.

His eyes locked on the white and gold garments you’d both chosen to wear. Day Court colors to show respect for him. But you’d also both chosen elements representative of your new homes. Lucien kept a bronze maple leaf pinned to the lapel of his jacket and the gown beneath your robes was laced with black thread. Shadows, for your mate and for the Night Court.

He never thought a sight could fill him with such pride and such dismay.

You took the first steps forward before Lucien unstuck his feet from the floor and followed.

It was a long walk across the short hall. Garlands of carnations wrapped around the ceiling arches, dripping down the walls like ivy and framing the wide spread of food that had been prepared.

Helion stepped around the table and held his hand out for your first, pulling you in for a hug that had your toes brushing against the floor. It was the first time he’d ever held you like this.

It felt nice. Safe.

Lucien watched with something like longing as Helion gently lowered you to your feet and shouted, “Do you have any idea the hell you put me through?!”

Your eyebrows flew up in surprise. Lucien stiffened, his hand drifting to the knife strapped beneath his dinner jacket.

Helion gripped your shoulders, red-shot eyes wide and desperate as he bowed down to look at you.

“What were you thinking putting yourself in danger like that?!”

Your mother had never reprimanded you. You had never left the Alcove for long enough to get into trouble. So, the flare of teenage embarrassment in your chest was an unexpected and new feeling.

“Well I—”

“Never again,” your father commanded, shaking his head. “You are never to pull any stunt like that again, do you understand? Not while I remain your father and High Lord.”

“Helion, I—”

“Did you ever even stop to think about what you were doing?”

You blinked and that embarrassment turned to indignation. You were a Librarian. All you ever did was think, and think, and think. Sometimes too much.

“Of course I did!”

“Then why the hell did you do it?!”

The answer was obvious. “Azriel was dying. My mate was dying! And Koschei would have killed you next, what did you expect me to do?”

“I expected you to stay safe and to let me handle it!”

“You weren’t handling it!”

“I am your father! You are meant to bury me, not the other way around!” He roared.

The chandelier and the flowers trembled. The light from the windows flared up and died down like a comet had shot past.

You were stunned into silence. You hadn’t truly thought about how Helion would react to your death. The twist of agony on his face was painful to look at now when you were still alive and standing. You didn’t want to imagine how he would have reacted if you had died.

Guilt simmered in your stomach as you thought of him burying you. Of what it must feel like for a parent to see their child killed in front of them.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured awkwardly. Although you didn’t regret your decisions. “I guess I’ll… let you kill the death god next time.”

Helion scoffed, rubbing his temples and shaking his head. “You’re grounded,” He finally declared.

It was cliche. Obviously. But being cliche was an easy plan to fall back on when he couldn’t come up with anything else. What could he possibly say to his daughter after she’d nearly sacrificed herself to save them all? “I’m three hundred and forty-three. That’s really not necessary… or effective. ”

“Fuck,” Helion muttered beneath his breath.

“It was a nice try.”

As you’d told Lucien, Helion was not a great father… but he was trying.

Lucien cleared his throat, feeling decidedly out of place as he hovered just off to the side. You grabbed his wrist, pulling him into the circle of conversation.

“I don’t suppose you’ll try to ground Lucien as well.”

The answering silence was a resounding No as you all took a seat at the breakfast table. The pile of tarts in the center was so tall and decorated with so many flowers you couldn’t see Lucien from where you sat on opposite sides. Helion must have recognized his error because with a snap of his fingers, the long table was replaced by a smaller, more intimate arrangement.

“Thank you for coming,” Helion said nervously, pouring out a sweet drink into your cups that smelled of spiced apples and maple syrup.

Lucien stiffened at the sight of the Autumn Court drink. There were many items from the Autumn Court actually — whole roasted chestnuts smothered in toffee, apple and walnut cake, pumpkin pastries, and spiced sausages.

Helion slid a blackberry and custard tart onto your plate, needing something to do with his hands as Lucien stared without ever touching his silverware.

You nudged Lucien’s foot from beneath the table and his golden eye whirled on you.

Say something. Your raised eyes said to him.

What the fuck am I meant to say?

Helion noted the silent communication between you two and decided to take you both out of your misery by asking, “How long have you known about each other?”

You began cutting the tart into bite-sized pieces. “A few months. I recognized Lucien when he first came to the Night Court and told him I was your daughter a couple weeks after.”

“How?” Helion asked in amazement. “How did you know?”

He’d always found it difficult to look at the Vanserra boys. They looked too much like their mother. But while she’d passed down her beautiful features, Beron’s cruelty had twisted them into something less lovely. Never Lucien though. Lucien had always been different. A little kinder.

Helion must have seen him a dozen times over three centuries. How had he not recognized his own son?

You shrugged and took a bite of your tart. “I have eyes. You have the same nose and the same smile.”

Neither Lucien nor Helion were smiling now, but it was true. They did have the same noses.

Helion sank into his chair, dragging his hand down his unnaturally stoic face. “You must think I’m some terrible villain, Lucien.”

Your brother swallowed thickly, fingers playing with the handle of his fork.

“Did you know? Did you know who I was? Did you know what Beron was doing to us? To my mother?”

Helion cast his gaze down in shame. “No… and yes. I didn’t know you were my son, but I knew what Beron was doing. What he was capable of behind closed doors.”

“So why didn’t you do anything about it?” Lucien asked through gritted teeth. “Why didn’t you ever take her away from him?”

“It’s not that simple, Luc—”

“It is that simple! You’re a High Lord. What’s the point of all that power if you won’t do anything with it?”

Lucien was a smart male. Years spent traveling as an emissary for Spring, Night, and the Human Lands had made him perceptive and diplomatic to a fault. He knew why Helion hadn’t done anything. To steal away the Lady of Autumn would have been an act of war. And if Beron had ever discovered the truth about Lucien, he would have killed him first and then his mother.

Yes, Helion had made the smart move by staying away. Aurelia Vanserra had made the best decision to keep her mouth shut and stay in Autumn. Even though one letter to Helion would have been enough to change everything.

One letter and Helion would have taken her and Lucien to safety.

But who would have protected Eris and the others then? Who else would have shielded her sons from the worst of Beron’s anger?

Lucien knew it wasn’t that simple. But he also didn’t care. Politics and reason could go to hell.

“You’re right,” Helion admitted with a sigh.

Lucien blinked in surprise. You looked at your father and he seemed to age twenty years in an instant.

“You’re right, Lucien. I should have recognized it sooner, but I didn’t. I should have protected you and your mother and your brothers, but I didn’t. And I will regret that until the day I die.” He shook his head scornfully. “I didn’t even take care of the child I did know about.”

Lucien hadn’t expected Helion to crumple so quickly. He’d shown up to breakfast with a vial of poison in his boot and a faebane-laced knife hidden in his jacket, just in case. After all, that’s how he would have prepared for a meal with Beron if he was still alive.

So to see Helion, tears burning in his eyes and shame written on every facet of his face, was unexpected. It erased some of the anger that had been festering in Lucien’s chest ever since he learned he was a bastard. Dislodged the stone in his stomach that weighed him down.

“But you did take care of me,” you said. “You still do… in your own way.” You pushed the pieces of tart around your plate. “I don’t like blackberry and custard tarts. I haven’t since I was seventy.”

Helion’s face fell. “Oh.”

“But they used to be my favorite… up until the day you brought twelve to the apartment and I ate them all behind mom’s back and threw up.”

“You are setting a very low standard for me, Y/n.”

“You can raise it in the future.” You looked at Lucien. He can do the same for you. Is what you were thinking, and somehow, Lucien understood.

“I want us to be a family.” It was the first time you’d ever dared to say the words out loud. Words were precious, powerful things, fragile as they seemed when spoken to the world. “I want more breakfasts with the three of us at a table. I want to ask you how Court business and emissary work are going and I want to buy you shitty gifts for Summer Solstice. Is that too much to ask?”

Helion swallowed thickly and shook his head. “No, my darling, that’s not too much to ask.” He looked at Lucien, finding more and more commonalities with every second glance. “I would like nothing more.”

Lucien stared at him hard and long. He was still hesitant about Helion and there were centuries of pain he’d need to let go of before he ever called Helion father.

But for you? He would try just about anything for his little sister.

He nodded stiffly and finally served himself a helping of chestnuts. The toffee coating crumbled between his teeth. They tasted like home.

“Let’s try this again. What should our first topic of conversation be?” Helion asked.

“Recent events are off the table,” you muttered, sliding a strawberry and rhubarb tart onto your plate.

“I second that,” Lucien said.

He wanted to exist in this strange bubble for a little longer. This bubble where they were an estranged family and nothing more. Not a High Lord. Not a misplaced heir without a home. Not a Librarian marked by a death god.

Just a father and his two children. That was messy enough as it was.

“We could judge your new boyfriend,” Helion offered. “That seems like a family-worthy conversation.”

Lucien perked up at the suggestion, lips twitching into a smile.

You cringed. That word — boyfriend — sounded so… juvenile.

“He’s my mate.” You corrected him.

“It’s not too late to turn him down.”

“Helion—”

“I think you could do better,” Lucien chimed in, and Helion nodded in agreement.

And so, your first meal as a family came and went. You all stumbled in the conversation, treating every word like uneven ground that could fall away into something too deep. Too personal. Too serious for a first breakfast. But you also laughed, mostly at Azriel’s expense. And you managed to keep the worst of the grief at bay. For all the centuries you’d spent on your own, this was a promising start.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note: Y'all deserved a (relatively) calm and happy breakfast between these characters because DAMN has shit happened in the last like three chapters. Hope y'all enjoyed this little bit of Y/n, Helion, and Lucien FINALLY GETTING TO BE A PROPER FAMILY TOGETHER!!!! I love them so much.

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader slowburn #acotar #azriel x reader angst

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obae-me · 5 months ago

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Happy Birthday to my favorite boy who I love with my whole soul!

He's ostentatious, yes. It's hard to think otherwise with his title of Pride, his extravagant clothes, his dramatic entrances, and his peacock-like aura; always strutting about with his head held high and his metaphorical and oftentimes literal wings held out fluttering behind him.

So, it's easy to forget how much he loves simplicity. How he craves normalcy.

You'll fully admit you had misjudged him when his first birthday with you rolled around. Rumors forced visions of Diavolo putting a screeching halt over the whole kingdom, making everyone come out of their homes and business in droves just to celebrate. He'd have a limo or flying carriage take him to an exclusive five-star restaurant, drinking millennia old Demonus so expensive, one drop could have Mammon rolling in money for months. All the while decked up to the nines- the tens, even.

But, you quickly learned that those symbols of opulence were not what he wanted.

However, this year, you still found doubt clawing at your insides. Was this enough? His brothers assured you that what you all had planned was more than adequate, but it was still difficult to think so. You wanted to give him the world... Now you knew Diavolo's struggles firsthand when it came to the fallen angel.

After he had fallen asleep, you'd rolled over and disabled the timer on his phone. Mammon had already somehow snuck in and stolen Lucifer's alarm clock, eliminating his backup (which might already be sold at this point). He could sleep in now. Diavolo had already given Lucifer the day off, but old habits died hard, and everyone assumed he'd be up before he needed to.

The plan was set. He'd wake up to already-made coffee he could sip in bed before lumbering down to breakfast in his pajamas. There would be no arguing, the house would be clean, and everyone was ready to participate in a historical museum tour that was showcasing demon adaptations of human technologies. One of which was the first magical rendition of an assembly line.

Then you'd head out to have tea and snacks in the Royal Gardens. It would be just you, him, and Diavolo (with Barbatos serving of course) while the others set up a party at the House. The only ones attending would be family and close friends. It would be then that he opened presents, ate his favorite homemade dinner, and drank a little in the company of others while playing different games. Then while the night was fairly young, you'd offer to take him away.

As you rolled over in bed, listening to his light breathing as he slept soundly, you couldn't help but feel both nervous and excited for what you had planned for him. For months, you had tried scouting for the perfect gift. Was this...enough? It deviated from what you would normally plan to get him. It wasn't a cursed record or a set of cufflinks or a tie or anything like that. This year, you'd managed to find a music box. It played a lovely little tune that had the sort of melody that forced you to go quiet, chills running down your spine. But this wasn't just any music box. No. Under certain conditions, it would show the listener the memory that would make them the happiest in that moment. And the conditions were easy, one only needed to turn the winding key exactly six times.

Thinking about presenting it to him made you all giddy inside, knowing that he could use it whenever he felt particularly stressed...but also more anxiety allowed itself to flood your nerves. What if it had somehow broken in the spot you'd hidden the gift in?! Did you check it twice last night? Yes. But stranger things had happened in this house, broken things were actually quite common. So, you'd check on it again...just to be sure.

You eyed Lucifer as you slipped out of bed, keeping the mattress from bobbing too much as you tip-toed your way out of his room. Straight to the planetarium you went, assured by the youngest sibling that he'd keep it safe by shooing Lucifer out of the area if he got too close, which was so common already the eldest shouldn't get suspicious. Slipping your way into the room, you rushed over to the specific chair you had hid it behind. The ground was cold as you sat down on it, your legs crossed over each other as you sighed in relief as the intact music box was pulled into your lap.

"Might as well give it a test run," you muttered to no one but yourself as the key clicked six times. Music poured out into the room as you opened the lid. Mist seemed to shimmer a little in the air, a scene projected into the magic. Faint voices played into your mind, syllables almost twinkling in time with the notes.

"You worry too much." A familiar voice had you smile a bit sheepishly, an old memory of Lucifer shaking his head at you being the music box's memory of choice. "I've told you time and time again that you don't need to fret over impressing me, or whatever that silly word you said was." Ah, yes...you remembered this now...it was some time ago, worrying over some kind of RAD gala. Even now you weren't exactly sure what the specific thing you had panicked so grievously over was, but you had been so anxious over letting everyone down, especially the one who you held so close to your heart. In the image, Lucifer grabbed your face, looking so deeply into your eyes, it was as if he were reaching through the haze to assure you all over again. "And if I must, I will continue to tell you time and time and time again, even if my jaw must break from the strain. So take a breath, relax your shoulders, and remember that--"

"I love you," something echoed. You jumped, your arms pulling the music box close to your body instead of launching it in the air. You shut the lid as you glanced over your shoulder.

"L-Luci..."

The demon chuckled a bit as he tucked the fabric of his robe tighter against his body as he came up behind you, getting on his knees and resting his chin sleepily on your shoulder. "Should I be offended or pleased that you're sneaking off in the middle of the night to meet up with another me?"

You audibly sighed. So he saw... "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Answering a question with a question are we?" As he mused he wrapped his arms around your torso.

"Answering my question to your question with another question?" you quipped right back.

Even without fully seeing him you could feel his eyes roll. He gave you a squeeze and pressed his cheek right next to yours. "Am I to assume...perhaps rather selfishly...if all the secrecy is to imply that this interesting little thing is mine?"

A long pause settled between you. Was this...a bit of disappointment bubbling inside you? "It was supposed to be a surprise..."

If anyone knew the tragedy of derailed plans, it would be him. He hummed in apologetic understanding. "I can pretend like I didn't see it."

That actually had you chuckle a bit, shaking your head. You scooted on the floor to turn around to face him. Grabbing one of his hands, you placed the gift inside his palm. "Happy birthday, Lucifer. May this uplift you in those darker moments when I can't be there. May your birthday this year add to the pool of happy memories to choose from. May I be by your side for another birthday, and the birthday after that, and so many more to come." You leaned forward and kissed his cheek, chuckling at his slightly wild bed-hair that you were just now getting a good look at.

He went a bit silent, and you could've sworn as his eyes shut for a moment, a little bit of color came to his cheeks. He set your gift off to the side of himself as his arms wrapped around you once more, pulling you into a tight embrace. "And may I get to tell you time and time and time and time again...how much I love you."

#giving him so many smooches #Is this any good or not? who knows but I needed to do something for my husband this year #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines

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humanpurposes · 4 months ago

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Hello! I’ve once again been wiped out by tonsillitis and the last few days I’ve literally been too tired to look at a screen, rip. But I’m slowly getting back into action and I’m working on something I’m very excited about :)))) So I thought it would be fun to share a lil teaser.

Nightblooms, Teaser

Warnings: 18+, smut, references to underage and non-con, angst, mentions of war and violence, sex work.

A/n: This fic will contain references to underage and non-con, though not explicitly depicted.

Men are all the same. They strut into the establishment like peacocks, with an ego that outweighs their purse. They flash a few coins and ask for wine rather than ale, a symptom of refined taste. They run their hands over her body, her waist, her hips and her rear as though she should be grateful for their attention. They tell her uninteresting stories while they drink themselves into a stupor. They convince themselves that it is their charm and decent looks that have her leading them to a bed in a quiet corner of the pleasure house, or falling to her knees and undoing the laces on their breeches. The truth is that she will do what is asked of her, so long as they have gold. It is only motions of the body, and afterwards she can wash it all away.

Until the next night… and then the next… and then the next…

Madam Sylvi has promised her to a Lannister tonight, a man of Lord Tyland’s household, no doubt paid well by the family he serves. He is supposed to be waiting for her but first she must pretty herself for him. She wears a gown of blood red that bares her back and her arms, that will easily fall away with the undoing of a clasp at her neck. She lets her hair fall freely and tints her lips and cheeks with rosewater. Finally she dabs her perfume into her wrists, her neck, on the insides of her ankles, a scent she has worn for years, sweet, rich and floral.

She descends the stairs by the door. At the darkest time of night the pleasure house is alive. Music hums over the laughter, the moans, the cries. The air is thick with the sourness of alcohol and the smell of sweat and sex.

A man with silver hair stands in the entrance hall, Sylvi beside him. They speak with their heads close together, as familiars? As lovers? Sylvi strokes his arm affectionately, with a look glinting in her eye that means she intends to bleed this Targaryen of all the gold he has.

It does not sink in until he looks up, his single eye meetings hers. He wears an eyepatch over his left eye, dark leather obstructing his hair and pale skin.

The eyepatch… it cannot be…

Sylvi had always said men come here to take their pleasure on their own terms. This had not seemed to be the case when last she laid eyes upon Prince Aemond. She had seen them enter, the young Princes, one taller, merrier, with purple wine stains in the corners of his mouth. The other was solemn faced and unsure, ushered into the arms of the madam before she led him upstairs. Sylvi had other patrons to attend to once the deed was done, leaving the burden of caring for the young Prince on her equally young shoulders.

She still remembers him hunched over himself and shivering, the distant look in his eye, as if he was frozen in a single moment of time.

The most she had been offered after her first time was a cup of moon tea and an order to change the sheets for the next patron.

He will not recognise her, surely?

“Her,” the Prince says, “I will have her.”

I've kinda given up on taglists, sorry <3

#my fics #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen oneshot #aemond targaryen smut #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x oc #aemond x ofc

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yanderecrazysie · 9 months ago

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Twisted Zoo Chapter 4

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

Also @twistedcece @cenatour @ursinaw @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu @v-sh @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @mel-star636 @silkkorchid @thatpersonuouknow @the-ace-reader @pamv11 @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @hrhqueenfox @goseew @luxthestrange @juno-of-wonderland @who-mst @despairingy-obsessed @lanxianschoenheit and @thisisafish123 wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (Some of the tags might not have worked, and I’m sorry if so!)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you.

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

Previous Part: Chapter Three

Next Part: Chapter Five

WARNINGS: none for now

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

Note 2: I was in a “blushy” mood when I wrote this

—----------------------------------

The parrot had returned to his perch and was watching you curiously as you pulled out your notebook. You decided that you might as well go over and study him first, since he seemed eager enough to talk earlier.

“Hey, I never got your name,” you said, waving at the colorful-winged boy.

He gave you a big smirk, “Ace is the name, don’t forget it.”

You couldn’t help but think he was even a little more cocky than the peacocks. The way he smirked at you made you feel like he was grating on your nerves a little.

“Well, my name is (Y/n), it’s nice to meet you,” you said, smiling brightly.

“I’m not going to remember that,” Ace said matter-of-factly, “Too many keepers, you know?”

You tried to keep the annoyance from showing on your face, but it must have shown a little, because Ace’s grin was widening. For whatever reason, he was toying with you.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll be taking some notes,” you said, holding your notebook up for him to see.

“I do mind,” Ace shot back without hesitation.

“What do you want to do then?” You asked, biting back a sigh, “Did you want to talk?”

For the first time, the mask slipped. The smug grin disappeared, revealing something more vulnerable, “Everyone that comes through just makes me repeat things like I’m some sort of circus freak.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, heart clenching at his confession. You could picture little kids trying to get him to repeat after them like a… well, a parrot, “I won’t do that to you. We can just have normal conversations.”

Ace’s eyes averted from your figure and a slightly blush rose on his cheeks, “Yeah, I mean, I’d like that.” He raised his arm to shield his blush from you, “Ah- I, um, we can talk next time.”

“Are you sure? I’d love to talk with you.”

“Yeah…” the redness spread to Ace’s ears. You hadn’t meant to make him blush, but you couldn’t help but think it was cute. You were disappointed when he spread his wings and flew off to the birdhouse, disappearing inside.

You pulled out your notebook and began to write:

DAY 1

PARROT

The parrot halfling’s name is Ace. His wings and hair are more orange than red like in normal parrots. Other than the wings on his back and the way his feet curl into talons, he looks human.

He’s able to hold conversations easily and probably knows more languages than the average human. He seems to like retreating to his birdhouse to eat and have privacy.

Next, you decided, you’d go to the raven, since his cage was right next to Ace’s.

The cage appeared empty and you quickly realized he must be inside his birdhouse. Because of the color of his hair and wings, it was impossible to pick him out among the shadows in the entrance.

“Deuce!” You called out, “How are you doing?”

Immediately, there was movement inside the birdhouse and Deuce’s head poked out, staring out at you, eyes glittering with excitement despite his calm expression. Dark blue wings spread and, before you knew it, his talons were digging into the perch at the edge of his cage.

“Remember?” Deuce asked.

“Huh?” Your mind went blank, unsure of what he was trying to ask you.

“Remember?” Deuce asked again, this time pointing at his chest.

“Oh! Yes, I remember you.”

A soft smile spread across Deuce’s lips and you returned it with an even brighter grin.

“You? You name?” Deuce pointed at you and you startled. You had forgotten to tell him your name!

“I’m (Y/n)! It’s nice to officially meet you, Deuce,” you held out a hand for him to shake, but he merely stared at it in confusion.

“Deuce, you idiot, you're supposed to shake her hand,” someone’s voice snorted. To your surprise Ace had emerged from his birdhouse to poke fun at the bird in the cage next to his own.

Deuce reached out and grabbed your hand and shook it. His hands were so smooth you were amazed he wasn’t using moisturizer. You released his hand but he kept holding on to yours.

“Um, Deuce, you have to let go,” you laughed awkwardly.

Deuce’s face hardened and he tightened his hand around your own. You tried to pull away but he still didn’t let go.

“Let go Deuce!” You said sharply.

Deuce looked startled and dropped your hand. His face fell and he hunched his shoulders, looking ashamed.

“It’s okay,” you tried to reassure him, but it was too late, he was already flying back to his birdhouse.

Ace made a disgusted noise and disappeared into his own birdhouse once more.

Sighing shakily, you pulled out your notebook again.

DAY 1

RAVEN

The raven halfling’s name is Deuce. He doesn’t seem to know much English. Earlier, he had trouble opening the salad container.

He seemed to like holding my hand, as he didn’t want to let go.

“Let’s go talk to the flamingos,” you said to yourself, walking over to their cage.

The flamingos were on the opposite side of the cage, but you were hesitant to step inside. The enclosure was designed to look like the wetlands, and you were afraid your shoes may get absolutely ruined.

Oh well, you figured, I can just get new shoes if that happens.

Cater and Riddle looked up as you entered the cage, the gate closing noisily behind you. They watched you curiously as you cheerfully made your way towards them. Suddenly, the ground gave way and your left leg sank up to the knee in water. You lost your balance and started to fall towards the large pond taking up half their exhibit. You let out a strangled cry as the water grew closer.

Then, everything stopped. You were suddenly aware of hands holding your waist and forearm, keeping you from plunging straight into the water.

“Nice catch, Riddle!” Cater gasped, his hands joining the smaller man’s to help pull you onto dry land.

Shakily, you said, “Thank you guys so much!”

Riddle turned his head away, but nodded bashfully, a light pink dusting his cheeks. Cater grinned at him knowingly.

“I just wanted to say ‘hi’ to you two and introduce myself,” you explained, “I’m (Y/n), and I’ll be visiting you every few days.”

“Not every day?” Cater pouted. Maybe it was your imagination, but Riddle looked a little disappointed too.

“No, sorry,” you apologized.

“Tired,” Riddle said sharply.

“It is getting late,” Cater nodded.

Curiously, you asked, “How do you know English so well, Cater?”

Cater beamed, “I was a pet.”

A pet? Keeping a wild halfling as a pet somehow felt worse than keeping them in a zoo, but you couldn’t explain why. At least Cater didn’t seem to be bothered by his past.

You looked up at the sky and cursed- it really was getting dark. If you wanted to see the peacocks before darkness fell, you’d have to hurry.

“I’m sorry, I should go say ‘hi’ to the peacocks,” you told the pair.

Riddle nodded and began to walk away. Cater pouted but nodded as well. You quickly jotted down a few notes in your notebook.

DAY 1

FLAMINGOS

The two flamingos are named Riddle and Cater. They’re different from the other birds in that they have webbed feet instead of talons.

Cater is a former pet, so he knows English pretty well.

You felt like your notes were getting shorter and shorter, but you were feeling tired today. In the end, the notes were for your eyes only unless you made a discovery. So far the only thing out of the ordinary was Deuce’s hand holding, but even that wasn’t anything surprisingly. Halflings wouldn’t know what makes humans uncomfortable, after all.

You found yourself slipping into the peacock enclosure without even thinking about it. All three of them looked at you, so you smiled and waved at them. Rook waved back enthusiastically, but Epel continued to stare and Vil looked away haughtily.

Once you were close to them, you found yourself admiring Vil. Despite his attitude, he really was gorgeous, “You’re so beautiful, Vil.”

Vil’s eyes went wide and he looked at you in surprise for a moment before a gentle smile spread across his lips, “Thank you.”

Epel and Rook looked just as stunned as you felt. Maybe he wasn’t as prickly as you had originally thought.

“You’re Epel, right?” You asked the adorable lilac-haired peacock.

Epel nodded and, before you could say anything else, he sternly said, “Not cute!”

“What?” You couldn’t figure out what he meant. Was he saying Vil wasn’t cute? You weren’t cute?

“Mademoiselle,” Rook smiled and brushed his fingers along your arm, “He not like cute.”

“He doesn’t like being called cute?” You asked.

Rook and Epel both nodded.

“Alright, then I won’t call you cute,” you reassured him, “Is handsome okay?”

Epel nodded, tucking his chin against his chest in embarrassment.

You giggled and introduced yourself, “Well, I’m (Y/n)! I’ll be visiting you every few days.”

“Nice to meet you, Mademoiselle,” Rook said.

Epel stumbled over his words, “Nice to… meet you.”

Vil didn’t say anything but he gave you a nod of acknowledgment. You pulled out your notebook.

DAY 1

PEACOCKS

Peacock halflings have a fan of feathers protruding from their backs, setting them apart from all other bird halflings. The peacocks at the zoo are named Vil, Rook, and Epel.

Rook is friendly, but the other two, especially Vil, aren’t as interested in me.

Note: Don’t call Epel “cute”.

The peacocks looked tired, Epel having already sat down and pulled his wings around him. It was best if you went to the bird you had saved for last- the owl.

You waved goodbye, only receiving a responding wave from Rook. A few moments later, you were closing the gate behind you and heading over to the owl’s cage.

The green-haired owl was awake and chowing down on his salad. He looked at you curiously, a gentle smile gracing his lips as you approached him.

“I’m (Y/n), I never had the chance to ask you your name.”

“I’m Trey,” the owl responded, his voice smooth. You were surprised to realize that he wore glasses, and wondered how on earth they did eye tests on halflings.

“How did they know you needed glasses?” You asked. After all, it’s not like they could have him read something out, since halflings couldn’t read.

Trey smiled, “I hit things. With my wings. I fly. Fly into things.”

“That makes sense,” you mused, “So it’s better now?”

“Yes, better now,” Trey nodded.

You couldn’t explain what it was, but for some reason, the way Trey looked down at you made your stomach twist unpleasantly. It was like he was the one researching you. His eyes were sharp, greedily taking in every movement, while the simple smile remained glued to his face.

He put you on edge.

“Well…” your smile wavered, “I’m going to take some notes.”

“No more talking?” Trey asked. You couldn’t tell if it was your imagination or not, but the smile seemed… off. As though he were mocking you.

You had a feeling this halfling was much more intelligent than he let on.

“Sorry,” you forced a bright smile, “I’m going home soon, so I need to do this.” You pulled out your notebook and began to write quickly.

DAY 1

OWL

The owl halfling’s name is Trey. He has a barn owl’s wings, but he has green hair. He wears glasses.

Note: Keep your eye on him.

You were so tired, you were probably imagining things. Either way, you were ready to get home as soon as possible.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland

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corpsebasil · 2 years ago

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nightmares and enemies

In which the King and Queen of Ravka realize they care about each other more than they thought.

You two had always hated each other.

Ever since you’d been engaged, you hated him. He was arrogant—a cocky, peacock of a man—and the sight of him alone made your blood boil. He teased you, finding new and creative ways to constantly piss you off, and you gave it right back. He even went so far one time as to, when you were crouched next to a river washing your face, come up behind you and knock your ass in.

You’d grabbed his ankle and yanked him in after you, of course, but he still laughed about it for days.

Now, though.

The day Nikolai was crowned, the day blood bubbled from your mouth as the entire throne room collapsed under the power of a drugged Grisha, you could’ve sworn he’d been gasping your name beside you. You could’ve sworn he’d reached for your hand, though you’d only felt the tips of his fingers graze yours before you passed out.

And now.

You were married and didn’t even share the same rooms. But somehow he still heard you when you screamed, thrashing awake from a dream in which you were on that dais, your chest so tight you thought you’d never breathe again, but this time it was Nikolai beside you, unconscious, and you couldn’t drag your weak body a single inch towards his.

And then your husband was dead.

You were terrified. You woke with tears in your eyes, heart pounding, still feeling that tightness in your chest. Your bedroom door flew open so fast you screamed again, unsure if you were still dreaming, but the lamp turned on and there he was, rumpled and alarmed, a large knife in his hand. He looked around the room, checking the window and the open closet door, before turning back to face you.

Nikolai’s chest was heaving, his cheeks flushed, and you stared at him in open mouthed shock as he ran his hand over his tired face.

“I thought—“ he started, voice hoarse, and turned away, leaning an arm against the wall. He stayed quiet for a moment, catching his breath, before facing you again and slowly coming to sit on the edge of the bed. “I thought someone broke in.”

“I’m…” you were still staring. He looked as horrified as you had been. “I’m fine. I was—” You swallowed, mouth dry. “I was having a nightmare. I’m fine.”

He covered his mouth with one hand as he stared at you, then sighed, dropping his head down between his knees, the knife clattering to the floor. His voice was strained when he spoke again, shoulders tense.

“What were you dreaming about, Y/N?” He asked, quietly, and you tried to calm your racing heart. His abrupt entrance had startled you almost as much as the fact that he’d come so quickly when you woke up.

“You were—” your voice caught involuntarily and his head lifted, eyes pinning you with an intense stare. “—you were dead. You were…and I couldn’t—”

You couldn’t stop yourself as the tears welled back up and you looked away, forcing the image out of your mind. The blood—and he was just laying there and—

“Darling, please.” Nikolai’s words were thick with emotion as he moved over to you, sitting next to you against the pillows. He caught your strangled sob against his shoulder when he scooped you into his lap, pressing every inch of the two of you together.

You swayed together for a moment, his voice murmuring calming words against your ear as his hands ran soothing circles against your back and shoulders. You clutched him tightly, eyes squeezed shut, but after a few moments your heart slowed and you managed to take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered against him, and his fingers brushed your hair from your face as you pulled back to look at him.

Softly, so softly it broke your heart, he leaned in and kissed you, and for the first time it seemed real. There was no one around to watch, no courtiers or officials to please with a show of fake romance. It was just you and Nikolai, your Nikolai, and his mouth against yours was so gentle you felt your stomach twist and your chest tighten.

He pulled back barely an inch and ran his nose against yours, a soft smile on his handsome face. You reached up to run a thumb over his cheekbone, marveling over how soft his skin was, and marveled over the fact that he was even allowing you to touch him like this. More than that, that you allowed him to hold you like this, to kiss you like he…like he…

“I’m not going to leave you.” He promised, his eyes kind and tired. “I’m never going to die and leave you alone. I’ll fight the afterlife with my bare hands if I have to.”

A tear rolled its way down your cheek and he wiped it away, his brow furrowing.

“I thought you hated me.” You said, slipping your fingers into his hair, and he shook his head with a sad looking smile.

“You’re about as friendly as a hungry bear sometimes, you know that?” He asked, and you stiffened. “See? You treated me like an ass when we met, and when I messed with you…that was the only time you’d give me an inch of attention. I’ve always been yours. Always.”

“I’m—” You blinked at him, unsure of how you didn’t realize you two had been circling each other throughout your entire engagement, then marriage, coming closer and closer to this moment. “I’m sorry. I wanted to like you.”

“Do you like me now?” He teased, and you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing him again, holding him tightly against you. When you separated he looked dazed, and you felt a pang rush through you at the lovestruck expression on his face.

“I think I might love you, Nikolai.”

When you finally went to sleep, after several long minutes of kissing and reminiscing on the stupidest pranks you both had ever pulled on each other, you curled up next to one another in bed and slept, both of your dreams unplagued by death and horror.

For once, for the first time in a while, you both felt truly, truly loved.

THIS IS SO CHEESEBALLS BUT I AM EMOTIONAL?!/7/$

Remember to check out Tea and Spices on wattpad and send me requests!!

#shadow and bone #six of crows #wattpad #shadow and bone imagine #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov #ravka #king nikolai #fluff #angst #enemies to lovers #patrick gibson

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zepskies · 1 year ago

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Love Actually - Part 2

Paring: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: You and Ben steel yourselves in order to meet your crazy family for Christmas dinner.

AN: Here’s the requested Part 2! It got too long, so I had to break it up lol. There will be a Part 3 after this (final part). I also tried really hard to find an image/gif that would match this chapter better, but alas, there are only so many pictures of this scruffy guy. (And none in a real suit. 😂)

Read Part 1

Remember, this story is set in the same world as “Break Me Down,” and set before “Checkerboard.” But this can be read as a stand-alone! Hope you enjoy…

Word Count: 4,800 Tags/Warnings: Tense situations, bit of angst, lots of sexy fluff

Part 2: "Season’s Greetings"

Ben checked his watch again.

He’d lost count of how many times, how many minutes, how long he’d been waiting for you to come down the goddamn stairs so he could get this night over with.

You’d been getting ready for this dinner with your family for four hours. How long did it take you to slap on some makeup and throw on a dress?

Finally, he heaved a sigh and got up from the couch, adjusting the watch on his wrist. He stayed by the foot of the stairs and called up to you.

“Hey. What’s taking so damn long?” he asked. His brows were furrowed, mouth set in an aggravated frown. “I already told you. I’m not planning on being at this thing all night. So if you don’t come down here in the next ten minutes, I swear to fucking Christ—”

Ben stopped short, as he heard your footsteps at the top of the stairs. When he looked up with expectant, pursed lips, his face subtly froze.

“What? What’re you gonna do?” you teased. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you grasped the guardrail and carefully made your way down the stairs. These heels were no joke.

You had a black suede clutch tucked in your other hand, but Ben was drawn to the bright red of your dress. The color alone appealed to him. It called back a memory of a musty club, rich whiskey, and the dulcet tones of your voice.

But now, this dress was shorter. It also hugged your every curve and stopped just a few inches above the knee. He noticed a tantalizing little slit in the back, at the hem, leading his eyes down your sheer pantyhose and down to the tall, black heels.

His lips formed a teasing smile. “You sure you can walk in those?”

But you could see the truth in his eyes; he liked what he saw. They raked back up your body, taking in the short sleeves, the slight plunge of the neckline, the red lipstick as bright as your dress, the soft sweep of eyeliner and dark lashes—and you hoped he noticed the way you’d painstakingly done your hair into soft, ‘40s style waves.

“Do I look shaky to you?” you countered.

Ben tilted his head slightly as he stared up at you. “Not one bit.”

He reached out for you on the last step of the stairs. You took his hand and gave him a grateful look, but your hand didn’t stop there. It grazed up the sleeve of his suit jacket as you took him in with a smile.

Not often one to don a simple black suit, Ben went with a charcoal gray against a crisp black undershirt. No tie though, leaving the first couple of buttons casually open.

“Look at my man, all sharp and modern and sexy as hell,” you purred. He accepted the praise with a pleased quirk of his lips.

Normally you wouldn’t try to feed his peacock-level pride too much. He knew he was a damn fine-looking man. However, you also knew he wasn’t totally into meeting the rest of your family tonight. You knew you needed to give him a (well earned) ego boost.

“Gotta match my girl,” said Ben. Though he fingered the ends of your softly curled hair with a more genuine glint to his smile. “Though you’ve gone a bit vintage.”

“Compromise.” You grinned, and you leaned up for a soft kiss.

He met you there, even pressing his luck when his tongue begged entrance against your lips. You held his cheek and brushed your thumb there tenderly, but you soon broke away.

“We’ve got somewhere to be,” you reminded him. Ben sighed through his nose, though his hands molded to your waist.

“I didn’t realize you were that kinky,” he said. His voice was deep and suggestive. Your face started to heat up, even as your brows knitted with confusion.

“What?” you asked.

“I know you’re not gonna make me wait all night to get a taste of this,” he said. And he leaned down to begin plying you with his heavy hands and his lips along your neck. “I gotta assume you want me to fuck you in your mom’s house.”

You uttered a shocked laugh. You batted his shoulder, even though it didn’t even make him blink. His lips curved as they grazed your neck. He inhaled under your ear, making a pleasant shudder run down your spine. He hummed in approval.

“Is that the perfume I got you?” he asked.

“Mhmm,” you nodded. “I like it a lot. Makes me feel all warm and spicy.”

Ben chuckled into your neck. He did pull back eventually to thumb around the edge of one of your earrings—the second part of his Christmas gift to you. The white stone and silver filigree shone in the light.

“They look good,” he remarked, giving you a charming smile. “Better on you than the catalogue girl.”

Now that was an image. Soldier Boy: browsing through a magazine of women’s jewelry. You smiled brightly at him.

“Thank you, baby,” you replied. “They really are beautiful.”

Then you glanced down to find your gift to him on his wrist: a new silver Rolex. You turned his hand over to make sure that it fit him right.

“Not too tight, right? Not too loose.” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nah, it’s good.”

“Just good? Does it still need adjusting? We can go back to the store and have them fix it—”

“It’s perfect, sweetheart. Stop fussing,” he said. Your lips pursed as you looked up at him from the watch.

“I just want to make sure you’re happy with it, that’s all,” you said.

“I am,” he replied. But his smile, the hidden glint of something in his eyes, made you blush. Inside, you were warm and pleased.

“All right, let’s go then,” you said. “I’ve got the rum cake, and the actual rum ready to go in the kitchen. And the presents are lined up by the door. Can you load those up in the car for me while I get the food?”

Ben obliged you, though he soon balked at the army of presents waiting for him by the door. When did you have time to get all of these? He didn’t remember you buying all this shit.

Though he realized, this must’ve been how you filled your time after work, while he was gone for the past two weeks on that mission.

As he loaded the gifts into the car, Ben reluctantly remembered that it had been…strange, to be away from you. For the past few months, you two had fallen into a rhythm. Waking up to each other, busy morning routines before work, sharing your evenings afterwards.

You had also been making it your mission to find new things to do together. Like paintballing, of all things. Or comedy shows, new movies and restaurants, concerts, club nights with your friends. Though it was weird for him, sometimes, to go to a show without all the celebrity fanfare he used to get as Soldier Boy.

Well, he was still Soldier Boy. He just wasn’t getting paid anywhere near the same as he used to. (But let’s face it, he didn’t need the damn money. He’d earned plenty in 40 years of fame and family inheritance.)

People still knew his name, still worshiped him at times, but it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t part of Vought’s machine anymore. No one really told him what to do, but if he wanted this life—here, in upstate New York—he was forced to make efforts to color within the lines of the law (mostly). Hell, he actually worked for a living. Even if it was for the government.

The point was, he was part of something. And it wasn’t totally shit, even if he was surrounded by morons on a daily basis…

By the time you opened the passenger side door to interrupt his musings, Ben remembered to actually start the car.

“You okay?” you asked as you clicked in your seatbelt. You were keeping a close eye on him tonight, trying to gauge his shifting moods.

Ben hesitated, but when he glanced over at you, he reached over and thumbed at your chin, under those ruby red lips. It made you smile.

“Yeah,” he replied. Though he let out a subtle breath as he faced the road and took the wheel of the car. Ever perceptive though, you sent him an assessing look.

“You’re not nervous, are you?” you asked. His brows furrowed slightly.

“Why would I be?” he asked, his voice a bit sharp. Defensive, you interpreted.

Instead of answering, you leaned over and laid a hand on his thigh.

“Look, my mom already likes you. Louisa’s going to come around,” you said. Your mouth edged into a smile, of sorts. “I just need you to stop me from killing my aunt with a ladle.”

Ben snorted in response. “All right.”

When the two of you arrived at your mother’s house, she opened the door to her home and greeted your boyfriend like a long-lost son.

“Oh, Ben! Come in, please,” she beckoned, grabbing his arm and guiding him inside. “You look so handsome, my goodness!”

Ben couldn’t help offering a smile. It was infused with his usual charm.

“Marie,” he greeted with a nod. You shook your head, despite your own smile. Ben liked attention—along with a bit of praise and fanfare went without saying. And you knew your mom wouldn’t be the only one to play into that tonight.

“Hi, Mom,” you said pointedly, with a hand on your hip. Marie turned to you with a bright smile.

“Oh! Honey, there you are. Merry Christmas!” She brought you in and hugged you tight. She then fairly gushed as she took in your dress and touched your hair. “Oh, you look so beautiful. I wish you’d come earlier though. I need you to help me and Trina. Come on.”

Marie glanced up at Ben again. “Oh, you too, hun! We can introduce you to everyone.”

Ben nodded. He followed your lead behind your mother, and you inwardly steeled yourself on the way to the kitchen. The familiar smells awaiting you brought you back to the better parts of your childhood. Ones that were filled with music, laughs, and good food.

And if there was one redeeming quality about your Aunt Trina, it was that she could cook her ass off. Since your mom had always been more of the “boxed meal” variety cook, Trina always took over at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and just about every other family gathering.

She was putting the ham in the oven while your sister sat at the kitchen table with your Grandpa George, peeling potatoes. The bigger table in the dining room was currently set up with appetizers and wine.

But the sounds of chatter and pots and pans and cabinets closing—it all stopped when you and Ben entered the kitchen. You felt his hand at the small of your back, and whether he meant it to or not, that familiar touch stabilized you.

Even Trina stopped giving Louisa directions on how to correctly peel and cut the potatoes for boiling. Her mouth opened when she took in the sight of Ben, from head to toe.

“Good evening,” he said, if only to break the silence.

But you knew the rest was up to you. You curled a hand around his solid arm and gave him a smile, before looking to your family.

“Hey, guys. Merry Christmas!” you greeted. “This is my boyfriend, Ben.”

Trina squealed in excitement. She came over (with a wooden spoon in hand) to give you an enthusiastic hug and kiss. She held your arms and looked between you and Ben.

“Your mom said you were dating a superhero, but I had no idea…” she twittered. “I mean…it’s Soldier Boy. He’s in my kitchen!”

“It’s Mom’s kitchen, actually,” you muttered. Trina’s excitement dimmed slightly as she rolled her eyes at you.

“Ever the smart mouth,” she said, playfully whacking you in the ass with her spoon.

Ben smirked. He certainly agreed with your aunt’s assessment. He turned to her to offer something in greeting, but before he could, Louisa’s voice cut in from across the room.

“What should we call you? Ben, or Soldier Boy?” she asked dryly.

You frowned, gave your sister a look. Meanwhile, Ben didn’t quite make it to a smile, but he was civil when he answered her.

“Ben’s fine.”

You remained in the kitchen to help out, while Ben migrated to the living room with your grandfather. Ben grabbed a large glass of wine on his way there, along with a few mini quiche to tide him over until dinner.

He then noticed an old woman sleeping on the leather recliner.

“Who’s that?” he asked George.

“Oh, that’s Great Aunt Sylvia,” George said. “She just took an oxy for her hip. She’ll be passed out ‘til dinner.”

Ben blinked at the casual mention of oxycodone, but he wouldn’t mind a few of what Sylvia was having. Oxy gave him such a nice buzz.

But instead, he and George sat on opposite ends of the couch while Sylvia snored away.

For a moment, it was quiet, save for the soft crooning of Nat King Cole playing (and Sylvia). The music came from a small round speaker on the coffee table, Ben noticed. You’d told him about Alexa and Siri and all those techno bitches out there now, controlling people’s houses. He didn’t trust it.

“You like baseball?” George asked as he turned on the TV. Ben nodded, and the other man put on a game. Mets versus the Cubs, three to one. The men were silent for a while as they watched the game.

Unfortunately for Ben, that peace couldn’t last.

“So,” George started. “You’re a supe, huh?”

Ben inclined his head, sipping at his wine. This was what he fucking hated. Small talk.

“I remember you,” George said. “My wife and I liked that movie you made…King of Kings. With Charlton Heston. What a classic that guy was.”

Ben smiled. “He was a good time. Drank like a fucking fish.”

George raised a brow. “Did he? Well, we all need a glass every now and then.”

Ben nodded, taking a pointed sip of his wine.

“Heston. One of the few celebrities I gave a shit about when he died,” George said with a shake of his head. “Wasn’t long before my wife’s passing.”

You’d told Ben a lot about your grandmother. When your parents got divorced, she’d insisted that you, your mom, and your sister live with her and George. She didn’t want to take any chances with your dad, who’d been more than unstable at the time in his drinking.

Ben didn’t often pray. But he drank then with a silent toast, that good ole’ Jon was getting hot coals up the ass right about now. In hell.

Ben then considered your grandfather’s musings, realizing he hadn’t thought about his old pal Heston in a long time.

“How’d he die?” Ben asked. George glanced over at him.

“Well, official case was pneumonia. But it wasn’t all that clear,” he said. “However, I think he had a flare up.”

“Of what?” Ben asked.

George gave him a wry look. “The fate that all men fear. Ass cancer.”

Ben raised a brow, his mouth twitching. He had a feeling he knew where your sense of humor came from.

“You probably don’t have to worry about that,” George waved a dismissive hand. “You’re still young. Well, sort of…I mean, being superhuman and all that. I’m sure that comes in handy with the normal stuff, like the sniffles and whatnot…and hey! At least you won’t have to worry about your asshole fallin’ out.”

Ben actually smiled. Now he knew you were related to this man.

In the kitchen, you were trying and failing to dodge a game of “Twenty Questions” with your aunt, while you and your sister finished cutting potatoes. All of the questions were predictably centered around Ben. Luckily, you had a plate of mini quiche, cheese, and salami between you and Louisa to keep you pacified.

“Well, you’ve done well for yourself, I’ll give you that,” Trina said. “But why on God’s green Earth didn’t you tell us you were dating Soldier Boy? How the hell did you even meet him?”

Shit. There was more than one reason you hadn’t told the rest of your family yet, and this was partly it. How the hell were you supposed to explain this?

Louisa shot you a knowing look, along with a raised brow.

“Well, I was actually assigned to find him after he…went missing last year,” you said, keeping things purposefully vague. “We met and…things just kind of took off from there.”

Your mom and your sister didn’t even know all the details, but they knew this much. After Soldier Boy used his nuclear power to end Homelander, he’d escaped in the aftermath.

You’d been working a year in Surveillance at Supe Affairs, but you’d been a private investigator by trade, previously working at your father’s firm. You’d even worked at Vought for a few years, before joining the S.A.

You were then recruited by Grace Mallory to track down Soldier Boy, along with Butcher and his team.

…And that’s where things got complicated.

“But isn’t Soldier Boy the one who killed Homelander?” Trina asked. She stopped in her stirring of the cranberry sauce to look back at you. And you met her stare directly.

“Yes. He was partnered with the CIA on that.” Sort of. You added, “Homelander wasn’t the hero you all thought you knew, remember? He was a raging psychopath.”

Trina huffed at that.

“So was your father. And you still worked with him for years,” she remarked, even off-handedly as she went back to stirring.

Your entire body stilled. Inside, your temper was a lit fuse, preparing to ignite. You stuffed a mini quiche into your mouth to stop you from exploding.

And your mom and your sister recognized the danger. Louisa frowned tightly and touched your arm.

She had been too young to form a true relationship with your father by the time your parents were divorced, and your grandparents (and later you) hadn’t allowed Jon to interfere too much with Louisa's life. So Jon’s death, a mere seven months ago, hadn’t truly affected her as deeply as it had you.

And that in itself was complicated.

Marie paused in preparing the sweet potato casserole to give her sister a warning look.

“Trina, that’s not fair,” said Marie.

Your aunt shrugged. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Slowly, you stood. You grabbed a hand towel and brushed the velvety remains of potato skin from your hands. You also took the plate of cheese cubes and salami with you.

“Honey, she just means—”

“I know what she meant, Mom,” you said. Your mother wasn’t confrontational. She would never tell her sister to shut the fuck up when she was being out of pocket.

But you had no problem doing so. You walked over to Trina, who saw the look in your eye and actually relented, realizing that there was, in fact, a line, and she had crossed it.

“Look, I’d like us to continue having a nice evening,” you told her. “Mention my father again, and it won’t be.”

After a moment, Trina nodded.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t mind me,” she said. But then, she smiled. “I’m really happy for you, sweetheart. You’ve got a superhero! Who knew you’d pull that one off, huh?”

Your flat smile remained. “Oh, yeah? How do you mean?”

Trina faltered. Apparently, she hadn’t expected that.

“Oh. Well, you know…”

“No. I really don’t. Can you clarify for me?” you asked, using the same even tone you employed with testy co-workers on the Surveillance team.

Trina sighed. “Oh, honey. You’re a beautiful girl, but…”

“What?” you challenged. “Just say it.”

Behind Trina’s coil of dark hair piled on her head, Marie looked worried. Louisa was also on tenterhooks, gripping the kitchen table. She slowly got to her feet though, in case she needed to intervene.

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything,” Trina said. She gestured to you, after grabbing a cheese cube off your plate. “But your hips, hun. I mean, I enjoy a snack. A bon bon. A chocolate eclair. The occasional croissant, but the weight don’t come off easier as you get older, does it?”

You were officially burning like a tea kettle.

“And with a man like that…” Trina fanned herself with the discarded, empty bag of cranberries. “Mother of God. He’s gotta be beating ‘em off with a fucking stick.”

Your mom pursed her lips at the salty language, giving Trina a sharp glance (for multiple reasons).

Trina noticed, but she only popped another piece of salami into her mouth. “Sorry, hun.”

But then she turned back to you.

“And have you talked about kids yet? That’ll be some serious weight gain.”

You let out a sharp breath and raised your gaze heavenward, pleading for mercy.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered.

“I’m just sayin’!” she said. “He might have forever, but you certainly don’t.”

Now that one struck a nerve. Perhaps not the one she intended, but it cut deeply into you all the same. You and Ben had agreed to pin that conversation for now, but the fact was, he would continue to age much slower than you.

At your steely glare, Trina again raised her hands. This time in placating defense. “I’m trying to help you, is all I’m saying.”

You gripped the edge of the kitchen counter so tight you thought a manicured nail might break off. You’d reached the end of your tether.

“I’ve been here for all of five minutes—”

“Okay, you know what?” Louisa finally stepped in and grabbed your arm. “I need your help. Let’s find the red tablecloth so we can set the table.”

She led you out of the kitchen and into the hall, but you stopped short so fast that you skidded a bit in your heels. You took deep breaths and braced a hand against the wall.

You turned to your sister. “Why doesn’t she attack you like that?”

“Oh, believe me,” Louisa said, rolling her eyes. “I had my turn before you got here. I’ve been locked in with these clucking hens all morning.”

A grin twitched at the corner of your lips.

“My condolences,” you said. But then, you look at your sister a bit harder. “And you. What’s your problem, huh? How long are you going to give Ben a hard time?”

It took her a moment, but Louisa eventually sighed.

“I mean, Aunt Trina’s an asshole, but she kind of said it. He’s literally a century-years-old,” she said. “How do you not have a problem with that?”

You crossed your arms, though you knew you didn’t have a good answer for that one.

“Age is…relative.” You struggled against a wince.

“He lived through the damn Dust Bowl,” Louisa deadpanned. “He’s fucking ancient.”

You glared back at her. “Okay, enough. What’s your real problem, huh? I mean really.”

Louisa let out another sigh. Her hands went to her hips. You hadn’t had a chance to tell her, but she looked pretty tonight too in her black dress. It flared at the waist and reached her knees, and she’d paired it with some chunky red heels. She was a little taller than you normally, but not by much. As the older sister, you enjoyed finally being taller than her for once in your higher heels.

Still, you were annoyed with her right now. You sensed she had something deeper against Ben, and it wasn’t all about his age. When she eventually answered, it just confirmed your suspicions.

“He’s dangerous,” she said at last. “He’s so fucking dangerous.”

That disheartened you. Your lips pressed, and you held onto your own arms a bit tighter.

“Not to me,” you replied. Louisa’s frown deepened as her brows knitted together.

“Especially to you,” she said. “He kidnapped you.”

You gave a wan smile. “Not technically.”

That had been one of his subordinates, who’d taken you outside of Ben’s orders…

It was a long and complicated story, but basically, it had worked out for both of you in the end.

Louisa gave you a more incredulous look. “He’s got an atomic bomb in his chest.”

“He’s working on controlling it,” you insisted. “He’s gotten a lot better!”

Louisa threw her hands upward in exasperation and turned to leave you in the hall. You stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Look, I get it,” you said, meeting her gaze directly. “You’re worried about me. But here’s the thing…you don’t have to do that. I’m the one who looks out for you, remember?”

Once again, she frowned at you. “Why, just because you’re older?”

You gave her a teasing smile.

“Well, yeah.” Still, you grasped both of her arms, now crossed in front of her chest. “Lou, haven’t I always taken care of you?”

“Okay, yeah,” she said. “But who takes care of you? Who makes sure you’re all right?”

You gave her a patient, if knowing look.

She grimaced. “Oh, don’t you say it.”

“Honestly, Lou. He does take care of me…he makes me feel safe.” You bit your lip, and your eyes began to well up with the sting of tears, emotion rising in your throat. “I’ve never had that. Ever.”

Your sister released a heavy sigh. “I know.”

“Then can you actually try to get to know him? Please?” You rubbed her arms, pleading with your eyes. You wanted your family to like your boyfriend, but it was so much more than that. You didn’t want to have separate worlds. Everyone in this house was part of your family, and that now included Ben.

The longer she looked into your imploring eyes, Louisa’s grimace lightened, just a touch. “I’ll think about it.”

You smiled then, warmly as you hugged your sister. You then kissed her on the cheek, leaving the bright red imprint of your lipstick.

When you went back into the kitchen, your better mood was ruined pretty quickly by watching your aunt run your mother around the kitchen with demands and instructions. You decided to jump into the fray, taking a large serving bowl out of Marie’s hands before it tipped over.

“How’s the ham doing?” you asked.

“About half an hour or so, I think,” Trina said. “Maybe forty-five.”

“Okay, and what’s left?”

“Let’s get the desserts ready.”

While your help sorely relieved your mother, it was actually a terrible idea for your mental health. When you could take no more of Trina’s irritating, commanding voice in your ear, you had to take a breath (as well as down a full glass of wine).

You wordlessly asked Louisa to tag in for you before you traveled into the living room.

There you found Ben immersed in a baseball game with Grandpa George. Both men only looked up at you when you stood near the couch with crossed arms. Your nerves were on edge, your blood still just short of boiling, but you took pains to look pleasant.

“Who’s winning?” you asked.

Ben quirked a smile at the sight of you, while George gave his more freely.

“5 to 3. It’s close on the Mets,” he said. You realized then that you hadn’t even hugged your grandfather yet.

“Oh my God, Grandpa! I’m so sorry,” you said with a frown. You went over to hug him. “Trina has me all out of whack.”

George chuckled and patted you warmly on the back. “Why do you think I’m out here?”

You sighed with a wry smile. You then turned to Great Aunt Sylvia, who was still passed out in the recliner.

“Aunt Sylvia?” you tried. You went over to her and touched her arm.

“Leave her be, hun,” George told you. “Only the smell of food’ll rouse that woman.”

Your smile deepened. Then you turned to Ben, who’d been watching you with reserved interest. He’d never seen you with the rest of your family before.

You went to him on his side of the couch and asked, in a tone deceptively light, “How about a tour of the house? You haven’t even seen it all.”

He could admit, it was a fairly big house for just your mother, but he was more interested in the game.

“I’m watching this,” he said, gesturing at the screen. However, when he saw the tight press of your lips, he knew something wasn’t right with you. You were trying to tell him something with your eyes, he just didn’t know what.

You leaned down, subtly grabbing his thigh.

“I need you,” you whispered in his ear. “Now.”

The tone of your voice set his blood alight with new interest.

Ben’s resulting smirk was subtle, but edged.

“A tour it is.”

AN: Just when you thought you'd seen the last of my BMD cliffhangers. 😏

How'd you like Ben's introduction to his girlfriend's family? I also sincerely hope you don't have an "Aunt Trina" in your life. 🙄

Next Time:

He grabbed your arms and meant to kiss you, but you stopped him with your fingers against his lips.

“Two rules: this lipstick doesn’t come off. And no. Ripping. The dress.”

Keep reading: PART 3

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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doodle-pops · 1 month ago

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Celebrating Autumn with the Lords of Gondolin

Synopsis: In which you introduce the Lords (and Turgon) to partake in many festive fall activities.

Hosting an autumn-themed party in Gondolin had been your idea, and somehow you managed to get King Turgon and all his Lords on board. The courtyard of Gondolin was dressed in golds, reds, oranges, with wreaths of autumn leaves hanging from pillars and pumpkins scattered around. The air was crisp, and everything had a touch of warmth, from the fire pits dotting the grounds to the hot spiced cider ready for everyone to try.

It wasn’t easy—throwing modern human ideas into elven culture wasn’t exactly the most natural thing—but you made it work. And now, Gondolin’s lords were about to see what a true autumn celebration looked like.

Glorfindel was the first to arrive, grinning as he eyed the pumpkin-carving station you had set up. You told him it was a classic autumn tradition, and he had jumped in without hesitation, picking up a knife and carving some elaborate design that looked like it belonged in a museum. “Let’s see if the others can keep up,” he said, obviously too proud of his creation already. You just laughed.

Egalmoth, with his flair for all things colourful, was immediately drawn to the garlands of autumn leaves you’d hung around. “You have a talent for decoration,” he remarked, already considering how he could replicate this in his own house. You had to stop him from adding more feathers to the mix. “Keep your peacock tendencies in check, Egalmoth. This is autumn, not a bird festival.”

Rog and Galdor rolled in together, both eyeing the apple-bobbing station you’d set up. Rog, ever the competitive one, looked ready to dive in face-first. Galdor, on the other hand, seemed more hesitant, probably thinking about how undignified it would look to dunk his head in a bucket. “Come on, Galdor,” you teased, “I’ve seen you charge into battle with trolls. Surely a few apples won’t scare you.” That earned a hearty laugh from Rog, who immediately took up the challenge.

Ecthelion was, unsurprisingly, more interested in the autumn music you’d selected. The harps and flutes blended with the sounds of crackling fires and rustling leaves, setting the perfect mood. He wandered over to the musicians, offering a few pointers. “Of course, Ecthelion’s turning it into a concert,” Glorfindel whispered to you, shaking his head in amusement.

Then, Maeglin showed up—late—already brooding before he even stepped foot in the courtyard. He looked around, unimpressed, until his eyes fell on the pumpkin-carving station. “What is this?” he asked, genuinely confused. You handed him a carving knife and gestured toward the pumpkins. “Carve something. It’s therapeutic.”

Turgon, ever the picture of regal composure, made his entrance just as Maeglin started slicing away. “I trust this...activity is appropriate?” the king asked, giving you a look that said he was still uncertain about the whole idea. You just grinned. “Trust me, Turgon. If nothing else, watching your nephew stab a pumpkin will be the highlight of your evening.”

The apple-bobbing contest kicked off with Glorfindel joining Rog and going head-to-head. Both were elbowing each other out of the way in a very un-lordly manner, while the rest of the group gathered around to cheer or laugh at their antics. Maeglin, as expected, looked sceptical by the whole thing, but even he couldn’t resist glancing over occasionally to see who was winning.

Egalmoth, being Egalmoth, had somehow found a way to tie autumn-coloured ribbons into his hair, showing them off to anyone who would listen. He tried to convince Ecthelion to do the same, but the captain of the fountains was far too dignified to humour him.

Meanwhile, Turgon had finally warmed up to the idea of an autumn feast, especially once the pumpkin-spiced everything made its way to the table. You weren’t sure if he loved or hated it, but he certainly looked intrigued. “This is...different,” he commented, taking a cautious sip of pumpkin ale.

The pumpkin-spiced food was a hit—or at least, it became the subject of much discussion. Galdor wasn’t sure about the pumpkin bread but enjoyed the roasted chestnuts, while Glorfindel happily inhaled anything remotely edible. Ecthelion, ever the refined one, sipped his pumpkin ale with an arched brow, considering it more thoughtfully than anyone else.

As the night wore on, Glorfindel and Galdor started a friendly archery competition, using pumpkins as targets. Maeglin actually got involved, managing to hit a target dead centre without even trying. “I hate how good he is at everything,” Glorfindel muttered, shaking his head as Maeglin smirked and walked away.

The hay-bale toss turned into an unexpected competition between Glorfindel, Rog, and Maeglin. You watched as they tried to outdo each other, tossing the heavy bales farther and farther until Maeglin, ever the silent competitor, sent one soaring well past the others. “I should’ve known the smith would win this...again,” Glorfindel said, shaking his head with a laugh.

Once the bonfire was lit, the atmosphere became more relaxed. The lords gathered around the flames, drinking and laughing as the night grew darker. You introduced the concept of roasting marshmallows, and though Rog seemed confused at first, he ended up liking the sweet treat more than he’d admit.

As the night continued, you convinced the group to participate in a scavenger hunt you had prepared earlier in the day. You’d hidden little tokens all around the courtyard, each representing something from the autumn season—acorns, tiny pumpkins, golden leaves—and you split the group into teams. Glorfindel teamed up with Ecthelion, while Turgon, much to your surprise, paired with Rog. Watching the elven lords of Gondolin running around in search of hidden trinkets had you stifling laughs for the rest of the night.

By the time the bonfire was lit, everyone was in high spirits. Rog and Galdor were still trading jabs about who won the apple-bobbing contest, while Egalmoth was already planning next year’s party. Ecthelion had taken over the music, adding a dramatic flair to the entire evening with his harp, while Glorfindel tried (and failed) to convince Maeglin to at least smile once before the night ended.

The final event of the evening was a storytelling session around the bonfire. Ecthelion, naturally, volunteered to go first, spinning a dramatic tale about a haunted forest. Glorfindel, of course, made it funnier than it needed to be by making shadow puppets in the firelight, causing the others to groan in mock frustration.

Maeglin stayed quiet through most of the stories, but you caught him smirking a few times, especially when Rog told a tale about a prank gone wrong. Even Turgon, ever serious, seemed to relax in the warmth of the fire and the company of his closest friends.

As for you, you stood back, watching as the lords of Gondolin—so used to battles and council meetings—embraced the ridiculousness of an autumn celebration. Turgon caught your eye from across the fire, giving you a nod of approval. Maybe hosting a party wasn’t the worst idea you’d ever had.

Masterlist

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celestiall0tus · 2 months ago

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Mayura falls, but another peacock takes her place with his own personal agenda. He will be making his grand entrance closer to the start of season 5 of Bloody Bug with another antagonist.

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imaginebeautifulworlds · 10 months ago

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Loved By Seven | Chapter 4

Genre: Hybrid!AU, Poly!AU, Mate!AU, romance, fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Human!Reader, Peacock!Seokjin, Serpent!Yoongi, Hawk!Hoseok, White Tiger!Namjoon, Merman!Jimin, Leopard!Taehyung, Wolf!Jungkook

Summary: Hiking was just an activity to get you out of the apartment, the last thing you imagined was ending in a whole different world by touching a jewel. That not being enough you end up meeting seven hybrids, and they all claim you shared the Connection with each of them making you their partner for life.

Notes: Hi! After I posted the third chapter I noticed I have more than 200 followers!!! I truly can't believe it, thank you so much!!! And I decided to write this chapter as fast as I could for a 100 followers celebration, which means the fifth chapter will be a 200 followers celebration along with a one shot from my masterlist. I'm so grateful for the people who keep reading this series and for the new ones who are giving me the opportunity to give them something to read. Likes, reblogs, comments are always appreciated. English is not my first language so pardon me if anything is misspelled or grammatically incorrect. Also the main idea came from a webtoon but I can’t remember it’s name. Enjoy!

Closing the door behind him a very happy leopard stops in front of the elevator to call, once inside he marks the parking lot. Which car should I drive today? Well I'm already late, I should take the smaller one he walks and picks up one of the two pair of keys dangling from his parking space I can't wait to take Beautiful out, just the two of us a boxy smile breaks through with this thought and gets in the car After this shoot I'm gonna pretend to be sick and get back to her quickly.

Thanking to the people who picked up the place for the photoshoot, since it was near the building he lives in, he exists the car and jogs a little bit to meet with his manager, a dog hybrid, waiting for him at the entrance, "Tae, I know you're a really big name in this industry, and thanks to me may I add" Jaehyun says with a silly smile and walking where there was already a lot of people waiting for Taehyung "but you can't be this late to a shoot man" this time is a frown what accompanies his words. "I know hyung, I'm sorry, you know I don't like to waste people's time but something happened yesterday and my phone died so the alarm didn't ring and I had to make breakfast but didn't have groceries so everything was a bit chaotic".

Once they're in front of the crew, Taehyung says out loud "I'm sorry everybody, I didn't mean to be this late" "It's okay, I mean you're THE Kim Taehyung you can be as late as you want" says a young leopard hybrid coming way to closer for his liking, like she almost wanted to touch him, so he takes a step back "I'm sorry Director, it won't happen again" he says bowing at her, which makes the girl blush "Um, Tae, she's no…" Jaehyun stars but gets interrupted "She's not the director Taehyung, it's me, she works with the make-up department" a slighter older fox hybrid walks towards Jaehyun and him "Oh, I'm sorry for being late Sir" he bows again, but this time at the right person "I know you're a big name but it can't happen again while we do this campaign" "It won't I swear" Taehyung says with his anima ears twitching nervously and his human ears red from embarrassment, at this the Director chuckles "It's okay, go get changed and then go to make-up while we set up things to start the shoot" he points at a girl who raises her hand She must be from the costume's department thus Taehyung walks behind her until they get to the dressing room.

"Hi Mr. Kim, I'm Danny and I'll be helping you during this campaign with what you'll be wearing" "Thank you Danny, and you can call me Taehyung, Mr. Kim sounds way to formal for my liking" he smiles gently at her Wow he is even more handsome in person and the rumor of him being a sweetheart are true, thank you universe for already having a partner otherwise I would probably be acting like the girl from make-up "Sure thing Taehyung" she says with red cheeks "These are the clothes you're gonna be wearing for this particular shoot" Danny shows him the main show of the shoot, a pair of underwear, with a pair of jeans and a jacket, both in denim "Okay" the leopard goes behind a curtain to change himself "If you need anything, I'm here" Danny says in a more professional tone "I actually have a question" he says while taking off his shirt "Sure, is anything not your size?" "No, it's not about the clothes or the shoot" "Oh" she says more relaxed "Sure" You're human right? I mean I didn't smell anything particular from you, except a faint smell of giraffe" he rushes his explanation in fear of offending her while almost falling from taking off his pants, she chuckles at this "Yes, I'm human and the scent you're smelling is my partner, it's faint because he's away on business, may I ask why are you asking this?" "It's just that I found my partner and she's also human and I wanted to know how can I court without scaring her, both my parents are hybrids so I don't know if I should do something different" a fondly smile forms on his lips by the mere thought of you "Well" she laughs a little "Andy was very forward, we crossed paths at a coffee shop and as I was exiting he screamed Wait! I think you're my partner to the entire shop and I genuinely thought that wasn't directed to me so I just walked out but he followed me and tapped my shoulder and told me the thing he just screamed was aimed at me, so we sat and started talking. I think everyone in this world knows they're destined to someone therefore you shouldn't be afraid of scaring" she finishes at the same time he pushes the curtain already changed That's the thing, I don't think she knows about the Connection which is so weird but he doesn't let his thoughts reflect on his face, instead he smiles at Danny "Thank you, you were very helpful" "Okay, let me see you" she turns on her job face "Please turn around" she hums looking for something that may stand out in the wrong way "I think you look great, the jacket is not too big, the boxers are up enough to see the brand but your abs can also be seen, and the jeans make your thighs look great, and this denim makes you ears stand out in very nice way. You're ready to go to make-up Taehyung" she smiles at him "Thank you Danny" he waves at her, exiting the dressing room.

"Hi handsome" someone says as soon as he exits, scaring him a little. Turning to look at the person who startled him, he finds the same leopard girl he thought was the director "Hey Taehyung, I was just coming to get you to take you to make-up" Jaehyun approaches but stops when spotting the girl "What are you doing here?" he asks "I'm here to pick him up" "The director told you to wait by your room, thus I'm asking again, what are you doing here?" "I'm just trying to show initiative, that's all" she answers with a fake sweet smile "Let's just go, yeah? We're already behind schedule because of me I don't want to keep delaying everything" Taehyung intervenes. "Yeah, you're right Tae…Lady, please take us to the make-up room" Taehyung puts himself between the wall and Jaehyun, just to be safe from the girl, watching this the girl frowns because she wants to be next to him Especially if he's wearing something so tempting. The three get to the room full of make-up suitcases "Okay, we're already you can leave now" she smirks at Jaehyun "You know make-up artists have to be alone to do the job quickly and without errors" Jaehyun growls a little bit at her but knows he can't do anything because she's right "Tae, call me if you need anything" he looks at the male leopard like saying If this crazy girl throws herself at you call me at which Taehyung only nods, and Jaehyun takes his leave.

"Okay Tae, you can sit here" she purrs the words in an attempt to sound sexy "Please don't call me Tae, only people close to me can call me that" Taehyung says in a deeper and strained tone of voice, one he uses when he's not comfortable or mad, dreading being with her and sitting in front of her "Then we can get closer, don't you think?" she trails one of her fingers up his right arm, trying to reach his exposed chest, however a male hand stops her intention "Look I really don't want to say anything to the director about your inappropriate behavior but if you continue I'm not going to have another choice but to talk to him" at this point his chest was vibrating to let out a growl, but he contained himself. Watching his face she felt a little scared but that didn't deterred her purpose This man is going to be mine, he just doesn't know it yet. I mean, we're both leopards, we obviously belong to each other. I have to be more forward with that in mind she sits in his lap, wrap her arms around his neck and brings her face closer to his, watching how her prey open his eyes wide Oh he looks so cute, and he's gonna be mine "Come on Tae, I know you don't have a partner and look at me, we would be incredible together, you're hot I'm hot, we're both leopards, and I'm just feeling this electricity between us, it's incredible" with each word her voice goes lower and her face closer I can't just toss her, it could hurt her and it would make a mess.

"Lia, what are you doing on top of Taehyung?!" A woman's voice wakes up Taehyung from his shock and stands up, trying not to toss the girl with too much force, and turns to find a familiar face "Mrs. Choi?" "Mom! What are you doing here?!" the girl screams at the woman Is she the daughter of one of the best make-up artists? Taehyung thinks "No, the one who asks questions is me. Now, what were you doing on top of him?" "Mom, we're part-" "She sat on top of me! Started touching me and saying crazy things! And we're definitely not partners, I already have one and she's at home!" it's not his intention to almost scream but that's how it comes out, he wants to be clear with anyone who's listening that he already has a partner, a very beautiful partner What? He has a partner? Well, it doesn't matter he's not marked yet which means anything can happen the other leopard in the room thinks "Oh my God Lia, I told you that if you wanted to come with me you had to behave and why was the door closed, you know that until the senior enters the apprentice can't close the door" Mrs. Choi says "Are you the one who's going to do my make-up?" Taehyung says with a hopeful tone, and he's so relieved even his ears stand up in relaxation "Yes, darling. And I'm so sorry for my daughter" hearing her mother say that Lia crosses her arms in frustration If you hadn't enter mom I could've kissed him "Now let's do your make-up quickly Taehyung, after all this isn't the first time we work together" and it's true for most of his shoots Mrs. Choi has been the one does his make-up so, by now, the know what works the best. After 15 minutes Mrs. Choi is finishing his make-up, she really wanted to finish fast after all her daughter couldn't stop looking at Taehyung and trying to touch at very chance she could get, and the boy's obviously very uncomfortable; "There, all done" she says applying a thin layer of gloss to make his lips stand a little bit, Taehyung looks at himself in the mirror in front of him "Thanks Mrs. Choi, as always your work is impeccable" the woman smiles at him "My pleasure Taehyung, will be seeing each other because of this campaign so we'll see each other soon" Taehyung stands up and exits the room listening to something along the lines of "Let's go home young lady, we need to talk about boundaries at a work place" "But m-".

"Tae, you're finally out" Jaehyun starts asking as soon as he sees Taehyung "What happened? Did that girl do something? You know what? Where's the director, he needs to know this" "Hyung, hyung!" Taehyung almost screams but at least gest Jaehyun's attention "She's Mrs. Choi's daughter, apparently wanted to learn about this world" "Mrs. Choi's daughter? But she's so ahhh" Jaehyun makes angelic noise "and that girl was so oohhh" Jaehyun makes scary noises now, which makes Taehyung laugh out loud. Hearing a deep laugh the director approaches the two young men "Taehyung, did you finish? Are you ready?" "Yes Sir" Taehyung immediately stops laughing and transforms it into a serious face "Okay, please put yourself in front of the camera" the older male chuckles softly at the nervousness of the young leopard.

Modeling comes easy for Taehyung since he was recruited at 16 years old people has praised his good looks and how natural he's in front of a camera, however he started his official career at 20 years old and he's been doing it for 5 years now. It pays the bills and lets him have a certain commodity, and now that he found you he knows he can also provide for you as well. Being in front of the camera makes Taehyung sometimes feel weird or even shy depending on the type of shoot he's doing but once he switches on his modeling talent he can only focus on what pose to next so it can come as natural as possible, something many directors like when working with him is that the leopard almost never need directions he knows which are his best poses, his best faces and most importantly knows how to use his body, which angles show, in this case, the clothes better and how can his animal features add to the mix, play with his tail or hide his ears to show something.

Because of how good he is at his job the shoots ends on time, despite Taehyung being late, and now was time to go home There's no way I'm gonna keep working when it's almost noon and Beautiful doesn't have anything to eat "Hey hyung, I'm not feeling well, I think being with that girl really disturbed me, besides I think I ate something that's bloating me. I think I should go home, tell the other shoots we can double the time when we reschedule or the can pay me less" Jaehyun couldn't say anything because Taehyung starts running to the dressing room "Hi Danny" and changes his clothes in a flash "Bye Danny", the leopard runs again and encounter the Director "Great job Director, thank you for everything, have a nice day, I look forward to the next shoot I swear I'll be on time" he bows and runs again towards his car not even paying attention to the "Taehyung's" Jaehyun is screaming.

Once inside his car he makes a plan First I need to buy her a phone, hers is obviously so old it doesn't work anymore, I have to buy one for Jiwoo too because I know how important she's to Beautiful. Second, the both need clothes just a few and the we can go together to buy more. Finally, groceries for the three of us. Parking at the mall, Taehyung goes straight to a store where he can buy the phones, for his Beautiful he buys the same one he has but pink because he saw that many of her things had that color It suits her that color he smiles at the thought, and for Jiwoo he buys same model but white. Outside of the store he looks at the watch on his wrist Damn it, there's not a lot of time adding something more to the list he goes to the food court and approaches to a Italian restaurant and orders 3 lasagnas to take, and while they're making them Taehyung goes to a store for clothes as soon as he sees a clerk similar to your body type he asks her to pick six shirts, two pair of jeans, and 4 pair of shorts It's getting hotter these days with summer approaching, he pays and goes to another store for the underwear where he basically does the same but this time with a very red face and animal ears glued to his head from embarrassment, in this store he pays even faster. He has to accept he must look like a mad man running from one place to another with a lot of bags; he gets to the restaurant and picks up what is gonna be lunch. Running again he sees his car closer and closer, he puts the lasagnas in the front seat and the rest of the bags on the back seat, once inside he takes route to the nearest supermarket around his building.

Getting off the car after parking, he takes a supermarket cart an starts going through the aisles to pick up and put inside the cart the food of his choice I just hope they like what I'm choosing, but I can always bring them with me if she wishes something else. With the supermarket already seen he approaches the cashier and pays and pack everything as fast as he can, looking at his watch once more he notices it's noon Okay I'm close just have to hurry up a little bit he tries to run with difficulty from the heavy grocery bags. This time he puts the bags on the trunk and gets up inside to start driving to the destination he wants to arrive the most Home.

Finally seeing his building he presses the gas a little bit more, once inside the parking lot, he parks next to his other car and takes out all of the boxes that despite being heavy he can carry all of them thanks to the gym and his leopard genes. He walks towards the elevator and calls it, it doesn't take long and it opens its door and he walks inside. Marking the 10th floor, he's almost buzzing with excitement, his tail is wiggling behind him in a happy manner. The elevator chimes and announces it arrived at its destination opening its doors. The leopard exists and runs for his apartment, in front of the door he opens it Finally. "I'm home"

Chapter 5

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#kpop #kpop stories #kpop scenarios #bts #bts series #bts scenarios #bts hybrid series #bts hybrid au #hybrid!au #hybrid bts #hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #bts x reader #bts poly au #ot7 x reader

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diana-rose-25 · 4 months ago

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★*☆ Eugh, As If

pairing/s: Sirius Black x Evans! Reader

warnings: Severus Snape.

description: The younger sister of Lily Evans takes revenge for her when slimy old Snape betrays her and calls her a mudblood. Sirius wants to marry her now.

status: unedited

word count: 5.2k

Note: I word vomitted.

“You think Potter will ever stop with his shenanigans in getting Lily to fall in love with him?”

Dorcas leans back while biting on the toast to look at the entrance of the dining hall, watching Potter try to stand tall and cool in front of the woman he fancies, and failing miserably.

It’s no secret that James Potter is one of the most sought out bachelor in the school, maybe even the Wizarding World, and he fucking knows it. When one is constantly praised for everything he does, have the ground he walks on practically worship, a star player in Quiddich, comes from a prominent family, insanely wealthy, and, there is no denying it, a handsome lad; one while develop a massive ego.

James Potter knows he is the shit. He is not only gifted in the athletic aspect, he can also hold himself well in the academic aspect.

Strutting around the school like a peacock, as if he runs the school, and maybe he looks like it from the swooning glances he gets from the ladies and the envious looks from the guys. With his charming smile, messy hair that compliments his features, and laid back attitude, James Potter can attract anyone and everyone.

Well, anyone but the one he wants.

Dorcas and Marlene sighs at the sad, and almost pathetic efforts to woo their friend. While James is trying his best to appear cool and composed, they know the young man well enough that his palms is sweating by the way he brushes them in his trousers, his stance is somewhat off by the ways he’s constantly shifting his weight from side to side, the way he constantly brushes his hair back, and if they squint closely, they can see how the corners of his lips are shaking in his smile.

Meanwhile, Lily Evans could care less. Despite her look being indifferent and the way she nods her head from time to time, she has this far away look in her eyes. Dorcas and Marlene shares a concerned look, if the rumors are true, then that event from yesterday and last night are the cause of it.

Lily then made an excuse from the looks of it before walking away towards them and James looking surprised. It’s the first time that Lily actually made a civil excuse to get away from his attempt at making a conversation rather than cussing him out and walking away.

Dorcas hummed, tearing away her look once she sees Lily walking towards their seat to look at Marlene. “You think she knows?”

“Only way to find out is when she walks through that door,” Marlene replies before sipping on her tea. As if she’s summoned, (Y/N) walks into the dining hall right after Lily takes her seat beside Dorcas who rubs a hand on her back comfortingly.

“Oooh, she definitely knows something,” Marlene smirks in her cup.

Lily and (Y/N) couldn’t be any more different from each other despite being twins, well, fraternal twins. Although the twins share those deep, forest green eyes, and a few quirks and mannerisms, everything else couldn’t be anymore different.

Lily is known for her famous, shiny, flaming red locks with a matching extroverted fiery personality, a beautiful stars of prominent freckles painted all over her face and body, always with her big group of female friends wherever she goes and is academically competitive. An overachiever honor student. Hence, joining a few orgs that catches her interest to broaden her horizon in the Wizarding World. Lily Evans is unafraid to speak what’s on her mind and call people out on their bullshit, earning her the title of the Gryffindor Princess.

Unlike her older sister, (Y/N)’s hair does not command the attention of the room upon entering. Although it’s still beautiful on its own way, being pitch black even when the sun hits her hair. She also sports freckles on her face, not as noticeable and its only littered around her nose, cheeks, and a little on the chin. (Y/N) mostly keeps to herself but enjoys the company of her two friends, Pandora and Elisia. She’s not as intense in academics, but still impressive as she only falls right behind her sister, being number 2 in their whole year. (Y/N) is more mellow compared to her sister, though still sporting that fiery temper but is rarely shown and more controlled. That doesn’t mean she can’t show her blatant dislike for her someone, her face says everything without uttering a single word.

The two sisters couldn’t be any more different physical and personality wise, yet are the most desirable bachelorette in the castle to both muggle born and purebloods (they will never admit it publicly other than a few friends).

You would think that between the two of them, Lily is the most terrifying. But if you ask Lily Evans herself, she would only smile at you and say: “you have no idea.”

James instinctively raised his arms and swiftly moves aside before (Y/N) crashes to him by the way she walks. The woman usually sports her rbf (resting bitch face) which is often mistaken as annoyed or indifferent, but her face is now devoid of any emotion. Like suppressing a fire beneath the exterior. The only evident clue about her burning rage is her body language, the frown on her lips, and her clenched jaw. None of her admirers dares to approach or even bother her once she sits down beside Pandora on the Ravenclaw table.

“Isn’t she a part of the dueling org? And she’s with you, right?” Marlene nods at Dorcas’ question. “And there is a compulsory meeting this afternoon to welcome new comers?”

“Who are you talking about?” Lily asks with a bit of her toast, getting her answer when Marlene nods her head towards her twins’ direction.

“Yeah, there is, what about it?”

Dorcas shrugs her shoulders, sneaking a glance towards Ravenclaw’s way. Noting the way (Y/N) had a fist resting on her cheek with her elbow propped on the table, blowing on her coffee before taking a sip, face still visibly annoyed.

“Can non members watch later?”

~~~

“Think Snivellus’ll show up his face today?” Sirius jumps towards James’ back, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as they walk towards the Dueling Org’s room.

James scoffs, “better not or its on sight.”

The pair followed the clump of first year students who are taking their time ogling at the wide infrastructure of the room. The walls are lined with ceiling to floor windows, craved with different magical creatures ranging from the tiny fairies to the huge dragons seemingly soaring through the sky. In the middle of the room, four pairs of tables are assembled together to create a stage where practice spells are demonstrated and duels will commence.

Students are idly chatting around the tables, the first years almost bouncing around excitedly from the front whilst the older years can feel their nerves shake from the building adrenaline the more they wait. Having the compulsory meeting as a welcome to new new members means having the chance to be picked in a duel demonstration.

Professor Flitwick and Professor Slughorn stands on the make believe stage of the room, talking amongst themselves and another student. Sirius Black smirks upon seeing her figure from beside the professors, taking notes in whatever they are talking about. Sirius taps James’ chest to direct his attention towards (Y/N). The two of them share a knowing smirk before walking towards where she is.

(Y/N) had barely touch a foot down to the ground when she hears the annoying voice of a certain, older Black.

“How is my favorite Evans doing today?”

She could feel a headache forming earlier today, it turns worse when she saw the infuriating grins by what she calls the Dumb and Dumber Duo. There in front of her stands James Potter and Sirius Black, shoulder to shoulder with arms crossed against their chests, a playful gleam in their eyes as they peer down at her.

She sighs and rolls their eyes at them, before turning her back against them and looking through the notes she just made. “What do you idiots want now?”

“Can’t I just approach my favorite sister-in-law for no reason?” James playfully pouts, approaching her side and wrapping an arm around her which earned him a hard shove against his chest that has him wheezing on impact.

“Eugh. As if.”

“Oh come on now, Sweetie Pie,” (Y/N)’s face scrunches up in disgust when she feels a breath on the other side of her face and her hair getting twirled around a finger. Sirius shot her a playful wink and smile when she slaps his hand away and takes two steps back, his proximity is too close to her liking.

“Didn’t I already tell you not to call me that?” Sirius tilts his head in confusion, smile still on his face, “did you?”

“Yes, I did you mongrel,” (Y/N) says with a roll of her eyes. “I’ve told you countless of times already.”

“Really?” The tall man mocks, placing his pointer finger and thumb on his chin and looks up, painting himself to be thinking of a deep thought.

“Hm, I don’t remember. Mate, you remember anything about (Y/N) Evans telling me to stop calling her Sweetie Pie, Honeybunch, Sugar Pie, Light of my Life, Apple of my Eye, Baby Babe, and Darling Princess?”

(Y/N)’s eye and fingers twitches at the sheer audacity of the man in front of her, her grip on her pen tightening to the verge of snapping when James skips to Sirius’ side with a faux, innocent wide eyes.

“Really? She said that? When?”

James mirrors Sirius’ pose, the duo somehow forming an innocent aura around the two of them. To the first years, it seems like two men deep in their thoughts, to those who knows better, the two idiotic duo are up to something again.

(Y/N) is one of the people who knows better. Yet before she can conjure up her wand to send a stinging spell their way. Professor Slughorn calls everybody’s attention to the front to start the introduction.

Sirius stuck himself to her side whilst James positions himself to his other side, hoping to catch a glimpse of Severus and send a certain finger his way.

The other first years and new members flocked themselves to the front, squeezing themselves together as much as they can to listen eagerly and get the best view. Unknowingly shoving the three sixth years together until their shoulders press together.

It might be a sharp quill or paper, but something stung (Y/N) on her arm causing her to let out a low hiss and instinctively pull it away, all without looking at the perpetuator.

Sirius looks down at her, brows furrowing when he catches her pull her arm away and the eager first years once again pushing themselves and crowding the front row.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He calls out loudly, taking (Y/N)’s shoulder and pushing her against his side whilst he holds the other arm out towards the first years. The small crowd looks at him with slight fear in their eyes at the strict tone of his voice and freezes in their feet.

“Stop pushing guys,” he reprimands. “I assure you all will see and hear everything, but let’s avoid an accident by not pushing and let’s make some space, yeah?”

Sirius shoots them a charming smile as he uses his hand to motion a push to create some space. As if activating his Black Charm, the girls swooned at his strong and charming appeal and immediately listened to him, taking a few steps back while keeping their eyes at him. Emitting girlish giggles while the boys scoffs and turns their heads away, still following them nonetheless.

(Y/N)’s eyes widens at how effective and fast Sirius can make the crowd listen to him, she almost finds it admirable. She gently pushes herself away from him and looks up at him with an impressed look.

“Thanks,” she says before looking at the front again. “Not bad, Black.”

Stunned, Sirius’ eyes widens at her acknowledgement of him. She rarely, or him ever, compliments him on anything. Although he had never done anything worth complimenting before. He made a happy sound at her, eyes almost disappearing at how large grin makes its way in his face. There’s a bounce in his step when he turns his direction to Professor Slughorn again. This time, he stands more taller with his posture straight and chin tilted upwards, a small, proud smile still on his face.

James looks at his mate with a playful scoff before shaking his head, finding the situation all too amusing. Unaware that he acts a lot more worse with Lily, and she doesn’t even acknowledge his presence most of the time other than calling him out on his bullshit.

The meeting continues on with discussing the rules, attendance, and basic etiquettes of dueling. The long lecture already had some of the older years almost dozing off due to boredom as they have had this discussion before. James falls victim to that boredom, opening his mouth widely to yawn without any sound and shaking his head to shake away his tiredness.

Sirius, on the other hand, is having the time of his life by constantly teasing the younger Evans beside him, poking her constantly and unnecessarily commenting to her about anything and everything. He only stops momentarily when (Y/N) pinches his arm so hard that he had to stick himself to James’ side, rubbing the wounded area before talking (Y/N)’s ears off after the pain disappeared. (It was bruised when he checked.)

“Now,” Professor Slughorn claps his hands once, effectively gaining the attention of everyone, including those who are in the midst of dozing off.

“Now that the rules and regulations are stated, I do hope you all take it seriously and to heart. After all, punishments are not to be taken lightly.”

“To formally start off the welcoming ceremony of the Dueling Club,” the older students perk up at Professor Flitwick’s insinuation. James, Sirius, and (Y/N)’s back straightens, feeling their fingers twitch in anticipation. “Professor Slughorn and I will choose students from the older years to give you a glimpse of a proper duel.”

The older students starts whispering excitedly, some playfully raising their hands in hopes that they will be picked while some try to turn their heads away to avoid being seen. James and Sirius holds their head up high, if the professors want to show the new comers some entertainment, it is in their best option to pick them two. If it’s a show they want, then it’s a show they’ll get.

Professor Slughorn and Professor Flitwick whispered amongst themselves before nodding and walking to the other ends of the stage, anticipation and excitement fills the air once they face the students.

“From my house,” Professor Slughorn starts, “I would like to call upon Mr. Severus Snape as one of the students for demonstration.”

Giggles and small laughter can be heard in the room, the heads around Snape’s area turn to look at him with proud smiles and pats on his shoulders. Of course the idiot will surround himself with the other posies after yesterday’s event. They are the only ones left who will so much as talk to him.

James, Sirius, and (Y/N)’s eyes narrows, shooting stabbing glare towards Snape’s direction as her climbs up the stage and proceeds to where Professor Slughorn is standing. The older man clasps his shoulder and wished him a silent good luck.

“If Professor Flitwick picks me, I’ll make sure to end this lesson with him bald to put an end to his greasy monstrosity of a hair.” James says, crossing his arms while not tearing his gaze away from the Slytherin boy in front.

“Oh please, you’ll be just doing us a small favor.” (Y/N) scoffs, “I don’t think his hair is the only greasy thing about him.”

“I bet you, he’s never heard of a body exfoliator and wash cloth before.” Sirius adds, lips twisted downwards as they continue to stare daggers at him. “I don’t think he even knows what a regular shower is.”

The three chuckled darkly before Professor Flitwick calls upon one of them.

“In that case, I will pick out someone from my house as well. Ah, Miss (Y/N) Evans, would you kindly join us?”

“Certainly professor,” (Y/N) replies with a smirk and a wicked gleam in her eyes before quickly masking it with a beam and wide eyes. She immediately walks up the stage, head high and shoulders squared, causing the young boys and girls to awe in the confident aura she’s portraying.

Throughout the years, Severus Snape gained more confidence for himself, getting acknowledge and praised for his growing mastery at potions, and surrounding himself with fellow Slytherins with the same aspirations in life. His friendship with Lily really helped him out throughout all the unfavorable events that happened to him, and although he should also be friends with (Y/N) by extension since they all grew up together, they never really clicked but remained civil.

(Y/N) had always kept her mouth shut about her opinions on Severus Snape in respect towards Lily. She never understood why Lily would befriend him when he does, and is still doing questionable things, and his whole vibe is off. Her older sister was protective of their friendship, even once not talking for a week when (Y/N) said she refuses to be in the same room as him without her. It was one of the hardest week of her life. Ever since then, she never brought him up to anything ever again unless Lily started it.

However, due to him calling her a mudblood yesterday, the unspoken civilized rule between the two of them shattered.

Severus Snape never thought he would experience so much fear just by looking at someone’s eyes. There was ringing on his ears and sweat starting to form on his forehead, he grips his wand for some sort of comfort with a shaky hand while trying to maintain eye contact with her.

He doesn’t know why he’s so terrified, (Y/N) is just standing in front of him with arms crossed over her chest with her head tilting down to hear what Professor Flitwick is talking about. She nods her head from time to time but her face remains devoid of any emotion and green eyes are still burning deep to his soul. Snape gulps down, praying to whoever is out there that no one can see how difficult it is to hide how terrified he is right now.

It’s just (Y/N), he never has to worry around her before. Besides, she’s not much of a duelist and he’s probably better than her. She can hold her own but nothing special nor spectacular about the way she duels. She’s lost more than won duels from last year. Snape shakes his head and rolls his head around to release the tension, it’s just her look that’s making him terrified. Yes, that’s right, he soothes himself, I’ll be fine. He’s a better duelist than (Y/N) will ever be.

A sigh of relief escapes his lips before quirking up to an arrogant smirk. His posture changes, from his shoulders slightly hunch back, chin tucked on his chest causing his disgusting greasy hair to cover his face, to standing tall with an overconfident aura about him, sporting a nasty smile that almost looks like a grimace.

It’s just (Y/N) , what could happen? Snape thought, now casually twirling his wand around.

Sirius and James noticed the shift within Snape from their view. They grit their teeth in annoyance and worry about their friend (at least, they consider her as one, they don’t know if she considers them as one). Sirius feels his fingers twitch, wanting nothing more to take his wand out and blast the ever living shit out of the man to snap him out of his arrogant stance.

“We ought to teach him a lesson,” James says through gritted teeth, Sirius only hums in response.

Professor Flitwick was saying something to the class, but Sirius couldn’t hear anything that comes out of his mouth. He looks at where (Y/N) is standing, he’ll say that he’s surprised, but he honestly expected it.

(Y/N) remains the same, except this time, she had her head tilting downwards as she stares at Snape through her lashes with lidded eyes, a reminiscent of a taunting snake. Sirius let’s out an impressed noise, he’s 100% sure that if she wasn’t sorted into Ravenclaw, she would have perfectly fit in with Slytherin house.

Sixth year students know that (Y/N) is not the best duelist out there, but Sirius can’t help but feel that there is nothing to worry about. He hums as he crosses his arms against his chest, still looking at her when the two of them starts walking towards the center of the stage, wands in front of their faces in customary respect to formally start the duel.

James looks at him, stunned at the laid-back demeanor of his best friend. He taps him on the chest, “mate, why do you look like that? Your crush is over there about to have a duel with that git.”

“Relax, James,” Sirius glances at him briefly before looking at her again, the smirk still on his face. “Just watch.”

Five paces apart, now the two are facing each other with wands drawn. Snape smirks, opening his mouth to conjure up his spell, “confringo!”

“Protego!” (Y/N) let’s out instantly, effectively blocking the spell with a wave of her arm. The way she projects the shield spell causes a ripple effect, making Snape stagger back before regaining his footing while she remains the same.

Snape’s eyes widens at the force of the spell. She didn’t even use Protego Maxima to project that kind of ripple effect. It was just a simple spell, Snape gulps, but why the hell was it so strong? Enraged, Snape grits his teeth holding onto his wand tightly before swinging his arm and shoots another spell. “Everte Statum!”

(Y/N) successfully blocks the spell without moving an inch. The nonchalant attitude of hers rubs Snape off the wrong way, further frustrating him. He then sends spell after spell after her, his adrenaline getting the best of him as he hurls his arm left and right while taking step forward after each step. His face contouring, not bothering to hide his frustration anymore.

Professor Flitwick sees this, and calls him out, “easy on the spells Mr. Snape! This is just a demonstration.”

The younger crowd watch in awe at the display of magic, witnessing the how much potential possibilities they have with the use of magic. They watch with eager eyes at the colorful display of cells Snape lets out from his wand and how flawlessly it is counteract by (Y/N). His group of friends continues to cheer him on and constantly belittling her calling her names, shuting up only when Professor Slughorn called by out and someone sending a stinging jinx at them. All of them had to exit the room immediately to head on to the infirmary room.

Sirius continues to glare daggers at Snape, his fingers gripping tightly into his arm as he watches (Y/N) continuously blocking spells but not doing anything to counter back. He gnaws on the bottom of his lip, wondering what the hell is your plan? Do you even have one?

Gusts of wind blows (Y/N)’s hair back as she continues to counter spell. It’s beginning to tire her arm out, and frankly, it was starting to bore her. The force of a spell causes her to momentarily stumble back, and that distraction is all Snape needs. ”Mimblewimble!”

Gasps echo around the room as they witness (Y/N) recoil back from the force of the spell, sending her straight to the floor with her back first, effectively punching the air off of her.

James and Sirius let out a shout of concern an disbelief, immediately running to the side of the stage. James had to hold on to Sirius’ sleeve to prevent him from jumping up. Shouting out strings of curses that shocked the first years and reprimanded by Professor Flitwick who’s tending to his student.

“Watch your mouths Mr. Potter and Mr. Black!” He scolds before turning his attention to his student, who is now shaking her head, arms and elbows on the side of her as she props up her body on the floor. “Are you well Ms. Evans? Can you stand?”

(Y/N) cracks her neck to the side before opening her mouth to answer her professor, but nothing coherent escapes her lips. The Mimblewimble spell ties the targets tongue in a knot, preventing them from making a coherent speech, or saying incantations correctly.

She clicks her tongue in annoyance, standing up after nodding to the head of her house, signaling that she is fine and is still able to duel. She made a show of dusting her skirt a cloak, then making her way towards the center of the stage once again.

Snape looks rather pleased with himself, much to the annoyance of James and Sirius. If looks could kill, the Slytherin would be dead from the moment he set foot on stage.

“Wands at the ready!” Professor Slughorn says, the two students immediately had their wands up, waiting for the signal. A beat has passed, then two. “Begin!”

“Immo-” Snape could himself ascend from the ground before he can even finish talking.

Wordlessly, (Y/N) blasted him a spell that sent him flying out the ground. A shout escapes his lips until his body roughly slams down to the ground with a loud thud. A sound of ‘oohh’ escapes most of the audience while James and Sirius lets out a victorious ‘yeah!’

It takes a few seconds for Snape to snap out of it, tapping Professor Slughorn’s arm when the former offered his hand out to help. To say that Snape is completely taken aback is an understatement, because how the hell did (Y/N) know how to use wordless magic before him? That requires intense concentration, skill, and proper technique.

A muggleborn besting him at something? And humiliating him in front of everybody in this room? No, that is not acceptable.

Snape’s face contorts again into that ugly face he likes to show as he sends furious spell after spell again after the signal. However, unlike the beginning, (Y/N) didn’t only counter spells, she also started sending one of her down.

Students watch in awe at the two who looks like they are fencing with the way they both take steps forward and back, symbolic of a dangerous dance the two are tangled in. The new-comers think that these are the two most eloquent and dangerous students in the org. However, older students will tell you that this is the first time someone lasts this long in a wordless duel, let alone a sixth-year student. A pretty impressive feat that not even older witches and wizards have mastered, yet alone confident enough to perform it.

Here is (Y/N) Evans, going from a mediocre duelist to being one of the best in school. A muggle born who struggles to think and recite spells during duels is now blasting magic left and right as if it was as easy as breathing. No word or sound escapes her as she continues shooting spells left and right before ending the duel.

“Yeah! Yeah! Kick his ass!” Marlene and Dorothy shouts from the back.

(Y/N)’s lets out a jet of water, not enough to take Snape down but enough to push him back and lose balance. His mouth then starts bubbling up with soap as she uses scourgify (to which James and Sirius laughs loudly at) before bandages wraps itself around the head out of thin air, effectively blinding him and covering his mouth. Snape’s hand went to his face in a panic to claw the bandages away from his face and spit out the putrid taste of soap in his mouth, yet he is unable to when (Y/N) turns her body to gain momentum for the spell, throws her wand out, sends the final blow, immobilizing him and sending his paralyzed form down the ground.

His body falls down the floor with a thud. The room is silent, then booming cheers fills the room.

(Y/N) hums at the sight of Severus Snape on the ground, now currently being tended to by Professor Slughorn who is undoing the effects of her spells. She twirls her wand around her finger twice before tucking it into her pocket, then facing the crowd with a grin and curtsying for them.

Professor Flitwick claps his hand, congratulating his student with a tap on her hand. “Well done my dear! I see you’ve been working on what I taught you. Hurry along now to Madame Pomfrey, get that spell of yours fixed with an antidote.”

The said girl hums and nods her head in agreement before bouncing down the steps, feeling much more better and preppy than this morning.

(Y/N) meets the awestruck faces of James and Sirius whose jaws are open in shock along her way, shooting them a teasing smirk and a wink. She pass by them with an air of arrogance she rarely sports, but she’s proud of herself this time. Basking in the attention of heads turning towards her with stars and envy in their eyes.

They continue watching the girl as she walks towards the door with a bounce on her step, hands out in a girly way, and hips subtly swaying from side to side with the crowd parting their way for her.

James feels a shiver down his spine as he witness the raw power and skill she has. Now all too aware that she can kick his ass anytime if he ever pushes her or her sister again. “I’m gonna be nice to her now.”

“Yeah? You do that,” James turns his attention to his best mate. Rolling his eyes at the love struck gaze he still holds after the woman exits through the door, eyes still fixated on it.

“I’m gonna marry her.”

note: idk why, I sat down for three days straight and started writing this. It's originally a series, but I don't know if you guys would like it.

#Harry potter #Harry Potter Imagines #Mauraders #Mauraders era #Marauders fanfiction #Sirius Black #Sirius x Reader #Sirius Orion Black #Sirius Black x Reader #Sirius x Evans! Reader #Sirius Black x Evans! Reader #Sirius Orion Black x Reader #The marauders #The marauders era #Eugh #diana fics #Evans! reader

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marvelmusing · 1 year ago

Text

A Courtship of Shadows

Part Three

Pairing: fae!Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader

Summary: As summer begins, the human court moves to the countryside, and Aleksander accepts several invitations for balls and hunting trips. He finds he cannot escape you, and that perhaps he doesn’t want to.

Warnings: smidge of angst, mentioning the loss of a parent, hints of violence (not explicit)

Part One • Part Two

My Masterlist

“Sire,” Ivan says, caution colouring his tone.

Aleksander can feel the hairs at the nape of his neck prickling at the sensation of unfamiliar magic. The sound of dogs yapping playfully makes his stomach tense.

During his grandfather’s rule, humans bred hounds with the specific intention of hunting down fae. Even now, hundreds of years later, the hounds’ descendants can sniff out the magic in their blood.

There’s a number of those hounds prowling at the heel of their master Lord Rathbone, the heir to Lichen Manor. Aleksander keeps track of them at the corner of his vision, eyeing the man discreetly. He’s one of the more arrogant humans Aleksander has come across during his time in East Ravka. Amongst his hunting friends, he struts like a peacock, shooting snide looks at him and the rest of the fae.

Suddenly, the members of Aleksander’s group all seem to have noticed something in particular. When he turns to investigate, he finds you moving through the gathering of people, head held high, hounds of your own trotting obediently on either side of you.

Bypassing Lord Rathbone, you ascend the stone stairs at the front of the manor, approaching the old man standing in the entrance to the house. Aleksander watches as you talk. From his position, he can only see the man’s expression - not yours. He seems to regard you with a fondness that intrigues Aleksander.

As you turn, you offer your arm to the man, helping him descend the stairs. Each step he takes is measured and your eyes are filled with care and patience as you stand by his side. Aleksander sees your eyes wander through the sea of faces, searching for someone in particular. His lungs stutter when your gaze locks onto his, your expression softening with what looks like relief.

There’s an almost imperceptible tension to your shoulders as you walk by Lord Rathbone’s group, which appears to stiffen further at the sound of their laughter. Aleksander knows the eldest Rathbone son is around the same age as you, though you carry the years far better than him.

Aleksander provides his horse with a gentle pat to her side, stroking down the length of her strong neck as he steps away. He turns, anticipating your arrival in front of him.

“Your highness,” you greet him with a small bow, your arm still locked around your companion’s. “May I present the Duke of Lichen.”

The elderly duke bows respectfully.

“I’m grateful for your presence here today, your highness. It is a pleasure to have you as my guest.”

Aleksander is somewhat surprised by the duke’s manners and the honesty to his words makes him wonder the reasoning behind his gratitude. Nevertheless, Aleksander inclines his head politely, offering both of you a small smile.

“The pleasure is mine, your grace. You have a wonderful estate.”

The man smiles, his eyes crinkling as he nods.

“That I can agree with, your highness. Though I cannot take credit for its beauty. I believe the lady to my right is responsible for managing the grounds.”

Confused, and impressed, Aleksander glances at you for an explanation. The smile you give him is modest.

“Whilst I officially reside at Hawthorne, I have always spent the majority of my summer here at the manor…” The smile slips from your face, a haunted sheen in your eyes as you add quietly, “Until recently.”

As your words falter slightly, the duke’s expression grows somber.

“I’m certain you will have heard my son has returned from Tsibeya.”

Tsibeya is a small region in the north of Ravka, where unruly nobles are exiled so that they can consider their actions, as opposed to being imprisoned. The brief reference to whatever crime or transgression Rathbone had committed seems to make you uncomfortable.

Aleksander sees your thoughts slip away, lost to some memory he cannot guess at - though he suspects Lord Rathbone has some part in it. The duke settles his hand over yours, which appears to rouse you somewhat, drawing you back to the present. The smile you offer the duke is deceptively bright; Aleksander can see the tears burning in your eyes as you blink hurriedly to suppress them.

The duke steps back, bowing once again.

“I wish you both a bountiful hunt.” Aleksander nods slowly in acknowledgement, tilting his head as he watches the duke pat your arm gently. “It’s been good to see you.” His eyes flicker towards Aleksander before he adds, “Your father would be proud of you.”

There’s a small pause and a sad smile twitches at the corner of your mouth.

“Thank you.”

Aleksander stops breathing. He knows you follow the rules of the fae, rarely thanking anyone directly. But in this moment, each syllable is deliberate, a soft gratitude there in regard to the duke. It’s evident that you see him as a paternal figure. Aleksander can only imagine how hard it must have been for you, growing up in the human realm without your father.

The duke squeezes your forearm one final time before he moves away, turning back towards the manor. He doesn’t acknowledge his son, barely casting a glance in his direction. Meanwhile, you bring your attention back to preparations for the hunt.

The Old Ravkan rolls beautifully around your tongue as you issue a firm command, bringing both your horse and dogs to heel on either side of you. Aleksander believes he can trust you, though he still tenses as the hounds tilt their heads at him.

“They won’t hurt you,” you assure him softly. “I promise.”

Aleksander’s lips part in bafflement.

“How?”

The smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth is fond as you look down at the dogs, stooping to scratch behind the ears of each of them.

“My father took them in when they were puppies. As soon as I could crawl, I was climbing into their basket.” There’s a small pause and a wry twist to your lips. “They soon grew accustomed to the scent of fae.”

Aleksander tilts his head, studying your expression as your eyes flicker up to meet his. A determination settles over your features, your chin raised in resolution and one thing is certain - you aren’t hiding your fae-ness anymore. He smiles widely.

The authenticity of his emotions has Genya’s tailoring faltering momentarily and your lips part slightly at the brief glimpse of his true form. His stomach flips when he sees your eyes darken.

He wonders how you would react if you could stare freely at his true form - pale skin, pointed ears and pitch black eyes, his hair threaded with strands of gold amongst his raven locks. He hopes you would find him appealing.

The early morning sunlight warms your face, casting a soft glow over your skin and drawing Aleksander’s attention to the scar on your chin which runs along the length of your jawline on one side. Iron is the only material capable of scarring someone with fae-blood in them and something twists inside him at the thought of you being harmed in such a way.

He wants to hook a finger under your jaw and trace the crooked line of scar tissue there. He wants to ask you what happened. He wants you all to himself, away from prying eyes. The sound of laughter from the group of humans nearby has you stiffening slightly.

“I suspect I was only invited to the hunt today in an attempt at embarrassing you.”

Aleksander frowns.

“Why would I be embarrassed by you?”

“You’ve heard the rumours about us?” He nods slowly, his brows furrowed deeper in confusion even as you elaborate. “They think it’s amusing that people believe you might be interested in me.”

Aleksander hates how the humans perceive you and he longs to provide you with some confidence. But before he can offer you any sort of comfort, he catches the tail end of one of Rathbone’s jests. The halfling and the Darkling. His remark incites more laughter amongst the group and the muscle in Aleksander’s jaw twitches.

“They intend on snubbing you and your party by hunting deer today,” you inform him in a low voice.

He nods, unsurprised.

“I thought they might.”

He ducks his head down, hovering over the crook of your shoulder as you adjust the bridle on your horse.

“Though I believe you’ve misunderstood one of our customs, little blossom.” He turns his head, his lower lip grazing the shell of your ear. “Hunting deer is a privilege, not a crime. Only royal fae are permitted to kill a stag.”

He watches you turn to face him, your eyes widening slightly in realisation, then a determined grin spreads over your features. His heart skips a beat.

“Then let’s find you a stag, your highness.”

»»---------------------►

Aleksander can’t find you.

He tilts his head aside, eyes scouring over the crowd in an attempt at being subtle in his search. When he notices Fedoyr’s grin he huffs out a sigh, turning in the opposite direction to eye the length of the ballroom.

The last time he saw you had been several minutes ago, talking to your mother. He hadn’t seen you leave the party but your mother’s brows are fixed in a disapproving manner as she holds her glass of wine tightly. The longer he looks at her, the more his concern for you grows, creeping beneath his skin like ivy.

Despite this being your family home, from your mother’s behaviour towards you it is evident that you are a guest at this evening’s ball.

Perhaps he should look for you. He slips from the ballroom without a word to anyone.

Aleksander passes the housekeeper in one of the quieter hallways, providing her with a polite tilt of his head as he continues his search for you.

“She will be in her father’s study.”

Aleksander stops, turning back to meet the woman’s eyes directly, examining her.

Despite only having arrived yesterday morning, the servants of your household have been exceptionally kind to him and his entourage. From his perspective, it seems they care about your well-being far better than your mother does.

He nods in gratitude and begins to move towards the stairway.

Aleksander locates your father’s study easily enough, in the room beside the bedchamber he has been occupying during his stay. The thought that he has been using your father’s bedchamber crosses his mind briefly.

He finds you sitting beneath the sturdy oak desk, your face flushed, cheeks stained with tears as you wipe your nose messily. At the sound of the door opening, you turn with widened eyes, brushing your tears away rapidly to hide your state of vulnerability. When you recognise him through your tears, your shoulders sag, losing their tension.

Aleksander closes the door behind him, eyes locked on yours as he moves slowly across the room to stoop down in front of you. He reaches out, his movements considerate as he gives you the opportunity to pull away. Instead, you lean into his touch as he strokes your damp cheek.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

He can see the lie lingering on the tip of your tongue, human instinct urging you to insist that you are fine. He can also see the distress it causes you - the thought of lying to him. Tears well in your eyes again, your breathing shaky as you practically tremble.

“Mother has offered my hand to Lord Rathbone.”

The words are broken and hoarse but they ring painfully in Aleksander’s ears.

“I can’t marry him,” you admit in a whisper. “Our children would have too much fae in them. He would hate them, I know he would. I can’t bear the thought of my children being hated by their father.”

He watches as you fidget with the handkerchief in your lap, nails picking at the thread lining the edge as a few tears escape your eyes.

“His father - the earl - promised my father he would look after me. He’s already informed me that he will refuse whatever dowry she might offer.”

“A rejection like that will ruin your prospects.”

A self-depreciating smile quirks at the corner of your mouth.

“I wouldn’t say there are many suitors looking to court me.”

Human men are fools. Aleksander cannot understand how any of them can resist your sweet charm, quiet humour, and undeniable intelligence. Not to mention you are one of the most beautiful women at court.

He can see the sadness weighing on you and whilst Rathbone’s proposal and the upcoming damage to your reputation is distressing, he believes you’ve handled it well.

“There’s something else,” he says quietly.

Another tear slips down your cheek as you nod.

“I know it sounds childish,” you say, your chin wobbling as your expression crumbles. “But I miss my papa.”

“Oh, petal. Come here.” He slides himself under the desk, pulling you gently against his chest as he hushes you tenderly. “That’s it, just breathe for me.”

He feels you grip onto his kefta, fisting the fabric tight as your body shakes with the force of your tears.

“I can’t imagine how much it must have hurt you to lose him,” he murmurs softly. Aleksander strokes his hand down your back, feeling every dip and notch beneath the pad of his fingertips. “He would have protected you from all this, wouldn’t he?”

Aleksander feels you nod and he tightens his hold on you.

“I think he would have found someone for you from my court.” At that, you perk up, looking at him with hopeful eyes.

“You do?” He smiles down at you, thumb grazing over your jaw.

“Sweet girl, you are too beautiful and good and honest for any human.”

He feels your cheeks warm beneath his fingers.

“I think he would have liked you,” you admit shyly and Aleksander laughs.

“I think he would have told me to stay away from his daughter.”

“Why?”

The inquiry is soft and he lets it hang between you both before he speaks.

“I’m not a good man, petal.”

“If I was yours, would you look after me?”

He goes still at your question, at the thought of you being his. He doesn’t hesitate before responding,

“Until my dying day.”

Fae do not lie. He knows in his soul that if you were his wife he would take care of you. When he feels you lean towards him, eyes lowered to his lips, he holds tightly onto your chin to prevent you from kissing him how he knows you want to.

“I used to wander barefoot through the woods,” you admit with a soft sigh. “Hoping a fae prince would steal me away and marry me under an oak tree.”

He wants to distract you from your pain and from the thought of kissing him. He also, rather selfishly, wants to hear you talk about your dream wedding.

“What would your dress be like?”

“Something soft and flowing, with a long train that would sweep through the dirt and the grass.” He can imagine you in white with mud and grass stains covering the hem of your dress like nature’s hand prints, as if the wilderness wants to be a part of you. “I’d weave flowers through my hair and wear a tiara.”

The corner of his mouth quirks into a smile.

“A tiara?”

He feels your cheeks flush with warmth as you hide your face, giggling quietly as you concede shyly,

“Just a little one. I’d be a princess after all.”

His smile widens. Unable to stop himself, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You would make a beautiful princess.” He pauses briefly. “And a breathtaking queen.”

His words make you duck your head shyly and he can’t resist reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind your ear. His knuckle grazes your cheek and he hears you inhale sharply.

Then something on the wall catches his attention.

“You hung the antlers.”

It had taken quite some convincing for you to accept the antlers of the stag Aleksander had killed during your hunting trip. He needed to insist several times that they wouldn’t be considered a gift, meaning you wouldn’t be indebted to him by taking them. He hadn’t expected you to hang them above the mantle in your father’s study, but Aleksander is rather touched by it.

Nodding, you turn to follow his gaze, admiring the polished wooden mount, carved ornately around the edges which frame the curves of bone.

“David helped me mount them.”

“He did?”

At his sudden question, your head turns back to him quickly.

“Yes. I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped-”

He shakes his head with a small smile, smoothing his hands down over your waist.

“Not at all. I’m only surprised that you’ve befriended him. He doesn’t take well to strangers.”

He tilts his head at you, watching as you blink slowly in surprise.

“Oh. I think he’s nice.” Aleksander sees your gaze flicker down to where his hands have settled on your hips, warmth flushing through your body. “He knows a lot about materials.”

“He does. The majority of the furniture in my quarters at the Little Palace were designed and crafted by him.”

Aleksander sees intrigue sparkle in your eyes and he longs to take you to the Little Palace this instant, showing you everything there is to see, hoping that you will fall in love with it all.

“Mother is leaving tonight to visit her friend several towns over. Will you stay while she’s gone?”

“Won’t people talk about you being alone in a house with me?” he asks with a playful smile.

“Stay, please.” Shyly, you begin to play with the embroidery on the sleeve of his kefta. “I want to have lunch with you in my father’s garden.”

Everything he has wanted over the past few months, you are now presenting to him, practically with a sweet little bow wrapped around it. What else can he say, but,

“Of course.”

»»---------------------►

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#aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x reader #fae!aleksander morozova #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader

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